I probably debated the issue for ten minutes before making my decision. There was nothing to do but jump in headfirst. I made the call, and he picked up on the third ring. I almost hung up, but of course, my name had already shown up on his caller ID.
“Well, well, Dylan Jones,” he said. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
At first, I couldn’t get any words out, so he’s like, “Come on, son, what’s on your mind?”
“Um, you know how you told me to call you about anything I knew about Ashton Browning?”
“Yeah, I remember that. But you know that case has been solved, don’t you? I believe there’s been a story or two about it on the news.”
After a couple of false starts, I finally got to the point that I thought the cops made a mistake and arrested the wrong guy. Smiley reminded me that they’d found Ashton handcuffed in their suspect’s bathroom and that she had identified Beto in her statement to the police, but I’m like, “I know, but that has to be some kind of frame-up.”
“Oh, a frame-up, is it?” Smiley sounded amused. “I can tell you’ve been watching your detective shows on TV.”
I disregarded that dig. “This isn’t a joke,” I said. “Beto’s not the kind of guy who’d ever hit a girl, much less kidnap her and chain her up.”
But Smiley’s like, “So you call him Beto, do you? I didn’t know you two were on such close terms. Maybe we should get together and talk about this.”
“Look,” I said. “I don’t have a whole lot to go on. It’s just a hunch. But I thought you and Mr. Browning would want to find out the truth.”
“We do, we do. Mr. Browning would be very interested in that. That’s why it’d be best for you to come over to his place, just like last time, for a chat.” And then he sarcastically added, “You can even bring your backup.”
Of course, that was not what I wanted to do. “I don’t really think it’s necessary to get together, you know? I just wanted to give you a heads-up over the phone, maybe so you could investigate Beto—I mean Alberto’s—background more. The cops aren’t going to do it. All they see is a Mexican from the wrong side of town.”
Smiley was quiet for a moment, then said, “Would it be easier for you if Mr. Browning and I came over to your place? Or just to keep things on the up-and-up, we could talk at the police station.”
Now it was my turn to pause.
“Uh, no,” I said. “That wouldn’t be easier.”
“Good, good,” Smiley said. “How about this evening around seven? You know the way to the house. I’ll meet you at the front gate. We’ll have a nice chat. I’m sure I can help you get your friend off if he’s really innocent.”
He had me. No way did I want him coming to my house or, worse, getting the cops involved.
“Okay,” I said. “But I can’t stay long.”
CHAPTER 42
My backup this time would have to be Audrey. Randy was working at the grocery store, and besides, I needed Audrey to drive. She wasn’t exactly eager to go, but I explained how I just wanted to make my case in defense of Beto to someone who might actually be able to do something about it, and she decided if that’s what I needed to get this whole ordeal out of my system, then she couldn’t say no.
So there we were that evening right in the middle of Richville again. It’s kind of weird riding in a Ford Focus through a neighborhood like that. You feel paranoid, as if the cops might pull you over for driving a car that isn’t expensive enough.
“Wow,” Audrey said. “Why does anyone need a house as big as these? I mean, like, what are all the extra rooms for? Just to prove you can have extra rooms?”
“Maybe they don’t like to use the same bathroom twice in the same month,” I suggested.
And she’s like, “This is ridiculous. Twenty minutes south of here there are homeless missions with every bed full so they have to turn people away, and there must be a hundred empty rooms on this block alone. If this was France during the revolution, the guillotines would be pretty busy around here.”
“Hey,” I said. “Don’t forget Trix doesn’t live too far away.”
“She’s different.”
“Why? Because you like her?”
“She doesn’t care about this kind of stuff.” Audrey sounded pissed at me for bringing Trix into the picture. “And besides, her house isn’t near the size of these.”
“Right,” I said. “Her house could only fit three families in it.”
Audrey glared at me. “I didn’t have to take you out here, you know.”
And I’m like, “I’m just saying—cutting people’s heads off might be a little drastic.”
“Maybe,” Audrey said. “Just a little.”
Finally, we made it to the Brownings’ mansion gate, and Smiley was waiting there just as he said he’d be. He climbed into the backseat, and I introduced him to Audrey, and he’s like, “Well, I see you made an improvement to your backup muscle.”
We pulled back to the same place as last time, but when Smiley and I got out, Audrey stayed in the car. That was our plan—she’d wait outside with her cell phone ready in case I didn’t come back safe and sound.
In the guesthouse, Mr. Browning was already waiting for us. Instead of sitting behind the bar like before, he sat, legs crossed, in a chair that, in a pinch, could’ve made do for a throne in one of those French palaces just before the heads started to roll.