G Is for Gumshoe

she pointed her finger right up in my face-'No sniveling.' "
    "Jesus."
    I smiled. "It wasn't so bad. I'm only slightly warped. Besides, I got even. She died ten years ago and I sniveled for months. It all came pouring out. I'd been a cop for two years and I gave that up. Turned in my uniform, turned in my nightstick…"
    "Symbolic gesture," he interjected.
    I laughed. "Right. Six months later, I was married to a bum."
    "At least the story has a happy ending. No babies?"
    I shook my head. "Not a one."
    "With me, it's just the opposite. I never had a wife, but I've got two kids."
    "How'd you manage that?"
    "I lived with a woman who refused to marry me. She swore I 'd leave her in the end and sure enough that's what I did."
    I stared at him for a while, but he subsided into silence Soon afterward, the outskirts of Santa Teresa began to speed into view and I felt an absurd rush of joy at the notion of home.

10
    We found a parking spot for the Porsche two doors down from my place and unloaded the trunk. By the time we pushed through the gate and rounded the corner to the rear, Henry had emerged from his back door to welcome me home. He stopped in his tracks, his smile faltering as his eyes shifted from my face to Dietz's. I introduced the two of them and they shook hands. Belatedly, I remembered what my battered visage must look like.
    "I was in an accident," I said. "A guy ran me off the road. I had to leave the car in Brawley and Dietz gave me a ride back."
    Henry was visibly dismayed, especially as he was in possession of only half the tale. "Well, who was the fellow? I don't understand. Didn't you file a report with the police down there?"
    I hesitated, uncertain how much detail to get into at this point. Dietz settled the matter for me. "Let's go inside and we'll fill you in on the rest of it." He was clearly uneasy about standing around in the open air, exposed to view.
    I unlocked the door and pushed it open, moving into the apartment with Henry behind me and Dietz at the rear, herding us like a sheepdog.
    "I'll just be a second. I want to get things squared away," I said to Henry. And then to Dietz, "Henry designed the place. It was just finished two days ago. I've spent exactly one night here."
    I set my duffel down and cranked open a window to let in some fresh air. The apartment still smelled of sawdust and new carpeting. The space felt like a Barbie-doll penthouse in its own carrying case: scaled-down furniture, built-ins, spiral staircase, the loft visible above.
    "I brought your mail in," Henry said, his eyes on my guest. He sat down on the couch, perplexed at the liberties Dietz seemed to take. The contrast between the two men was interesting. Henry was tall and lean, the blue eyes in his narrow, tanned face giving him the look of an ascetic; someone otherworldly, aged and wise. Dietz was compact, more muscular, a pit bull of a man with a thick chest and a brazen manner, his face marked by life, as if he'd had lessons hammered into him since birth. Henry had a stillness about him where Dietz was restless and energetic, the air around him charged with a curious tension.
    Dietz circled the place without comment, automatically checking security, such as it was. I had latches on the windows, but not much else. He pulled the shutters closed, checked closets, peered into the downstairs bath. He snapped his fingers, idly popping them against his palms in a gesture that suggested some inner agitation. His manner was authoritative and Henry shot a look at me to see how I was taking it. I made one of those faces that said, Your guess is as good as mine, pal. It's not like I enjoyed someone taking over like this, but I wasn't fool enough to protest with my life on the line.
    I turned my attention to the mail. Most of it looked like junk, but before I could sort it properly Dietz removed the stack from my hands and set it on the counter.
    "Let it be till I can take a look at it," he said. Henry couldn't stand it. "What's going on here? I don't understand what this is about."
    "Someone's been hired to kill her," Dietz said unceremoniously. I don't think I would have been so blunt, but Henry didn't fall backward on the couch in a faint so maybe he's not as easily upset as I assume. Dietz filled in the picture, laying out the circumstances by which the Carson City DA's office had first gotten wind of Tyrone Patty's assassination plot. "The police in Carson City are doing what they can to control the situation up there.