me.”
She made a snuffling sound, rubbed at her nose, her eyes. “It doesn’t matter what I want. I can’t make Jerry do anything-he’s too scared.”
“Neither can I, if that’s what you’re after.”
“But maybe you-”
What caused her to break off was the roar of engine exhaust as a car came fast-wheeling into the lot. It racketed down the aisle behind them, a low-slung yellow and black Trans Am; slowed, and then slid into the empty space close on Runyon’s side.
Sandra said, “Oh shit.”
The Trans Am’s driver, a girl about Sandra’s age, shut off the noise and managed to squeeze herself out of the car without her door scraping the Chrysler’s. Slender, with oversized breasts in a tight bra under a loose blouse; midnight dark hair flowing down silkily to the curve of tightdenimed buttocks. Her passenger was slower to emerge. He stood peering over the cartop, a lanky kid with a mop of caramel-colored hair.
“Hey there,” the girl said to Sandra. “New boyfriend?”
“Shut up, Ashley.”
“No, he’s that detective, right? I can tell by the bandage. How’s your head?” she asked Runyon.
“Sore.”
“I’ll bet. I’ll bet if Jerry hit you any harder with that two-by-two, he’d’ve taken your head right off.”
Runyon said nothing.
“Jerry didn’t do it,” Sandra said, wearily this time. “Not that you care one way or the other.”
“That’s right, I don’t.”
Sandra looked over at the lanky kid. “Why do you let her drive your car, Zach? She’ll wreck it someday. She’s a menace.”
“She likes to drive fast,” he said.
“She won’t like if it her father catches her.”
“Hah,” Ashley said. She tossed her head, putting the long hair into a dark swirl. Habitual gesture, from the way she did it, showing it off. “You look all blotchy and red eyed, Sandy. Does that mean they caught Jerry?”
“You know they haven’t.”
“But they will. I’ll bet it won’t take long.”
“Why don’t you go squat on a sharp stick?”
“Oo, nasty. You hear what she said, Zach?”
“Yeah, I heard.”
“You going to do anything about it?”
“What do you want me to do?”
Ashley laughed. “Nothing. Come on, let’s go eat. I’m starving. Bye, Detective. Bye, Sandy. Try not to cry too much tonight-your complexion’s not so good as it is.”
The two of them went off, the girl trailing more laughter.
Sandra said, “Kelso’s daughter. But I guess you figured that out.”
He nodded. “And the mayor’s son.”
“Yeah. She’s a bitch and he’s a wimp. He lets her lead him around by his dick.”
“She doesn’t like Jerry much.”
“Not anymore. She doesn’t like anybody much except herself.”
“Okay. Now tell me what you want me to do about Jerry, straight out.” He put a hand on the doorknob. “Otherwise I’m leaving.”
“No, don’t. Please.”
He waited.
“… Suppose I do know where he is,” she said.
“I’m listening.”
“Would you talk to him? If the right person… you know, somebody he could trust… I think that’s all it would take.”
“Why me? What about his father?”
“Jerry won’t talk to him.”
“Why not?”
“He’s afraid to. Afraid his dad won’t believe him.”
“Does he know you came to see me?”
“No, it was my idea.”
“What makes you think he’ll talk to me, a stranger?”
“Maybe he won’t. I don’t know. I’m just desperate, that’s all.” She drew a shaky breath. “He has to talk to somebody before it’s too late. He doesn’t have any reason to be afraid of you. And he knows you got hurt by whoever’s trying to make him look guilty.”
“Does he have any idea who framed him or why?”
“No. I don’t, either.”
“You know that if I do talk to him and he won’t go in voluntarily, I’m legally bound to give him up. I’d lose my license if I didn’t.”
“I know,” she said in a small voice. “But it’d be a lot better that way than Kelso tracking him down.” Her pale blue eyes appealed to him. “Will you, if I can get him to talk to you?”
In other circumstances Runyon might have turned her down. The assault and the concussion gave him a vested interest, but the quickest way for a private detective to lose his license was to get involved in a major felony investigation without permission. It just wasn’t his business. But something else was his business-the job he’d come to Gray’s Landing to do. He took a fierce pride in his work; if there was one thing he hated, it was to leave a job, any job, unfinished.
“All right,” he said, “but it has to be in person, not on the phone.” And if and when he did talk to Jerry Belsize, like it or not, he’d serve him with the subpoena at the same time.
8
TAMARA
So here she was. All set for another wild and crazy hiphop Saturday night.
Livin’ large, partyin’ half the night and doing the nasty the other half. Down and dirty ‘cause she was under thirty. Young and sweet and full of heat. Yeah, baby. You go, girl.
Except she wasn’t going anywhere. Only hip-hop she’d be doing was sitting around on one hip or the other while she sucked down diet soda and then hopping up to go to the bathroom. Only nasty she’d be doing was in her fantasies, and she didn’t even have enough of them right now to say hello to Mr. V. Only party she’d be going to was the pity party she was throwing for herself. Young and sweet and full of defeat.
She sighed. Didn’t have to stay home on Saturday night. Could’ve called up Vonda or one of the other girlfriends and gone out roaming.. except that Vonda and Lucille and Joleen all had steady men or other plans. Could’ve gone out by herself to one of the Mission or SoMa clubs, done the singles crawl, found some other lonely soul to spend the night with… except that she’d tried it before and the only guys she’d met were weird, like that stockbroker dude, Clement Rawls, with his blond wig hang-up.
Six thirty already. No place to go, and the only exercise she was getting was slap-talking herself for being a lump. She didn’t feel like reading or vegging out in front of the tube or even listening to music. The only thing she did feel like was heading out to the nearest Golden Arches and stuffing herself on McGrease. Not that she would. Damn, no. Worked too hard to lose weight to start moving back into Fat City just because she was lonely and depressed and horny and about sixteen other things.
In spite of herself she wondered what Horace was doing tonight. Playing a gig with the Philadelphia Philharmonic… no, symphonies were dark during the summer. Out with Mary from Rochester, doing the town. Or home alone doing each other. Or maybe planning their big October wedding, making out the guest list. Tamara
