Marquez never made the 5:00 call to Bell. Cairo slow-cooked pumpkin soup in a Crock-Pot he said was perfect for long surveillances, and Marquez ate an early dinner at the safehouse with the team. They toasted the bait-pile find with a Zinfandel that Roberts had brought from home. She had the wine interest and every now and then would bring something to the table. Good as the wine was, Marquez drank next to nothing. After dinner he passed out copies of Sweeney’s itinerary, briefed them on the meeting with Bell. The team had the same questions he’d had about the reliability of the information and how they would manage everything if they heard from their seller while they were trying to track Sweeney.
“Tonight’s the only night we’ll refer to Sweeney by name,” Marquez said. “So we’ll need a name. And nothing political. We’re going as far away from politics as we can get.”
“Call him ‘Unlucky,’” Cairo said.
That got a couple of laughs, and there was still an air of disbelief in the room. They all needed to absorb the idea, then see some proof Sweeney intended to follow this itinerary. Still, it wasn’t the first time they’d been short-noticed with a tip that had proved out, so if the poacher turned out to be a state senator they’d make the adjustment, and Marquez could feel the change already starting.
He listened to the joking names they came up with as monikers, names that didn’t show any respect for the intensity of scrutiny that could come their way. The moniker needed to be benign, unprejudiced, and dispassionate.
Marquez’s cell rang and it was Bell. Bell didn’t say anything about his failing to call at 5:00 and after Marquez walked outside and took a seat on one of the cold lawn chairs, they talked over his concern that busting Sweeney would tip their bear farmer an undercover team was in the area. They talked about ex-chief Keeler, and Bell okayed using him, if Keeler was amenable.
When Marquez hung up and walked back inside he saw that another bottle of wine had been opened. It was good to see the team relax. He went to a back bedroom, slept a couple of hours, then drank a cup of black tea and got ready to leave at 10:30.
While he’d been asleep Nyland had called Alvarez and postponed having a drink until tomorrow. Alvarez was in Placerville and watching the GPS readout from Nyland’s truck.
“Looks like he’s heading home,” Alvarez said.
“What about Sophie?”
“At work. She’s behind the bar.”
“I’m going by to talk to her.”
“I’ll keep track of Nyland. Call me on the other side.”
When Marquez got to the Creekview he found it fairly empty. No music tonight. A few people drinking, young guys mostly.
There were two bartenders, and he took a seat on Sophie’s side of the horseshoe. He was sure she recognized him, though she didn’t say anything when he ordered a beer. She slid a paper napkin in front of him, put the glass down on it. He watched her draw another beer off tap, her face softer, more feminine in this light.
“You’re Billy’s friend,” she said, coming over now. “You broke up the fight that night.”
“Yeah, how’s he doing?”
“I don’t know.”
“No one I talk to knows anything tonight.”
“You broke up the fight. Then Billy and I broke up.”
“That’s too bad.”
“It was the morning you called.”
She had her hair pinned up tonight, a diamond stud in her right earlobe. She leaned toward him, her face level with his.
“Since you’re his friend, I’ll tell you that Billy and I were definitely not meant for each other. More than just age difference because I happen to like older men.”
“Did he move out?”
“In about twenty minutes.”
“Know where he went?”
“He said he might camp at a lake for a couple of weeks, someplace he goes to fish.”
“Late in the season for fishing.”
“I can’t think of anything more boring to do anyway.”
“You don’t fish.”
“I eat them but I don’t chase them around.”
He watched her eyes drift toward another customer. She didn’t want to hear anything more about Petroni. She didn’t want to talk about him.
He watched her take drink orders from two young men, asking for an ID from one of them, then looking at his face not his ID. She gave them their drinks and flirted with them after bringing their change. Now she came back and leaned over the bar again close enough to where he could see gold flecks in her brown irises.
“How’s your beer?” she asked.
“It’s good.”
“Cold enough.”
“Plenty cold.”
“Always filling.”
“Always.”
“That’s what I like.”
There was the beer commercial, tastes great, always filling, or something like that, but that wasn’t what she was talking about. Sophie wore a tight black sweater and when she leaned on the bar the sweater pulled up and the curve of her upper hip showed. He could feel sexuality radiate off her. He took a drink of beer, leaned back, and gave her a little space.
“So did you come in to talk to me?” she asked.
“I came in looking for Bill. I know he’s going through a hard time with the divorce.”
“Is that why you’re here?”
Marquez shrugged.
“Do you want to know why Billy and I broke up?”
“If you want to tell me.”
“He got real angry because I slept with someone else this summer.”
She watched him intently. “Did you read about the guy who got murdered?”
“You’re kidding.”
“No, he just disappeared in August.”
“Jed something.”
“Vandemere.”
“You had an affair with him.”
She laughed. “They don’t call it that around here. Anyway, now I’m sort of back with my old boyfriend.”
“Sort of?”
“Let’s just say he wants to get back together.” She smiled and made a quick hand gesture toward the other two men at the bar. “But I’m done with all these guys.” She reached and touched his hand, her fingers long and cool, one finger touching his wedding ring. “I’ve got to get these people at the end of the bar another drink. Do you want another one?”
“I’ve got to go meet a friend.”
“Then come back and see me sometime soon.”
“I will.”
When he got outside he pulled his phone from his coat. It had started vibrating in the bar and he saw there’d been three calls from Alvarez, called him back now.
“Show time,” Alvarez said. “He picked up some restaurant scraps behind that Italian place below town. Bobby Broussard’s Chevy is about a half mile behind him and they just went into the basin. Where are you?”
“On my way to you.”
“See you here.”