“Guides don’t get exclusive licenses for an area,” Service said.
“I’m just telling you what the man claimed.”
“He took your hearse.”
“Ganked all our gear.”
“You didn’t report it.”
“Man, it was our rig, understand.”
“For poaching.”
“Right.”
“Colliver talked you into going back—to get even.”
“I didn’t want to go. Some guy kicks my ass, that’s it, he wins, know what I’m sayin’. But Colliver, he wouldn’t leave go, you know?”
“So you went.”
“Yeah, we knew where Kitella’s camp was, went to scope it out. This broad come out of the woods at me with a gun. Colliver run into the old man.”
“Did you see him?”
“Just the woman,” Fahrenheit said, shaking his head.
“She offer a deal?”
“No, Colliver heard that from the old man. Hannah had a radio. Her and me just sat there and when she got a radio call, she split.”
“Then Colliver told you about the old man.”
“Right, said he’d help us get Kitella, but he wanted some stuff.”
“Cable.”
“Right.”
“Did Colliver ever meet the woman?”
“Not that I know of. I took the spool up there and gave it to her.”
“Kitella ended up in the hospital,” Service said.
“That don’t break my heart,” Fahrenheit said.
“Were the woman and old man part of your bear business?”
“No.”
“You never saw her before this summer?”
“Not till that day in the woods.”
“Hannah.”
“That’s the name she told me.”
“Where did you sell the bears?” Ficorelli asked.
“Milwaukee.”
“Got names?”
“Colliver handled all that.”
“Bear Boy shoots ’em, his pal sells ’em,” Ficorelli said.
“That’s how it was,” Fahrenheit said.
“You take the galls?” Service asked.
“Got them first, and the paws, but we took the whole animal. Can sell all that shit, you know?”
“How many?”
“Six the last two years.”
“All in Michigan?”
Fahrenheit nodded.
“Here’s the deal: We bust Colliver and you testify,” Ficorelli said.
“I don’t do time,” Fahrenheit said.
“That’s not the deal.”
“Man,” Fahrenheit whined.
“Where do we find Colliver?” Service asked.
“His place, up on the river near Porterfield. It’s ten minutes from here.”
“Does he have a job?” Ficorelli asked.
“He works at not workin’.”
“Okay, Charley-boy, you’re gonna call Colliver and tell him you’re coming up. I’ll ride with you. Service will follow.”
“I don’t got to call. I just show up,” Charley Fahrenheit said. “We’re pals.”
“This time you’ll call. We want to be sure he’s there,” Service said.
“I don’t like this shit,” Fahrenheit said.
Ficorelli went to the living room and made a quick call.
Service looked at Fahrenheit. His eyes showed no emotion, his shoulders were slumped.
“You use a rifle on the bears?”
Fahrenheitt nodded. “It’s Colliver’s. My old lady don’t allow no guns. Always gotta have her way.”
“Colliver has it?”
“No man, I told you. That Kitella guy took everything, wiped us out.”
Ficorelli came back. “Make your call, Charley.”
Fahrenheit used the phone in the kitchen. “Dude, I’m comin’ over.” He hung up, looked at the officers. “He’s high.”
Great, Service thought.
By the time Service retrieved the Yukon, Fahrenheit and Ficorelli were in the pickup and waiting. Wayno waved for him to follow.
The house was two stories and was built on the south bank of the Peshtigo River. It needed fresh paint and a new roof. The yard had a pile of tires and the rusted hulks of four old vehicles, which had been cannibalized for parts.
There was a man standing in the yard when the pickup pulled in. The man turned to run, but Ficorelli jumped out of the truck, his weapon drawn, yelling. Service parked behind the pickup.
“I want my lawyer!” Colliver shouted. “Right fucking now!”
Ficorelli pushed Colliver on to the steps of the porch.
Colliver stared at Fahrenheit. “Pussy!”
Colliver was five-eight and well over two hundred pounds, with a bulging belly and long shaggy hair that hadn’t been washed in a long time. Service stood so he could observe both men.