Mendocino Jones in No Place for the Weak at Heart

The Whole Truth

While Tillie bought groceries the next morning, Mendocino went to her studio with a mop and pail. Mindless labor gave him an opportunity to think. A powerful tool for a man like him.

A couple of things kept nagging.

Like Amos, he couldn't understand why John David would confront Sartain so late at night, in such a remote place. Why not fire him in his office? Why approach a business meeting drunk? They said he wasn't much of a drinker. It just didn't add up. A piece of this puzzle was missing.

And Hank's lie caught in his craw. It wouldn't stay put.

With his side splitting, his cheek and jaw aching, Mendocino mopped and cleaned Tillie's studio all morning. Bleached the floors.

At lunch, he told her, "I've got some loose ends to tie up in town. You okay here alone for a while?"

"Of course." She'd washed clothes and straightened the house, those mundane chores that get shoved back for work—the little things that make a house a home. "Are you still going to need the bedroom as an office?"

"No. I'll box up those case files and get them back to Lisa," he replied. "Don't go into your studio. Tomorrow, I'll mop again if I need to. Nothing's bothered in the lobby. It happened in that room where you take the portraits."

She peered out the back door, staring at her studio. "I still don't remember."

"You probably never will. That's a blessing. Be back shortly. This won't take long."

***

Driving into town, Mendocino called Bobby. "Can we get together? I need to tie up some loose ends. Won't take long at all."

"Sure. I'm in my office," Bobby said. "What's up?"

"Did you or Hank look at John David's GPS? On his truck. Or his phone?"

"Why?"

"I'm not sure we have the whole truth yet," Mendocino said.

"I thought this was behind us."

"Understood," Mendocino said. "But hear me out. Please."

Less than an hour later, Mendocino was in Hank's office. Bobby standing at his father's side, behind the big desk.

Bobby chuckled. "You look like shit."

Mendocino's jaw was bruised and swollen, one eye was black, and he had a knot on his forehead. Not to mention a stabbing pain in his side. "I'll mend. But I've got one last task."

Hank nodded.

"Pull the GPS coordinates for John David's truck and phone."

"Why?" Hank leaned his elbows on the desk. "We have our answers."

"No, we don't. It doesn't make sense that John David confronted Sartain at the line camp in the middle of the night, drunk, over a work matter. He could have just called him into his office and fired him or given him to the law."

"Stop it," Bobby glared. "It's done. I did."

"What?" Hank thundered, glaring at his son. "When?"

"Last night." He moved to the windows, his back to the room.

"Why?" Hank's gaze was hawkish.

Bobby's face was solemn as he turned around, speaking to his father. "April told me at the hospital while you were being treated. When I told her John David confronted Sartain about human trafficking, that it was Sartain and his men who killed him, not the Mexican—she fell apart." He paused a long moment and drew a deep breath. "She was sleeping with Sartain. She was with him earlier that night." He lowered his head. "I pulled GPS records from his truck. John David sat outside Ed Sartain's house for two hours before he drove to the line camp."