Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 148, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 900 & 901, September/October 2016
- Автор: Дивер Джеффри, Эллин Стенли
- Год: 2016
- Язык: английский
- Год: Penny Publications
- ISBN: 0013-6328
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «Ellery Queen’s Mystery Magazine. Vol. 148, Nos. 3 & 4. Whole Nos. 900 & 901, September/October 2016». Краткое содержание книги:
But it was never a sport to me. I hunted to feed my family. I’ve never killed an animal just to prove I could, or because it was bigger than me. Or because I wanted to mount its head on a wall.
I’d rather see its picture on a wall. Alive, and running free.
The air in the main room was hazy with cigar smoke and the low buzz of conversation from a poker game at a table in the corner. A half-dozen men were playing, clad in combinations of hunting garb and underwear. A few of them glanced up idly, checking me out. Then kept right on checking. And it was more than just idle curiosity.
We recognized each other, not by name, but for what we were. Professionals. I’ve been dealing with guys just like them for years. Paid fighters who worked for our side, or the other side, or both at once. They weren’t here to hunt, they were strictly muscle. And I remembered Chief Kazmarek’s concerns about the new faces in town, wondering if I was one of them.
And I suppose I am, in a way. But Brian and I always worked for the right side, I hope, running construction crews to rebuild a war-ravaged country. I doubt anybody at that poker table had ever built anything bigger than a bank account.
“Something you want?” a bearded one asked.
“I’m looking for Phil Savarese.”
“Mr. Savarese’s office is straight ahead, sport. But if you’re looking for work—”
I didn’t bother to answer. Or to knock. I pushed through the door instead.
Phil Savarese’s office was Hollywood rustic, with knotty-pine paneling and an antique roll-top desk. A long rack of expensive weapons lined both walls, everything from Davy Crockett flintlocks to BFG fifty-caliber express rifles that could punch through two bull elephants, end to end. Way too much firepower for legitimate hunting. But I guessed the goons out front would be right at home with them.
Savarese was at his desk, dressed for a Kenya safari, khaki jacket and shorts. Snake-proof boots laced to the knees. Square faced, with jowls and a whiskey flush, he looked to be in his forties but it was tough to be sure. His jet-black hair was tinted and he’d had some work done around his eyes. Which meant he had an ego, worried about keeping his looks. Good to know.
“You’d be LaDart,” Savarese said, scanning a ten-inch tablet, without looking up. “My lawyer called about you. Dan Froggett? A friend of yours, I understand.”
“We go back,” I said.
“You must,” he nodded. “He practically begged me to help you out, swore up and down you wouldn’t be looking for trouble.”
“I’m not. This is strictly business.”
“You don’t look like a businessman to me. You look more like an out-of-work vet.”
“I’m that too. But that’s not why I’m here.”
“Froggy said there was some mix-up over a backwoods property?” Savarese said. “Wants me to cut you a sweetheart deal on it. What seems to be the problem?”
“It’s not complicated. Frog sold you that land by mistake. I want it back.”
“I paid a fair price for it.”
“I’ll repay every penny plus a ten-percent bump.”
“So you can triple the price and resell it later? I don’t think so.”
“It’s not for sale. It never was.”
“I looked it up. It’s empty land in the middle of nowhere. What makes it so special?”
“My dog’s buried there.”
He blinked. “Are you jerking my chain, pal?”
“I’ll show you his marker if you like.”
“If you’re looking for trouble, sport, you’ve come to the right place. One word from me and the guys in the next room will take you apart—”
His voice faded to a drone. I wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. I’d noticed the king-sized computer screen on the wall behind his desk. And realized what it was.
He saw me staring, grabbed up a remote control and switched it off.
But not before I figured it out. And him along with it.
“Wow,” I said, looking around the office, really taking it in for the first time. “The game ranch, you, it’s all part of the scam, isn’t it?”
“What are you—?”
“That map on that screen was Vale County,” I said, “from the lakeshore to the Otsego line. And it was marked off in blocks. The whole county, not just the land around your game farm.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about—”
“Actually, I do. In my line of work, I see all kinds of maps, every day. And we read ’em very carefully. Because getting a coordinate wrong can get people killed. And what I just saw on your wall? Might get you killed in this county. I might do it myself.”
I had his attention now.
“The land on your map is divided into six-hundred-acre parcels and a half-dozen sections were on state land, which can’t be bought or sold—”
He started to argue, but I waved him to silence.
“—except for the mineral rights,” I finished. “Mineral rights have to be sold in sections, and that’s what you’ve really been buying, isn’t it? The right to drill for oil, mine gold or uranium or God only knows what?”
He hesitated for a half-second too long, then shrugged. And dropped back into his seat.
“Froggett said you were smart,” he sighed. “I should have listened. Okay, you’ve made your point, LaDart. So? What do you want? A job? I can make that happen. A payoff? How much?”
I didn’t say anything. Just eyed him in silence.
“C’mon, you blew into town from a war zone, same as the poker players out there. But if you think you can shake me down hard, think again. Unless we work this out, you go from this room to the emergency room. So let’s get down to it. Guys like you always need money, and I actually need somebody like you.”
“A construction worker?” I asked, amazed at how level my tone was. I was a split second from punching him through the wall.
“Cards on the table, sport. We’ve got a sweet deal going here. The people I work for sent me here to buy up mineral rights for the county on the quiet. The lakefront may be booming, but things are thin in the back country. Wave a check under their noses and most landowners are happy to sell their rights, their land, or both together. The problem is, I have to deliver all the rights, as a package deal, and a few local rednecks are holding out. I need to sew this thing up before word gets around and the prices skyrocket, so we’ve got to change some minds in a hurry. I imagine you got pretty good at that, over there.”
I nodded, not trusting myself to speak. He was so full of himself, he took it for a yes.
“Froggett tells me you grew up in the back country, so you know the locals. We need to make an example of somebody, to send a message,” he said, sliding a sheet of paper across the desk. “Here’s a list of the landowners who turned me down. Which one would you knock around to cow the rest?”
“How hard do you want to knock them?” I asked, picking up the sheet, scanning down the list of names I’ve known since I was a kid.
“Whatever it takes,” he said flatly. “Up to now, we’ve kept the rough stuff on the down low. A barn fire, jimmied brakes on a car, a couple of barroom scuffles. But the clock’s running on this. I have to deliver soon and some of these hicks are such knot-heads it’ll take an obituary to get their attention. I don’t expect you to get your hands dirty, just tell me which name. The boys will take care of it.”
“Seriously? You’d bury somebody? Over lines on a map? For what? What are you really after?”
“I got no idea. Who knows what’s underground up here? All I know is, the people I work for sent me to get the rights to it. When I deliver this deal, we’ll divvy up real money. More than you ever dreamed of...” He broke off, eyeing me oddly.
And I realized I was smiling.