Dance of the Bones

“Do you still own the property?”


“Hell, no,” Lassiter exclaimed. “Why would I? I never asked for it and didn’t want it in the first place. Luckily for me, some crazy--ass developer from back east was chomping at the bit to buy it off me. Claimed he was going to build houses out there in the middle of nowhere for some godforsaken reason. Said it was going to be some hotshot retirement community. I used the money he paid me for that place to buy this one.”

“So tell me about the fight the two of you had,” Brandon said. “When did it happen?”

“Some night,” Lassiter said. “I’m not sure of the exact date. What I am sure is that’s the last time I ever laid eyes on Amos Warren.”

Brandon knew from the autopsy that Amos Warren had been five foot eleven. John Lassiter was a good seven inches taller than that. If Amos had taken John out, he must have been one tough dude.

“You said Amos Warren clocked you that night,” Brandon prompted. “You said he knocked you on your ass?”

For an answer John pointed at a jagged three--inch scar on his left cheek. “Yes,” he said, “and left me this to remember him by.”

“Where did all this happen?”

“In a place on Speedway called El Barrio. It’s still there on the right, just this side of the freeway.”

Brandon had seen the place often enough. He drove past it almost every day on his way back and forth to Gates Pass. It looked like a rough kind of joint, and he had never ventured inside.

“So the two of you had a disagreement,” Brandon continued. “Was this something about your partnership, or was it something else?”

“It was about a girl, if you must know,” Lassiter answered. “Her name was Ava Martin, and she was my girlfriend at the time. We were almost engaged. Amos kept harping away about her not being good enough for me, but the first time he thought I wasn’t looking, he made a pass at her and tried to get inside her pants. Hypocritical asshole! She wasn’t good enough for me, but it was fine for him to try screwing around with her.”

“What can you tell me about the fight?”

“What’s there to tell? I told him to knock it off—-to stop interfering in my life and to stop messing with Ava. I told him she was off--limits. Next thing I knew, he hauled off and knocked me colder than a wedge.”

“Did you ever patch things up?”

“No, we never patched things up. I already told you, I never saw Amos again after that. The last I saw of him, he was sitting at the bar with a smug cat--eating--shit grin on his face and buying a round for every customer in the joint—-sort of like a celebration for knocking me on my ass.”

“What happened to Ava?”

“What do you think? Maybe Amos was right about her. She dumped me, too, as a matter of fact, just a few weeks later.”

“Do you know where Ava is living these days?”

“No idea,” Lassiter responded, “and who gives a shit? I heard she moved up in the world. Got herself a husband or two. No matter what Amos said, the girl had some smarts about her. By now she’s probably set for life.”

“What about you?”

“I’m doing okay,” he answered with a shrug. “I’ve got a fairly new girlfriend now. She’s a nice girl, and I don’t want her dragged into any of this if that’s all right with you.”