“Sorry to hear that. Merton knows how to take it to them.”
“Sir?”
“He carries a badge, but he writes his own rules. They all do.”
“Who’s ‘they’?”
He grinned again. “They.”
“Mr. Epstein, I’m sorry for bringing all this trouble into Valerie’s life.”
“You didn’t have anything to do with it.”
“You could fool me, sir.” Again he didn’t reply. I went on, “Detective Jenks told me some terrible things about Jaime Atlas.”
Mr. Epstein sat up on his haunches and wiped the mud off his hands on his cutoffs, his eyebrows beady with moisture. “The man who comes after you is only a man. Most assassins are cowards.”
“Jaime Atlas crushed a man’s head in a vise.”
“Don’t believe everything you hear.”
“Detective Jenks made it up?”
“No, Jaime Atlas probably did. Put it to his kind, and they’ll cut and run. They don’t serve in wars. They make money off them.”
I wasn’t interested in his thoughts on the Atlas family. The question on my mind was one I couldn’t force myself to ask.
“It’s not going to offend me,” he said.
“Pardon?”
“Whatever you’re wanting to say, it won’t offend me.”
“Who do you reckon killed Mr. Harrelson?”
He picked up a trowel and began digging at a clump of weeds, chopping hard. There were dirt rings on his neck.
“Did I say something wrong, sir?”
“Nope. Go talk to Valerie. A woman you know called for you. Tell her not to call here again.”
VALERIE WAS WASHING dishes in the kitchen. I picked up a towel and began drying them. I could see the color in her throat.
“Your father said I had a phone call.”
“Yes, the woman named Cisco.”
“She called here?”
“What did I say? Why are you in contact with this person, Aaron?”
“I tried to help Detective Jenks. He’s dying.”
“All right, but what does she have to do with it? Why does she have to call my house?”
“I don’t know. Did she leave a number?”
“Yes, she did. Maybe you’d better hop right on it.”