I put a hand on his shoulder. He didn't turn around but he didn't shrug me off, either.
'Okay,' I said. 'I'm leaving. I'll do what I can. I'll be back when I can. Jimmy?' I waited for an answer. I got a grunt. It was enough. 'If they find you, give up. Let them take you. Don't shoot it out, Jimmy. You'll lose. I don't want that.'
He didn't answer again. I zipped my jacket, stepped out the door into the moonless, starless night.
Chapter 11
There were more cars than usual in the lot at Antonelli's. I parked up by the road, watched the tin sign swing in the wind, blowing stronger now, out of the north. As I left the car two guys I'd seen around over the years came out the bar's front door, talking, smoking. One poked the other's ribs, said something low as I passed. I felt their eyes on me as I crossed the gravel, pulled the door open.
Inside was crowded, for Antonelli's, for a Wednesday in late winter. There were new faces and faces only half familiar. The winter regulars were sitting at tables along the walls as if they'd been stranded there by a flood.
Marie passed, looking harried, carrying plates of burgers and a bowl of chili. I winked at her and she smiled ruefully.
There was an empty stool at the end of the bar and I put myself on it. Tony spotted me, nodded. I waited for him to finish mixing two 7&7s that Marie came back and snatched up off the bar. She called, 'Scotch rocks, two Buds, and a Fog Cutter.'
Tony stared. 'An' a
Marie lifted her shoulders helplessly.
Tony looked at me. 'Grenadine, mixed fruit juice, one- fifty-one rum,' I said.
'Figures you'd know.' Tony reached the Buds up onto the bar. 'Can I charge 'em five bucks for it?'
'Charge them whatever you want. Most people you'd have to pay to drink it. What's going on here?'
'Vultures,' he shrugged. 'Same as yesterday.' He dropped ice into a glass, poured Jim Beam over it. The ice cracked under the bourbon.
'You got the ice machine fixed,' I said as he handed the glass to me.
'Did it myself.'
I drank. 'I need to talk to you.'
He started to answer, then looked at me. After a moment he turned, pushed open the door to the kitchen. 'Ray!' he called to the short-order cook. 'Take over here a minute.'
He swung the gate up, stepped out to the customers' side of the bar. I took another swig of bourbon, left it sitting on its cardboard coaster, waiting for me. Tony and I walked out together into the parking lot.
We stopped at the same time, as if we'd reached some prearranged place, and turned to face each other. Tony hooked his thumbs into his belt and stood waiting.
'I've seen Jimmy,' I said. 'I just left him.'
Tony spat in the dirt. 'Where is he?'
'He says he didn't kill anyone.'
'Where the hell is he?'
'He's up at the quarry.'
'Alone?'
'Yes. He's scared and he's armed.'
'But he didn't do it, huh?'
'He says not.'
'An' you believe him.'
We looked at each other in the red neon glow. 'Yes.'
Tony shook his head. 'He say who did?'
'He says he doesn't know.'
'An' you believe that, too?'
'I'm not sure.'
'He's so goddamn innocent, why's he hidin' out?'
'Come on, Tony. Last time he was in jail Brinkman beat the shit out of him. And guys have gone to prison before this on less than Brinkman and MacGregor have on Jimmy right now.'
A car swept down 30, the beams from its headlights brushing the trees, illuminating nothing.
'Shit,' Tony said. He kicked at a patch of gravel. 'You gonna tell that trooper buddy of yours?'
'No.'
He rubbed at the back of his neck. 'What do I do?' he asked, but I didn't think he was really asking me.
'Maybe nothing, for now,' I said. 'I wanted you to know he was all right. But maybe you don't do anything.'
'Yeah,' he said. 'Yeah, maybe.' He spun around, stalked back into the bar.
