after forcing down another small sip.
Beryl continued to drink. Maybe she needed it.
“She’ll be safe here,” said Flo. “At least from everybody but me.”
I was familiar with Flo’s arsenal of weapons. They hung on wall racks or were displayed in cabinets in her gun room. I knew some of the guns were loaded. I didn’t know which ones.
I turned to go.
“You’ll find Adele,” said Beryl, fortified with Flo’s special, which seethed its way quickly into the nervous system.
“I’ll find her,” I said. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Not too early,” said Flo. “We’re going to be talking most of the fuckin’ night. Sorry about my language, Beryl.”
“I’m a waitress in a truck stop,” Beryl said. “I don’t think you could come up with anything I haven’t heard every day for the last twenty years.”
“I can try,” said Flo, smiling sweetly.
I dropped Ames back at the Texas and asked him to see if he could get any leads on Adele or Dwight. He nodded, got out and went inside. I headed back to that which passed as home.
It wasn’t too late. The DQ parking lot was busy but
not full. I parked toward the back of the lot, locked the Metro and headed toward the concrete stairs.
I didn’t see him standing back in the shadows of the building and bushes near the stairway. But I did hear him when my hand touched the railing.
“Where is she?” came the voice from the dark. It was a raspy voice, the voice of a man who might have played an outlaw or a tough sheriff on an old radio show. Or maybe Flo and Ed Fairing had just put me in a western mood.
I stopped and looked toward the voice.
He came out of the shadows. He was big. Boots, badly faded jeans, a short-sleeved button-down white shirt with green stripes. His hair was dark, long, tied back in a small ponytail. My first impression was that he was good-looking and dangerous. Some women, maybe a lot of women, liked that. Most men didn’t.
There was nothing in his hands but his fists were clenched tight.
I didn’t have to guess who he was.
“Where’s Adele?” I asked.
Dwight Handford was no more than three yards away and closing in slowly. I was on the second step. I turned to face him. With me standing on the second step our eyes were almost dead even. Even in the dim light I could see that his eyes were blue-gray and dancing.
“You’re a dago, right?” he said.
“And you’re a redneck,” I answered.
“That sort of sets up how we’re gonna have this conversation,” he said. He had closed the distance between us to less than a yard. “Dagos understand violence.”
“And rednecks know how to come up with it,” I said.
“I’m not stupid, dago,” he said.
“Can we switch to wop?” I asked.
“Suit yourself,” he said with a smile. “I’m planning to hurt you just enough to let you know I’m serious.
Then you’re gonna tell me where Beryl is. I’m gonna go see her and be sure she leaves town. You’re gonna stop looking for Adele and asking questions.”
“How did you find out I was looking for you?” I asked.
“You asked a lot of people,” he said, inches from my face now. “Where is she?”
“Are you willing to kill me over this?” I asked.
“Maybe, I’ve … maybe.”
“I’m not telling you,” I said.
He searched my eyes.
“You’re not scared,” he said.
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” I said. “I’m not sure myself. Sometimes I think I came here to sit down in a chair, watch old videos, eat at the DQ and die.”
“You’re a crazy son of a bitch,” said Handford.
“I don’t know. I’ve thought about it. I don’t think so. But you may be right. I think it’s a lot more complicated than that.”
“We’ll see,” he said, slamming his right fist into my stomach. I started to sink, grabbed the railing. Whatever was in my stomach wanted out. He’d missed the rib cage.
“Where is Beryl?” he asked. “I’m not an unreasonable
Beryl continued to drink. Maybe she needed it.
“She’ll be safe here,” said Flo. “At least from everybody but me.”
I was familiar with Flo’s arsenal of weapons. They hung on wall racks or were displayed in cabinets in her gun room. I knew some of the guns were loaded. I didn’t know which ones.
I turned to go.
“You’ll find Adele,” said Beryl, fortified with Flo’s special, which seethed its way quickly into the nervous system.
“I’ll find her,” I said. “I’ll call you in the morning.”
“Not too early,” said Flo. “We’re going to be talking most of the fuckin’ night. Sorry about my language, Beryl.”
“I’m a waitress in a truck stop,” Beryl said. “I don’t think you could come up with anything I haven’t heard every day for the last twenty years.”
“I can try,” said Flo, smiling sweetly.
I dropped Ames back at the Texas and asked him to see if he could get any leads on Adele or Dwight. He nodded, got out and went inside. I headed back to that which passed as home.
It wasn’t too late. The DQ parking lot was busy but
not full. I parked toward the back of the lot, locked the Metro and headed toward the concrete stairs.
I didn’t see him standing back in the shadows of the building and bushes near the stairway. But I did hear him when my hand touched the railing.
“Where is she?” came the voice from the dark. It was a raspy voice, the voice of a man who might have played an outlaw or a tough sheriff on an old radio show. Or maybe Flo and Ed Fairing had just put me in a western mood.
I stopped and looked toward the voice.
He came out of the shadows. He was big. Boots, badly faded jeans, a short-sleeved button-down white shirt with green stripes. His hair was dark, long, tied back in a small ponytail. My first impression was that he was good-looking and dangerous. Some women, maybe a lot of women, liked that. Most men didn’t.
There was nothing in his hands but his fists were clenched tight.
I didn’t have to guess who he was.
“Where’s Adele?” I asked.
Dwight Handford was no more than three yards away and closing in slowly. I was on the second step. I turned to face him. With me standing on the second step our eyes were almost dead even. Even in the dim light I could see that his eyes were blue-gray and dancing.
“You’re a dago, right?” he said.
“And you’re a redneck,” I answered.
“That sort of sets up how we’re gonna have this conversation,” he said. He had closed the distance between us to less than a yard. “Dagos understand violence.”
“And rednecks know how to come up with it,” I said.
“I’m not stupid, dago,” he said.
“Can we switch to wop?” I asked.
“Suit yourself,” he said with a smile. “I’m planning to hurt you just enough to let you know I’m serious.
Then you’re gonna tell me where Beryl is. I’m gonna go see her and be sure she leaves town. You’re gonna stop looking for Adele and asking questions.”
“How did you find out I was looking for you?” I asked.
“You asked a lot of people,” he said, inches from my face now. “Where is she?”
“Are you willing to kill me over this?” I asked.
“Maybe, I’ve … maybe.”
“I’m not telling you,” I said.
He searched my eyes.
“You’re not scared,” he said.
“No.”
“Why the hell not?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” I said. “I’m not sure myself. Sometimes I think I came here to sit down in a chair, watch old videos, eat at the DQ and die.”
“You’re a crazy son of a bitch,” said Handford.
“I don’t know. I’ve thought about it. I don’t think so. But you may be right. I think it’s a lot more complicated than that.”
“We’ll see,” he said, slamming his right fist into my stomach. I started to sink, grabbed the railing. Whatever was in my stomach wanted out. He’d missed the rib cage.
“Where is Beryl?” he asked. “I’m not an unreasonable
Similar Books
