Murder Miscalculated (10 page)

By the time Talbot and Cochran showed up, I was on my second cup of coffee at Dino’s Diner. They slid into the booth across from me with serious looks on their faces.

“I saw him,” I told them before they could ask any questions.

“Who?” asked Talbot.

“The guy who killed Zager. He walked right by me. Tall guy, thin, with a gray ponytail.”

“Yes,” said Cochran. “We saw him from where we were sitting.”

“Who was he? What’s this do for your plans?” I asked Talbot.

“Nothing,” he said. “We’ll let the local police handle it. It doesn’t concern us.” He accepted a cup of coffee from the waitress and then waited until she was out of earshot, then held out his hand. “Now if you don’t mind, the wallet?”

I handed it over. Talbot opened it and began looking for the data card. In seconds his search became frantic. Cochran and I watched as he emptied its contents and turned it inside out. No data card.

Talbot raised his eyes from the wallet and trained them on me. “Where’s the data card, Kid?”

“I didn’t take it,” I answered. “That wallet is exactly as I found it.”

Talbot slammed his fist onto the tabletop making our coffee cups jump. “Listen here, Kid. If you think you can pull a fast one on me, you’d better think again. Now hand over that data card.” His mouth had twisted into a snarl, and there was a twitch in his left cheek.

Cochran put his hand on Talbot’s arm. “The Kid says he didn’t take the data card, and that makes sense. He has no reason to hold out on us.”

“Of course he does,” said Talbot, “the oldest reason in the world. He thinks he can cut a deal with Wolfe.” His eyes fixed on mine. “I’m telling you for the last time. Give me that data card.”

It was his eyes that gave him away. He was trying to intimidate me, but in those angry eyes I could also see fear. There was something about this operation that Talbot had kept from Cochran and me. I leaned back in the seat.

“What’s the real story? What’s got you in such a panic?”

Talbot’s eyes shifted from mine to Cochran’s and back. I could see that Cochran was wondering the same thing. Talbot got to his feet without saying another word and stalked out of the diner.

Cochran and I eyed each other. “Now what?” I asked him at length.

Cochran shook his head. “I don’t know, Kid. Talbot had an awful lot riding on obtaining that data card. Without it, the case he’s been building against Wolfe doesn’t hold up.”

“The data card that Talbot thinks I took.”

“I’ll keep trying to convince him that you don’t have it.” Cochran picked up the wallet and put the scattered contents back inside. “In the meantime I’ll get rid of this and let the local police know you’re working with us. Wouldn’t want an all-points bulletin to go out for you.”

“And I suppose I have to keep up the pretense of working the street?”

“For only a few more days, I’d say. Remember, for your own safety we need to convince Wolfe that this was only a random theft.”

I stood up, fished in my pocket for a few dollars to cover the cost of the coffee and a tip and tossed them onto the table.

“I sure hope you and Talbot know what you’re doing.”

A feeling of being home washed over me as I walked into The Book Nook. The bell over the door sounded, and Junior came over and wove his way between my legs. This was where I belonged, not out on the street living some fantasy of being a prince of thieves.

The beads in the doorway parted, and Lynn came through. I looked at her with new eyes and realized that whatever happened, my first priority was to ensure I didn’t lose her. As she came close I reached out and took her in my arms. After a long moment, Lynn pulled back and studied my face.

“What is it, Kid? What happened?”

I told her.

“Oh, my God. How do you feel?”

“Pretty awful. I didn’t know the guy, but he died in my arms. I keep thinking I should have stayed, but there wasn’t anything I could do for him.”

“What’s Talbot going to do?”

Her face clouded when I described Talbot’s belief that I had taken the data card in order to run my own game.

“I knew we couldn’t trust him. What happens next?”

“I have to keep working the street for a few more days.” I held up my right hand in a faux Boy Scout salute. “And when that’s over I swear I’m never going to pick another pocket, ever!”

The last words of my solemn vow were overshadowed by a cry of anguish from the back room. I knew it couldn’t be Junior, as he was still weaving between Lynn’s and my legs. “Who or what was that?”

Lynn gave a half-hearted smile. “Guess who’s back?”

The banshee wailed again. This time I was able to recognize April Quist’s voice. “What am I supposed to do?” she cried. “I mean, do I call the home office and say, ‘Gee I’m sorry, but I’ve lost the Max Carson you sent me. Sorry about that, can you send me another?’”

“Guess what? Max is missing.” said Lynn.

“I really, really don’t like Max Carson,” I muttered as we pushed through the beaded curtain.

Barbara was seated at the table sorting through the morning mail. April was pacing about the kitchen, her high-heeled boots clacking on the linoleum floor. Her arms were crossed tightly across her chest, and on her face was painted all the righteous indignation a twenty-four-year-old woman with a Masters in Fine Arts can muster. She saw Lynn and raised her arms in a plea for support.

“Is it my fault Max went out to have a good time and hasn’t come back? Is it?” She didn’t wait for an answer but turned her fury on me. “What the hell am I doing playing nursemaid to an old goat like Max anyway? I’ll have you know that I’m a writer, too. I’ve had stories published in some of the best literary magazines around. You ever hear of
The Grapevine Journal
? They were going to publish one of my stories. At least they said they were, then they folded.”

Her pacing had brought her to the table, and she sat down, her anger escaping like air from a leaking tire. “What am I going to do?” she moaned and put her face down on her arms. At least she wasn’t wailing anymore.

Barbara reached over and patted April’s arm. “Now, now. I’m sure we can find this author of yours.” She looked at me. “It seems Max Carson went out for a drink last night and hasn’t been seen since.”

April said something into her sleeve. Barbara interpreted for us. “He has a radio interview at four this afternoon and a television appearance this evening.”

April said something else into her sleeve. It sounded like, “Idols are walking near us and won’t stop,” but when Barbara translated it became, “I don’t want to go back to working at the coffee shop.”

All of a sudden I was very tired of Max Carson, April Quist and the whole business. “Miss Quist,” I said sternly. “Max’s book signing at our store was last week. Our business with him is concluded.”

“Greg!” Lynn’s tone was both shocked and sharp. I couldn’t remember the last time she had spoken to me like that. I felt my face flush. “April needs our help. If you don’t feel like helping her, you can go watch the store. Maybe you can sell some more of Max’s books and make some more money off him.” She paused, and Barbara nodded her agreement. “In the meantime Barbara and I will do what we can to help April.” All three women glared at me.

“I’m sorry,” I stammered and realized there was nothing else for it but to do as I was told.

I could hear them talking as I fussed around the storefront, straightening things that didn’t need straightening, moving a book from one display to another and then back again. I could hear their voices but not what they were saying. The mood of the conversation must have improved, as after a while I heard outbursts of giggles from Lynn and April along with Barbara’s infectious laugh. I decided to see if my banishment was over.

It was, or at least I was allowed into the back room again. I don’t know what they had been talking about, but all three went silent as I came in. April looked at me, then at Lynn, and the two of them burst into laughter again.

I ignored their childishness and went to pour myself some coffee. There wasn’t any. I looked at the three of them at the table with their coffee cups. Lynn raised hers. “Sorry,” she mouthed.

I came over and sat at the fourth place at the table. “So have you figured out what you’re going to do to find Max?”

Lynn gave a smug smile. “Yes, we have. You are going to go pick him up.”

“You know where he is?”

Lynn showed me her cell phone and explained. “Candy sent me a text message a little while ago. She’s got Max down at The Pink Poodle.”

The Pink Poodle was the strip bar where Lynn used to work. Candy, a former stripper like Lynn, still worked there, taking care of the dancers.

April leaned her head on one hand with her elbow on the table and stared at Lynn with wide eyes. “Wow, you really were a stripper? That must have been so amazing. What an experience.”

Lynn frowned. “An experience is what it was, April. Believe me, it’s nothing glamorous.”

I felt the conversation slipping away. “Why don’t the two of you go pick up Max? You don’t need me along.” The truth was that I was remembering the last time I had been there–over a year ago–and the undignified way I’d left.

Lynn shook her head. “Donnie wants you to come get him. He didn’t say why.”

“Can I really come along?” April asked. “I’d love to see what it’s like there.”

I was about to say no when Lynn answered for me.

“I suppose all three of us can go. It will be nice to see the girls and Angus, if he’s there.” Angus was the bouncer, a huge mountain of a Scotsman. He had provided the propulsion for my exit on my last visit, not that I held that against him.

Lynn and April disappeared upstairs. Lynn wanted to change her clothes, and April wanted a tour of the dance studio on the top floor after that.

Barbara and I picked up the coffee cups, spoons and plates. I washed and dried them while she put out a simple lunch for us before we left. She paused as she sliced some bread.

“It will be safe, Kid, won’t it?”

I gave voice to what I had been thinking. “I think so, maybe because Lynn and Miss Quist will be along. Donnie’s a hood, but he’s not going to cause trouble with so many witnesses around. At least I don’t think so.”

“That’s why Lynn said she was going, too?” Barbara had read my mind.

“Yes, safety in numbers and all that. Besides, Donnie always liked her.”

The sound of footsteps on the stairs announced Lynn’s and April’s return.

Barbara took my hand and whispered to me just before they came in. “Well, you watch out nonetheless.” She squeezed my hand and dropped it before I could answer.

Our lunch took longer than expected, partly due to April’s peppering Lynn with questions about her former work at The Pink Poodle, how she started as a stripper and what it was like, but eventually we were ready to leave. We decided to take April’s car, as on our return there would be four of us, including the oversize Max, and Lynn’s little Geo Metro wouldn’t do.

The three of us trooped out the front door of the store to the sound of the bell jangling, Barbara crying, “Godspeed!” and Junior the cat meowing his complaint at our leaving. Just before the door closed, Lynn dashed back inside and then joined us on the sidewalk. She held a copy of Max’s book in her hand.

“A peace present for Donnie,” she explained.

“Good idea,” I said, marveling as I do at least twice a day at how much smarter Lynn is than I am.

We reached April’s rented sedan and piled into it. I sat in the back so that Lynn could provide directions to The Pink Poodle. April buckled herself in and pressed the power button. The car’s dashboard lit up with gauges and LCD screens but without the purr or vibration of an engine. There was only the slight hum of an electric motor that increased in pitch as we pulled away from the curb.

“I understand why your car wouldn’t be big enough, Lynn, but doesn’t Greg have a car of his own?” April asked as she took the first corner.

Personally, I didn’t think it was necessary for Lynn to explain to April that I had only gotten my driver’s license a few months before, but evidently she felt it was.

“He still can’t handle the stick shift when he has to stop on a steep hill. You should see him trying to juggle the clutch, the gas and the emergency brake.”

April laughed.

I refrained from taking part in the conversation.

Lynn can be so funny at times.

The Pink Poodle is a second-rate strip club in a third-rate part of town. Not much had changed in the year that had passed since I was last there. The street was still full of potholes, and the adjacent sidewalks were still cracked and crumbling. The nail salon on the far side was still in operation, but the pet store next to that was closed and boarded over. A neon pink French poodle, dim in the afternoon sunlight, hung over the door to the club.

Lynn pulled into the gravel-covered parking lot next door. The few cars in the lot were parked near the club’s back door. Although The Pink Poodle opened at eleven in the morning, the strippers didn’t start their routines until three in the afternoon. Aside from a few habitual barflies, there wouldn’t be many customers.

I watched April as we walked from the parking lot around to the front of the building. I could tell from her expression as she stepped around a puddle of oily water that so far, she wasn’t too impressed.

We reached the front. The marquee windows were made of unbreakable acrylic that had turned yellow and brown with age. Pinup photographs of the dancers were tacked inside. April cast an inquisitive eye over them and then turned to Lynn.

She didn’t have to ask, Lynn knew what the question would be.

“Yes,” she said with a sigh. “I still have my photo.” Lynn gave a theatrical shudder. “I’ll show it to you later.”

I opened the red door and held it for Lynn and April, then followed them inside.