by Ken Kelly
Bobby, miraculously, found a parking place less than a block from Frank’s house. He got out of his car, walked to the house and then up the stairs. After a short blast on the bell he walked in and shut the door behind him.
“In here,” called Frank from the living room. Bobby walked in and saw Frank in his easy chair, in front of the TV. Bobby knew that Frank didn’t like to answer the door and that’s why he left it unlocked. He also knew that Frank kept a hand gun stuck down the side of the cushion of his easy chair in case an unfriendly came through the door.
“Hey Bobby, thanks for coming. If you want something to drink help yourself, it’s in the kitchen.”
Bobby went into the kitchen and returned with a Heineken. He walked back into the living room and took a seat on the couch. “So what’s happening Frank?”
Frank used the remote to turn off the television and got right to the point. “I found out that my favorite couple is up at the Rainbow Gathering.”
“What’s a Rainbow Gathering?”
Frank explained what it was and told him the location. “I’m going to go up there to find them and finish them off.”
Bobby knew that killing Rick Mills and Gloria Hesselgrave had become Frank’s Holy Grail. He’d made a plan to deal with it. The first part of the plan was he’d talk to Frank one more time, and if he couldn’t dissuade him, which would probably be the case, he wouldn’t bring it up again. But now was the time to give it one last shot.
“So your plan is to drive up almost to Oregon and kill the guy for smashing your Cadillac, and the girl for bluffing you off a pot, and maybe both of them for getting back the money you cheated them out of?”
“That’s enough reason to whack them, but you missed a couple of things. The bitch cut me bad enough to send me to the hospital for stitches and she threatened to kill me, to cut me so bad I’d bleed to death in five minutes. She had the knife on my leg when she said it. I looked in her eyes and I knew she wouldn’t hesitate to do it. She might even enjoy it.”
“But she didn’t do it.”
“She’ll wish she had once I put a 9mm slug in her.
Bobby was quiet for a moment and then he said, “Look Frank, I can see how you feel but I think you ought to forget about it, just let it go.”
“That’s not going to happen Bobby, you know that.”
“Yeah, I guess I do.” Bobby took a pull on his beer. “So what can I do for you Frank?”
“You can come with me.”
“To the Rainbow Gathering?”
"That’s right.”
Bobby was quiet for a long moment. Sadly things were going the way he knew they would and not the way he wanted. It was time for part B of the plan. He finished the last of his Heineken and said, “When do you want to leave?”
“Tomorrow morning at 8 am. I figure we can get close tomorrow and make it in early the next day. Can you drive?”
“I can drive but let’s make it 9 am. We’ll miss traffic and get some extra sleep. I’ll pick you up then.”
“Sounds good.”
Bobby found a gas station and filled up. Then he called Fran who picked up on the third ring. “Hi Fran, how are you?”
“Great now that you called.”
Bobby laughed. “Did anyone ever tell you that you have great communication skills?”
“Not until now.”
“I know this is short notice but would you like to go out to dinner?”
“Come over and I’ll make dinner here. Afterwards I’ll take off all my clothes and you can chase me around the house.”
“We can do that in a restaurant,” Bobby deadpanned.
“You can if you want. I’ll wait in the car.”
“Okay, I’m convinced, your house is better. What time should I be there?”
“7.”
“I’ll bring some wine if you want.”
“I do want, thanks. See you at 7.”
The next morning Fran reached over and shook Bobby by the arm. When she got nothing she shook him harder. “Wake up, it’s your 7:30 wake-up call as requested.”
Bobby rolled on his back and looked at Fran. “I asked you to wake me up?”
“Yes, last night between dinner and sex. Maybe it knocked out your short term memory. For me the sex was satisfying and gratifying but it didn’t affect my memory and so I woke you up.”
Bobby pulled her close and kissed her. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” she said and kissed him back, “and thanks for coming over, it was fun.”
“Yeah, it was fun for me to. Thanks for inviting me and you can invite me again if you like.”
They had breakfast together: yogurt and honey, rye toast, coffee. Then Bobby drove to his place and packed a small backpack with jeans, some socks, T-shrits, and underwear, some toiletries and a flashlight. He took down a grey hooded pullover sweatshirt and put it on. The sweatshirt had connecting pockets across the stomach.
In the corner of the closet was a two drawer metal filing box. Bobby used a key on his key ring to open the lock and then pulled out the top drawer. He reached in and picked up a Glock 9mm and an extra clip. Bobby knew the gun was loaded but checked to make sure and then put it and the clip into the sweatshirt pocket. With his right hand he pulled the Glock out a few times. Then he took off the sweatshirt, wrapped it around the gun, and put it in the bag.
After making sure the house was locked up Bobby went out to his car and put the bag in the trunk. He got into driver’s seat, checked the glove box to make sure he had a map of California, and headed to Frank’s. When he arrived Frank bounded down the stairs with a brief case in one hand and a cloth bag in the other.
“Pop the trunk Bobby,” said Frank as he headed to the back of the car. He opened the trunk, put the bags in, and got in the passenger side of the car. They drove a steady 75 to 80 mph, stopping to eat once and for gas twice. They changed drivers every couple of hours and pulled into Reno just after dark. A half hour later they checked into the Sands Regency Hotel.
It was a few minutes before 11 AM when Frank Salucci and Bobby Greco pulled into the parking area of the Rainbow Gathering. Frank wore a dark suit and dress shoes, a dress shirt, no tie, and the black fedora he’d bought when he fired at Rick and Gloria in the Gas Lamp. Bobby, who’d made an effort to fit in with the Rainbow folks, was wearing faded jeans, worn Reebok walking shoes, a wide brimmed straw hat and a black T-shirt with a picture of Bob Marley. He tied his grey hooded sweatshirt around his shoulders, his Glock 9 in the sweatshirt’s pocket bounced lightly against his back.
“Let’s go,” said Frank.
Bobby looked over at Frank, in his black suit and black hat, and thought he looked as out of place as a rhinoceros at a fashion show. Bobby had stuck with his plan and hadn’t talked about Frank’s killing agenda on the drive up, but now that they’d arrived he couldn’t help giving it one more try. “What are we doing here Frank?”
“You know what we’re doing Bobby, we’ve been over it a thousand times.”
“Yeah, I know, you’re going to kill two people because they didn’t back down when you said boo. Is that it?”
“I’ve been over the reasons Bobby, I’m not going to do it again.”
Bobby looked ahead and saw a couple of rough looking hippies, one carrying a shovel and the other with a large ornate capital A and the word ‘Camp’ underneath tattooed on his left bicep. They reminded Bobby of a couple of aggressive panhandlers he’d once had the misfortune of running into on a trip to Portland. Guys that asked if you had any money to spare and let you know that ‘no’ wasn’t an acceptable answer.
When they got close the two men split around Frank and Bobby. As they passed the one with the shovel put a finger in front of his lips and pushed out an exaggerated shhhhhhhhh. The other guy whispered, “show some respect man.”
Under different circumstances Frank would have yelled a string of obscenities at the freaks with the shovel and the tattoo. If t
hey came back with ideas of doing something about it he’d show them his gun and maybe use it to bash them up a little. But doing the love birds was the job at hand and he had to stay focused.
Bobby noticed that the people walking by were either silent or whispering. “I guess we’re suppose to keep it quiet,” he whispered. “Aren’t you worried about witnesses Frank, there are thousands of them here.”
“These freaks? Who’s going to believe them?”
“We’re the freaks here, Frank, especially you,” said Bobby as he watched the people they were passing. He did notice though that no one was paying much attention to Frank in his dark suit and black hat; just another guy in costume at the Rainbow Gathering.
Still Bobby said, “We’ve passed probably 300 people since we left the car and I’ll bet anyone of them could pick you out of a police lineup.”
“I don’t think so. Listen, when we find them I’ll take care of it. You don’t have to do anything but back me up.”
“That and serve 20 years for being an accessory to a premeditated murder.”
Bobby heard a different sound and looked to the right where it seemed to come from. Trolling along at 4 mph where six horses ridden by six federal police officers, four men and two women. Both Frank and Bobby scanned the line of horses and realized they wouldn’t be able to get by them before their paths crossed. They kept walking and looking with their heads up but they didn’t engage any of the Forest Randers by looking in their eyes.
When the horses crossed in front of them they turned and walked parallel toward the last rider and when he passed, Bobby and Frank walked on silently, taking in the scenery and watching Rainbow people move across the landscape. Finally, without looking at him, Frank said, “What’s the matter with you Bobby? When did you become such a wuss?”
“I don’t know Frank, maybe it was about the time reason and common sense decided your head wasn’t a good place to dwell.”
“Very funny.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m still going to kill them.”
“Yes, of course.”
Frank and Bobby kept walking until they came to a large meadow where a profusion of people stood in a huge circle holding hands and, with their eyes closed, intoning ommmmmm.
“What are they doing?”
“I don’t know, Frank. Ommmming for world peace would be a good guess.”
While looking at the people in the circle in their colorful Rainbow attire Bobby saw that there were a few naked people spaced here and there. As they got closer to the circle he saw a tall leggy redhead wearing nothing but cork platform shoes tied to her feet with green straps. She looked to be 20 or 21 and she was stunning, with not a part on her that didn’t look great naked. Frank noticed her too.
“I’m going to get a closer look at that redhead,” he said.
“My advice is don’t.”
“What a surprise.”
When Frank got close to the circle he noticed that everyone had their eyes closed. He crawled quietly under the arms of a man and a woman holding hands a few people down from the striking redhead. He stood up and walked slowly toward her, his eyes glued on her Hall of Fame body. When he was in front of her he stopped for fifteen seconds and then forced himself to move down and crawl out of the circle.
He walked over to Bobby and said, “She was something. She has tits like cantaloupes.”
Frank waited for Bobby to say something but he didn’t. Frank said, “When I was in front of her she opened her eyes and smiled at me. She kept smiling until I left.
Bobby knew that was a lie. She must have kept her eyes closed the whole time and never saw or heard him, due to the chanting of everyone present. If she had seen him ogling her from just a few feet away, Bobby was sure things wouldn’t have worked out well for Frank.
“Let’s go,” said Frank, bummed because he was getting no glory for his voyeuristic exploits.
They walked through the wild grass and Bobby thought he’d give it one more try.
“You think we’ll find them?”
“Sure, why not?”
“Well because there are probably 20,000 people here. Two people could easily hide in a crowd like this. Did you ever think, Frank, that if you find them and pull it off one of two things will happen: you’ll get life in prison or spend fifteen years on death row until your last appeal runs out and they give you the needle? San Quinton’s where they do it, as I’m sure you know. It’s only a few hours from here, maybe we ought to drive down and have a look on the way home.”
“I don’t think that will be necessary. I’ll never see the inside of that place but I will kill the tow truck driver and the girlie girl. I got a feeling I’ll do it today. When I was scoping out that leggy redhead with her cantaloupe boobs did you look for them in the circle?”
“Yeah, I looked but I didn’t see ‘em.”
He’d seen Gloria though. She was a little hard to recognize in a long red print skirt and yellow shirt tied together instead of buttoned, her hair tied up in a red bandana and black lace up boots on her feet. Except for the boots she reminded Bobby of a Brazilian dancer, although he didn’t know why, since he’d never seen one.
“Tell me Bobby how could you look for them if you’ve never seen them before?”
They kept walking. Bobby didn’t waste time cursing himself for walking into a simple trap. Lying would be a weak move that wouldn’t work. And what did it matter now? One way or the other It was going to be over soon so why not go with the truth.
“I have seen them before. In fact I spent a couple of days with them in Vegas. The blond I told you about, the one who I’m hoping will be my permanent squeeze, she works with the girl, Gloria.”
“And when were you planning to tell me this?”
“I wasn’t. I don’t want you to kill them, I’ve said that from the beginning.”
“Yeah you have. You said you didn’t want me to get caught, you didn’t say you didn’t want me to kill your girl friend’s friends.”
“I don’t want either of those things to happen Frank but you’re the guy that has to let it go. I know you don’t like to talk about it but you just spent 30 months in prison. You get caught killing people and you’ll get real familiar with prison. You won’t get away with it, all these cops riding around.”
“Those Forest Rangers couldn’t catch a mouse with a trap. They’re not real cops.”
“They’ve got badges, guns and uniforms. I think that qualifies them as cops.”
“I noticed a couple of beards when we passed their posse. Cops haven’t had beards since the days of Wyatt Earp.”
They were past the large meadow but could still hear the ommmms. Frank, who’d been looking ahead while he walked stopped and took a small pair of Bushnell binoculars from the outside pocket of his suit. He looked through the glasses, focusing on a man standing by a small brown tent just inside the forest. He passed the glasses to Bobby who had a look.
“That looks like your boy the tow truck driver, doesn’t it Bobby?”
“He’s not my boy but he does look like Rick Mills.”
There was no point saying otherwise, it was all coming out now. Despite himself Bobby was impressed that Frank had thought to bring binoculars. Still, just like the slapstick taxi drive by attempt to take out Rick and Gloria, Frank’s latest was another bound-to-fail plan. That was Bobby’s hope anyway.
“I’m going to go up there and watch the tow truck driver take his last breath. I’ll drag him in his tent and wait for the girlie girl. When she shows up,” Frank pointed an index finger at Bobby, pretending to shoot him, “pop, pop. Then I’ll drag her into the tent with her boyfriend, button it up, and walk down to the car for the long but pleasant ride home.”
“I’ve got nothing more to say Frank but if you end up spending the rest of your life in an orange jumpsuit don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“You got it Bobby, I won’t say you didn’t wa
rm me. I’ll see you at the car when I’m finished, probably in a half an hour or forty five minutes.”
Frank started up the grade towards Rick’s tent. Bobby untied the sleeves of the sweat shirt, pulled it off his shoulders and put it on. He stuck his hand in his pocket and felt the gun. He felt the extra clip but he didn’t think he’d need it. Two or three shots would do the job. He started walking toward the trees while angling down, away from Frank. He hoped to get to the trees and then run along the edge of the woods and get to the tent before Frank reached it.
Rick couldn’t decide if he should take down the tent or wait until Gloria to get back. Everything was ship shape inside it: the sleeping bags rolled, and the cups and spoons washed clean, waiting in a plastic bucket. The backpacks were packed with what little they’d brought. Gloria had most of it ready before she’d gone down to the main circle for the last event of the Rainbow Gathering. She’d be back soon and they could get into her gas saving hybrid and drive to San Diego. Rick was entertaining the idea of getting a motel about half way down. He knew they could make it all way but didn’t want to get to San Diego sometime past midnight. They could talk about it on the way down.
Rick was going to dig out a novel from his backpack but decided to first look down toward the main circle to see if Gloria might be coming up. That’s when he saw Frank Salucci, striding towards him, a man with a purpose. Rick saw the gun Frank held at his side, and knew he’d fire as soon as he got within range.
It was happening much faster than Rick had imagined it would. Rick started to back up and tripped on a log. He was on his back when Frank reached him, smirking and raising his gun. Then he heard two shots and saw dust near Frank’s feet where the bullets hit.
“Drop the gun Frank, or I’ll start putting holes in you,” said Bobby, gasping from his sprint through the woods.
Looking up from his back Rick could see that Bobby was fifteen yards to his left, just outside Frank’s line of vision. Bobby was holding his Glock 9 on his partner.
“Drop it Frank and I’ll let you walk. No harm, no foul.”
“You’re bluffing Bobby. You couldn’t hit grass on a golf course.”
Frank turned his gun and started firing at Bobby, who dove to the ground and rolled behind a small mound of dirt. Rick brought his knee up, pulled his gun from the ankle holster and fired. The shot hit Frank above the ear and he turned toward Rick with wild surprised eyes. Then he dropped like a bag of wet sand.
Bobby got up and took a pair of latex gloves out of his pocket and put them on as he walked toward Frank. He checked Frank’s throat for a pulse but didn’t find one. He also looked at the entry wound in Frank’s head.
“Nice shot. You probably saved me.”
“What are you doing here?”
“That should be obvious shouldn’t it? I came to try and stop Frank from killing you.”
Bobby took a small, thin three sided file out to the back pocket of his jeans and then, after removing the clip and clearing the chamber, he began filing the inside barrel of his gun. While he worked he talked.
“I’m filing the barrel so that in the event of a ballistics test the bullets coming out of this gun won’t match those at the crime scene.”
“The crime scene? It wasn’t a crime it was self defense.”
“That’s right and maybe you can prove it. But it could be argued that after he shot you in the Gas Lamp District you bought an illegal, unregistered gun and carried it illegally until you got a chance to use it on Mr. Salucci, which you did, killing him with a single shot to the head.”
“You know him don’t you?”
“Since grade school. One of the things I’ll be glad to talk about later, not now. Now you need to make a decision. Do you want to wait until the cops get here and help them with their investigation, an investigation that could lead to your arrest since you were carrying illegally, or should we clean up here and get back to San Diego?”
Rick looked out toward the main meadow. He could barely hear the ommmmms. There were a few people walking back and forth but none interested in Bobby or himself at the edge of the woods. The gun shots seemed loud enough but no one seemed to take notice.
“If we go and the cops want to investigate later, what then?”
“I don’t know but I’ll testify about what happened here if I need to.”
“Okay, I want to go,” said Rick.
Bobby handed Rick a pair of latex gloves. “Put these on and I’ll hand you the file. Be sure to empty the gun first.”
Rick put on the gloves and filed the inside of the barrel. When he finished he returned the file to Bobby, pushed the clip back into the gun, and put the gun back in the ankle holster.
“How long have you had that tent or is it Gloria’s?”
“It’s mine, I’ve had it 5 or 6 years.”
“Do you remember how you paid for it?”
“Cash. I bought it at a garage sale.”
“Perfect. If you don’t mind letting it go we could store Frank there.”
“Sure.”
“If you pull everything out I’ll wipe it for fingerprints.”
Rick began pulling out the back packs and sleeping bags. It didn’t take long. He gave him a small towel and Bobby started on the inside of the tent, wiping down the sides and the poles and finally the floor. Then he got the outside, making sure to wipe the lines and the stakes that went into the ground, pulling them out, wiping them, and putting them back. Probably unnecessary, Bobby thought, but worth the effort just to be safe.
“Okay,” said Bobby, “lets get him in. How about you drag him to the tent and I’ll drag him in. I don’t think we should carry him by the hands and feet. If anyone is watching that will look too much like what it is.”
Once Frank was in the tent Bobby went through his pockets and removed his wallet. He took the cash, which included a few 100 dollar bills, and put the wallet in his pocket. When he exited the tent he handed $200 to Rick.
“The gas for the trip back is on Frank. I took his wallet to make it look like a robbery. Or maybe it won’t, I don’t know how cops think. When I was trying to convince Frank not to kill you I kept telling him he’d never get away with it. He doesn’t have to worry about that now but we do.”
Bobby and Rick moved the gear sixty yards down the ridgeline and sat waiting for Gloria.
Bobby said, “That was a nice shot. Did you practice that much, drawing and shooting laying on your back?”
“A little but mostly I practiced the cross over draw from the ankle holster. When the crunch came I fell and was lucky enough to get a shot off from my back. If you hadn’t distracted him I’d be the corpse in the tent.”
They sat quietly for a few minutes until Rick asked, “Why did you want him dead? He was trying to kill us so we had to defend ourselves but what about you?”
Bobby looked down at the main meadow. Finally he said, “I didn’t really want him dead. I just wanted him to calm down, to get off the runaway train he was riding.
“I’ve known Frank a long time, since we were we were class mates in grade school. When we graduated from college we went partners on a car wash and a year later we bought another one. The next year we bought a third car wash that came with a gas station. They were all in good locations and it was a pretty good business. We got good people to run them for us so we didn’t have to be there every day. It’s great gig if you like a fluid schedule.
“It wasn’t enough for Frank though, he wanted something more. One day someone he knew asked him to knock somebody off. Frank took a day to think it over, then agreed to do it. The guy gave Frank a photo of the target plus a run down on his hangouts, the main one being a bar on 10th St. Two days later Frank lifted a car and ran over the guy when he came out of a bar at 1:30 am.”
“What did the guy do to warrant getting run over?” asked Rick.
“Apparently he liked to place large sports bets with bookies but
didn’t like to pay when he lost.
“Anyway it was the start of a new career for Frank. He told me, ‘it’s like finding money on the street.’
“He found out that a lot of people were willing to pay to get other people dead and he was killing them at a rate of one a month, more or less. He pretty much used his Sig Saur with the silencer after the first one. He was pretty organized with the customers; he’d guarantee the target dead but no boutique work. No message left on the victim for future victims to fear, none of that. Frank would shoot them and be gone. That was it.
Frank liked to get his sex almost exclusively from high class call girls. It started after his wife left him and it was probably connected to that although I never asked him. Anyway he liked the high class hookers and he treated them well.”
“I imagine they treated pretty well too.”
“No doubt, that’s what he was paying them for. But he went above and beyond the call of duty on occasion. One time he noticed bruises on one of his regular girls. He asked her what happened and she said a customer had beat her up. Frank got her to give him the guys name then gave her some money and told her to take a couple of days off. He waited a month and then drove out to the guy’s house in Bonita. When the guy came home Frank shot him once through the windshield then opened the door and told him why. Then he shot him twice in the head. It was the only hit he ever did for free.”
“I guess an argument could be made that the guy got what he deserved but I think you could make a stronger argument that Frank was a sociopath.”
Again Bobby said, “No doubt. Frank was headed off the deep end by then, if he wasn’t off already.”
“Tell me, if Frank was so protective of women why was he trying so hard to kill Gloria?”
“Frank is protective of women he feels need protection. That doesn’t usually include women who cut him in the restaurant and threaten to kill him.”
Rick nodded, he couldn’t argue with that. “I have another question, why did he send those thugs to beat us up if he was so intent on killing us?”
“He just wanted to cause you some hurt while he figured out how to do the job. It was also a bit of misdirection. He thought if you both got beat up you might figure that was it and wouldn’t be expecting anything more.”
“It sounds like he was still thinking pretty well at that point.”
“I’m sure he was thinking fine until a few minutes ago. But he lost touch when it came to the two of you. He was obsessed with killing you and Gloria and he was willing to take crazy risks to do it.
“When I heard how he’d shot at you from the taxi I could hardly believe it. He saw you downtown and ‘just couldn’t let the opportunity go by.’ That’s what he told me. I don’t know how many hits Frank did but I know it was plenty. I know he was careful, professional. But trying to shoot you that way, only a lunatic would put a plan like that together after seeing you on the street.”
Rick said, “It wasn’t successful but it seems like he got away with the attempt.”
“That’s because no one could place him at the scene due to his disguise. He had an alibi if he needed it. One of his call girl friends, who didn’t want to lose a lucrative customer, was going to say he was at her place, but nobody ever asked. Since no one was seriously hurt the detectives didn’t put too much work into it. Frank was the only suspect but they couldn’t prove he did it, so case closed or dropped in the unsolved pile.
“I’ll tell you something else about Frank, he had trouble keeping his mouth shut. I told him I didn’t want to hear about his hits but he told me every time he murdered someone, and bragged about the money he made. One time he killed a guy in his house and then went through his stuff, looking for things to steal. He found a briefcase with $45,000 in it.
“Knowing all this made me an accessory to murder. Like I said, I told Frank I didn’t want to hear any of it but he didn’t stop, and I didn’t stop him. I rationalized by telling myself most of the people getting hit probably deserved it – like the gambler who didn’t pay and the guy who beat up the prostitute. Of course there were probably women who wanted to get rid of their husbands and didn’t want a divorce because they’d only get half the assets and they wanted them all.
“I wasn’t too worried until recently because I figured Frank for a stand up guy and didn’t think he’d bring me into it if he got caught. But when this whole thing with you and Gloria started I wasn’t as confident about Frank keeping quiet. I kept on him about backing off but he wouldn’t and he was pissed that I kept trying to persuade him to.
“He was also freaked about the stuff you did to him, not the least of which was smashing up his Cadillac.”
“What makes you think I had anything to do with that?”
“Process of elimination. Of the millions of people in Southern California, who had the motive and who had the equipment to smash a 5000 lb. car into a 5000 lb. piece of junk? My guess is not many besides you. I went down to pick up what I thought would be a car at the parking garage and when I saw it I had to laugh. Poor Frank has been Wily Coyote to you and Gloria’s Road Runner throughout this whole thing.
“Anyway, things were out of hand. I like you and Gloria and I didn’t want to see you killed. I like Fran too, a lot, and I don’t think it would be a positive for our relationship if Frank killed the two of you and she found out that we were business partners.”
“Yeah, that might be a hard one for her to swallow. But maybe she wouldn’t find out.”
“She’d find out, and if she didn’t I’d spend my days waiting for the shoe to drop.”
Rick and Bobby fell silent and looked down toward the main meadow. The ooooming had stopped and people were walking away from the circle, going in all directions. Rick saw Gloria heading up. He stood up and waved but she didn’t see him.
“There’s Gloria, do you see her?”
“Yes,” said Bobby. “I’m going to leave now, if she doesn’t see me there’ll be a lot less to explain.”
“I guess, yeah.”
“You can tell her if you want to. Do whatever you think is best. Good luck.”
Bobby walked through the trees away from the tent and Rick. After 80 yards he dropped down to the meadow and headed for his car.
* * *
Chapter 21