know,” Carver said.
“Caused a lot of trouble for a guy with one nut, hey?”
“History time?” Carver asked. “Or biology class?”
“Freshman law enforcement. Pay attention. Raphael Ortiz has got three nuts.”
McGregor looked so serious Carver had to try not to smile.
“They examined him when he did a short stretch in Raiford Prison. Three nuts. No kidding. Three—count ’em.”
“You count ’em.”
“Know what that means?”
“Special underwear, I guess. For whoever this Ortiz guy might be.”
“By the by, I checked the license-plate number a witness to that fight on Ashland gave us. Tussle that took place near where you accidentally drove over your cane. White Caddie, belongs to Ortiz. Then there was a rumor of a shooting in the west end of town. Fella did the banging sped away in a big white car. You say you don’t know Ortiz?”
“Heard of him,” Carver admitted.
“I’m not surprised. Most every cop in Florida has.”
“Supposed to be a tough guy, isn’t he?”
“Goes way beyond tough,” McGregor said solemnly. “If he’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. He’s a scary guy. Three nuts. He ain’t like you and me.”
“Nice of you to warn me,” Carver said. “But now that you have, I think I’ll leave.” He set the rubber tip of his cane on the linoleum and raised himself to a standing position. He was looking down at McGregor now. McGregor didn’t like that. He stood up and looked down from his six-and-a-half-foot height at Carver.
“Didn’t have you brought in so I could warn you,” he said. “I don’t much give a shit what happens to you, Carver. Thing is, I’m curious. You’re snooping around a nursing home, and Raffy Ortiz is snooping around you. Only ones not doing any snooping are the police. That don’t seem right.”
“Now you’re snooping. The world’s been set straight.”
“I’m putting you on notice, Carver. Don’t forget I’m interested in this matter. You find out something the police oughta know, better see I hear about it. I mean ten seconds after you find out.” He grinned, for a moment inserting the pink tip of his tongue in the gap between his front teeth. Made him look devilish and somehow obscene. “ ’Course, you won’t be able to do that if Raffy Ortiz has ground you up and fried you for breakfast.”
He sat down and lifted a file folder from his desk, as if he’d abruptly dismissed Carver from his mind and was moving on to important matters. Busy man with an important job. “Nice talking to you,” he said, opening the folder and burying his nose in it. “Now, get the fuck out.”
“Always a pleasure,” Carver said, and limped toward the door. He knew McGregor wasn’t concentrating on the folder’s contents. Might as well have been Shakespeare.
Outside in the relentless sun, he made his way toward where the Olds was parked and thought about his conversation with McGregor. If Sunhaven had brought Carver to the law’s attention to discourage him from investigating, someone out there must feel he was on track. And feel that whatever was being covered up was serious enough even to risk using the police as a temporary ally. They might also be trying to spike Carver’s guns before he turned over any evidence to the law. Portray him as a nosy nuisance bound to try causing a fuss sooner or later. Not to be taken seriously. That way the denial of any accusations would seem more plausible. No one knew Desoto had hired him. Here he was, working for nobody, a character hanging around and stirring up the old folks. Drawing wrong conclusions and planting dangerous ideas in age-eroded, suspicious minds.
But McGregor knew better, and it worried him.
And McGregor worried Carver.
13
C ARVER DECIDED HE’D stay away from Sunhaven for a while, starting with that evening. Instead, he’d wait for Nurse Rule to leave work and then follow her. Whatever was going on, she seemed deeply involved. Judging by the fear and respect she
“Caused a lot of trouble for a guy with one nut, hey?”
“History time?” Carver asked. “Or biology class?”
“Freshman law enforcement. Pay attention. Raphael Ortiz has got three nuts.”
McGregor looked so serious Carver had to try not to smile.
“They examined him when he did a short stretch in Raiford Prison. Three nuts. No kidding. Three—count ’em.”
“You count ’em.”
“Know what that means?”
“Special underwear, I guess. For whoever this Ortiz guy might be.”
“By the by, I checked the license-plate number a witness to that fight on Ashland gave us. Tussle that took place near where you accidentally drove over your cane. White Caddie, belongs to Ortiz. Then there was a rumor of a shooting in the west end of town. Fella did the banging sped away in a big white car. You say you don’t know Ortiz?”
“Heard of him,” Carver admitted.
“I’m not surprised. Most every cop in Florida has.”
“Supposed to be a tough guy, isn’t he?”
“Goes way beyond tough,” McGregor said solemnly. “If he’d wanted to kill you, you’d be dead. He’s a scary guy. Three nuts. He ain’t like you and me.”
“Nice of you to warn me,” Carver said. “But now that you have, I think I’ll leave.” He set the rubber tip of his cane on the linoleum and raised himself to a standing position. He was looking down at McGregor now. McGregor didn’t like that. He stood up and looked down from his six-and-a-half-foot height at Carver.
“Didn’t have you brought in so I could warn you,” he said. “I don’t much give a shit what happens to you, Carver. Thing is, I’m curious. You’re snooping around a nursing home, and Raffy Ortiz is snooping around you. Only ones not doing any snooping are the police. That don’t seem right.”
“Now you’re snooping. The world’s been set straight.”
“I’m putting you on notice, Carver. Don’t forget I’m interested in this matter. You find out something the police oughta know, better see I hear about it. I mean ten seconds after you find out.” He grinned, for a moment inserting the pink tip of his tongue in the gap between his front teeth. Made him look devilish and somehow obscene. “ ’Course, you won’t be able to do that if Raffy Ortiz has ground you up and fried you for breakfast.”
He sat down and lifted a file folder from his desk, as if he’d abruptly dismissed Carver from his mind and was moving on to important matters. Busy man with an important job. “Nice talking to you,” he said, opening the folder and burying his nose in it. “Now, get the fuck out.”
“Always a pleasure,” Carver said, and limped toward the door. He knew McGregor wasn’t concentrating on the folder’s contents. Might as well have been Shakespeare.
Outside in the relentless sun, he made his way toward where the Olds was parked and thought about his conversation with McGregor. If Sunhaven had brought Carver to the law’s attention to discourage him from investigating, someone out there must feel he was on track. And feel that whatever was being covered up was serious enough even to risk using the police as a temporary ally. They might also be trying to spike Carver’s guns before he turned over any evidence to the law. Portray him as a nosy nuisance bound to try causing a fuss sooner or later. Not to be taken seriously. That way the denial of any accusations would seem more plausible. No one knew Desoto had hired him. Here he was, working for nobody, a character hanging around and stirring up the old folks. Drawing wrong conclusions and planting dangerous ideas in age-eroded, suspicious minds.
But McGregor knew better, and it worried him.
And McGregor worried Carver.
13
C ARVER DECIDED HE’D stay away from Sunhaven for a while, starting with that evening. Instead, he’d wait for Nurse Rule to leave work and then follow her. Whatever was going on, she seemed deeply involved. Judging by the fear and respect she
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