Low Pressure

“Several weeks. Six, eight maybe.” The prospect of a long, slow healing process seemed to delight him. He ripped a prescription for painkillers off a pad, and as he handed it to Rupe, he said, tongue in cheek, “Don’t be a stranger.”

Cute. That was the tag line with which Rupe signed off all his television commercials.

He had stopped at his house long enough to wash down two of the pain pills with neat scotch and to change his clothes, which still bore the heel marks of Moody’s boots. Fortunately, his wife and kids were spending two weeks in Galveston with his in-laws, so he hadn’t had to make explanations. By the time they returned, he wouldn’t look quite so bad, and he would have thought of something plausible to explain his altered appearance.

At eight o’clock, the dentist had met him at the back door of his office, and then Rupe had spent four grueling hours with a blinding light in his eyes and sharp instruments in his mouth.

When he awoke this morning, his nose was throbbing, his eyes were swollen practically shut, and, although his caps had been re-cemented to last for a thousand years, his gums were too tender even to sip coffee.

Looking at himself in his bathroom vanity mirror, he muttered, “Fucking Moody,” and pledged to find the former cop and kill him.

Toward that end, he called Haymaker.

“Hey, Rupe,” he answered cheerfully, “how’s it hanging?”

“You son of a bitch, you turned him on to me, didn’t you?”

“Who? Turned who on to you? What are you talking about?” Haymaker’s voice was so ridiculously innocent it was taunting.

“I’m going to ruin you.”

“If you could’ve, you would’ve. Know what I think, Rupe? I think you’ve lost your touch. That edge you once had just ain’t what it used to be.”

“I’m giving you one last chance, Haymaker.”

“To do what? My car note is current. I even paid a month ahead. So don’t send one of your goons after that sorry tin can you sold my wife, or I’ll have to report it stolen.”

“Tell me where Moody is.”

“Oh,” he said, dragging out the word. “So that’s what this is about. Moody. You haven’t found him yet?”

Rupe could swear Haymaker smothered a laugh. “If you don’t tell me—”

“I swear, Rupe. Dale hasn’t shared his current address with me. Waterboarding wouldn’t get it for you.”

“Find out where he is. You have until this time tomorrow. If you don’t come through, you’re going to have me as an enemy for the rest of your life. And, Haymaker, you don’t want that.”

“Uh, Rupe. I don’t think you ought to be worrying about Moody.”

“I’m not worried. I can shut him up forever. I can shut you up forever. And I don’t even have to get my hands dirty. I don’t even have to leave my office. I can—”

“What I mean is,” Haymaker said, interrupting. “I don’t think having Dale and me killed is gonna solve your problem. Because, see, I’m looking out my front window as we speak, and guess who’s coming to call?”

Chapter 16

While Bellamy was showering and dressing, Dent swapped out their cars, then made toast and scrambled eggs, which she ate hungrily when she rejoined him in the kitchen. More casually dressed than he’d ever seen her, she had on a pair of snug jeans and a white shirt. She looked good and smelled great.

Once they were on I-35, driving back to Austin in her car, she asked him where they were going. “Haymaker. He partnered with Moody during the investigation.”

“I vaguely remember him.”

“I saw them more than you did and got the impression they were pals off the job. Maybe he can tell us where Moody is.” Then he reintroduced the subject of Jerry. “What do you make of your number-one fan being in the Georgetown park yesterday and then apparently following us to the airport?”

“I admit that it smacks of stalking. If I ever come face-to-face with him again, I’ll tell him that his behavior is making me uncomfortable.”

“Oh, that should put the fear of God into him.”

She shot him a dirty look and the conversation died there.