Shock Wave

why you’re called ‘that fuckin’ Flowers.’”
    “They said you should ask because they’re assholes,” Virgil said.
    She was taken aback, a stricken look on her face, and Virgil touched her arm as she turned away and said, “Wait, look . . . I’m sorry. I was up at that bomb this morning, and I’m still a little shook up. That’s why I’m sitting here stuffing my face.”
    She put her hand to her face and said, “Oh, jeez . . .” and, “You’ve got stuff all in your hair, is that from . . .”
    “Yeah, it is. And really, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like a jerk,” he said. “They call me that because . . . well, because I’m so good with women.”
    Now she ventured a tiny smile, and said, “That’s what I thought,” and she left him.
     
     
    VIRGIL GOT AN ADDRESS for Wyatt’s house from the sheriff’s dispatcher, went that way, and found Barlow’s truck outside, and a couple sheriff’s cars. Barlow was inside, with O’Hara and two other deputies. He’d found some bow-hunting equipment and some camo, and showed it to Virgil.
    “Not Realtree,” Virgil said.
    “But he had some, and he could have had some more, someplace else.”
    “Could have, but probably didn’t,” Virgil said.
    “How do you know that?” O’Hara asked.
    “Because he wasn’t the bomber. He was murdered.”
    Barlow said, “Aw, man, don’t start this shit again. First Erikson, now Wyatt . . .”
    “Erikson led to Wyatt,” Virgil said. “The bomber led us down the garden path. He wanted us to look hard at the first setup, so we’d buy the second one.”
    O’Hara was curious. “You know who it is?”
    “Yeah, but I need another piece of the puzzle. I should get it this afternoon. I want you both to get down on your hands and knees, praying that the call comes through.”
    “Well, who is it?”
    “I don’t want to slander anyone,” Virgil said. “Wait until the call comes through.”
     
     
    THEY ALL GOT PISSED at him, so he slouched out to his truck, drove out to the PyeMart site, intending to do some fishing. When he got there, he found Pye looking at the footings; Chapman was looking over his shoulder.
    Pye saw him getting out of the truck and said, “Well, you fucked me. And, I still gotta kiss your ass, for nailing down this Wyatt guy.”
    “Wyatt’s not the guy,” Virgil said.
    Pye took a step back. “So, you fucked me, and then you fucked me again?”
    “I didn’t think you used that kind of language, Willard,” Virgil said.
    “I don’t, unless somebody really fucks me,” Pye said.
    “I’ll get the guy this afternoon. Or maybe tomorrow, depending.”
    “Depending on what?”
    “I’ll let you know about that,” Virgil said. “In the meantime, keep your mouth shut about this. I only told you, because he tried to kill you.”
    Pye bobbed his head, and Chapman nodded.
    Virgil said, “So, you’re pulling the store out?”
    “Sounds like it. I been all over Ahlquist, and what he says is, three city councilmen and the mayor have been suspended, and under state law, the governor is going to appoint replacements until there can be an election. The first order of bidness is gonna be to reverse the zoning changes on grounds that the former council was bribed. I don’t believe it, I still gotta talk to my boy.”
    “Tell you what, Willard: just between you and I and Marie’s potential two million readers, you bribed their asses. You know it, I know it, and Marie’s two million readers know it. There’s gonna be a trial, and it’s all gonna come rolling out.”
    “Well, there will be if there’s a trial—but who knows what might happen, between now and then?” Pye said, showing the slightest crinkle of a smile. “Anyway, it’s time for me to get the crap outa town.”
    “You’re not gonna stay for the ass-kissing ceremony?”
    Pye looked at his watch, then asked, “When you gonna get him again?”
    “Today or tomorrow. Tomorrow at the latest.”
    “And you won’t tell me who it is?”
    “Not yet,” Virgil said.
    “Can you tell me how you knocked it down?” Pye asked.
    “Two things. You almost had a birthday party, and I was in the right place at the right time. I’ll tell you the rest of it tomorrow.”
     
     
    VIRGIL WAS GETTING his fly rod out of the truck when he took a phone call from Sandy the researcher. “You were right,” she said. “We’ve got a receipt, but they’ve got no video.”
    “Goddamnit. I don’t suppose he signed his own