“Phil,” Seidman said quietly.
Jeremy stood in the corner with his arms folded, watching silently.
“I don’t like him,” Phil said. “He could have killed Mae West, did kill two people, and you know what they’re going to do? They’re going to send him to some funny farm for a lifetime vacation. Well, maybe he can bring a few memories with him to make his nights uncomfortable.”
“Take it easy, Panda,” I said, moving to his side.
He turned on me with close to the hatred he had shown for Ressner.
“What did you call me?” he said, though he had heard it clearly.
“Brother,” I said. “I called you brother.”
“And why the hell are you dressed up like that?” he said pointing at my clothes.
“I’m part of the entertainment,” I explained.
“You’re a damned embarrassment,” Phil said, shaking off Seidman and giving one final glare at Ressner. “Put him in the car and get him down to the station. We’ll ask him a few more questions before we turn him over to the lockup.”
Phil didn’t say anything else to me. I almost called him back and told him that there was something else, that the case wasn’t quite over. But it could wait. There were a few things I wanted to do first.
I drove Jeremy back to the Farraday and thanked him. Gunther invited him to have dinner with us, but Jeremy declined. He was a day behind on keeping the Farraday a step away from extinction.
I dropped Gunther off at Mrs. Plaut’s and picked up my bumper and the hatbox. I took the hatbox to the TWA office where Anne worked with Ralph. I didn’t know if she would keep working now, and I was sure she’d still be on her honeymoon. I jotted down a little note and asked the woman at the reception desk to see that Anne got the late wedding present. I didn’t know what she’d make of the hat. I hoped she’d look at it and laugh and then keep it somewhere. On the other hand, she might just produce that look of weary exasperation at the child-man she had once lived with and throw the whole thing in the garbage. I drove to Arnie’s.
No-Neck was a tougher customer. I insisted that he put the bumper back on, fix the radio and the gas gauge for no additional charge. He insisted on some of the money I owed him. I didn’t even have my gun to threaten him with or hock for partial payment.
We struck a deal. He’d fix the car the next day. I’d find a way to pay what I owed by the end of the next week, and I’d collect on his stack of late payments and bad debts. Knowing some of Arnie’s clients, it wasn’t much of a deal, but it was the only one I had. I left him holding the bumper while I climbed into the car. I still had a long trip to make.
CHAPTER 16
With less than two bucks in nickels and dimes I had scraped from my sofa pillows and pockets, I drove back out of town. I knew a guy named Trencherman in the secretary of state’s office who could probably get me a duplicate driver’s license reasonably fast if I begged him, but I had no time for phone calls. The begging didn’t bother me.
It was late in the afternoon when I pulled into Dot’s Dixie Gas Station and hit the horn. It was the first time I had tried the horn. It didn’t work. I got out and shouted, adding the damned horn to my list of negotiable items to bring up to Arnie. Arnie had almost as much to answer for as General Franco.
“Anybody here?” I called.
Tommy the mongrel came loping out from behind the station, stopped, sat down, and looked at me. A few paces behind him came Dot himself, hands plunged in his overalls, pipe in the corner of his mouth, lost in thought.
“What can I do you … it’s you, the fella who left with the midget,” he said.
“It’s me,” I acknowledged. “How about some gas? I’ll make a deal. This tie for three gallons.”
Dot walked up to look at the tie. The dog moved to his side and joined him.
“What’s the ADA for?” he asked.
“Association of Defenders of America,” I answered proudly.
“Two gallons,” he said. “On account of I was in the service with Sergeant Alvin York, the number one defender of America ever lived.”
“I remember you mentioning it,” I said as he moved to the pump. “What you do with my old wreck?”
Dot chuckled shyly and nodded toward the rear of the station.
“Fixing her up back there. Welding the transmission back, a few hoses and such, and she’ll be-”
“Good as new,” I finished.
“Nope, never that, but worth a couple of hundred and probably in better shape than what you’re driving here.”
I bought a Whiz bar and bottle of Pepsi, for which I paid precious cash, bid Dot and Tommy farewell, and went on about my business.
Plaza Del Lago glittered green in the dusk when I came over that last hill and into the dry valley. I didn’t stop or even slow down at Cal’s General Store. I didn’t need information and couldn’t pay for services. Besides, I knew where I was going even if I wasn’t sure what I could find there.
The porches of the two hotels were empty. People were inside eating their dinner and drinking Poodle Springs water. I went on to the Grayson house and parked just about where I had the last time.
Next to the house sat the Packard. The sun was almost gone for the day, and somewhere out in the desert an animal went crazy yelping. I looked once at the Joshua, walked up to the door, and knocked.
The door opened, and I gave my best Sunday-go-to-hell grin at the moustached man in front of me, who put his hand to his bushy hair, looked as if he had been caught with his hand where it shouldn’t have been, and said, “Mr. Peters.”
“I thought my name was Pevsner,” I said to Dr. Winning, giving him time to grab an idea or two.”
“I’m truly sorry about that,” he said, sounding more than truly sorry. “As soon as you left, I did some checking. Your story was absolutely true. I’ll have someone drop your clothes and your gun at your office.”
“Can I come in, or do you just want to close the door and pretend I never came?”
He hesitated for an instant and then stepped back to let me pass.
“The Graysons have been under a great deal of stress with this,” he said. “I’ve been trying to help with Mrs. Grayson.”
“Who is it?” came Delores Grayson’s voice as she stepped into the hall. She was wearing a pair of white slacks and a white sweater and looked as if she had just stepped out of an ad for Woodbury soap. “You?”
“I seem to be welcome wherever I go,” I said, stepping forward before someone shoved me out of the door.
“The state police are looking for you,” she said nervously.
“You mean you didn’t tell them I didn’t kill Grayson?” I asked.
“I will,” she said. “But I’ve been so …”
I shook my head no and closed one eye to show how lame her tale was and moved past her into the living room.
“Take your time and think up a story,” I said. “I’ve got all night. Why not practice by telling me how the Packard got back.”
Winning answered without missing a beat.
“Jeffrey Ressner called Delores and told her where it was. I stopped for it in Los Angeles and drove it back. Actually, it’s rather fortunate that you came by. Maybe you can give me a lift back to town.”
“Maybe,” I said, sitting in a hardback chair. “Where’s the grieving widow?”
Delores stepped forward and bit her lower lip.
“Mother is resting in the other room. This has all been-”
“A bag of Poodle piss,” I finished for her. “Oh mom,” I shouted, “could you paddle out here for a second or two?”
“Is someone there?” came the Billie Burke voice I recognized from the phone.
“It’s me, Thor,” I said. “I common to fix things all up you bet.”
She was shorter than her daughter, maybe fifty, with gray-brown hair and wearing a sensible black widow’s suit. She was a good-looking woman with the kind of blow-away charm that powerful men sometimes like to protect.