CHAPTER 22
Puller saw officer Landry first, then Bullock. Hooper was nowhere to be seen.
What he saw next made him slow down to a leisurely walk. A barrier formed from metal stands and blue tarp had been erected to shield something from view. When police were around, the thing to be shielded from view typically was a human body.
Puller drew to within a hundred feet and stopped, taking it all in. Landry was standing near a couple whom Puller recognized. He had seen them at the police station earlier, looking worried and upset. The names they had mentioned came back to his mind.
Nancy and Fred Storrow.
They went out and never came back. There seemed to be a lot of that going around in Paradise. Puller wondered if either or both of them were behind the shield.
He looked out toward the water. The tide was coming in. Had it brought the body or bodies along with it?
He couldn’t imagine that two bodies had been dumped on the beach and were just now being found. You didn’t dump bodies in public places in broad daylight. It was now nearing seven in the evening. He looked out toward the water again.
Tide. Had to be. He doubted the corpses were in very good shape. Prolonged time in the water did awful things to bodies.
He glanced over at the couple again. The woman was weeping, leaning in against the shoulder of the man, while Landry stood awkwardly next to them, her official notebook dangling in one hand.
Bullock was standing over near the shield shaking his head and tapping his fingers against his gun belt like he was sending out an SOS signal.
They hadn’t set up a perimeter, but people were keeping their distance.
Puller walked toward Bullock until the man looked up and saw him.
He at first put up his hands to ward Puller off, but then recognized him. He strode forward, his black shoes slipping in the sand.
When Bullock got to within a foot of Puller he said, “What are you doing here?”
“Just going for a walk on the beach. What do you have here?”
“What we have is an ongoing investigation that I am not at liberty to disclose to a civilian.” “I’m not a civilian.”
“To me you are.”
“One body or two?”
“Excuse me?” Bullock took a step back and looked suspicious.
“Behind the shield. Did the tide bring it or them in?”
“What the hell do you know about it?”
“Nothing. But you put up a shield on a beach and you got a woman sobbing over there—a woman I saw at the station earlier today probably filing a missing persons report—and the dominos begin to fall into place. Was it an accident?”
“Look, Puller, my best advice to you is to turn yourself around, get back on a plane, and fly home.”
“Appreciate the advice, but Paradise is growing on me. I can see why you like it down here so much.”
Bullock turned on his heel and walked off, his shoes rooster-tailing streams of sand behind him.
Another officer came and took charge of the couple, allowing Landry to break free and walk over to him.
“What did Chief Bullock say to you?” she asked.
“He wanted me to join the investigation and lend my expertise in helping solve the crime. He also invited me over for a beer later at his house.”
She smiled. “He doesn’t drink beer. But I didn’t believe you anyway.”
Puller nodded at the blue tarp. “You called the ME yet?”
“She’ll be here as soon as she can.”
Puller nodded. It seemed that his seven o’clock meeting with Timmins was going to be postponed.
“I won’t ask you for details, because I don’t want you to get in trouble with Bullock.” “Thanks.”
“Where’s your partner?”
Landry looked uncomfortable. “He, uh, he ran into a little problem.”
“Did he puke and pass out when he saw the body?”
She looked away, but something in her features told Puller he had nailed that one.
“I’ve got a lot of experience with bodies coming out of the ocean.”
“Why? I thought you were Army, not Navy.” “Oh, you wouldn’t believe what goes on in the infantry. And lots of Army bases are next to bodies of water.”
“I doubt Chief Bullock would approve of that.”
“I know he wouldn’t. But I thought I’d offer anyway. And if you ever want to run anything by me, unofficially of course, feel free.”
“I appreciate that. We don’t have a traditional plainclothes detective division. Uniforms do it all. If we get in over our heads we can call in help from the county or the state police.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
“You been busy following up on things with your aunt’s death?”
“A little.”
“If you find out anything that shows it wasn’t an accident will you bring it to me?”
“I will.”
“And you won’t play vigilante?”
“I never go looking for trouble.”
“But somehow it finds you?”
“Sometimes. I’m staying over at a place called the Sierra.”
“Not exactly a great part of town.”
“It is if you can’t afford the really great parts. And for the record, eighty bucks a night is not exactly cheap in my mind. Even with breakfast thrown in.”
“What can I say, it’s Paradise.”
“Can you tell me more about the area?”
“Like what?”
“I’m sure you have the typical problems. But do you have any gangs?”
“Officially no. In reality yes.”
“What do you mean officially no, then?” “Paradise is a tourist destination. Of the millions of people who come to the Panhandle every year, lots of them come to Paradise. So officially we don’t have a gang problem.”
“Okay, so what does your unofficial gang problem consist of?”
“An unusual hybrid. We don’t have the typical ethnic and racial divides here. No Bloods and Crips versus Latino gangs versus skinheads.” “Meaning you have diversity in your gangs. Very commendable.”
She looked at him funny. “Why do you ask? Did something happen?”
“Nothing worth mentioning. Crime limited to the poorer areas?”
“People crimes, yeah, for the most part. Gang on gang. But the property crimes leach into the
higher-dollar communities, for obvious reasons.” “Go where the good stuff to steal is?”
“Exactly. The really rich places around here have their own security. Either behind community walls with rent-a-cops or behind their own gates with professional types.”
“I’m seeing a whole other side of Paradise.”
“Hey, this stuff happens where you have money bumping up against poverty.”
“Meaning America basically.”
“Don’t know about that.”
“So who’s assigned to investigate this?” asked Puller.
“Chief Bullock is going to personally handle it. He knows the family.”
“Is he good at investigative work?”
“He’s the chief!”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
She let out a sigh. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“I guess you will,” said Puller.