“Sort of. Really only the big dude. I had a dustup with him, and I don’t want any of them to see me.”
The Ranger smiled. “The army always helps the police.” He turned and walked away from me, grabbing a folding table as he walked. Then he got right next to The Burning Land and started to set up the table.
I couldn’t keep from smiling when I realized what he was doing. It was a simple passive-aggressive provocation. And I liked it.
I saw Jeremy Pugh rush over to the young man setting up the table. Pugh shoved him and said, “I told you to stay over there.”
The Ranger smiled and said, “You also said you’d have 200 people. I guess I just don’t know when to believe you.”
“You can believe I’ll kick your ass if you don’t move that table.”
The Ranger said, “I’ll move it when your extra 195 people show up.”
Pugh stepped toward the table, and the Ranger gave him a halfhearted push. I knew this was his plan. I wanted to see what was going to happen. I was also ready to intervene because I didn’t want this Ranger to get in any trouble.
Before I could move, Pugh threw a wild right-handed haymaker.
The Ranger calmly raised his left arm to block it. And he smiled.
Pugh’s wrist caught the titanium under the young Ranger’s sleeve. It sounded almost like a muted gong. The sound was so unusual that everyone looked in that direction.
Pugh grabbed his wrist and held it to his belly, as if he could squeeze the pain away. It didn’t work. Pugh sputtered a few curses before he stared at the Ranger. After a few moments of trying to intimidate him, Pugh stomped away.
The Ranger gave me a broad smile and a wink.
I put my last ten-dollar bill in the jar.
Chapter 27
I enjoyed my walk back to the hotel to get my rental car. The sky was clear. I felt sunshine on my face. I had leads to follow. And I’d achieved a small measure of revenge. I chuckled every time I thought about Jeremy Pugh’s wrist. And the Ranger had been just so casual in the way he’d blocked that punch. Clearly he knew that by never punching Jeremy Pugh himself, he had committed no crime.
By early afternoon, I’d driven past the address for Donald Minshew three times. I hadn’t seen any cars in the driveway or anyone in the front yard. This part of the Capitol Hill neighborhood was beautiful, and the Minshew town house was no exception. It was three stories tall, with wide balconies on the second and third floors. The front yard was awash with imported flowers and colorful plants. I noticed tulips and some kind of tall tropical-looking flower. They must have installed a heater system. The flowers looked healthy now, but I didn’t think many of them would make it through the winter. That was what I’d call conspicuous consumption. Texas style.
I parked more than a block away. Part of it was stealth, part of it embarrassment at the car I’d rented. After I maneuvered my way out of the car, I took a moment to straighten my shirt and pants.
My research on Donald Minshew was slim. He had no arrests, but the lobbyist had been censured twice for reasons that weren’t clear to me. Fat, balding, and a little over fifty, with the red face of a serious drinker, he looked in his pictures like a caricature of an oil lobbyist.
And he was obviously rich. Not just I have a vacation home rich, more like I have a Gulfstream to fly to my private island rich. I already hated him.
I rang the bell and waited by the wide oak front door with hand-etched frosted glass. One side of the door had an etching of an oil well gushing oil. The other side was a wild horse rearing up.
There were two different security cameras as well as a Ring video doorbell. I knew I was being observed from inside the house. After almost a full minute, I heard several of the locks on the door move.
I was momentarily surprised when a beautiful woman with wild reddish hair opened the door and said, “May I help you?”
“I, um…” Her blue eyes locked onto mine. I guessed she was in her late thirties. She had a slight bump in her nose from a break years ago. It gave her an interesting profile. Finally, I was able to spit out, “I’m looking for Donald Minshew.”
The woman didn’t say a word. She just stared at me. Eventually, she said, “And you are?”
I fumbled to grab my badge quickly. I pulled it from my rear pocket and showed the badge with the credentials to her. She welcomed me inside. She had the kind of long, droopy robe I’d seen only in movies. It was almost like she was playing a role.
She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “I’m Don’s wife, Ellen. Just curious, what’s a New York City detective want with my hubby?”