a minute.”
“Right, just left Smitty’s. A dive in Commerce City.”
“Heard of it. Don’t know it. And?”
“Talked to a man called Pickle. And it won’t tax your brain to figure out why he’s called that.”
“Not familiar with the lushes in Commerce City, Beck,” Lucas told him.
Beck went on like Lucas didn’t talk.
“Few conversations, had to be cool about it, took time, but eventually got the history that Pickle, Digger, a brother in my club and Chew all used to run together, and they were tight.”
“Now I’m interested,” Lucas said low.
Yeah.
Beck knew he would be.
“So, just havin’ a chat with Pickle, who was clobbered before I even showed an hour ago, found out, back in the day they all hung with Chaos, hopin’ to be taken on, become prospects.”
“The link,” Lucas muttered.
“Yeah,” Beck confirmed. “Chew got in, Digger and Pickle were a pass. And just to say, this was not popular with Digger and Pickle. Digger, my guess, got over it. Pickle still sees Digger, but he thinks Chew is a fucktard. His call, said that straight, and full of bitter, though we both know he’s not wrong. Pickle was all about not bein’ surprised Chew pulled out of Chaos. Said he knew firsthand the man knows shit about brotherly love.”
“Gotta tell you, got a call from Tack today and Chaos has put this together,” Lucas informed him.
“Gotta tell you, personally don’t give a fuck how Bounty, or whatever the fuck we are right now, got tangled in that mess. I went after this for another reason.”
“What’s that?”
Beck drew in breath and watched the cars go by.
“Beck?” Lucas prompted.
“All right, listen, yeah? ’Cause I got dick on this, except a feeling in my gut.”
“Lay it on me, Beck,” Lucas said quietly.
“The man ain’t right,” Beck told him. “Digger. He’s a skeeve. Never liked him. Never hang with him. He just ain’t right.”
“Keep going,” Lucas urged.
“Recently, he really ain’t right. Somethin’s up with him and it’s not the shit his club got into.”
“But you don’t know what it is,” Lucas surmised.
“No, I don’t. But I can tell you it doesn’t make me feel good at all that he’s starting to relax. He was wound up. Took a long mental hike. There at meetings. When the brothers were hanging out. But his mind was somewhere else. Now, he’s comin’ back to the fold. And now he’s even more not right. Like . . . relieved or proud of himself or something. And that guy feelin’ good about anything gives me the shivers.”
Lucas was silent.
“Okay, you may not know this guy, but my take is, it’d take somethin’ seriously sick to make a guy like him freaked. Now he’s not freaked. And I’m not sure that’s a good thing.”
Lucas was silent again but before Beck could break it, Lucas spoke up.
“A woman named Diane Ragowski was murdered nine months ago. She’d gotten into drugs, turned to porn to earn her fix, but the investigation turned up two suspects, both she was carrying on a sexual relationship with outside work. Wayne Benson was one of those suspects.”
Wayne Benson.
Digger.
“He did her,” Beck stated.
“He has an alibi.”
“He got someone to lie for him,” Beck returned, and he had to think on it a half a second before he said, “Let me guess. Pacino?”
“Considering Karl Sanderson’s street name is Pacino, and Sanderson is the alibi, yes.”
“Fuck,” Beck bit. “That guy’s a weasel, but he’d do anything for a brother. He lied, Lucas.”
“You can prove that?”
“Right now? No. But I will.”
Lucas sounded even more alert when he said, “Beck, you be careful with this. This isn’t your remit. You’re there to inform on the club formerly known as Bounty and their dealings with Benito Valenzuela. Not catch a killer. That is a different case and it has nothing to do with your deal.”
“Does it matter I catch a killer while I do that other shit?”
“When Bounty lost touch with Valenzuela, your deal changed, so I gotta remind you that you’re not exactly goin’ into WITSEC after this all goes down. Deal is, they get tight with Valenzuela again, you went down with them, did your time, they didn’t know, you got out early, court-ordered to steer clear of your former brothers, you move on with your life.”
“Well, now I got something added to my agenda.”
“Beck—”
“You seriously not okay with me handing you a murderer?” Beck asked.
“I’m serious in telling you there’s a difference between a biker informant who is never gonna be known for informing and sticking your nose into