Chapter 14

The drive back down from Ojai was completed largely in silence. Charity made sporadic comments about the scenery or the fine weather; Kettering answered in grunts and monosyllables. He parked on the street in front of his apartment and they climbed the wooden stairs together.

Inside they sat together on the sofa. "I'm sorry," Charity said. "I know that couldn't have been easy for you. I guess it was a bad idea."

Kettering shrugged. "I've seen my sister quite a few times over the years. There wasn't any reason to think this time would be any different."

"Don't worry, we'll get you out of this yet."

Charity gave him a hug. He felt again the surprising physical strength of the slim body.

"I'm not even sure what I have to be got out of." Kettering backed away from her and looked around the room, frowning.

"Something wrong?" Charity asked.

"Nothing important."

"Well, let's hear it," she said with a touch of exasperation.

"It's just that I miss my chair. It was nothing but a beat-up old recliner, but I could always get comfortable in it. The furniture in this place looks like it was recycled from a cheap motel."

"Hey, you don't have to stay here," she said. "There's plenty of room at my place."

"This place is all right," he said. "I don't really mind the tacky furniture, and I don't need any more space, I just miss my chair."

"I've got plenty of chairs. I mean, it would just be temporary. It would be a lot ... handier."

Kettering grinned at her. "Cozier too. Honey, I appreciate the offer, but I think we'd better leave things the way they are. At least for now."

"If you say so. Consider it a standing offer."

"Be careful or I might grab it one of these days."

"Wouldn't you like to grab something else too?"

"Aren't you being a touch aggressive?"

"It's my journalistic training. You want to do something about it?"

Kettering moved toward her to accept the challenge but was interrupted by a knock at the door.

He looked a question at her; she shrugged. He said, "Hold the thought," crossed the room to answer the knock.

Al Diaz stood outside on the landing. He looked at Kettering, then at Charity, then back to Kettering.

"I'm not interrupting?"

"Come on in, Al. You know Charity Moline, don't you?"

"The TV news lady."

Charity smiled and offered her hand.

"My partner, Al Diaz," Kettering said.

Diaz shook her hand awkwardly. He looked around the tiny apartment. "Nice place."

"That's what everybody says."

Diaz walked over and touched the telephone and answering machine. "You got a phone already?"

"They're very swift since deregulation."

"You, uh, making the change permanent?"

"I'll have to see. How's business?"

"Slow. Nobody's fired a shot since you left."

"Who you working with?"

Diaz made a sour face. "Carlucci."

"The garlic eater?"

"When we ride together, I have to hang my head out the window. He must gargle with the stuff. When you coming back?"

"Soon. There's something I want to take care of before I do."

"Does it have anything to do with your boy?"

"Trevor? Not directly. Why?"

"I've been nosing around that hole you told me he hangs out at, The Pit."

"Something happening down there?"

"I'd swear there is, but I can't get a handle on it. They've got a bar, but as far as I can see, they keep the minors out of it. And there's no evidence of drugs."

"This isn't part of your job, is it?"

"It's on my own time, but don't worry, I'll let you pay me back."

"Thanks. Anything on the guy who runs it?"

"Enzo DuLac. There isn't much. He's thirty, unmarried, lives alone. A sleaze. Hauled in for pandering, dealing, assault, contributing. No convictions."

"So how come he's got a liquor license?"

"He just manages the place. It'll take some time in the city files to find out who really owns it."

"Any chance of a bust?"

"All we've got are the usual neighborhood complaints - kids fornicating and pissing on the lawns." He remembered Charity. "Excuse me."

She smiled. "That's all right, Al, I've heard the words before."

"You know what happens when we try to clean up that stuff."

"They get a lawyer, he gets an injunction, and we have to sit on our hands for six months while some committee studies the situation."

"That's about it. I would bet you there's bad stuff going down at DuLac's place, but I haven't got the evidence to nail him."

"That sounds familiar."

"I'll keep digging. There's got to be something we can use to throw a scare into the sucker, if nothing else."

"Thanks, Al. I really do owe you."

"Damn right you do. But I'm not doing this just for you. I don't like to see barfbags like DuLac walking around."

Kettering walked him to the door. "If you get anything, buzz me."

"Will do." Diaz turned to Charity. "Nice to see you again."

"Likewise," she said.

When they were alone, Charity said, "What's the next move?"

"I'd like to jump on this DuLac myself, but that's just a diversion. What I think I'd better do is take a trip back to where this all began. See what I can find out there."

"Your hometown?"

He nodded. "Prescott, Indiana. I haven't been back in thirty years, since my mother was killed and I was shipped off to live with my aunt Alice in Milwaukee."

"That was right after your sister had the baby."

"Right. Maybe I can find out what happened to that baby."

"Want me to come with you?"

"Thanks, but I can move faster alone."

Charity came over and stood close to him. "Remember that thought you told me to hold?"

He wrapped his arms around her. "Good work, Miss Moline. Put yourself in for a raise."

This time they did not bother to fold out the sofa bed.