Free Dirty Harry 04 - The Mexico Kill by Dane Hartman Page B

back to him. No memory was completely painless maybe, but this was ridiculous.
    What puzzled him most were the flowers, bright, beautiful, exotic, springing up from a porcelain vase. Somebody had gone to a lot of trouble for him. He couldn’t imagine who it could be.
    If there was a knock on the door, he didn’t hear it. Too preoccupied by the wheezing in the next bed. It was Bob Togan, holding a package in his hand.
    “They told me you’re back among the living, Harry,” he said, pulling a seat up to the bed. He glanced around at the room. “Who sent you the flowers?”
    “Don’t know. The note didn’t say.”
    “Anonymous admirer. Everybody needs at least one of them.” He was not here on a friendly visit Harry knew. He wanted useful information. Harry was not certain how much of that he had to give him.
    “What can I do for you, Bob?”
    Togan shrugged. “How about telling me what you were doing out on that boat for a start?”
    “I was doing some research for a friend. Private business.”
    “Private?” Togan’s brow crinkled in perplexity.
    “You forget I’m not on the force these days.”
    “I didn’t forget.” He hesitated, he didn’t like grilling another cop, particularly one who held a rank higher than his—even though Harry was on suspension. “Are you going to make this hard for me?”
    Harry had just lapsed, his mind was drifting. He had to ask Togan to repeat what he said. Togan didn’t. Instead he asked Harry if he was acquainted with the sunken yacht’s owner. Harry admitted he was.
    “So Keepnews sent you?”
    “You’ll have to live with the conclusions you jump to, Bob.”
    “You see who the fuckers were that did that to you?” He indicated the bandage that was curled around the back of Harry’s head.
    “They’re better than that. Didn’t see shit.”
    “Figured as much.”
    “And I expect you have no idea who they are.”
    “None as to their identities. But we have some kind of clue given the nature of their business.”
    “Ah yes, their business.”
    “Too bad the smack didn’t go down with the ship, but with the haul they must have had on board, hey, that’ll buy a hundred yachts.”
    “You should have gotten there sooner. Like a couple of days sooner.”
    “Haines was working on it. It was under investigation.”
    “Haines,” Harry muttered.
    “What can I tell you, Harry? You know how much shit comes in here all the time. The fucking Coast Guard should be doing this sort of thing, but you know, nobody’s got the budget, nobody’s got the manpower, everyone passes the buck. Look, you’re alive, that’s something.”
    “I suppose I should take this opportunity to express my gratitude for fishing me out.”
    “Don’t express it to me. We weren’t the ones to fish you out. We found you lying on the dock when we got to the marina. Somebody had already done the fishing for us.”
    Harry looked closely at Togan, scrutinizing him to see if maybe he was joking. But it was no joke. “So who was it then?”
    “Beats me. Maybe the same person who called us up and alerted us in the first place.”
    “No record of who called in?”
    “Anonymous informant if you want to get technical, that’s all I can tell you.”
    Harry didn’t say anything for several moments, reflecting on this, puzzling out who it could be. He directed his gaze to the flowers. This was one hell of a secret admirer, he thought.
    “I thought you might like to know we did some backgrounders on those bastards we caught at Golden Gate.”
    Harry had completely forgotten about them and the incident that had led to their capture. It seemed to him that it had all happened years ago.
    “What did you find?”
    “They’re all involved in drugs. Smack mostly, some coke and angel dust when the urge strikes them, but their bread and butter is brown Mexican shit.”
    “Oh, so what’s the problem that they started blowing each other away?”
    “The problem is they belong to rival syndicates.