Trigger Happy by William H. Lovejoy

Author:William H. Lovejoy [Lovejoy, William H.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Publisher: Endeavour Media
Published: 2016-04-05T00:00:00+00:00

TWELVE

Sunday, August 26

Fever answered the phone after the first ring, but Cindy woke up anyway. He looked at the clock on the bedside stand: 6:15.

He rolled out of bed with the portable phone and looked for his jeans.

“Yes?”

“Your cell phone isn’t answering,” Whalen told him. “Tried to get you all yesterday.”

“Battery’s dead,” he lied. “I’ll replace it today.”

Holding the phone against his chest, he told Cindy to go back to sleep, balanced on one leg, then the other, to get his jeans on. He left the bedroom, slipped through the living room, slid open the glass door and went out on the patio.

His house was a small two-bedroom bungalow in Encino. The backyard was not humungous, but it was private, surrounded on all sides by lush shrubbery. It was already warm outside.

“Monterey cops called me about you,” Whalen said.

Shit! Fingerprints on the gun.

“Yeah?”

“What in the hell were you doing with a gun?”

“Hijacking a truck, like you told me to do. You wanted me to maybe just point a finger at the guy?”

“Goddamn. How’d they have your fingerprints? You got some record I don’t know about?”

“No record, nothing like that. A couple places where I applied for jobs wanted fingerprints. Hell, you were in the army, your fingerprints are somewhere, aren’t they.”

“Damn it, if I’d known you could be identified, we’d have sent you to the hospital instead of Mexico. Now the cops are going to wonder why you left blood behind and didn’t go to an emergency room.”

Fever thought he’d not remind Whalen about whose idea that was.

“You’ve got to call this cop named Fender and explain it.”

“Today?” Kenny thought he’d like to spend a little more time with Cindy. He’d just met her last night.

“Yes, today. We want this cop off your back. Hold on while I think for a minute.”

After a few minutes, Whalen came back on and told him what to do and what the story was going to be. “Be calm, act naturally. Respond to his questions openly. Don’t volunteer any damned thing.”

So at nine o’clock, after he cleaned up and dressed, and after Cindy decided she’d go to her own apartment to change out of her cocktail dress if she could borrow his Mustang, Fever called Monterey. They took his number and his address because Fender was out and told him to wait for a call back.

That was half an hour later.

“Mr. Fever, this is Detective Fender.”

“Yes sir. I understand from Mr. Whalen that you want to talk to me.”

“I do. First of all, why doesn’t the Department of Motor Vehicles have your current address?”

“Oh, Lordy. I moved about eight months ago and didn’t think to notify DMV.”

“You should do that. Then, tell me about the night of August 17th.”

Fever told him the prepared story. He’d been trying for months to locate Garwood because the man had taken off with a company car, a Cadillac CTS. When he’d finally discovered him in Monterey, he decided to watch him for a few days and see what he was up to.

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