right, but the man did do twelve years. That ain’t exactly scot-free. But I hear you.”
“But it’s the wrong result.”
He laughed a little and shot back, “There’s a big difference between what the law ought to be and what the law is. The right result only exists in law school or philosophy classes. In the real world, the right result is the result you get.”
I had nothing more to say. I just sat there, surrounded by a silence so complete it left my ears ringing. I thought about Dan Kelly again. I believed everything he said. Steele too. Kelly could have been lying. He could have merely been mistaken. I stared off into space trying to sort through it all, trying to put my thoughts in order. I realized I hadn’t blinked my eyes for several minutes.
“Well, shit,” Murdock finally broke the silence and stood with an expectant look. I stood as well, and followed him back out front.
Murdock picked up the file and handed it to me. “Like I said, I’d just as soon never have to think about this thing again. So, between you and me, you found this thing.” Murdock smiled.
I took the file and tucked it under my arm. “Thanks for meeting with me. This has been helpful.” We walked to the front door and paused while Murdock leaned against it, hesitating.
“It’s funny,” Murdock said, turning back toward me and glancing at the file under my arm. “The things that come back to haunt you.” He shook his head and put his sunglasses on. “You just never know.” Murdock smiled, pushed the door open, and was consumed briefly by the brilliant glow of the afternoon sun. I followed him into the light and was blind and nearly dizzy in the overwhelming heat. Late-August in Palm Springs. Brutal. Murdock locked the door behind us and we headed across the parking lot toward the cars.
I thanked him again. Murdock turned and walked swiftly back to his white Audi, dressed in his light tan outfit, looking like a man heading cheerfully out to a tennis match.
I lingered in my car after Murdock drove off. I debated opening the file then and there, but decided to wait rather than risk misplacing something or having it fly out the window on the drive back. Better to leave it all sealed just a little longer. I pulled out onto the street slowly, slightly disoriented in the suffocating hot of the day, waiting feebly for the air conditioning to cool.
By the time I reached Cabazon the air had lost the harsh desert heat and I debated pulling off to put the top down. As I eyed the exit, I checked my mirrors and noted a black Taurus a dozen car lengths behind me. Cabazon, with its massive complex of factory outlet stores and little else, sits on the edge of the desert and traffic was still light, even for a Sunday afternoon. I thought nothing of the black car, other than how unfortunate a color like black was in the heat.
Heading west, I passed the split in the freeway that would take me south on the sixty to Riverside and instead remained on the ten, heading for Los Angeles. The traffic rushed along the wide concrete artery at a brisk eighty miles per hour, but by San Bernardino there were noticeably more cars on the road. Traffic was nearly bumper to bumper going seventy and I was certain that things would slow down as I got closer to the city. I put the window down and felt the air. It was perfect. I got off at the next exit to put the top down.
I pulled into a parking space directly in front of the glass doors of a Circle-K, put the red file folder down on the floor of the passenger’s seat, and went in to buy something to drink. Though I thought my fear of theft was unrealistic, paranoid, I kept an eye on the car the entire time I was in the store. It was a quick stop, less than a minute out of the car, but anything could happen, I supposed. But of course, nothing did.
On my way out through the doors, I paused and took in a deep breath, enjoying the final day of my summer break as much as I could. And it hit me only then: that this was it. The summer was over. I thought briefly about the classes I had yet to prepare for, shook