The Last Good Kiss (8 page)

and handed it to him. "You're not a saint, boy, you're

prepared for emergencies," he whispered, then had a

quick snort. "My god, it's even chilled," he said, and

had another. "You may be worth all the money you're

costing me."

"I was under the impression I was working for your

ex-wife."

"It's all the same pocket, boy," he said, staring at the

clear liquor.

"One a day?"

"1\vo.,

"Yes, sir."

"You certainly don't look like any of the others," he

said as he looked me over.

"Others?"

"They all looked like unsuccessful pimps," he said,

''pastel leisure suits and zircon pinky rings. You look

like a saddle tramp."

"I see you've had dealings with other members of my

profession," I said.

"You're the first one who ever found me before I

wanted to be found," he said. "How'd you do it?"

"Professional secret."

"The damned postcard, huh?"

"You have no idea how many dogs hang out in bars,"

I said, and he grinned.

"You mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"What's a good ol' boy like me doing in a business

like this?"

"Something like that," he said.

"I'm a nosy son of a bitch," I said.

"Me too," he said, and grinned again. "Maybe we'll

get along."

"I'm supposed to keep an eye on you, Mr. Traheame, not be your faithful Indian companion," I said.

"Horseshit."

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"And gunsmoke?"

"You'll do," he said.

"How's your ass?"

"Getting better," he said. "I've survived worse. Of

course, I was a younger man at the time. But the

Marine Corps didn't have vodka deliveries."

"Glad to be of service," I said .

"It's the boredom that's hard," he said. "I need a

couple of favors."

"I'm yours to command."

"I'd rather it be a favor."

"Whatever," I said.

"Get me some reading material," he said. "Paperback novels and popular magazines by the pound-! go through them like a kid through potato chipswhatever you pick up off the shelf will be fine. Also, it would be wonderful if you could arrange to have my

dinners delivered. I don't care if it comes from McDonald's, just so it isn't hospital food."

"Okay," I said. "What about the dancing girls and a

marching band?"

"I like a man who knows how to entertain," he said.

"If I'm stuck here too long, maybe you can arrange for

a working girl interested in oral gratification. But no

bands. Maybe a string quartet."

"I'll look into it," I said, "but I can't promise

anything. I'm out of my territory."

"If you can't work that foot-shuffling, hayseed,

ma'am routine," he said, "I've got several interesting

telephone numbers in San Francisco."

"Okay," I said. "I've got a favor to ask of you." He

stopped grinning. "It won't interfere with your errands.

"

"What sort of favor?" he asked quietly.

"Seems that Rosie has this runaway daughter," I

said, "and I told her I'd look into it while you were in

the hospital, if it was all right with you."

38

After a moment, he said, "It's all right with me. I like

to see a young man trying to get ahead in the world."

"I don't know if I qualify as a young man anymore,"

I said, "and I don't give a shit about getting ahead. I

like the old lady and I said I'd do her the favor. If you

don't mind."

"I don't mind," he answered.

"Probably a waste of money and time," I said.

"How much money?"

"Eighty-seven dollars," I answered, and he grinned

again.

"Hell, how much time can you waste for eighty-seven

dollars?"

"Whatever time I spend will be wasted," I said.

"Why?"

"The daughter ran away ten years ago, and that's

too--"

"By god, I seem to have some drunken recollection

of Rosie telling me that," Traheame said quickly, then

shook his head. "I'm afraid this is my fault."

"How's that?" I asked.

"I'm afraid that I told her that a private eye would

come sniffing down my cold, cold trail," he said, then

hit the bottle, "and suggested that she hire him.

Thought that it might divert whomever Catherine sent

for a few more days." He laughed. "So how can I

mind?" he added. "How do you go about this missing

person business?"

"Depends on who's missing and how long," I said,

"but mostly I just poke around."

"Doesn't sound like much of a method."

"If you want method, you hire one of the big security

outfits," I said. "They're · great at method. Straight

people don't know how to disappear, and crooks can't

because they have to hang out with other crooks."

"And where do you fit in?"

"I'm cheaper," I said, "and my clients usually still

39

believe in the small, independent operator. They're

usually romantics."

"You must be working all the time," Trahearne said

with a chuckle.

"And every year I have to tend bar more often," I

said.

"By god, boy, I knew right away that there was

something I liked about you," he said.

"Everybody likes bartenders," I said. "By the way,

your ex-wife asked me to tell you that Melinda was

home, throwing fits or something."

"Pots."

"What?"

"My wife," he explained. "She's a potter and a

ceramic sculptor."

"Oh."

"I can see by your face, boy, that you aren't aware of

my situation," he said grimly. Since I wasn't, I didn't

say anything. "We all live together-<>r nearly

together-my mother, my ex-wife, my present wife,

and me on a little ranch outside Cauldron Springs."

Trahearne stared at the institutional beige wall as if it

were a window overlooking the mountains, as if he

could see himself standing in a crowded postcard scenic

view. "One little happy family," he said quietly.

I knew I would have to listen to the story of his life

eventually, but I preferred later to sooner, so I excused

myself. As I turned to leave, his large hand wrapped

around the small bottle as if it were his only hope of

salvation.

There's no fool like a fool who thinks he's charming.

On the way out, I stopped by the nurses' station to say

hello to the tall nurse again. I asked her about having

Trahearne's meals delivered, and although she didn't

seem pleased about it, she promised to check with the

doctor.

40

"And what are you doing about dinner tonight?" I

asked.

"Fixing it," she said as she held up a banded finger.

"I'm not," a perky voice said behind me.

Before I picked up the line, I turned around to see

who had dropped it. She was shorter than the other one

but rounder, with a pert, snub-nosed face framed by

curly blond hair and a solid, muscular body. She had

bowlegs, but what the hell, so did I.

"Is that a date?" I asked her.

"Only if you want it to be," she answered quickly,

her blue eyes brightly smiling.

"Eight o'clock," I said, "in the bar at the Sonoma

Lodge?" I'm not a monster but I've got a beer gut and a

broken nose, and strange women never pick me out of

a crowd for blind dates, but gift horses and all that.

Also, she h�d a small mobile mouth, and the straightforward approach of a bedroom lady.

"Wonderful," she said, then extended a square,

no-nonsense hand. "Bea Rolands," she added. "Are

you a writer too? Like Mr. Trahearne?"

"Not exactly like Trahearne," I admitted, holding on

to the hand as things became clearer. The only writer

around was out of action, and I had read enough books

on bored afternoons in Army gymnasiums to fake it,

maybe even pick up Trahearne's slack. "I do research

for him, sometimes, and take care of his affairs," I said

with a leer.

"Isn't he a wonderful writer?" she gushed. "I just

love his books. I have them all, you know. Hardbacks.

Even his poetry. And I've seen all the movies, three or

four times, and I just love them, too. Do you think he'd

mind if I asked him to autograph them for me?"

"Well, I don't know," I said. "He's really shy, you

know, and that sort of thing embarrasses him , but why

don't you bring them along tonight, and I'll ask him

tomorrow."

41

"Oh thank you," she bubbled, bouncing on her

heels. Her small firm breasts bounded about quite

nicely in the thin bra she wore beneath her uniform.

"See you at eight," I said, finally releasing her hand.

"And thanks for saving me from a solitary dinner."

"Oh the pleasure's all mine," she answered, giggling.

Walking out of the hospital, I decided that Traheame

was all right. At least he wasn't boring. Things happened around him: blood, gunfire, a night in jail, and now a devoted fan with sexily bowed legs. I found

myself hoping he would run away again. Soon. And

often. Once every five or six months. Maybe he could

just stop by and pick me up on the way, then we

wouldn't have to waste all that party time while I

busted my ass hunting for him.

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4 ••••

AT THE SUPERY.ARKET, I ASKED THE CHECK-OUT LADY FOR

a receipt for the fifteen pounds of magazines and

paperbacks, then flashed a deputy sheriff's badgeobtained under extremely suspicious circumstances-from Boulder County, Colorado. I told her I was investigating the material for hidden pornographic

meanings. She didn't turn a single artfully tousled hair.

Which was one of the things I had always liked about