Inquisitors Alike

With the impending Q&A with the Pahrump Sheriff, they were eager to get to some answers – for the Sheriff and for themselves. This was wild, disastrous shit, and no one had any solid information – except for Donnie, wherever he was. To a lesser degree, Cliff and his mates for the unsubtle inquiries they made with the hucksters; and what they had already uncovered. All else was speculation. But they were proving themselves efficient in developing answers – not just any answers, but those that were true. Anyone can spin a yarn… take for instance Mark’s text.

Their plan finally bore some fruit. Mark, of all people, would have had too much conscience to dismiss his mates while he was riding cowgirls in the Mojave date circuit. Not a chance. Lazlo was a close second. So, being Donnie was the one most plausibly salacious sot, and he was the one texting Cliff that cryptic message that started this trash fire, and now the one running for his freedom, maybe his life … but “Mark” says they’re having a wild-ass time indulging in fornication.

Not a fucking chance.

But how does that declaration stand up in a sheriff’s office? In a debate with said sheriff over the innocence of a friend, easily identifiable as the one with indulgent intentions? Donnie’s predilections provided him no safe harbor here, but his mates knew his innocence.

“Mark’s” text would be their opportunity to bear down on the culprits of whatever it was that went down. And as the guys discussed keeping this information to themselves… for obvious recompense to be extracted in the shade of night and with a pound of flesh… revenge was the side dish at this point. Saving them all was priority - if they were so fortunate. But after Jack Smart’s confession, priority was given to the one most likely alive. But it would mean trading in their vengeance for cooperation in getting Donnie out alive and free.

So, before they set back out to Sheriff Coyle’s office, they decided to do some more intel gathering. Cliff texted back.

“Hey, Marky Mark! Was wondering what you dirt-clods were up to. Tell us where to meet ya. All in!” He hit send. Then he added another.

“Bringing our winnings, brother! Artie hit the roulette wheel for $18,000 dollars. Be there with bells on and some cologne.”

They didn’t have to wait long… “Mark” texted back: “Wow! Bring it on! Come on out to The Zanzibar Club in Pahrump. That’s where we’ll be tonight.”

They wanted more… as much as they could discover.

“Okay, all ya there? Donnie, Laidlaw and you?” the error was intentional.

“Yep!”

Cliff was immediate in reply, “We’re close. Come to see you now?”

There was a delay in response. Maybe they were pushing too hard, too quickly.

Then there was a whoosh in return, “On a day trip, we all went to LA. Nude beaches near Santa Barbara.”

“You fuckers!!! Hahahaha!” then a big heart emoji.

“Mark” sent a thumbs up emoji.

“We’ll see you and D and Laidlaw around 10 oclock!”

Cliff and the guys thought the thread was pretty much exhausted, and one more text came from this version of Mark.

“Come sooner. Get yourselfs some girls. Why wait? If ur close to Pahrump, you should go get grooving. And who is Laidlaw?”

Cliff turned to Johnny and Art, “Fuck that last bit. They just realized they fucked up and sent that…” still in thought, maybe there was something more needed to confirm. “And Marky wouldn’t ever talk that dumb, even in text messaging. Too anal. He edits his Tweets… emails, texts. Yourselfs? That’s definitely not Mark.” Then he had one last idea, good or not remained to be known.

“Fuckin with ya. Yea, tell the boys all four of us will be there before you guys get back from California.”

Johnny’s phone whooshed with one last text. It was the thumbs up emoji again, confirming all four would be coming… and Marky would know there were only three.

**********************

“I want to thank you gentlemen for being so accommodating with our little search here, but given the circumstances…” Sheriff Coyle didn’t fill out those circumstances – pretty much understood in any corner of any town.

“We understand, Sheriff. But like I said, we came to help your case, because we know our people. And…” Cliff was nodding to the deputy not lifting a finger but had his hand on the butt of his weapon the whole time, “… that fella there. You sure that’s necessary?”

“I s’pose not.” She turned to her deputy, “We’re fine Larry. I’m takin’ our visitors inside to get acquainted.” She turned to Harry Bunting, “Detective Bunting, since you’re my number one on this matter, join us in my office, please.”

The group settled in, Harry rolling three extra chairs to get all five seated. Darlene Coyle got the niceties out of the way quickly.

“Again, very good of you fellas to be so cooperative. This is a tough time in our little town. We never take kindly to such things, and your friend, Donald… well, I can’t put it in any kind terms. He is our suspect. Eyewitnesses corroborate the testimony.”

“From who?” Art was defensive, Johnny patting his leg, saying everything.

“A few people actually. Including one of the two working girls who your boy paid to keep time with.” The vets could tell this policewoman worked hard and often at keeping language respectful of the ladies and proprietors of the cathouses… few did across a country. But it was her sandbox and respect goes a long way in the policing business.

“I don’t suppose you can share those names?” Cliff felt like an ass the minute he said it.

“Well, you know I can’t do that Mr. Polite… and I can understand your eagerness, but we can’t possibly know your full intentions. And frankly, you’re not law enforcement. So…” She changed subjects, “What d’ya say you give me your gameplan, and what you consider as help in my police investigation.”

This is when their boxers tightened up like vices, because if you start explaining what you know, they’ll be asking how you come by your information… and that would be bad.

“Well, Johnny, Art and me, we got no plan, like that. Just that we know our boy Donnie. When you fight enemies and bullets with a man, you tend to know ‘em pretty damn good. We might be able to help you with him.”

Sheriff Coyle was nodding, “Yes you do. You sure do that. But that doesn’t answer my question.” She was awkwardly looking out her window to see if the deputies were finished with the search of the car.

Johnny piped in, “Let me, Cliff. Sheriff, I’ve known Cliff since we were in middle school, never letting much time or space get between us. And as much shit as I give him – and he gives me – he’s the straightest damn arrow you will ever meet. If you were the Pope, or Jesus H. Christ, you would defer to whatever the man says. There is no two ways about him.” He then cast his eyes back and forth among his mates, “And we all been together through the worst of Fallujah and the lousy work of the Veterans Administration. We fought every battle for Uncle Sam and cashed miserably small checks doing it. So, if you’ll pardon me for sayin’, I don’t take kindly to all the constant references to his “dubious character”…” he quoted with his fingers in the air, “… like he’s got secret motives. And I’m pretty sure you have already pulled our military records and probably our personal records telling you about the same…” he left that hang out there.

Darlene was nodding lightly while Johnny dished at her, “I can respect your feelings Mr…”

“Decencies. Johnny Decencies, Sheriff. Air Force, F-16 fighter pilot.”

“Yes, Mr. Decencies. You’re right! I had your records pulled. That’s my job. My temperament usually is not too closely bound to the daily work, so… I choose not to be offended, even when I am being insulted… if you know what I mean.”

“I meant no…” She held up her hand.

“Yes, you did, Mr. Decencies. And it makes a ton of sense to you. But you know what? I could give a fuck!”

Harry Bunting gave an audible “whoa…” and a muffled chuckle. Darlene looked at him and gave her angriest stare of the day, then returned to Johnny.

“Mr. Decencies? I already told your friend, Cliff, I got one important job here, and that’s taking care of the people in this town. Now I do that with cooperation or with obnoxious objection. You understand? And whatever shit gets thrown around, I promise you one thing, military vets or not, this goes anywhere near sideways, and people will end up in jail real quick. Am I understood?”

Johnny seethed, looking out the window, holding his tongue silent.

“Sheriff, what Johnny is concerned about, Artie, me as well, is you might already have Donnie lined up for capital punishment, or whatever you call it here. But we know our boy didn’t do it. It’s just not him. And none of this stuff has yet tried to explain to us what happened to our two other friends, Mark and Lazlo. Now, with respect, you got a community girl that’s been killed… I’m sorry. I know how that stuff hurts. I lost 14 men under my leadership, and I would call each and every one of them a friend. More than that, a brother. So, Johnny, like me, like Art, feels pretty full in our heart for our brothers… and this town? Could give a shit maybe.”

It was not meant as a challenge, and Sheriff Coyle didn’t take it as such.

“I understand. No offense. We do care… for you boys, for your friends, we do care. And now knowing about your other two buddies, it certainly puts the investigation into a different light, because that news is new to us. We will look into their welfare as well.” Her mind was already ringing aloud in her head, 'The Zanzibar Club and that woman Big Sal…' she ground her teeth.

“Thanks for that, of course… and how we can help your investigation is in the information we have that you and your detective will want to have. I have those interesting text messages I told you about, that accidentally tell us things about what’s going on better than any lying eyeballs – with respect. Once you have all these messages, you will see where this thing has already gone sideways.”

“You won’t mind you get me that phone so we can pull the data?”

“I don’t Sheriff, not one bit. I only need to ask if you can wait till tomorrow afternoon.”

“Why’s that?”

“Because the bad guys are texting us… me… and they’re doin’ it from our friend Mark Denton’s phone.”

“It couldn’t be that your buddy is well and playing on those nude beaches he talked about?”

“Nah, not that he wouldn’t, what with his divorce and all, but that wouldn’t be going down while Donnie is running for his life – or from the law, whatever. Marines just don’t turn their backs on their own. Especially when you were friends in-country and since discharge.”

“You’re so sure it’s bad guys?” Sheriff Coyle was so hoping it was not, because that would throw holy hell into the political war surrounding that industry, that poisoned fruit that already pushed Pahrump into every salacious news, and on the heels of the other disappearances over the last few years… This is the last thing she would ever hope to be at her door. Like dead fish wrapped in newspaper.

“I’m not sure of anything. But we got part of the puzzle solved. And we just want to let them bait us in to see who’s behind it.”

“Okay, but we gotta get it the day after, or we are going to put out a warrant on that phone, and any shenanigans would mean an arrest warrant for you, and each one of you if you want to play like hero gunmen. You hear?”

Cliff looked to his mates, feeling like they slid under the radar as they had hoped they would. He smiled, “We hear you loud and clear, Ma’am.”

“Please, don’t call me Ma’am. Sheriff will do fine.”

“Well, Sheriff, more than happy to. But now can we ask you for a bit of help?… and it’s something you will want to know as well. But can you identify the location of Marky’s phone? Where it’s pinging from?”

“Well, we don’t have a ‘pinging’ division… but we can do that, Mr. Polite, just so long as this department leads any actions. Is that understood?”

“Squared up, Sheriff. Fully understood.”

Just then the deputies that had been searching the car came in and nodded at Darlene.

“Car’s all clean, Sheriff.”

And it was… with Art’s last minute reminder they had the stolen plates on the car as they drove into Pahrump. A quick change and a disposal of the stolen plate, and their weapons wedged in some rocks outside the town limits… and no one would have any idea about their intentions, beyond they were there to help. Good fighting men that they were.

***********************

There was a light knock on the heavy, raised-panel door, and a turning bolt, Carson entered. He held a short stack of clothes and a small canvas sack; it looked like a navy man’s gunny.

“Evenin’ Mr. Marine.”

Donnie sat up from his cot… he had just started to doze. “Evening, Carson.” He would not be rude enough to ask about the armful of things.

“Babs put together some things for ya here. No less a prisoner, but at least we’ll make you comfortable enough.” He plopped the clothes on the foot of the bed. “These are some of my old things when I used to be skinny… can’t even remember the decade.” He chuckled in appreciation of his own humor.

“Thank you, sir. And thanks to your wife.”

“I’ll tell her…” he then began unravelling the gunnysack, reaching in and pulling some food out. A big, clear Ziplock bag stuffed full with sandwiches. Donnie could almost taste the ham he saw sneaking out from between the bread slices. “She put this together fer ya too. She knew ya needed more than cookies after all the blood you lost. There’s a couple chunks of her banana bread too.” motioning inside the sack. Then he went back in and pulled out some pharmacy items and began laying them on the bed.

“I can’t thank you enough, Carson, but I been giving this a lot of thought…” He was immediately shushed.

“Enough. What good God has bestowed on us, it’s the least we can do for another in trouble…” and he added in complete, bald fact, “…whether the fool brought it on himself or not.” He offered no expression on this, it was an eternal matter of fact. Donnie squinted and nodded his foolish head.

“Let me look at that thing.” He was waving in that give-it-here way.

“You don’t have to do that, Carson… I” and he was immediately interrupted.

“I… I… I… Stop! You got yerself into this beehive. An’ how in the hell you gonna field-dress your own damn arm? Don’t care what kind of tough guy you is.”

“Well, sir, you and your wife are just going over in your kindness…”

“Oh, pshaw! You wanna shut them lips a little? “For I am here to serve, and not to be served”, says right in the good book.” He shook a finger at Donnie after the curious oration. “Now, I think you know this is gonna hurt a bit.”

**********************

Donnie was laced up in silk thread, but an admirable stitching job, both sides of his arm. Poultice was spooned onto the wound and gauze was delicately woven around the marine’s arm, with a final tuck into itself to seal it.

“You do good work. Where’d you learn to field-dress a wound?”

Carson raised his eyebrows in reflection, “I was one of you back a while. ‘Bout the time I was skinny.” He chuckled from his gullet, stowing things back in the gunnysack. Then he held up the sack, “This baby has held out better ‘n me.” He finished his chuckle.

“Where’d you serve, sir?”

“Oh, hell! None of that sir, shit! I wa’n’t anyone’s sir. I was just a grunt. PFC. Like 99% of us. But Korea. Nothin’ heroic, and no, I ain’t gettin’ inta stories of glory. There ain’t none in war. I got old before I learnt that one.”

“Oorah, grunt.” The perfect response. The old man smiled at him.

“Name’s Carson Brubaker.” He put his hand out.

“Donald Yankovich. My pleasure… like you don’t know.” Donnie laughed in relief for all that was true in that remark.

Carson pulled up a small barrel, “Pickles… the best…” he sat, “Makes for a pretty good stool, too.” He looked at the younger marine and went into some wisdom, as if it were requested of him, “Donald, you got yerself in a fix, and yer tryin’ to find yer way out. An’ I got to talkin’ with Babs upstairs, an’, well, bein’ Christian folk, we decided we wanna help ya…” then he looked up gravely, “But we don’t help the devil’s work, son. So tell me straight. What the fuck happened?”

“Well, Carson, you know pretty much everything far as I know. And I’m not just blowing up your skirt. I honestly don’t know. I was with these two girls…”

“Two? You was with two girls?” Carson began laughing fully, “Two girls. My what a man needs today…” and he looked up brightly, “I only needed one. An’ my girl is still upstairs right now.” Donnie felt that goodness sting in the moment… a beautiful sting… then Carson finished, “But I s’pose doin’ that just once might’ve been fun! Damn foolish, but fun.” And they finished their laugh with a sigh.

“The night is a blur, Carson. But I knew something was wrong, and one of the girls started cryin’, and she told me, “you and your friends aren’t safe”… Don’t know why. We didn’t do anything but pay to lay with some professional ladies, and suddenly we were in a bunch of trouble.” Carson was nodding, not speaking. “ Next thing I know, these three dudes come in from the closet, but past the closet. I could see in, was weird… and one had the gun that stamped me, and I busted out a window… hid under some roots above an arroyo. Then found you and your wife just tryin’ to find my way out of that jackpot. And I don’t know a fuckin’ thing about what happened, or why.”

Carson sort of did… you can’t be long in Pahrump, knowing some things about some things without having your own suspicions. But they were just that.

“But Carson, I been thinking about things too. You have been real nice, and I can't thank you enough. Your missus too. But I've been thinking about this, and if this brings you harm in any way, either with the guys chasing me or your sheriff giving you trouble, I'd much rather be on my own. I don't want nothing falling on your heads. And I sure as hell ain't running hard the way I am.

“Keep me locked up if you want to, I sure wouldn't mind the meal or the medical care, but if it puts you or your wife in danger I'd rather take my chances and thank you on the way out. And I’m not trying to get away. That’s not it. But my stupidity has done enough people damage, and I won’t let anything more happen to anyone undeserving.”

Carson got up, patted Donnie’s leg, “I’m goin’ ta bed marine. Tomorrow, I think that wound should be good enough you get yerself a hot shower, and wash those ears out… that dirt from them roots obviously has scrambled that damn brain of yers. We can talk more about yer grand plans after all that.” He smiled the smile of comfort and confidence… odd, as Donnie shouldn’t be feeling any of that. “Goodnight Mr. Yankovich. Eat a little of that banana bread before you doze off. Best thing Babs bakes!”

He exited, and locked the door… but Donnie heard a hushed exchange, “You hear enough? Did I tell ya?” Then Carson chuckled…

“You… old man Brubaker, you think you’re so smart.” an audible smack… then, “Two girls? I’d a killed ya dead.” And a much louder slap. Carson chuckles as the footsteps faded. His laughter the last thing Donnie heard.

************************