"What’s going to happen here, Nick?" Pam said, surveying the damage to her cabin.
"Someday, who knows when this will be discovered, the police will want to question you about it."
"And what am I going to say?"
"You don’t know nothing," I said. "Your ex-boyfriend rotting in the barn did it all."
42
Pam’s ex-boyfriend wasn’t rotting in the barn. He was in tremendous pain, but alive, and had even heard Nick and Pam’s murmuring voices after he had gotten hit. The impact of the two bullets slamming into his chest had been a greater shock than hearing Pam’s voice a few minutes before. Unable to move, or grab his gun, he decided, better to lie here, let them think you’re dead.
Irv rolled his body so his face wasn’t in the hay. His chest sent out quick shooters of pain, but the fresh air helped, gave him a little strength. He got to his knees, compensating his weight on the stronger one, and then coughed up spittle mixed with blood. Looking underneath the bulletproof vest, he could see two giant welts near his left nipple.
From his knees, he grabbed his long barreled gun then stretched his back, so his spine was straight. He waited there on shaky trunks, taking in vast lungfuls of air, his chest throbbing with each exertion.
Felt like he had been whacked with a sledgehammer.
Twice.
Fuck it, man, get to your feet. They might still be here.
He used the wagon for balance and pulled himself up. As he staggered out of the barn, the light fading over the trees, he saw Pam’s convertible heading down the hill.
A surge built in his chest, centering on his heart, and as he pitched forward, Irv thought he was dying.
4 3
The sun was just below the horizon when we got into our cars. I told Pam to follow me, stop when I stopped. We got as far as Irv’s limousine, its motor having conked out. I left the license plates to Eddie’s car in the front seat. Pam put Eddie’s suitcase in the trunk.
We drove down the hill, the Beast getting scratched up again, but I was never in any danger of getting stuck with gravity on my side. Pam stayed behind at a safe distance.
At the bottom of the driveway, I hopped out of the Beast and rolled the three painted rocks back into place. I faced the paint down. No one saw us pulling away from there.
I did the speed limit all the way to the highway, reversing the directions I remembered Teddy giving me. We passed a couple of Staties driving back to their Stitchfield barracks, but the officers paid us no mind—each LTD had a guy cuffed in back.
I took it slow on the highway, checking my mirror to make sure Pam was back there. She’d wave when she caught my eyes looking. Nearing the merge onto the interstate, traffic picked up, and we got in the line of cars driving under the sign pointing towards the capital.
84 East was jammed on a weekday night, cars racing by, others dodging in an out of the lanes. I had one hand on the wheel. My injured shoulder tingled and felt useless. It took all my strength to keep the Beast going straight. Pam beeped at me a couple of times when I weaved.
I needed something in my belly to soak up the beer sloshing around inside. I hadn’t eaten anything since that tiny bowl of corn flakes in the morning. I got off the truck stop exit and parked in the 24-hour diner’s lot. Pam pulled in next to the Delta.
"I need a break," I said, getting out of the car.
"I could tell." Her hair was wild and stringy from riding with the top down, but her eyes were coming alive again, regaining that sparkling blue-green. "You all right?"
"Just hungry," I said. "You?"
"Not really." She brushed her hair away. "After today, maybe never again."
The grease joint was packed with dirty and tired looking truckers. We got a curving booth way in back by the restrooms, and we ordered without opening the menu. I got a cheeseburger and fries. Pam wanted coffee and water.
We didn’t say much, none of that silly banter we usually had going. Pam sipped from the mug while I waited for my meal. I took her hand in mine. None of the customers were speaking, though the staff enjoyed barking at each other.
My burger was well done and pretty dry. The fries were dark brown, burnt from sitting in the cooking oil too long. I wished for beer to wash it all down. I settled for coffee.
I was finishing up when I noticed Pam staring into space. I’d be surprised if she saw an inch in front of her.
"What are you thinking about, baby?"
That broke her concentration. "Teddy," she said.
"He’ll be fine," I said.
"How do you know?"
I put my coffee cup down. "I don’t, I guess. I’m just hoping he’s okay."
"He’s the only friend I got left now."
"Hey, you got me, too, don’t forget."
"Besides you, Nickie."
The waitress came by, and I asked for the check. I dropped a ten and fin on the table.
"You wanna stop by his place?" I said.
"You know where it is?"
"Yeah. He lives in West Oaks."
"Could we?"
"Sure, I don’t mind."
"Just to see if he’s there."
"I bet he is."
"Then we’ll go over to Irv’s office before going to your apartment."
"That’s fine, baby."
She finished the dregs in her mug. "I should use the ladies’ room."
"And I gotta make a call."
"I’ll meet you out front."
She slid from the seat.
"You ain’t ditching me, are ya?" I wasn’t sure why I said it, or even where the thought had come from.
She smiled, lighting her eyes up. "Had not occurred to me, no."
"Good thing."
She came in close and pecked my cheek. "Your insecurity is touching, Nick."
"That’s just what I wanted to hear," I said.
With that, she disappeared behind the double doors leading to the restrooms.
I saw a bank of payphones just outside the diner entrance. There was no one using any of them, and I took the furthest one in the line. I put in two quarters and dialed. By the fourth ring I was beginning to wonder and by the eighth I hung up. What the hell was John doing, closing my bar on a Wednesday night?
I shoved the returned quarters back in the slot and called John’s home. As usual, the angry woman in his life answered.
"Hello?" she said.
"Put John on," I said.
"Who’s calling?"
"His fucking employer."
She laughed hard. "Is that what you think you are, Nick?"
"That’s what I know I am."
"Oh, are you in for some groundbreaking news."
"What are you saying?"
"Here’s John now. Have a nice life, you jerk."
The phone was passed over, John telling his wife to go into the other room, she saying, yeah I’ll do that and pick up the line. John yelled at her not to—showing some balls for a change.
"Nick, listen..." John started.
I stepped right in. "How come the bar ain’t open, John? You sick or something?"
"I’m, ain’t sick."
"Then open up. And call the place that empties the dumpster. I need it dumped tomorrow first light."
"You gonna let me get a word in or what?" John was flinging his balls at me now. What the fuck was up with that shit?
"I need to know if those black guys are still hanging around outside my apartment, too," I said.
"Nick, the police were in your apartment this afternoon."
That stopped me cold—Irv had given the cops the videotape. Just like I knew he would.
"You still there?" John said.
"Yeah."
"They found the bodies of them girls who were in the bar Monday night. The ones that I saw you with."
"You tell them that?"
"Naaa. I wouldn’t do that to you."
"Thanks, man."
"You kill them?"
"Forget it."
"Then what
happened to them?"
I ignored that. "How’d it go down, John?"
"Jesus, it’s been hot here. Real hot."
"I know how hot it’s been."
"I thought I smelt something rotten coming in from the bar’s kitchen. I go in there to check, and it’s coming down from the back staircase. I figure it’s none of my business."
"You figured right."
"You won’t believe it, the fucking health inspector shows up not two minutes later. He smells it too. He walks into the kitchen, citing you for the cockroaches before following that scent right up to your back door. The odor’s real bad, Nick. We both almost vomited. I couldn’t stop the guy from calling the cops. Before he does, I tell him about the black dudes waiting in the lot for the last few days. Those two get detained when the first few patrol cars come in. Turns out they had illegal weapons on them. One of the cops told me they were on probation so they won’t get bail."
So Irv hadn’t sent the cops the videotape. But what did it matter? How could I explain it away? No one would believe me—not with my past.
"Look, Nick," John said, "the cops talked to me. I didn’t tell them shit—I just run the bar, right? They closed it up tight. There’s unmarked cars all over that neighborhood, probably right in the parking lot like them black fellows were doing. You can’t go back there."
"I didn’t want it to go down like this, John."
"Hey, Nick, it was good knowing you, but don’t call me no more."
I don’t know who hung up first.
I had a smoke going when Pam walked out. She must of noticed the look on my face.
"What’s the matter, Nickie?"
"Not right here."
I put my arm through hers and we walked to our cars, leaning against mine.
"You’re making me scared," she said.
I told her about the phone call.
"Christ," she said when I was done. "What can we do?"
"They’ll be looking for the Delta," I said. "We’ll have to leave it here. Could be days before it’s noticed in a joint that’s open all the time."
"All right, let’s get your stuff in the convertible."
"Wait, baby, there’s more."
"What?"
"The cops will have gotten a judge to freeze my bank accounts, trying to prevent me from fleeing the country. I got money hidden, but I can’t get to it easily. I got less than a hundred on me."
"When’s this gonna end?" Pam said more to herself than to me.
"I don’t know, baby."
I held her close.
"Oh, Nickie."
"Irv’s safe money is looking pretty good right now," I said.
I loaded Van Gogh’s carrier in the back of Pam’s car. I took a last look around my car, grabbing the final clip for the .45 from the glove box. All those years with the Beast and it was over in a flash. Hated giving it up that way. But I was a wanted man. Driving around in a distinctive, older car was asking to get caught.
I climbed in beside Pam, and she drove us back onto the highway, getting into the flow of traffic. The wind coursed over my body, and though the night was warm and humid, I was getting a chill. I had lost a lot of blood, wouldn’t have doubted if I needed two pints of fresh fluid. The way my head was swimming, probably a third would have fit in my veins.
I think I drifted off. Pam was tapping me in the side.
"Huh?" I was holding my arm like it was in a sling. Blood dribbled out, staining my shirt red.
"We’re nearing the West Oaks exits," she said.
"Take the Lark Avenue one."
"You’re looking bad, Nick."
"Yeah, baby, I feel it."
"You gonna make it?"
"What choice do I got?"
"Do you wanna skip looking for Teddy?"
"No. I’ll be okay."
She slowed for the ramp, braking to a stop at the light. We waited for the green.
"Take a left. It ain’t too far."
She took the turn, went a few hundred feet, and we were right at the Victorian Teddy lived in.
"Here. That’s it," I said. "Use the driveway."
Pulling in, she parked near the old lady’s buggy-like car.
She took in the size of the house. "This is Teddy’s?"
"It’s a bunch of apartments."
"Okay, right."
We walked into the big entrance hall, the air as stale and heavy as my last visit. The museum room lay in deep shadows, but the community dining room’s chandelier was set on a low dim. Cooking odors still hung in the air, right with the humidity.
I didn’t fancy a discussion with the old maid who owned the place. She was nowhere in sight, and we took the stairs, small quiet steps, taking our time winding up to the third floor. Teddy’s apartment door was closed, a faint bluish color leaking from under the door.
"That one," I said, pointing it out to Pam.
"I’m a little nervous," she said.
"What for?"
"What if he’s not here? I mean, where did he go?"
"He’s here. You’ll see."
"I hope."
"Me, too."
"You go first, Nick."
I didn’t bothering knocking, figuring Teddy might be afraid to answer. I tried the knob and it opened right up. The corner fans were whirling, pushing the humidity around in a futile attempt to cool the room. Both computers hummed, screen savers set to the most perfect skyline you ever saw. That was it for the light.
The futon placed dead center was in its upright position. Billie Joe sat on a small towel placed on the checkered cushion, wearing a loose tank top, and nothing else. Her legs were stretched out far and wide. She had both hands on the head of the fully clad gal munching on her.
"Oh my God, we are so sorry," Pam said.
Billie Joe and her friend looked over. The friend’s lips and mouth were soaked.
"Don’t stop, Heather darling," Billie Joe said, her word stumbling out. "I can ‘andle this." Her eyes were glazed, the lids dead weight. She was tripping on hash or ecstasy or whatever. Obedient little Heather went right back to her feast.
Billie Joe gave me a lazy look. "What do you want ‘his time, faggot?"
"We’re looking for Teddy."
"Why? You need a date?" She tried to laugh but her mouth just curled and expelled air.
"Have you seen him at all?" Pam asked.
"What’s that, darling?" she replied.
"Where’s Teddy?" she said.
"You must be Pam," Billie Joe said. "Teddy’s shown me pictures."
"I am."
"What about Teddy?" I said.
"He’s been gone for a few days now."
I said, "You wouldn’t be lying now?"
"Why would I?"
"Forget it."
"This is ridiculous, Nick," Pam said. "She’s high."
"We’re both high, lady," Billie Joe said. "You want to join us in some fun?"
"Let’s get out of here," Pam said.
"Yeah," I said, and shut the door behind us.
We headed down the three flights of stairs and hit the entranceway. I was reaching for the front door when a rough voice stopped my movement.
"You again."
The white haired lady walked out of the shadows of the museum. She was shrouded in a pullover sleeping gown.
"Have you seen Teddy?" I said.
"He still hasn’t paid me the rent," she said.
"That ain’t what I asked."
"I’m not deaf."
"Didn’t say you were," I said.
"You have blood all down the front of your shirt, young man," she said.
"Cut myself shaving," I said.
"I don’t believe that for one second," she said. "Not with your reputation."
"What are you talking about?" I said.
Pam stepped forward—not giving the lady time to answer me. "We’re friends of Teddy’s," she said.
"I figured as much," the old lady said.
"Has he been home recently?"
Pam asked.
"Not since the morning Mr. Nick Constantine was looking for him," she said.
"You know my name now?" I said.
"Sure do."
"What’s going on?" I said.
"You’ve been all over the news," she said. "Lead story, too. You’re infamous. Something about the police finding two bodies in your apartment. Above a bar."
I looked at Pam. "We better head out." Then to the lady, "Thanks for your time."
"You aren’t looking to hurt Teddy, are you?" she said.
I didn’t respond. I opened the door and went outside, Pam right by my side.
"I’m calling the police," the lady said to our backs.
A black and white must have been in the area. Pam let him pass through the green light before she turned onto the on-ramp. The old lady hadn’t thought to see what vehicle we were in, and the cop car raced by, its lights blazing, but not giving the convertible a second look.
Pam took 84 into the capital, avoiding my neighborhood, and cruising into downtown. The Capital Arena had a heavy metal concert that night, and we got stuck at a light watching young and middle aged fans jaywalking and lining the sidewalks, clouds of smoke, not all of it from cigarettes, wafting in the open air around us. Police were in force, some in riot gear, waiting; hoping things would turn ugly. I remembered that feeling, wishing some drunken hockey blockhead would do something stupid so I could move in.
But I didn’t want to bust anybody’s head right then. Maybe it was being with Pam. Or the ache in my shoulder was turning me to mush. Quite possibly it was both. Either way, I just wanted to get over to Irv’s office and finish things.
Pam waited for the constipated mass to thin out. The cops were too busy to notice us. Then we were passing tall office buildings, most of them empty at this hour, but still the lights burned inside. Pam turned left into a parking garage and stopped for a ticket. In a few minutes we’d have plenty of cash from Irv’s safe to pay that off.
As she circled to the top, I said, "You worried at all?"
"Little bit," she said. "You?"
"Nothing to worry about at all."
"You think Dr. Reece is working late tonight?"
"He has an emergency number," I said. "Irv’s loot will get him over here fast enough."
The Big Bad Page 20