the power of passion. Maybe Dan had simply snapped. He put his arm around her.
“I was going to tell you about what I found out from the bartender,” Tony said.
She sniffled a little and wiped a tear from her eye. “I’m sorry.
What did Bradley say?”
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“You know him quite well?”
“A little. About the only good thing I can say about the guy is he never forgets a drink or a face.”
“That’s good to know. He gave me the name of the guy Barb and Dan picked up that night. I’ll check into him in the morning.”
“You think he might have been involved with their deaths in some way?”
“I don’t know. If nothing else, he was last seen with them two hours before their deaths. I’m guessing they took the guy home, had a little fun, then...” Tony shrugged. He had no idea what might have come next.
He hung out with Melanie for another bottle of wine before they drifted back to her bedroom for the bronc-riding competi-tion. The Bend Rodeo in full swing now.
♦
Sitting in his silver Mercedes a block down the street, Cliff Humphrey listened to a Vivaldi concerto on the CD player, his right hand moving with an invisible conductor’s baton. The closer Caruso got, the closer he would be to the truth, he thought. He was certain that this crude man would win out in the end. Why would he want to hire anyone who operated with impeccable tact? Who tiptoed around and handled everyone with kid gloves?
He might not like these tactics, but he respected the process and the results. And that, after all, was what this was all about.
Results. She was something else, though. He cringed thinking of her in his arms. What they might be doing at this moment.
Results. Remember that. Results. He smiled and drove away.
BOOM TOWN 67
CHAPTER 11
In the morning Tony got up before the sun in the strange bed of the real estate broker, feeling uncertain about a lot of things. During the night the snow had turned to rain, and all that remained was a few damp spots on the road.
On his way back to the condo he took Panzer for a long-over-due run along the Deschutes River. When he got back to the condo he took a shower before checking his e-mail. He had one message from Cliff Humphrey seeing what he’d found out.
Sitting out on the deck drinking a cup of coffee, he watched a rather heavyset man searching for his lost golf ball in the bushes on the fringe of the condo’s grassy area. The guy looked around to see if anyone was looking, not bothering to gaze in Tony’s direction. Then he threw a ball out into the short fairway. After that he waddled out and took a couple of swings before sending the ball twenty yards farther down the course. At that rate, he’d finish the eighteen holes around Christmas. Now Tony knew why people bought condos on golf courses. It was great entertainment.
Tony went inside and logged onto his computer. He knew there wasn’t anything he couldn’t find out about a person, once he knew where to look. First, he checked into Dan and Barb Humphrey’s finances. Tony would be the first to admit he had an advantage with them, since Cliff had given him their Social Security numbers. Once he had that, the rest was easy.
After that, he did a search for information on Frank Peroni, the 68
TREVOR SCOTT
man Dan and Barb had picked up at the Riverfront. He got his address in Portland and his telephone number. He also checked into the lock company where Peroni worked. Pulled down their address and a few names to contact.
Now he needed to see Frank Peroni face-to-face. Check out his crap meter on him.
As he was about to leave the condo, his cell phone rang.
Reluctantly, he picked up.
“Caruso.”
“Hey, it’s your favorite uncle.”
“No shit? Uncle Carlo?”
“You fuckin’ putz. It’s Bruno. You’re gettin’ to be a bigger smartass after forty. You know that?”
“Age will do that to ya? What’s up, Uncle Bruno?”
“You comin’ home for Christmas?”
Tony hesitated.