better do was contact Jim Simmons. I didnât want to do it in front of any other cops, so I phoned him at his office and told him to meet me at the usual place, and sure enough he showed up twenty minutes later at Redâs Jungle, the bar weâd meet at before or after a game. The owner was a very nice gray-haired lady whose name wasnât Red, and the field hadnât been The Jungle since Boomer Esiason took the Bengals to the Super Bowl back in 1989, but it had the right atmosphere: if you were going to or coming from a baseball or football game, this was the place to be.
Jim was in a corner booth when I got there, and I walked over and sat down opposite him.
âI figured whatever you had to say, you didnât want to say it at the bar where anyone could overhear,â he said by way of greeting.
âRight,â I answered.
âSo is this about the catâor hopefully about the deceased?â he asked. âOr are you on a new case?â
âSame case,â I said. âThough Iâm freelancing now. I have a feeling that VelmaâMrs. Pepperidgeâdoesnât want to hire me back.â
He grinned at that. âOkay, what is it that you want to share with me?â
I learned forward. âJim, I figure someone in the department should know that there are three Bolivian hitters involved somehow, and theyâre in town.â
He looked at me in disbelief. âBolivian?â he repeated, half-smiling. âNot Paraguayan or Ecuadorian?â
I waited for Red to come by and take our drinks order and then answered him. âItâs complicated. But they are Bolivian, they are killers, they may have killed Pepperidge, and theyâre still in town.â
He pulled out a notebook and a pen. âNames?â
âI donât know.â
âOkay, descriptions?â
âI donât know.â
âHow much have you had to drink, Eli?â he asked.
âNot a drop until Red gets back with my beer.â
He shook his head. âThis isnât like you. Youâre holding back something, probably a bunch of somethings. I canât act on what little youâve told me.â
âOkay,â I said. âWhat I told you is for public consumption. What Iâm going to say next is for you alone. If you have to pass parts of it along to save a life, of course you have to. But otherwise itâs for your ears only until I tell you otherwise.â
âFair enough,â he said as Red brought my beer and Jimâs bourbon to the table.
âSome weather weâre having,â she said. âAnd the poor bastards are playing at home this weekend. You think theyâll ever put a dome on the damned stadium?â
âNot a chance,â said Simmons. âSame reason they donât dome Soldier Field in Chicago or Lambeau Field in Green Bay. Weâre used to cold weather. Those warm-weather teams from Florida and California arenât, so this gives us an advantage. Remember the Ice Bowl? Anthony Muñoz and the guys came out in their short-sleeved jerseys, the San Diego Chargers took one look at them, and for all practical purposes the game was over before it started.â
âIâm way too young to remember that,â lied Red.
âOf course you are,â lied Simmons. âMy mistake.â
She kissed him on his bald spot and want back to the bar.
âYouâre quite a ladiesâ man,â I said with a smile.
âOld ladies,â he answered. âThe young ones see right through me.â He paused. âOkay, what have you learned that I canât tell to anyone else unless the Iraniansâexcuse me: the Boliviansâbomb the city.â
âYou know anything more about Palanto than what you told me?â
âJust what we have in the files,â he answered. âHell, you can probably find it on Wikipedia .â
âWhatever that is.â
He rolled his eyes and shook his head
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