Bombshell

The driver eyed Griffin. “You look kinda pasty, son. You sure you’re not going the wrong way? Out instead of in?”

“I’m definitely out,” Griffin said, and climbed carefully into the backseat. He hoped the aspirin Dr. Chesney had finally given him would kick in soon. He laid the cane over his legs. He gave the driver Salazar’s address on Golden Meadow Terrace.

They pulled up to Salazar’s house ten minutes later to join four other cars overflowing the driveway. “Fancy address,” the driver said. “What’s going on?”

“Don’t know yet,” Griffin said.

“Hey, that’s the sheriff’s Range Rover. I sure hope he wasn’t the one who dragged you out of the hospital.”

“Nah, this is all my idea.”

Dix walked out onto the porch and watched the taxi slowly pull away, the driver leaning his head out the window to see all he could. Griffin was limping only slightly, not putting all that much weight on the cane.

Dix said, “Saw you coming. You’re not looking bad.”

“Nope. I’m good to go.”

Dix said. “I told Anna you’d wake up and come here, fire steaming out of your ears, ready to crawl up our butts for leaving you.”

Now, there was a visual. Griffin grinned at him. “Have you got the cuffs on Salazar?”

“Well, not yet. Come on in, you’ll see for yourself. Can you make these three steps?”

When he finally negotiated the three steep steps, he had to stop a moment, knowing Dix was looking at him and wondering if he should say anything or keep quiet. Dix kept quiet.

Griffin stepped into the hallway of Rafael Salazar’s house for the first time since Saturday morning, when he’d come to see a bunch of women cleaning up from the party Friday night. Only three days ago.

“Come in here, Griffin,” Dix said.

Griffin made his way into the large living room and stopped dead in his tracks.

The room was trashed. Sofas, chairs, and coffee tables were ripped apart and hurled by angry hands to the floor, paintings ripped from the walls and slashed with a sharp knife. Devastation and destruction. Griffin said, “Don’t tell me you guys did this?”

Dix gave him a ghost of a smile. “Nah. You should see his music room, all those beautiful antique guitars, the Steinway, all the music and books, smashed, ripped up.”

“Where’s Salazar?”

“No sign of him.”

Griffin hadn’t once thought Salazar wouldn’t be here. “He ran?”

“It’s difficult to tell, since his bedroom is as trashed as the rest of the house. His closet, too. Even the suitcases were torn open.”

Ruth and Anna walked into the room. Ruth said, “Hi, Griffin. Can’t say I’m surprised to see you. You got any ideas what the people who did this were looking for?”

Anna was speaking to two of Dix’s deputies behind her. She turned to him and couldn’t help the big smile from blooming. He looked to be fine, maybe a little stiff, maybe a little pain, but she knew he’d manage. “His car’s still in the garage, tires and spare slashed, seats ripped open, and glove box yanked out.”

Griffin looked at each of them. “What do you guys think?”

Anna said, “I called Mrs. Carlene, Salazar’s secretary. She told me he’s late for a class and his cell phone isn’t working. I’m thinking it’s a falling-out of thieves and whoever did this believed Salazar was holding back something, so they took him and went to work to find whatever it was he wouldn’t hand over.”

Dix said, “Maybe some of Salazar’s clients, some gang members, turned on him for some reason? Or is there a partner we don’t know about who thought Salazar was double-crossing him?” He dashed his fingers through his hair, making it stand on end. “He could be anywhere by now.”

Anna said, “Or maybe he’s dead.”

Dix picked up the twisted remnants of a flute. “We’ll know soon enough. I gotta say, I didn’t expect this when we drove up.”

“I expected Salazar to meet us at the front door, smoking one of those nasty cigarillos of his, all supercilious ennui, and wave us in,” Anna said.

Griffin turned to her as she was speaking, but she was staring down at her scuffed boots, the same ones he’d seen her wearing last night when she’d applied pressure to his leg while he’d tried not to groan. He said, “Suppose it wasn’t a coincidence Salazar disappeared the same night we were attacked, Anna? It was a spectacular distraction. Made it easy for him.”