X (Kinsey Millhone 24)

“If not, I got some cool threads out of the deal.”

I hauled the strap of my bag over my shoulder and slid off the bar stool. I was on the verge of pulling out my wallet when Christian stayed my hand, saying, “I’ll take care of it.”

“No need.”

“I can handle it.”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I meant it when I said I appreciate your concern.”

“Christian, those two have been knocking heads for years. End of the day, they’ll still be having a good time. You’re the one who’ll pay.”

I stepped out of the bar into night air so clean and sweet, it had the shocking quality of ice water being flung in my face. I hoped the brief walk would dispel the smell of cigarette smoke that clung to my hair and clothes. Even as I slid under the steering wheel and secured my seat belt, I knew I’d have to shower before I went to bed or my sheets would pick up the same smell.

I drove home along the beach. My exchange with Satterfield had been a letdown. I’d thought warning him would relieve me of any further responsibility, but I was not off the hook. In essence, he’d said “Thank you very much and get lost.” Repeating myself would in no way produce the desired effect. I’d cautioned him and he’d made it clear he wasn’t interested in walking away. He thought he was smart enough to sidestep the fallout. The problem was I had nowhere to go from here. You can’t make someone else do anything, even if you know you’re right.

•   •   •

The next morning as I was leaving for work, I caught sight of Henry’s station wagon pulling into the drive. He parked, went around to the passenger side, and helped Edna out of the vehicle.

I went out and gave him a wave. “You’re up early.”

Edna said, “I needed some items at the grocery store and I didn’t dare wait too long or it would be crowded.”

“Mr. McClaskey arrived at seven to finish his inspection.”

“He’s here? Where’d he park his truck?”

“He found a spot across the street. When I told him Edna and I would be making a run, he made sure he wasn’t blocking the drive.”

Mr. McClaskey apparently heard our conversation and he appeared from the side of the garage. He doffed his cap at the sight of Edna, but aside from that he was all business.

“I believe I’ve found the source of your water loss, Mr. Pitts, if you’ll just step this way.”

Henry and I were both interested. Edna had certainly heard enough of Henry’s complaints and I expected her to be as curious as we were, but she seemed to hang back.

Mr. McClaskey moved into the gap between Henry’s garage and the board fence that separated his property from the Shallenbargers’.

He pointed at a good-size hole he’d dug. “There’s your lateral,” he said, indicating a pipe visible at the bottom of the hole. “And that is a T joint someone’s cut into your line. You can see the joins right here. There’s a run of PVC pipe that goes under the fence. On the other side, it comes up into a hose bib you can see if you take a look.”

Edna stood at some remove, her attention drawn to Mr. McClaskey’s commentary in the manner of someone passing the scene of a fatal traffic accident.

Henry and I both craned our necks to see over the fence. The hose bib had an adapter on it that allowed two hoses to be attached to the same faucet. A twenty-foot-long green hose extended from each threaded metal end. The two hoses ran in opposite directions. Both connected to portable sprinkler heads that consisted of a rounded tube with holes through which water would shoot, forming a graceful arc as each head moved from side to side. It was an inexpensive alternative to in-ground irrigation systems, the prime drawback being the necessity for manual intervention. At the moment, neither hose was in use but the grass was still wet from a recent watering.

We both stared without comprehension.

Henry turned to the plumber. “What is this?”

Mr. McClaskey lifted his chin and scratched under it, an action that gave his reply a certain droll quality. “Well. I’d have to say someone’s tapped into your lateral to access your water for their own personal irrigation purposes.”

“Access?” Henry blinked. “Do you mean stealing?”

“That’s pretty much the long and short of it,” McClaskey replied.

Henry turned to Edna with a look of dismay.

“That was there when we moved in,” she said indignantly. “Of course we used it. It’s in our yard, so why would we not? But we had no knowledge whatever that the hose bib and faucet were connected to your water line.”