Into the Inferno - Earl Emerson [72]
“As good as.”
“You won’t be dead.”
“You think I’m a sonofabitch, don’t you?”
“I think you’re just like anyone else, a complex human being who doesn’t quite understand all of his motivations. There’s nothing wrong with that. Most of us don’t understand what makes us tick. Look. I really am sorry I opened my big mouth.”
“No. You’re right. I’ve known a lot of women, and I’m not sure I treated any of them the way I’d want my daughters treated. I’ve never been good with relationships. Every woman I’ve dated in the last couple of years . . . I start off thinking this is the one, and by the time I have her convinced of it, I’ve lost interest.” I broke off a hunk of bread and dipped it in olive oil.
“Did you cheat on your wife?”
“Why are you asking that?”
“You cheated on Holly and this other person, Mary Kay.”
“I didn’t say I cheated on Mary Kay.”
“But you did, didn’t you?”
“We were friends. It wasn’t—”
“Did you cheat on your wife? Indulge me. I’m trying to get to know you. We don’t have that long, and I want to know you.”
“You know plenty.”
“I don’t, though. Not enough.”
I didn’t know what kind of game she was playing, but as uncomfortable as it made me, it also pleased me in a manner that was hard to describe. I’d never been with a woman as brutally honest as her. Nor one who could put a knife in my heart as quickly.
“Did you?”
“What?”
“Cheat on your wife?”
“Never even crossed my mind. Well, toward the end it crossed my mind. But it never happened. And it never would have. Marriage vows are sacred.”
“Your baby-sitter was staring daggers at me.”
I broke off another hunk of bread. “Was she?”
“She’s got the hots for you.”
“I suppose you think I engineered that, too?”
“I don’t know how it happened, but it’s easy enough to see what it does for your ego.”
Oh, brother.
31. JANE’S CALIFORNIA PROPULSION, INC.
Digging into my lunch while she perused the list of company names I’d scribbled on the paper place mat, I thought about the script that had already been played out in Chattanooga. Had the problem there been addressed properly, firefighters in North Bend wouldn’t be dropping like empty shell casings under a drunken hunter.
Stephanie said, “Canyon View Systems. Is that what this says?”
“Yeah. Now that you mention it, Canyon View was on the manifest I got for Holly’s truck, too. But they were only shipping books, as I recall. And according to Charlie Drago, they were the only ones who helped out in Tennessee. Everyone else stonewalled or fought them tooth and nail. Canyon View sent two specialists down to answer questions and assist with the investigation.”
“My Aunt DiMaggio? You saw her the other night at the hospital. Her husband founded Canyon View Systems. She runs it.”
“That would make sense. Your aunt said Holly shipped stuff for them from time to time.”
“It also makes sense that they sent people down to help when nobody else would. Aunt Marge has always had a fairly well developed social conscience. She did a lot to help Holly get on her feet when she first arrived here in Washington.”
“Was she running the company three years ago?”
“Phil was still alive then, so he was.”
It was at about that point that I got a brainstorm and asked to borrow Stephanie’s cell phone. Mine had blown up with the engine back at Caputo’s trailer. On the first call I reached Mr. Stuart from Jane’s California Propulsion, the same man who’d told me they didn’t ship in February. I told him who I was and he said, “Lieutenant Swope? I guess you spoke to my colleague Ben Gray? It turns out we were shipping last February. I’m sorry about that. We very rarely send anything out during that time of year, and I could have sworn we didn’t last February. My mistake. Now what can I do for you?”
“I wanted to know what you were shipping and if there might be any adverse health effects attached to it.”
“We have a lot of materials we send by truck. Unfortunately, they’re all classified. I’m not really at liberty to talk about them. You say somebody’s been sick?”
“Quite a few somebodies.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. Do the symptoms