by Greg Aunapu
By Wednesday morning the formerly reliable Paul Branch was proving that he was indeed a biker. Still no contact. Sue made all the calls that she had been saving up, to the police, the district attorney, even a lawyer who was a friend of Frank Rubino's. Everyone, including the police, seemed receptive and wanted to help.
Rex called at eleven P.M. "I heard from Paul," he said.
"Finally!" Sue shouted, her entire body shaking. She'd just fallen asleep a few minutes earlier. "Where is he?”
"Are you sitting down?"
"I'm in bed."
"He never made it past St. Pete," Rex told her. "Says his grandmother's in intensive care. She's the one who brought him up—she's like his mother. He doesn't know how long it will take him to get out there."
Sue was strong, and had become much stronger throughout this ordeal, lifting emotional weights, becoming a veritable body builder of inner strength. But everyone has their limit. The reservoir burst and she wept. "I am not leaving my baby in Tulsa," she cried. "Can't you pressure him to just fly in for the day? Let him know we were here, that I'm waiting here for him."
"I told him that. He's a strange character," Rex said. "Doesn't feel like he's put us out in the slightest."
"Well, it's time he started paying us back for everything we've done for him," she said. "Have him call me. I'll tell him a thing or two."
Rex was worried about Sue, but couldn't tell Ned that he had left her in Tulsa. So instead he visited one of Sue's best friends, Barbara, after the call, and got her to urge Sue to come home.
"You have to be crazy," Sue said to her friend. "This is the closest we've been to Amy in years. I can feel it, Barb."
"Rex really doesn't think Paul can be moved," Barbara replied. "He's worried about you staying out there alone."
"You tell Rex to get heavy with Paul. This is just too much. He has his grandmother, and I want my daughter."
Sue finally called Ned and revealed everything. That she was here alone, that Paul was in St. Petersburg, and that nothing was going right. Ned took it well, letting her cry into his ear as she apologized for not telling him the truth sooner.
"It's all right, honey," he told her. "But don't try to protect me. It's not good. I trust you."
Sue decided if she was ever going to find Harry Kramer, she wasn't going to rely on Paul Branch, whose credibility had taken a dive. She didn't know how much to believe anymore. Ina Shepard called the Tulsa police and asked them to extend their help, so Sue met with two detectives. Of course, the first thing they wanted to know was, "Are you sure Amy isn't a runaway?" She gave them the details of the case and they promised to be ready if she needed some help.
Ned called on Friday the eighteenth with some good news: "Paul called Rex and told him he was leaving for Tulsa on Sunday." If that seemed a favorable sign, it got better the following day when Ned called again. "Sue, it really sounds promising. Paul has called Rex three times. He's dumped his bike, got a van, and he's already left! He'll be there Wednesday or Thursday. He says for you to stay put!"
Joy flooded through Sue's body, making her feel like she might levitate right of the bed. But alternating tidal forces of despair and happiness were almost too much. By Wednesday, when she hadn't heard any further news, she scrawled in her journal: I hope I can hold out without falling apart. Maybe tomorrow! Thursday was even worse. She wrote one word: Zilch!
She lay in bed not wanting to leave or use the telephone, in case she might miss the most important call of her life. Where was Paul? She didn't eat and didn't sleep.
Days stretched by with no further news. She felt stretched, too. Stretched and emotionally mauled. She decided to give Paul an extra week. On Tuesday she took a cab back to Tulsa police headquarters and met with Sergeant Larry Johnson and two detectives, Jack Powell and Charles Sasser. Right out of central casting, they were all hefty western cops with thick necks and military-style crew cuts. But their attitudes were very positive.
"If Amy's in Tulsa," Powell said, "we'll find her."
"But don't do anything to spook Paul," she told them. "I think he really is trying to help me."
The investigators agreed. Powell said, "Yep, Branch obviously has some feelings left, or he wouldn't have gone home to take care of his grandmother. So he must have some sympathy for you. We'll do everything very hush-hush and very low profile, and look for this Harry Kramer. Branch will never be aware that we're helping you."
She felt as if some progress was being made now. She definitely had a good feeling about the authorities here. Unlike Orlando, they seemed to have a much better idea about what they were up against.
When she got back to the hotel, there was a message to call Ned.
"Paul called Rex," he said. "He got busted in Alabama and has been in jail! But now he's on his way."
The next night she had just hung up from the usual ten P.M. conversation with Ned when the phone rang again. "What did you forget, Ned?" she said, being cute.
"It's Paul," came the gravelly voice.
"Paul! Paul, you . . . why haven't you called me?"
He grunted. "I'm calling you now. Look, it's been a long trip, and I was in the slammer for five days. I'm on the outskirts of town, so get me a room at your hotel. I'll be there in an hour." The biker hung up before she could scold him.
Sue's funds were low. She looked at her credit cards, wondering which one would fit an extra room on it. She finally plucked one from her wallet and headed down to the front desk. A woman with thickly mascaraed eyes and hair as fluffy as blond cotton candy chewed gum behind the desk.
"We ain't got no more rooms, ma'am," she said. "It's the Bicentennial Fourth of July coming up, and the place is full."
Sue was so weary by now. Why couldn't anything be easy? she wondered. Not even this. "You must have something? A broom closet—anything," she pleaded.
"This is very important to me."
The woman snapped her gum and looked at the reservation books. She made a face. “Weeell,” she said, dragging out the vowel, "the honeymoon suite is available, but only for tonight."
Sue laughed. "That's it? The only room you have is the honeymoon suite?"
The price was outrageous, of course.
Sue let out a sigh and weighed the credit card in her hand, as if to ascertain whether it could stand the extra expense. "Do it," she said. "I'll find something else tomorrow."
As late as it was, she would have expected the Jehovah's Witnesses to be in bed, but there were families checking in, the restaurant was full, and kids playing tag ran around the sofas and couches of the lobby.
When Branch strode into the lobby at eleven P.M., it was like a gunslinger had just entered a bar in a western town. He wore greasy jeans as stiff as cardboard. His vest covered a t-shirt that pictured a muscled hand labeled "Harley-Davidson" squeezing the brains out of three Japanese men labeled "Kawasaki," "Honda," and "Suzuki." His chains rattled menacingly as his boots left dusty prints on the carpet. A startled hush fell over the room. One little boy broke into tears. The front desk clerk, another big-haired lady, suddenly departed in the hopes this apparition wouldn't ask for a room.
Sue took a deep breath. "I can't believe you're finally here," she said.
He grinned. "Sometimes you gotta wait for the good stuff. You got my room?"
She waved the key. "You're staying in the honeymoon suite."
"Aw, shucks," he said. "I always thought you had your eye on me!"
Sue walked him up to the suite, noticing the nervous glances of the other guests and the disapproving glares from the front desk personnel hiding in the back office. The biker's body odor filled the elevator on the way up. Paul noticed the expression on her face. "That's five days of Alabama for you," he said.
"What happened?" she asked.
He shook his head. "Cops were just harassing me. I badmouthed one when he stopped my van."
"Have you gotten any more leads on Amy or Kramer?" she asked.
"I'll tell you the plan tomorrow."
"You don't have an address, do you?" Sue said.
"Bikers don't have addresses," Paul said. "Bikers are gypsies, we hang out until it's time to hit the road. But this is my specialty. I have found a lot of people who didn't want to be found."
Sue let Paul into his room. It was three times the size of hers, with a king-size bed and view of the city. A fruit basket sat on the dining table. "Don't get too comfortable," Sue said. "They're full after tonight."
Branch looked her up and down, and over at the bed. It was obvious what he was thinking. She slapped the key down on the dresser.
"Pleasant dreams," he called after her.
Back in the elevator, she started to shake uncontrollably. When Branch mentioned that he had tracked down people, she realized he meant he'd found and killed them. That night, in her journal, she wrote down everything that had happened. She hadn't seen Paul in so long that she had forgotten just how diabolical he looked, and she could easily imagine all the terrified Jehovah's Witnesses fervently praying in their hotel rooms to keep the evil at bay. But she also knew she couldn't write about the depths of terror Paul instilled in the people around him. These were notes that Ned would probably read, and that she would refer to over and over again. Anyone might see them eventually. She ended a paragraph with a simple, He sure scares me!
The next morning Paul called her at seven A.M. "I'm hungry," he said, his voice sounding like an engine grinding a piston ring.
Sue hadn't slept. Anytime she drifted into some semblance of sleep, visions of Amy swept into her mind and kept her heart racing. Now she felt like a beaten rug, and her body wanted to sleep all day. But the sound of Paul's voice seared her brain like a double jolt of espresso. She was already jumping out of bed as she said, "I'll meet you in the restaurant in ten minutes."
The biker's hair stuck out in various directions, and his eyes were red and watery as a basset hound's. Sue doubted he had done more than take his boots off to sleep. He swung his rancid gaze at the older waitress, who'd probably thought she'd seen everything in her life. She stepped backward in surprise.
"Coffee," he commanded. He scanned the plastic menu. There were pictures of pancakes and eggs with numbers next to them. He pointed at one that had a little of everything. It would have fed Sue for a week. "Gimme this," he said.
Sue ordered an English muffin. "So what's the plan?”
Paul said, "Coffee first."
He was going to eke this out by the second, she thought. He likes this. He's a sadist!
The waitress brought a small cup of steaming coffee. He opened his mouth and threw it down. "More," he said. "Bring one of those pots."
When he was situated with his coffee, he leaned toward Sue. He hadn't brushed his teeth in a week. "Okay, the first thing I do is check the bike shops. There ain't that many of them, and every biker ends up there for one reason or t'other. Don't worry, I want to find this guy as much as you do. He's got the girl, my bike, and -- well, let's just say some other stuff. He knows I'm looking for him."
"If he knows you're looking, what's to keep him from gallivanting off? You said it yourself, you're gypsies."
Paul sucked up more coffee. The platter of food arrived. They ate big portions in Tulsa, and that was just right for Paul. Steak and eggs with grits was accompanied by a small mound of spongy pancakes. Sue received her muffin.
"I think he's been snitching," Paul said. "So he's lying low, not going anywhere."
Paul turned his attention to his pancakes, forking generous portions into his mouth while other patrons glanced at him furtively and whispered among themselves. Sue half expected some marshal to saunter over and say, "Hey, we don't like your kind in our town."
"Remember what I said about Amy. She's been living a complete different life than anything you can imagine, even though you think you've seen some of it. So don't expect your Amy."
Sue shook her head. She was glad she hadn't eaten anything heavy, because it wouldn't have sat in her stomach. "I know that, Paul. I'll take her in any form she's in."
"She may not even want to go with you," he said.
"She may not even know you."
"You keep saying that, Paul. And it really upsets me. She's got to remember her mother. She's got a family. You can't erase seventeen years that easily!"
"That's what you think," Paul snorted. "Just remember what I've been saying, and be prepared. There's another thing. I gotta have some expense money. I'm tapped out."
Sue sighed. "Me too, Paul." She dug in her purse. "I've got $67 left." She handed him three twenties and a five. "That's all I've got, Paul. I'm living on credit cards."
"You can deduct it from the $2,000 reward money," he said.
An electric charge went through Sue's body. She didn't want him to know the $2,000 had been depleted during the search. Even his $125 in bike repairs had come out of it. "You always said you didn't want the reward," she reminded him.
He looked at her with savvy eyes. "Things change," he said. "Right now I need the money more'n I need the girl. That's lotsa money for a chick."
Paul finished his huge breakfast, while Sue was still nibbling on her muffin. He got up from the table. "Okay, gonna loosen the load a little in the bathroom and then I'm heading out!" he stated. "You stick around here, and I'll come back and fill you in later. Don't know how long it'll take."
"I could go with you?" Sue suggested hopefully.
Paul laughed. "You're a funny lady," he answered.
Sue waited by the phone all day. She watched morning news and Merv Griffin. She hated soap operas, but watched a couple of those, too, and wished her life was only as complicated as the poor souls plotting against each other on the tube. Paul finally called at seven-thirty P.M.
"Shue, my girl," he slurred into the phone.
"You're drunk," Sue said.
"So what? I didn't have much luck at the bike shops, but one guy said the bike seemed familiar. I been asking around at the Keg now. I think I pinned him down."
"Where? Tell me, Paul. Just in case."
"I'll tell you when I'm good an' ready," he said.
"Now, you going to be there tonight?"
"Of course," Sue said. "I won't leave the phone."
"And we're cool on the two large, because I may have to promish shome of it around. Shpread the wealth." The drunken words were a bit hard to understand.
"If you get proof positive about Amy, we'll get the money," Sue promised, her heart quaking.
As soon as she was off the phone she called Rex. "I don't know what to do about the money. What if he finds her and then we don't have it?"
"Just follow the plan, Sue," Rex said. "We'll come up with the ransom . . . the reward, whatever it is. And if there's any problem, you tell him to call me. You hear? He knows you're low on cash now, so he's not sure. But if he hears it from me, he'll know you're good for it."
"I don't know what we'd do without you, Rex," Sue said, a grateful tear running down her cheek.
-10-
P aul found a cheap hotel for the night and was banging on Sue's door the next morning. The Pagan lumbered through the door and scoped the room. "It may not be the honeymoon suite, but it's better than the flea-bitten crap I crashed in the other night. Hardly a hotel room available in town!"
Sue wondered how he could live in a trashed-up trailer and then complain about any hotel room, no matter how modest, but she bit her tongue. "Please tell me you found Amy," she said.
Branch sprawled out on her just-made bed, his brutish body creating a dent in the mattress springs. "I'm going with a buncha Rogues to a concert at Wolf Mountain. Be thousands of bikers there, and Harry's not going to miss it. But . . ." He rubbed his fingers together. "I'm gonna need some gas money, babe. We're taking vans, so we can pool cash, but I gotta contribute my share."
"I'm at the end of my reserves," she said.
"So where's the two grand gonna come from?" Paul countered.
"That we'll get," Sue said without hesitation. "Y
ou can call Rex, and he'll vouch for that. But immediate cash is going fast. I gave you what I had."
"See if you can get some wired to you," he said. "Because I need something. I got some left from what you gave me, but I don't think it's enough. I spent twenty dollars on the hotel last night."
Sue sighed. "And you really think Harry's going to be there?"
"Bet your ass. This is a big gig. I'm going with some of his friends, and they say he's already on his way. He's riding with the Rogues now, I guess."
"I'll get you some cash," Sue told him. "But I have to get some real information soon."
"You'll get it," he told her.
She'd fantasized about being home by the July fourth weekend with Amy, but now realized that that idea was yet another dream that wasn't going to materialize. When Branch left, she called the maid to change the bedspread.
Sue arranged to get some additional cash but hadn't received it when Paul called at six-fifteen P.M.
The harsh voice grumbled through the receiver. "Been a change of plans. I started to get a bad feeling about being out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of Harry's friends! I got someone looking for Harry at the concert, and the guys will call me when they get back on Monday. I got a German shepherd with me now, so I gotta stay in this fleabag place again tonight. You gotta come through with some more money. This place is depressing."
"Paul, just call Rex directly," Sue said. "He'll get you some money. I'm going to check out of here and go to the Sheraton by the airport." She gave him the number. "It's cheaper than here."
"Okay," Paul said. "Here's the real news. There's a big party planned for Tuesday night. I think Amy's going to be there, so you can get your act straight with her."
"Don't joke around, Paul," Sue said.
"I'm not joking. They say Harry's going to be there with his old lady. I can't wait to see her myself. It's been a long time."
"When did you see her first?" Sue asked. He'd always been hazy on this part. She couldn't bear the thought of Branch and Amy together, but needed to get the facts straight.