21
Louis and Angel came to the Bear shortly before closing. I hadn’t worked there for a while, and Dave Evans, the owner, seemed to be getting on fine without me, a fact that I tried not to take personally. Also, Aimee was paying me well, and like a good squirrel, I’d been carefully storing away enough nuts to see me through winter and beyond. But I liked the buzz of the place, and I’d never felt that working behind a bar was a dishonorable profession, particularly somewhere like the Bear where there was little tolerance for jackasses, and enough cops and repo men dotted around to ensure that any misbehavior would be frowned upon, if not actively discouraged if it persisted. Even without the presence of the law, the Bear was well able to handle the rare difficulties that arose. This was a neighborhood bar, an escape for a couple of hours, and the rules, though unwritten, were understood by nearly all.
‘How’s the Denny Kraus thing working out?’ Dave asked me, as I juggled separate checks from a bunch of genial New Yorkers who had left their capacity for simple division at the state line.
‘He’s still denying that he’s crazy.’
‘They have met him, right? Denny Kraus came out of the womb with an extra hole in his head. When he stands in a draft, you can hear it whistle.’
‘The judge knows he’s crazy. The prosecution knows he’s crazy. Even his own lawyer knows he’s crazy.’
‘What did you tell them?’
‘That he was crazy.’
‘It’s unanimous, then.’
‘Except for Denny.’
‘What does he know? He’s crazy. Thank God he didn’t shoot anyone in here.’
‘Why, you want to be the first one who does?’
‘Absolutely. On the day I retire, I’m taking some of the chefs down. The wait staff I’ll spare. I always liked them.’ He looked over my shoulder as I sorted the checks. ‘Split check?’
‘Yep. Five of them.’
‘It’s a hundred bucks. It divides evenly.’
‘I know.’
Dave scowled at the New Yorkers. ‘We need a stricter door policy,’ he said, and trotted off to see if any of the kitchen crew needed to be reminded of how Dave hoped to celebrate his retirement.
Aimee had left a message on my cell phone informing me that Randall Haight had finally decided to come clean about his past and its unwelcome intrusion into his new life. He would present himself at Aimee’s office the next day, and she planned to inform the state police of her client’s availability before she left the office, although she had decided not to give them his name in advance. I agreed that we should meet up to discuss our plans for the interview after the Bear closed for business.
Haight’s decision to talk to the police was still the right one, in my view, even leaving aside any concerns about Anna Kore. As a sole operator, I didn’t have the resources to do what he wanted me to do, not under the circumstances. The furor surrounding Anna meant that I couldn’t do what I would usually have done, which was to talk to people, including, as discreetly as possible, Haight’s clients, local folk, even the cops. It could have been done without letting them know the specific nature of the harassment, and in time I was confident that I could have closed in on the person or persons responsible.
But, as the coffee shop incident had revealed, Anna’s disappearance meant that anyone nosing around Pastor’s Bay would immediately attract the attention of the police, and no independent investigation would be permitted. In a way, it was possible that by speaking to the police Haight would free me up to work more effectively on his behalf, assuming I could cut a deal with law enforcement that would allow me to nose around as long as I fed back any relevant information to them.
Angel and Louis appeared shortly after we called last orders. I had warned Dave that some friends might be arriving late in the evening, and he’d promised to make sure they were looked after, but even he seemed a little taken aback when they arrived. Maybe it was Angel’s sneakers, or Louis’s beard, or a combination thereof, but Dave froze for an instant, as though he had somehow been assigned the role of greeting the first extraterrestrial visitors to Earth and had just realized the possible personal consequences involved. Angel raised a hand in greeting, and I was about to acknowledge it when a figure appeared at the bar. I allowed my raised hand to rest just below my neck, two fingers pointing to my shoulder. It was a sign that Angel, Louis, and I had agreed upon shortly after they first began helping me out: Keep your distance. They disappeared into one of the back rooms, but not before Angel had a quiet word in Dave’s ear, presumably to say that he was not to remind me of their arrival, and to bring some beer.
Three stools had freed up at the bar, and the center one was now occupied by Special Agent Robert Engel. He wore a jacket and jeans, and a crisp white shirt open at the neck.
‘Dress-down day at Center Plaza, Agent Engel?’ I said.
‘I’m trying to blend in with the locals.’
‘I could find you a Portland Pirates shirt, or a moose-antler hat.’
‘Or you could just get me a drink: Dewar’s, on the rocks.’
I poured him a generous measure, and he put a twenty on the bar.
‘It’s on me,’ I said. ‘Take it as a reminder of what common hospitality looks like.’
‘Still sore about your time in the Pastor’s Bay visitors’ suite?’
‘Psychologically and physically. Those chairs weren’t made for comfort.’
‘It could have been worse, although I hear the county jail is nice.’
‘Maybe we could arrange a tour.’
‘Even without one, I guarantee that it’s nicer than a federal holding cell.’
‘Is that a threat, Agent Engel?’
‘I prefer Special Agent Engel, although I admit that it’s a mouthful. And, no, it’s not a threat. I don’t believe you respond very well to threats. With you, I reckon it’s carrots all the way, not sticks. Is there a place where we can talk?’
I nodded to Dave to let him know that I was done. Already, the bar’s clientele was starting to drift home. I gestured toward one of the booths in the corner, as far away from Angel and Louis as possible, then poured myself a cup of coffee from the pot and joined Engel.
He was probably my age but his face was unlined, and if there were gray strands in his blond hair, they were well hidden. His mouth was very thin, his lips a horizontal cut in his face, his eyes a washed out gray-blue. In an adversarial situation, he would cut a forbidding figure. My guess was that he didn’t have many friends.
Boo-hoo.
‘So,’ he said, ‘it appears that despite your driving a flash muscle car around a small Maine town Chief Allan has yet to discover the identity of your client. He is dogged, though. Pretty soon he’ll be down on his hands and knees examining tire tracks.’
I could have told him there and then that Randall Haight was about to make himself known to the police, but there would have been no percentage in it for me. It was better to listen, and wait, and see what I could get him to reveal for little or no cost.
‘I had no reason then to believe that my client’s difficulties were linked to the Anna Kore case. I explained that during my conversation with Detective Walsh, the details of which I’m sure he passed on to you.’
‘Most of them. He was distinctly rattled when he left. I got the impression he might have said something to you that he subsequently regretted. You do have a way of getting under people’s skin, I’ll give you that. I imagine it makes you good at what you do, although at some risk to your own personal safety. I bet you’ve picked up some cuts and bruises along the way.’
‘I’m a fast healer.’
‘Lucky for you. Some of those who crossed you have been less fortunate. Do you know that you’re flagged on our system?’
‘Yes, I do. And you knew that I was aware of it, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked the question.’
‘It’s very interesting. You’ve led a charmed life.’
‘Really? You know, sometimes it doesn’t seem that way to me, and the FBI is not blameless in that regard.’
Engel made a minute adjustment to his features in an approximation of sorrow. ‘That was an unfortunate choice of words. I apologize. What I do recognize is that, your occasionally lawless nature and periodic poor judgment apart, your actions have generally contributed to the removal of certain unwanted elements from our society. We have that in common, even down to the sometimes lawless nature and errors of judgment. I have some questions for you. They’re general, and they shouldn’t impinge upon any requirements of client confidentiality, but they’ll enable us to move forward in our conversation and, indeed, in our relationship.’
‘Do you talk like that to all of your dates?’
‘Yes.’
‘How’s that working out for you?’
‘Not so well.’
‘Hard to believe.’
‘Isn’t it?’