“Guy sounds a lot like you,” Jason said.
Roland made a nervous laugh. “Yeah. Takes one to know one. Shit, though, I’d never do anything like that. I just think about it, you know? But that gives us an advantage, right? I can like imagine what he might do. And that’s why I’ve got this idea.”
“What idea?”
“How to get him. And how to find Dana.”
“Yeah? Let’s hear it.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
“How you doing, fella?”
“Just fine,” Jake said into the phone. He didn’t feel fine at all, he felt depressed. As soon as he hung up, he would be taking Kimmy back to her mother. “Did Steve get in?”
“Sure did. He wants to talk to you. Hold on a sec.”
Moments later, Steve Applegate came over the line. “Jake? I finished up on Smeltzer. I want you to get over here.”
“Find something interesting?”
“Interesting? Yes, I’d say interesting. How soon can you be here?”
“Fifteen, twenty minutes.”
“Higgins should be in on this.”
The Chief? “What is it?”
“Whetted your curiosity, have I? Well, then you’d better get moving. I’ll phone Higgins.” Without another word, he hung up.
Jake put down the phone.
Kimmy was huddled in a corner of the sofa, watching television. The Three Stooges. Curly saluted his nose to block a two-fingered eye jab from Moe, then went “Nyarnyar-nyar!”
“Hon,” Jake said, “we’d better hit the road.”
“Do we have to?”
“You giving me back talk?” he snapped. “Huh?” He rushed over to Kimmy. Eyes wide, she clamped her arms to her sides. Jake pushed his fingers under them, digging into her ribs. She laughed and writhed. “I’ll teach you! Sass me, will you?” Rolling on her back, she kicked out at him. The sole of her shoe pounded his thigh. “Owww!” Clutching his leg, he staggered backward and fell to the floor.
Kimmy grinned down at him from the sofa. “That’s what you get,” she said, “when you mess with She-Ra.”
“Jeez, I guess so. You discombobulated me.”
She waved a fist at him. “Want some more?”
“No, please.” Jake stood up. “Anyway, we really do have to go.”
The joy went out of her face. “Do we have to?”
“I’m afraid so, honey. Mommy’s expecting you, and besides, I have to go to work.”
“I’ll go to work with you, okay?”
“I don’t think so.”
“I won’t make the siren go,” she assured him, looking contrite and hopeful. “Really I won’t. Can’t I go with you?”
“I’m sorry, honey. Not today. Besides, I won’t be using the siren car.”
“I want to go with you, anyway.”
“You wouldn’t want to go where I’m going. I have to see a guy who’s toes up.”
“Oh, yuck. Really?”
“Yep.”
She made the kind of face she might have made, Jake thought, if somebody stuck a plate of beets under her nose. “Well, don’t touch him,” she advised.
Stopping behind BB’s Toy, Jake got out and opened the passenger door for Kimmy. She watched him with somber eyes. When the safety harness was unsnapped, she didn’t throw the straps off her shoulders in a hurry to climb out. She just sat there.
“Let’s see a smile,” Jake said. “Come on, it’s Mommy’s birthday. She’ll want to see a smile on that mug of yours.”
“I don’t feel good.”
“Are you sick?”
“I am not happy.”
“Why not?”
“You’re making me go away.”
“I’m sorry.”
“No, you’re not.”
Jake lifted her out of the car seat. She wrapped her arms and legs around him. “You’ll have a good time today,” he said as he carried her toward the house.
“No, I won’t.”
“And I’ll be back on Friday and we’ll have two whole days together like we’re supposed to.”
Kimmy squeezed herself more tightly against him. He could feel her begin to shake, and he knew that she was crying. She didn’t bawl; she cried softly, her breath making quiet snagging sounds close to his ear.
“Aw, honey,” he whispered. And struggled not to cry, himself.
Jake swung his car into the lot beside the Applegate Mortuary. The town of Clinton wasn’t large enough to justify a city morgue, but Steve, whose brother took care of the funeral parlor side of the business, had spent twelve years as a forensic pathologist with the Office of the Medical Examiner in Los Angeles—resigned in a huff after Thomas Nogushi got canned—and had come back here to practice in his hometown.
Clinton didn’t do a booming business in autopsies, but there were evidently enough to keep Steve happy. An autopsy was required for everyone who died as the apparent result of an accident, suicide, or homicide, under any kind of circumstances in which the death was not pretty much expected by the deceased’s physician. An autopsy was also required for every corpse headed for the crematory instead of the grave. With all that, even a small, peaceful town like Clinton provided quite a few opportunities for Steve to practice his art.
Three new customers Thursday alone, Jake thought as he climbed from his car. Steve must think he’s back in LA.
Jake entered through a rear door that opened into Betty’s office. She looked away from her typing, smiled when she saw him, and swiveled her chair around. “Been a while, Jake.” Tipping back her chair, she folded her hands behind her head—a posture that seemed designed to draw Jake’s attention to her breasts. Betty’s job didn’t require her to face the public, so she was allowed to dress as she pleased. She was wearing a T-shirt with the slogan, “Make My Day.” It clung nicely to her full breasts. Her nipples pointed at Jake through the fabric.
“Looking good,” he said.
“Natch.” She stared at his groin. He didn’t look, himself, but he could feel a warm swelling down there.
“Well,” he said, “Steve’s waiting for me.”
“No hot hurry. Higgins isn’t here yet.” She looked up at his face. Her eyes widened a bit. “So what’s the story?”
“What story?”
“Got a new friend?”
Jake shook his head.
“Taken a vow of celibacy?”
“Just busy, that’s all.”
A smile tilted her mouth. “Well, if you ever happen to get unbusy, I just bought a rubber sheet for my bed and I’ve got a great big bottle of slippy-slidy oil we can rub all over each other. You oughta just see how it looks on me in candlelight.”
Jake could imagine. He pursed his dry lips and blew through them. “I’ll keep it in mind,” he said.
“Just in case you find some free time on your hands.”
“Yeah.”
She nodded. Again, her gaze lowered to his crotch. “I’d be glad to take care of that for you right now, if you’d like. Plenty of empty rooms around here. How about it?”
“You’re kidding.” He knew she wasn’t. “We’re in a morgue,” he reminded her.
“Just the place for taking care of stiffs, and I’m looking at one.” She rolled back her chair and stood up. She was wearing a short, black leather skirt. Her bare legs were slender and lightly tanned.
“This is crazy,” Jake muttered. He felt shaky inside. Was he really going along with this?
Then the rear door opened and in stepped Barney Higgins, Chief of the Clinton Police Department. Betty rolled her eyes upward. She turned to Higgins. “Hi-ya, Barn.”