'You busy with anything, Rink?'
'Got my heel planted on a weasel as we speak,' Rink said.
'I take it you're speaking metaphorically?'
'Uh-huh,' Rink said. 'I just gotta finish up a little one-on-one business with my client, then I'm all yours.'
'So what's the deal? Anything exciting?'
'Nothing startling. Guy paid me to do a little eyeball on his wife.
He grew suspicious when she started doing too much overtime at work. Thought she could be playin' away from home.'
'Maybe she was just after more money,' I offered.
'Yeah, you might say she was after a raise.' Rink chuckled. 'I got the goods on her last night. Filmed her giving head to her boss in the back of his limousine.'
'So you just have to hand over the evidence and that's you finished?' I asked.
'More or less, yeah. Anyways, what's up?' Rink asked. 'You haven't rung for the sake of idle chitchat. That's not the Joe Hunter I know and love.'
'I've got a job for you . . . if you're interested?'
'Uh-huh.' It could've been agreement, but more likely he was waiting for more.
'Could be a long story,' I told him.
'Fire away, it's your dime.'
It was so still I could have been in a mausoleum. But habit caused a quick over-the-shoulder glance to make sure I was alone.
'I'm going to be coming out there,' I told him.
'Out here? As in Florida?'
'Well, yeah, I was thinking of stopping over a day or so, but then I have to get myself to Little Rock, Arkansas.'
'My old stomping ground?'
'It's why you're the man for the job.'
'You think I'm a tour guide all of a sudden? Get yourself a map.' Good-natured sarcasm was rich in his drawl. How anyone could dislike Rink is a mystery. What's not to like about a sarcastic curmudgeon?
'Local knowledge is half the battle,' I told him.
'I ain't been home in eight years, Hunter. Don't know how up to date my local knowledge'll be.'
'How much can Arkansas have changed in eight years?' I asked. 'It's not like it's the center of American culture.'
'Yeah, but it's not like it's simply rednecks in pickup trucks, either,' Rink said, sounding exactly like a redneck in a pickup truck. 'They're as cultured as anyplace else, Hunter. They know the difference between Paris, France, and Paris Hilton.'
'It'll do you good to get yourself back there, then.'
Rink chuckled. 'So what's the deal?'
'Missing person,' I said.
'That all? I thought it was going to be something exciting.'
'There's more. The missing person is my brother.'
'You mean John?'
'Yeah. He's finally surfaced, only to drop off the face of the earth again.' I gripped the phone tight. 'I'm worried, Rink.'
'You know what guys are like. He's probably gotten himself drunk, picked up a coupla hookers, an' is holed up in a motel someplace,' Rink said. 'Give him a day or two an' he'll be home with his tail between his legs.'
'Maybe,' I agreed. 'And with John it wouldn't be the first time.'
'You guys had a big falling out. Why you lookin' for him now?'
'He's in trouble,' I said.
'Always was.'
'I'm not doing this for him,' I lied. 'My sister-in-law asked me to find him. I promised her I would.'
'Figures.' Seems like Diane wasn't the only one who could read me from a thousand paces. Rink asked, 'So is he skipping out on the alimony?'
'He has for years,' I said. 'But that's not what this is about. Yeah, there're kids involved, but it all goes a lot deeper than that.'
'Pray tell,' Rink said. It sounded like a car engine burst into life, the sound only slightly muffled by the intervening thousands of miles.
