“You had a welcome home party for him.”
“Strictly his idea. Roland and I weren’t all that thrilled about picking up the relationship. I feel sorry for the guy, but that doesn’t mean he can attach himself like a barnacle. Kid’s a basket case, you know? Okay, so on one hand, he’s been in prison and he’s Mister Tough-Guy. Mister Know-It-All. On the other, it’s like he’s still fifteen years old and completely out of it because he’s stuck back in time. I didn’t like him much to begin with and I thought it was pushy asking us to pitch a party for him. Talk about a weird vibe. None of us had a good time. It was just so freaking awkward, but what were we supposed to do? He put us on the spot. We agree to it once and he takes it for granted he can latch on for life. Next thing we know, he’s spending nights on our couch.”
“Did you see him this past Friday?”
“Briefly. Is there a problem?”
“A big one. Fritz was last heard from on Friday. There hasn’t been a peep out of him since.”
“Well, I saw him Friday afternoon. Thursday morning, he called, kind of like he was expecting an invitation. I told him we were busy and then he asked if he could crash here anyway and I said, ‘No, dude, you can’t.’ I mean, shit. The guy can’t take a hint. I said maybe some other time, just putting him off, and then told him Roland was waiting for a call, so I had to go. He called again Friday morning, all jazzed, because he’d actually gotten his hands on the twenty-five thousand bucks.”
“So I heard. He intended to pay the extortionist?”
“I guess so, but next thing you know, the story’s changed. He shows up at my door and there’s this big switcheroo. Fritz says it was all a misunderstanding. The guy didn’t intend to play hardball. He needed the money and couldn’t think of any other way to get it. Fritz was stoked and told him he’d be happy to help out. He’s acting like it’s a short-term loan the guy promised to pay back in a couple of weeks.”
I stared at Stringer like he’d grown a second head. “Are you serious?”
“I’m just telling you what he told me.”
“That makes no sense. Was this someone he knew?”
“Sounded like it to me. I mean, it must have been, right? You wouldn’t lend twenty-five grand to some schmo off the street.”
“He didn’t tell you who it was?”
“Nope.”
“Did you ask?”
“Why would I ask when I didn’t give a shit? I was happy to have him off our hands.”
I found myself squinting, trying to make sense of this unexpected turn of events. “The extortionist was supposed to pick him up downtown. So is that how he got to your place?”
“Absolutely. The guy drove him out here. He and this dude were going camping at Yellowweed, which was why he stopped by—to borrow a sleeping bag.”
“He didn’t have one of his own?”
“He did, but he didn’t want to go back to his place in case he ran into his mom and dad.”
“That’s nice of him. They’ve been worried sick,” I said. “You know what? I don’t like this. How did we get from blackmail to a chummy little camping trip?”
“I don’t like it either, now you mention it. Especially if no one’s heard from him since. That area up near Yellowweed is isolated. If Fritz thought there was any danger, why would he go?”
“Maybe the guy came up with the proposal about a camping trip to get him to cooperate.”
“Could be,” he said. “You’ve met Fritz, right?”
“Shortly after I was hired.”
“Not meaning to diss the guy, but he’s pathetic. He’d do anything if he thought he could get you to like him. Know what I mean? He’s one of those people who doesn’t believe anyone would take advantage. To him, it feels like friendship. Understand, I didn’t lay eyes on this so-called pal of his because he waited in the car. I’m judging from what Fritz said.”
“What if this was someone he knew in prison? That might explain his being so cheerful. Might have been a guy released about the same time he was and now he’s trying to jump on the gravy train. Either that or it’s someone from Climp.”
“If it was one of the kids from Climp, why be so secretive?”
“Maybe he was being secretive because he knew you knew the guy.”
Stringer shrugged, not really interested. “Anyway, he needed a Coleman stove and lantern, so I let him take mine. I’m being sarcastic, saying, ‘Sure you don’t want my tent?’ And he says oh no, they have one. So I go, ‘What the hell are you going to do up at Yellowweed?’ He’s looking at me like I’m nuts and he says, ‘What do you think? A doobie and a twelve-pack.’ A doobie? We haven’t called ’em that for years. I don’t want to pick a fight with the guy. He just irritates me. At least lending him a bunch of stuff was better than having him hang out.”
“What about Roland? Could he have heard from Fritz?”
“If he had, he would have mentioned it.”
“Fritz still has your camping gear?”
“Yeah, but I wasn’t using it anyway. I’m hoping he’ll get it back to me, but if not, no biggie.”
I stared out toward the horizon, thinking about what he’d said. In the distance, along the ridge where the Santa Ynez Mountains spilled into the valley beyond, I saw birds riding the thermals, circling like dark specks.
“When’s the last time you ran into Austin Brown?”
“Gotta be ten years. Dude’s been gone since Fritz shot off his big mouth and blabbed to the police.”
“Iris Lehmann thinks she saw him twice last week.”
“No way. What’s she talking about? He might be a badass, but he’s not a fool. Cops would pick him up in a heartbeat.”
“Why would she make a claim like that if it wasn’t true?”
“She’s a flake. What she says doesn’t mean shit and never did.”
I said, “Well, I appreciate the information.”
“Anytime.”
As I turned to go, an issue popped to mind. To this day, if pressed, I couldn’t identify the impulse that made me ask because this wasn’t a matter I’d given conscious thought to. “One quick question,” I said.
“Sure.”
“You were one of the kids at Margaret Seay’s house the day Sloan’s room was emptied, right?”
“Yes.”
“Who found the tape?”
I could see him process the query, which seemed to have taken him by surprise.
“Nobody. No one came across anything. The police had already been through her room, so there was nothing to find.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Sure, I’m sure. What made you ask?”
“Simple assumption, I guess. That was shortly before Fritz was released.”
Cautiously, he said, “Okay, but I don’t get the connection.”
“I thought the tape came to light that day. There were six of you and I can’t believe someone didn’t set up a whoop at the discovery.”
“No whoop. No discovery. Scout’s honor,” he said, holding up his right hand as though to attest to his honesty.