“Really?” Zig said. “Green, huh. That’s fascinating.”
“No, listen. She leaves the trailer park in a cab, no one following her except me. I tail her to some dame’s place in a fancy neighbourhood: wraparound porch, driveway a mile long-you know those kinds of places? Anyways, I tail them while they shop in practically every store in Dallas. I tail them back to the fucking mansion. Couple of minutes later, this guy rolls into the driveway in the green Chev. I didn’t think anything of it at the time-figured he’s married to the older dame, big deal.
“Okay. Cab arrives and picks up the girl. I follow her to the trailer park, then to a Ford dealership. By now I’m thinking no way she’s connected to Max and the kid, ’cause she’s got her suitcases with her and she’s buying a car. Then this guy pulls up behind me and he’s watching her. There’s no other customers in the dealership. Same big guy, same green Blazer-Nevada plates, too, I notice.”
“So what?” Zig said. “What do we care where he’s from?”
“Lemme finish.” Clem took a chomp out of his burger, sucked some Coke from his straw, and chewed his way through the story. “Guy drives away, right? I wouldn’t have thought anything of it, except for what happened later. Chick buys a bright red Mustang. I follow her. She drives outta town, not far, and checks in at the Red Roof out on 80. Ugliest part of Dallas you ever saw.”
“Yeah, yeah. Just tell the fucking story.”
“So I’m parked in the gas station across the highway, I’m wondering how long I’m gonna be sitting there, when the guy shows up again. Third time.”
“The guy in the Blazer?” Stu said.
“Same guy.” Clem nodded, wiping his mouth. “So, way I figure it, I got two choices: stick with the girl, or follow this guy and find out who the fuck he is.”
“What do I care who he is?” Zig said.
“He could be a cop,” Stu pointed out. “Or he could be working with Max, maybe. Somebody we missed.”
“I don’t think so,” Clem said. “I followed him to the Hyatt Regency. Room 3114. I don’t think any cop is gonna be staying at the Hyatt Regency while he’s on the job.”
“And the girl’s still at the Red Roof?”
“Okay.” Here Clem swallowed a huge bolus of burger and washed it down. “There we got a problem. I went straight back from the Hyatt, but when I get to the Red Roof the Mustang’s gone.”
“That doesn’t mean she checked out,” Stu said.
“I went into the office, asked around. I made it look like I just had the hots for the chick. Not hard to believe. Guy behind the counter gives me a smirk and says, ‘You’re too late, pal. She checked out.’”
“You lost her,” Zig said, very quiet.
“Well, yeah, but who the fuck expects her to check into a motel and check out an hour later? I mean, what is that about?”
“Maybe she saw the Blazer guy,” Stu said. “Recognized his car and got spooked.”
“Whatever,” Clem said. “Anyways, why’s it such a problem? It’s Max and the kid we care about, right?”
“As it turns out,” Zig said, “we care about the girl. Deeply. Why don’t we finish this conversation in the car, I’m a little sick of these A amp;W colours.”
The three of them headed out to Zig’s car, Clem still clutching his gigantic Coke, and Stu with a burger wrapped in foil.
“Christ,” Zig said. “I can’t believe you bought a burger for Mister Wizard.”
“Guy hasn’t eaten all day. Don’t see why he should starve.”
“Hate to see food go to waste, though,” Zig said. “We ain’t gonna be needing him anymore.”
Clem got in the back seat. “So why are we interested in the girl all of a sudden?”
“Because she’s got the score,” Zig said, still very quiet. “She ripped off the old man.”
Clem let the straw drop out of his mouth. Coke descended slowly down the tube.
“You’re shitting me.”
Zig eased his automatic out of his jacket. “Why, no, Clem, I’m not.”
“Maybe it’s not so bad, boss,” Stu put in, eyeing the gun. “This Blazer guy seems to know exactly where the chick is all the time. He’s right on her. We should have a talk with him.”
“Did I ask your opinion?”
“No, just let’s think this through.”
“I already have.”
Zig turned, and the noise in the confined space of the car was deafening. The bullet went through Clem’s Coke, exploding it, and into his chest. He slumped to one side, and Zig put another one into his head.
“Jesus Christ,” Stu said. “The fuck you doing, boss?”
“You want some too? Is that it?” Zig pressed the automatic into his rib cage.
“No, I’m just a little fucking nonplussed is all.”
“I knew I should’ve never worked with a loser like that. The fucker.” Zig put his gun away.
“Great, boss. Now what do we do with him?”
“Them, not him. You’re gonna take the Jeopardy genius over to that goddamn construction site we saw under the expressway and have him dig a grave. And make sure it’s big enough for two. They’ll lay that expressway over them and no one’ll ever know they’re down there in Hoffatown.”
Owen got Max back to the Rocket and left him crashed out on the bed. He lay on his own bunk, trying to read The Magus, but he couldn’t stop thinking about Sabrina. He wasn’t angry so much as bewildered. Bewildered? That did not seem the right word for the pain that was hovering inside his chest just now.
Max woke up a short time later, groaning theatrically and massaging his temples. He continued his lamentations over a pot of tea in the dining alcove. Owen was about to turn the light out when Max pounded a meaty fist on the table. “Of course!” he bellowed. “The very man.”
“Max,” Owen said, “it’s time to go to sleep.”
Max slapped the table smartly with both hands. “All those hotels we talked to, all those desk clerks, not one of them remarked, ‘Isn’t that funny? Someone else was asking after this girl just two hours ago.’ Not one of them said that.”
“Why would they?”
“Out of surprise, if nothing else. And when I asked each one, flat out, if anyone else had been asking after her, not one of them said yes. Not one of them even blinked or looked the slightest bit nervous about the question.”
“And you find this astonishing because …”
“Because of Bill. Preacher Bill, aside from being an intellectually challenged Jesus freak, is obsessed with that thieving, ungrateful siren. Pathologically obsessed, according both to she who must not be named and to sober observation. He followed her to Tucson. He followed her to Dallas. He showed up at her aunt’s. So my question is, why isn’t Bill looking for her now?”
“He probably is.”
“Then why isn’t he asking around about her? Why isn’t Bill, born stalker and monomaniac, lurking in hotel lobbies? Why isn’t he howling outside our door? I’ll tell you why-because he already knows where she is.”
“I don’t know, Max. He doesn’t seem all that smart to me.” “I warrant you, sir”-Max flapped his hands against the table in a series of tiny slaps-“Billy Bob Bonehead knows exactly where the tigress hides.”
The one named Stu hadn’t driven very far when he pulled over into a parking lot. From what Roscoe had seen so far, Stu was the comparatively sane one of the three, but he was agitated now-sweating heavily, cursing every other car, and driving off the shoulder and back on, over the white line and back, though the car didn’t smell of alcohol. And now they were sitting in the parking lot of an insurance company, closed at this hour. There were no other cars in the lot. It was raining again, and Roscoe wondered if this would be the last time he would hear that sound, fat drops exploding on metal.
“Okay,” Stu said, “I’m gonna let you eat your burger now.”
“My hands are cuffed behind my back, Stu. Why don’t you take the cuffs off for a second-or at least put ’em in front?”
“No way. I’ll feed it to you.”
He unwrapped the foil from the burger, and the smell of fried meat billowed through the car. He held the burger in front of Roscoe’s face, and Roscoe took a big bite. These guys hadn’t been too regular about feeding him, so it was definitely the finest burger of his life. This was a good sign, wasn’t it? They wouldn’t buy him a burger if they were planning to kill him, right?