have to be to send Ralph looking for somebody? "Then
what?"
George took over. "I ran into Harold on my way back from the train
station, and then we both ran into Ralph on our way back to the car."
"Then you all headed back to the car?"
They looked from one to another. George started to open his mouth, thought
better of it, and stopped. Harold studied the carpet. Ralph dug around in his
ear.
"You fellas didn't by chance stop off for a short one on the way back
to the car, did you?" George and Harold tried hard to look offended.
"Just one," said Ralph. The other two stared at him in disbelief.
"Fuck it," said George with a sigh. "Yeah, we stopped at the
Lantern and had a few. We were gone maybe forty minutes, no more. When we got
back, Buddy and the car were gone. No more than forty minutes, I swear to God,
Leo." He held up his hand like a Boy Scout reciting the oath.
"So where are Buddy and the car now?" I asked.
"He's not at our place." Harold.
"The Zoo neither." Ralph. They didn't need to say more. With
Buddy, one you'd looked at the rooming house and the Zoo, that was it.
My guess was that when the crew failed to return, Buddy'd gone looking for
them among the neighborhood dives, probably having a little pick-me-up at every
place he stopped. He was probably sleeping it off in the Buick.
"Okay," I said. "Back to work. You guys get down there and
keep track of things. I'll find Buddy." I stopped them before they could
pummel me with questions. "When Buddy shows up, I want one of you to call
me. Is that understood?" They said it was. They were so relieved that they
didn't even grouse about how they were going to get downtown. I followed them
to the hall. As I'd suspected, they turned left.
"Take the stairs," I hollered. They instantly reversed directions
and disappeared down the hall.
I stood in the shower for a long while, letting the steam wash the smoke
from my pores. It wasn't until I stood naked in front of the mirror that I
realized I had been partially cooked. My face was considerably redder than the
rest of my body, shiny and stretched like after a day of sailing. I took a pair
of nail scissors and clipped the remaining burnt ends from my hair and
eyebrows. The eyebrows came out fine. Even wet, the hair looked a little
ragged. Dry was worse. I opted for a hat.
After slipping into a fresh pair of
jeans, an old Carlos and Charley's T-shirt, and my Nikes, I threw everything
I'd been wearing last night in the washer. I couldn't imagine how anyone could
connect me with the fire, but better safe than sorry. My face was going to make
it hard enough to claim I was home in bed. I didn't need a pile of cooked
clothes to help anybody out.
The jacket was another matter. The heat had burned the dye in several
places, leaving irregular brown patches all over the front. I threw it to the
floor behind the front door. the jacket was history.
I jammed a Mariners cap on my head and took the elevators downstairs. The
Fiat looked worse than I did. The branches had left myriad scratches all over
the body and had torn a small triangular hole in the convertible top next to
the rear window. Willow leaves clung stubbornly to every nook and cranny. A car
wash was in the offing.
I pulled the bundled sleeping bag from the car and slung it over my
shoulder. Grabbing my gear with the other hand, I went back upstairs. On my way
to the kitchen, I deposited the reeking sleeping bag on the living room. I put
the remaining food and drink into the refrigerator and left the cooler draining
in the sink. Just for drill, I threw the remaining clothes into the washer with
the rest. What the hell. I threw the empty pack in too.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I carefully unwrapped the bundle.
Everything was covered with feathers. I worked slowly so as not to create any
air currents. The loose paperwork I'd yanked from the glove box yielded a name
for the kid. Robert Warren was the registered owner. A Marysville address,
which I
what?"
George took over. "I ran into Harold on my way back from the train
station, and then we both ran into Ralph on our way back to the car."
"Then you all headed back to the car?"
They looked from one to another. George started to open his mouth, thought
better of it, and stopped. Harold studied the carpet. Ralph dug around in his
ear.
"You fellas didn't by chance stop off for a short one on the way back
to the car, did you?" George and Harold tried hard to look offended.
"Just one," said Ralph. The other two stared at him in disbelief.
"Fuck it," said George with a sigh. "Yeah, we stopped at the
Lantern and had a few. We were gone maybe forty minutes, no more. When we got
back, Buddy and the car were gone. No more than forty minutes, I swear to God,
Leo." He held up his hand like a Boy Scout reciting the oath.
"So where are Buddy and the car now?" I asked.
"He's not at our place." Harold.
"The Zoo neither." Ralph. They didn't need to say more. With
Buddy, one you'd looked at the rooming house and the Zoo, that was it.
My guess was that when the crew failed to return, Buddy'd gone looking for
them among the neighborhood dives, probably having a little pick-me-up at every
place he stopped. He was probably sleeping it off in the Buick.
"Okay," I said. "Back to work. You guys get down there and
keep track of things. I'll find Buddy." I stopped them before they could
pummel me with questions. "When Buddy shows up, I want one of you to call
me. Is that understood?" They said it was. They were so relieved that they
didn't even grouse about how they were going to get downtown. I followed them
to the hall. As I'd suspected, they turned left.
"Take the stairs," I hollered. They instantly reversed directions
and disappeared down the hall.
I stood in the shower for a long while, letting the steam wash the smoke
from my pores. It wasn't until I stood naked in front of the mirror that I
realized I had been partially cooked. My face was considerably redder than the
rest of my body, shiny and stretched like after a day of sailing. I took a pair
of nail scissors and clipped the remaining burnt ends from my hair and
eyebrows. The eyebrows came out fine. Even wet, the hair looked a little
ragged. Dry was worse. I opted for a hat.
After slipping into a fresh pair of
jeans, an old Carlos and Charley's T-shirt, and my Nikes, I threw everything
I'd been wearing last night in the washer. I couldn't imagine how anyone could
connect me with the fire, but better safe than sorry. My face was going to make
it hard enough to claim I was home in bed. I didn't need a pile of cooked
clothes to help anybody out.
The jacket was another matter. The heat had burned the dye in several
places, leaving irregular brown patches all over the front. I threw it to the
floor behind the front door. the jacket was history.
I jammed a Mariners cap on my head and took the elevators downstairs. The
Fiat looked worse than I did. The branches had left myriad scratches all over
the body and had torn a small triangular hole in the convertible top next to
the rear window. Willow leaves clung stubbornly to every nook and cranny. A car
wash was in the offing.
I pulled the bundled sleeping bag from the car and slung it over my
shoulder. Grabbing my gear with the other hand, I went back upstairs. On my way
to the kitchen, I deposited the reeking sleeping bag on the living room. I put
the remaining food and drink into the refrigerator and left the cooler draining
in the sink. Just for drill, I threw the remaining clothes into the washer with
the rest. What the hell. I threw the empty pack in too.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor, I carefully unwrapped the bundle.
Everything was covered with feathers. I worked slowly so as not to create any
air currents. The loose paperwork I'd yanked from the glove box yielded a name
for the kid. Robert Warren was the registered owner. A Marysville address,
which I
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