by Teri White
“Okay, Robbie.”
He could see into the motel office as Robert, moving slowly and carefully, went inside and talked briefly to the old man behind the counter. The man handed Robert a key and pointed. Then Robert stepped back outside and waved at Beau. Unsnapping the seat belt, Beau got out of the car and followed Robert up a flight of stairs.
Outside room 203, Robert handed him the key. “Open the damned door, will you?” he said in a hoarse voice.
Beau hurried to do so and they stepped inside. Robert leaned against the wall immediately, his eyes closed. Beau switched on the light and stared at his pale, sweaty face. “Robbie? You don’t look so good.”
“I don’t feel so good either, Tonto,” Robert said. With that, he pitched forward and landed on the floor, out cold.
Beau, stunned, just stared at him for several seconds. Then he finally went into action. He managed to haul Robert’s dead weight up onto the bed. Once that was accomplished, he removed the unconscious man’s shoes and socks. It took more of an effort to slip him out of his jacket and, carefully, the holster and gun. He unbuttoned Robert’s shirt and opened it to look at the bruised stomach. Guilt flashed through him; it was all his fault, and he couldn’t blame Robert for being mad. He couldn’t even blame Robert if he kicked him out as soon as he woke up. He watched to be sure that Robert’s chest was moving up and down steadily, which he figured was a very good sign. Not like when his parents were shot. He could still remember crawling out from under the wagon where he and his friends had been hiding during the attack, crawling out, and running to Rachel and Jonathan’s bodies. It was the terrible stillness he would never forget. Death was so still.
When he was absolutely sure that Robert was breathing okay, Beau went into the bathroom. He ran some cold water over a skimpy washcloth, squeezed it out, sort of, and took it back to the bed. Robert didn’t move as he plastered the cloth to his forehead. That seemed to be the best he could do at the moment.
He perched gingerly on the edge of the bed, staring hard at Robert’s face.
Next door, a man and a woman were having a very loud argument in Spanish. Beau half-listened to the fight, which seemed to be about the equal division of some coke, at least when it started, but then got sidetracked onto their sexual preferences.
Pretty soon, they started screwing, which was just as noisy as the fighting had been.
It seemed to be a very long time before Robert finally stirred and then slowly opened his eyes, which looked blankly at Beau. He leaned down close. “Robbie? You okay?”
Robert blinked a couple of times and recognition came into his gaze. “Yeah. I guess. Shit.” He struggled to sit up. The washcloth fell to the bed.
Beau picked it up and twisted it nervously. “Maybe we better call a doctor or something, huh?”
Robert gave him another one of those Jesus-how-can-you-be-so-stupid? looks. “I don’t think so,” he said. Then he flinched. “Christ, my head is still hurting.”
“You probably got like a concussion or something.”
“I’ll be okay.”
Beau sat down again carefully. “I’m really sorry. If it wasn’t for me, this wouldn’t have happened. You must be really mad at me.”
Robert rested back against the shaky headboard. “No, Tonto, I’m not mad,” he said wearily. “Actually, it should be the other way around. I think you’re probably in the deep shit right along with me now. I should have let that damned detective take you.”
Beau folded and unfolded the damp cloth. “I’m glad you didn’t kill him, Robbie.”
“Yeah, well, I’ll probably live to regret that. Shit, I regret it already. But the paper said the guy was an ex-cop. I already got enough people pissed at me. But I should have let him take you.”
Beau didn’t say anything.
Robert sighed. “But since I didn’t do that, and you’re still here, you might as well be useful. Go out and find me some fucking aspirin or something. And coffee, black coffee. There should be someplace across the street.”
“Okay.”
“You have money?”
“Yeah.”
Robert looked at him for a moment. “Be careful.”
Beau wondered if maybe Robert thought he wouldn’t come back. “I’ll be careful,” he said. “And I won’t be long.”
“Right.”
Beau got to the door and then paused. “You stay right there in that damned bed,” he ordered.
“Sure thing, tough guy.” Robert tried to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace.
Beau made sure to lock the door as he left.
He walked nearly two blocks before finding an all-night drugstore, where he picked up some extra-strength painkillers and an ice bag. Then, on the way back to the motel, he hit a McDonald’s and ordered the coffee, along with fries and two Big Macs. And two hot apple pies.
While he was waiting for the food, he watched two cops who were in a booth having supper. Amazingly, he wasn’t scared of them anymore. He didn’t know whether that was because he was really getting braver, like Robert was, or whether it was simply that a person could only get so afraid before it just sort of leveled off. Maybe he was merely too tired to be scared.
Whatever.
Beau wondered idly what would happen if he just walked over to those cops, told them who he was, and that he’d been kidnapped. He’d probably be a freaking hero or something.
Not that he would ever do such a thing, of course. How could he just abandon Robert, who was counting on him? It was sort of an interesting sensation, feeling needed. Beau had never felt that way before. His folks loved him, sure, but they hadn’t needed him. And Saul, who owned the whole damned world, it seemed like, certainly didn’t need him. Didn’t want him, either. All Saul wanted was to have Jonathan back again.
But Robbie needed him.
He grabbed the bag of food, averted his face from the cops as he passed them, and left the restaurant.
2
Robert heard the key turn in the lock, but he couldn’t quite summon up the strength to sit up or even open his eyes immediately.
So the kid had come back. He didn’t know whether to be relieved or dismayed.
“Robbie?” Beau whispered.
“I’m awake,” he said.
“I got you some pills. And the coffee you wanted.”
“Okay.” Robert gritted his teeth and managed to sit up. Beau was standing by the bed, holding several capsules in one hand and a cardboard cup filled with coffee in the other. Robert took them from him, swallowing all four capsules at once.
Beau sat at the small table and opened a bag. “I got some food, too, if you’re hungry.”
Robert wasn’t, but he thought that maybe getting something into his stomach would help. He waved off Beau’s offer of assistance and got himself over to the table. Beau was already eating enthusiastically. Robert nibbled on a couple of fries and took a small bite of the burger. As he chewed carefully, he was aware of Beau watching him with a frown. “We’ll be okay,” Robert said.
“Sure we will.” Beau smiled and ate quietly for a moment. “Robbie,” he said then, “did you get him? Boyd, I mean?”
“No, damn it. I would have. It was a fucking perfect setup. He comes out of the game, I off him. Nobody else in the game cares. Perfect. But because that asshole detective showed up, it didn’t happen.”
“So what now?”
After forcing down one more bite, Robert pushed the hamburger aside. “I’m going to bed,” he said. “We’ll figure all of this out in the morning.”
Beau jumped up. “I’ll go get some ice for your head.”
Robert just nodded and stretched out on the bed again, wishing that the room would stop spinning. He was only vaguely aware of Beau’s quiet return. The cold bag was placed carefully on his head. It felt good, but he couldn’t even say so. Every time he woke up over the next few hours, Robert was aware of Beau’s presence nearby in the darkness. Mostly the kid seemed to be watching television, keep
ing the volume turned very low.
It was probably an indication of just how much trouble Robert was in that he found being watched over like that pretty reassuring.
Finally he woke up and saw some morning sun leaking in through the cheap draperies. Robert stayed very still, staring at the ceiling, as he tried to evaluate his physical condition. Well, he was still alive, but that was about as far as he was willing to go at the moment. It was something.
Beau was sitting on the floor, his head resting on the bed, sound asleep. Robert watched him for a few minutes, then reached out and touched him lightly on the arm.
Beau woke up immediately. “What?” He rubbed his eyes. “Oh, damn, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to fall asleep like that.”
“No problem. You’re not being paid by the hour.”
“How’re you feeling, Robbie?”
“Better, thanks.”
“Really?”
He shrugged. “How’s my head look?”
“There’s a lump.”
“I’ll bet there is.” He needed to get into the can, badly, so he accepted Beau’s help in getting up from the bed. Once in the bathroom, he avoided looking in the mirror. His whole body felt bruised and stiff. But, crummy as he felt, he knew that there was really no choice. He had to keep moving.
Beau was sitting at the table, eating a cold apple pie when Robert came out. He sat with him, but refused the offer of a share of the pie. His stomach lurched at the thought. He took a deep, careful breath. “Okay,” he said. “This is how it is. I’m going to track Boyd down and this time I’ll kill him.”
Beau was listening, licking at crumbs on his upper lip.
“But things have sort of changed now.” He couldn’t help giving a short, humorless laugh, even though it hurt like hell. “Hey, things are totally fucked, that’s how they are, right, Tonto?”
Beau nodded, but tentatively, as if he didn’t think he was going to like what was coming.
“So,” Robert said, “you can split.” He leaned back in the chair carefully.
“What?” Beau said, forgetting to swallow the last bite of pie.
“I said, you can split. Right now. Before things get any more screwed up than they already are. If that’s possible. Take off, kid. Go home. Wherever. Tell the fucking cops whatever you want to or have to in order to save your own ass. I won’t stop you.”
Beau was staring at him. “I don’t want to do that, Robbie. Please. I want to stay with you.”
That really wasn’t what Robert had expected to hear. He was doing a damned decent thing here and it would be nice to have it appreciated. Instead, he was being looked at like somebody who drowned puppies. “You want to stay with me? Why?”
“Because.”
Robert shook his head. “Don’t tell me ‘because.’ That’s what a little kid says. ‘Because’ is not a reason for a man to do something like this.”
“Well, maybe I could help. Like last night.” His look turned slightly defiant. “I did help you last night.”
“Yes, you did.”
Beau nodded, as if that settled things. “Well, then. I owe you that much.”
Robert waved off those words as if they were pesky flies. “Fuck that,” he said.
After a moment, Beau pushed his chair back and got up. He walked over to the window, pulled the curtain open a little, and peered out. Then he turned and looked at Robert again. “I guess I sort of love you,” he said, sounding combative again. “Like we’re brothers or something.”
“My brother is dead,” Robert said sharply. Almost immediately, he regretted the tone he’d used.
Beau ducked his head for a moment.
“I’m sorry,” Robert said. “I shouldn’t have said that.”
“It’s okay. I know he’s dead and I’m just … well, I’m just a pest you can’t get rid of.”
“No,” Robert said. “That’s not true.”
“Anyway, my folks are dead, too. You don’t have anybody now and neither do I. So maybe we could stay together. Make our own kind of family. You know? Like adoption or something. We could be blood brothers.”
Robert didn’t say anything right away. Then he shook his head. “Jesus, Beau, haven’t you been paying attention to any of this? What do you think is going on?”
Beau walked back to the table, looking at him.
Robert reached out and grabbed Beau’s shoulder, shaking him hard. “You think this is some goddamned adventure we’re on here? Something out of a freaking paperback book? Blood brothers? Huck and Big Jim riding a raft down the fucking Mississippi, maybe?” He stopped, frustrated, and ran a hand through his hair, grimacing at the pain it caused.
Beau pulled away and went to the other side of the room. “I don’t know why you’re mad at me.”
“I’m not,” Robert said wearily. “I’m just tired. I’m tired and I don’t know what the fuck is going to happen next.”
“Please, Robbie, let me stay with you. Whatever is going to happen.”
“But that’s crazy.”
“Yeah, maybe. But I don’t care. I just feel good when we’re together. Sometimes I’m scared, yeah, but I know you’ll take care of me. And I’ll help you.”
Damn.
Robert didn’t know what the hell to do.
Beau just stared at him.
Finally, reluctantly, he nodded. “Okay, Tonto. We’ll ride through this together.”
“Promise?”
“Sure, I fucking promise.”
Beau relaxed visibly. “And I promise, too. I’ll hang in, whatever happens.”
“Great,” Robert muttered.
3
She called again.
Still scared, but at least willing to talk. Only not on the phone, Mr. Sinclair, could they meet? Did he know Joey’s on Wilshire?
They could and he did.
The early-lunch crowd was just finishing its first glass of wine when Gar arrived. He took a table near the front and waited, wondering if he would recognize a frightened young woman when she came in. In fact, he did. She was a tall blonde, wearing a big straw hat and dark glasses. Hovering in the entrance, she was obviously scared of something.
Gar caught her eye.
She hesitated, almost bolted from the place, then walked over. “Mr. Sinclair?”
“Yes. And you are—?”
“Just … Maureen, that’s all.”
“Okay, Maureen, sit down.”
She did. “I shouldn’t be here. If he finds out …”
“He won’t, at least not from me.”
Darryl, their server for the day, ambled by. They both listened to his recitation of the specials. She chose the Exotic Fruit Salad and a glass of French water. Gar picked Joey’s Famous Boursin Burger and a beer.
When Darryl had left them, Gar leaned back and stared at her. “Okay, Maureen, what’s the story? You know something about Beau Epstein?”
“Yes. At least, I think it was him. His hair … the man I’m talking about had cut his hair and changed the color, but I’m pretty sure it was the boy you’re looking for.”
Gar thought back to the face of the boy he’d seen in the car the night before. Yeah, darken the hair and cut it short and that would be what Beau looked like. “Who is the man?”
Her fingers were knotted on top of the table. “You have to understand, I never thought he’d be involved in something like murder or kidnapping. I just thought …”
Darryl brought their drinks.
She squeezed the lime slice and stirred the water with a straw.
“You just thought what?” Gar prompted.
“He was exciting. Different from any man I dated before. I guess maybe there was a sort of aura of danger and maybe that was one of the attractions. And he’s very good-looking. Sexy, if you know what I mean.”
Gar just nodded.
“I thought maybe he really cared about me. Bobby was always a gentleman. There aren’t too many of those around these days.”
“Bobby?” Gar said
.
“Yes. He came into the restaurant where I work one night and we just talked. Then he came back the next night and asked me out.” She picked up one of the whole-wheat rolls and neatly cut it in half. After a moment’s debate, she apparently decided against butter and nibbled the roll as it was.
Gar swallowed some more beer and tried to keep his impatience hidden. If she couldn’t tell this her own way, she might not tell it at all. “So you and this Bobby are seeing each other?”
“Well, not anymore. After his brother died a few weeks ago, he just dropped me. No calls or anything. I mean, I didn’t even know he had a brother, isn’t that weird?”
“You know anything about the brother?”
“No. Except that Bobby said he was murdered.”
The food arrived. They both started eating and it wasn’t until Gar was halfway through the burger that she spoke again.
“So when I didn’t hear from him, I got sort of worried, you know? I decided to go by his house and just make sure he was okay. And if he was just trying to dump me, then I had the right to hear it face-to-face, don’t you think?”
“Definitely.”
“Well, he was okay. Fine, he said. But he was in the middle of cutting this boy’s hair. Weird, huh?”
“Did he call the boy by name?”
She nodded. “But not his real name. Called him Tonto. How about that? Tonto.”
“Okay, Maureen. Who is this guy?”
She picked through the remaining fruit with her fork. “Robert Turchek.”
The name meant nothing to Gar. “Do you know anything else about him?”
“Not really.” She looked up. “His address, if that would help.”
It would help, yeah, although there was little chance that this guy Turchek would be sitting in his living room waiting for them to show up.
Maureen looked up at him. “I hope you find the boy,” she said softly. “But I really hope you don’t have to kill Bobby. He’s not all bad, you know? Even though I’m scared of him, he’s not all bad.”
Gar didn’t say anything. Turchek must be a real charmer. He could hardly wait to meet the bastard.