Rivera rose and started toward the bedroom just as Perez appeared in the kitchen holding another aluminum suitcase.

“That it?” Rivera asked.

Perez, a dark Hispanic who seemed too small to be a deputy, threw the suitcase on the kitchen table and opened the lid. “Jackpot,” he said.

Neat square blocks of plastic-covered green weed lay in even rows across the suitcase. Robert could smell a faint odor like skunk coming from the marijuana.

“I’ll get the testing kit,” Perez said.

Rivera took a deep sniff and looked at Perez quizzically. “Right, it could be just lawn clippings that they weighed out in pounds.”

Perez looked hurt by Rivera’s sarcasm. “But for the record?”

Rivera waved him away, then returned to the couch and sat down next to Robert.

“You are in deep trouble, my friend.”

“You know,” Robert said, “I felt really bad about being so rude to you yesterday when you came by.” He smiled weakly. “I’ve been going through some really hard times.”

“Make it up to me, Robert. Tell me where The Breeze is.”

“I don’t know.”

“Then you are going to eat shit for all that pot over there on the table.”

“I didn’t even know it was there. I thought you guys were here about the suitcase I took. The other one.”

“Robert, you and I are going to go back to the station and have a really long talk. You can tell me all about the suitcase and all the folks that The Breeze has been keeping company with.”

“Sergeant Rivera, I don’t mean to be rude or anything, but I wasn’t quite awake when you were telling me the charges…sir.”

Rivera helped Robert to his feet and led him out of the trailer. “Possession of marijuana for sale and conspiracy to sell marijuana. Actually the conspiracy charge is the nastier of the two.”

“So you didn’t even know about the suitcase I took?”

“I couldn’t care less about the suitcase.” Rivera pushed Robert into the cruiser. “Watch your head.”

“You should bring it along just to see who the guy was that it belonged to. Your guys in the lab can open it and…”

Rivera slammed the car door on Robert’s comment. He turned to Deforest, who was coming out of the trailer. “Grab that suitcase out of the living room and tag it.”

“More pot, Sarge?”

“I don’t think so, but the whacko seems to think it’s important.”

24

AUGUSTUS BRINE

Augustus Brine was sitting in his pickup, parked a block away from Jenny’s house. In the morning twilight he could just make out the outline of Jenny’s Toyota and an old Chevy parked in front. The king of the Djinn sat in the passenger seat next to Brine, his rheumy blue eyes just clearing the dashboard.