'You think?'
'Some time Wednesday night, Thursday morning.'
'Right after she told you she didn't want to see you anymore? What the hell did you give her your truck for, if she was kissing you off?'
He dragged on the cigarette, blew smoke into the cold room. 'I didn't. She has her own keys. I gave her a set. Well, loaned them to her. The ones on the silver ring.' He looked up at me. 'She loves that truck, man. She loves to drive it. She's so little, it's so big. She gets a real charge out of that truck. When it was missing, I knew that's who took it.'
'So she took it, and she's had it a week, and you didn't do anything about it?'
'What the hell was I supposed to do, report it stolen? She's fifteen, man. And her father, he thinks she's a fucking saint. He'd kill her if she was in trouble with the law.'
'That's why she hangs around with guys like you?'
He shrugged. 'Just because he thinks she's a saint, that don't make her one. Maybe if he got to know her a little better she wouldn't run around looking for trouble to get into.' He hesitated. 'Mr. S.? What about my truck?'
'From what Brinkman says, it was totaled.'
'Shit.' He shook his head slowly, gave a short laugh. 'Ain't that a kick in the ass?'
'Jimmy,' I said, 'there was blood in the cab. And a nine- millimeter automatic.'
'A gun? In my truck?'
'And I'd bet the rent it's the one that killed Wally Gould.'
'Oh, Jesus.'
'Yeah. Whose is it?'
'Please, man. Please. You gotta believe me. I don't know whose it is. It's not mine.'
'Do you have one? A handgun, any kind?'
He shook his head. 'Just the rifle. It's all I ever owned. Ever.' He glanced at the Winchester standing against the wall. 'Tony gave it to me. A long time ago.'
'I know, Jimmy.'
'I'd've told you,' he said. 'About Ginny. I almost did. But when you said about my keys being at the bar . . .'
'Jimmy,' I said, 'I know you're trying to protect her, but you're not doing her a favor. I saw her last night.'
'Ginny?'
I nodded.
'So what're you asking me about the goddamn truck for? You knew she had it.'
'No. She was in her car. I didn't find her, she came and found me, at the bar. She wouldn't tell me about the truck. Unless,' I said, 'I told her where to find you.'
'Find me?' He had the look of a man trying to make sense of the half-remembered incidents in a dream. 'Ginny wanted to find me? What the hell for?'
I drank some beer; it just made the cold room colder. 'Any ideas?'
He shrugged wearily. 'Frank. You said Frank was looking for me. She's always trying to impress fucking Frank, he's always telling her go away and leave him alone. Maybe she thought if she found me, that would work.'
I looked around the room, the wavering lamp flame,
Lydia in black leather at the dusty window. 'Jimmy,' I said, 'remember I told you Eve Colgate was robbed?'
He nodded.
I said, 'Someone made a real mess in a shed on her farm last night. I was on my way to see what was going on when I was hit.'
'I don't get it. Who hit you?'
I gave him the short version. When I was through he didn't move, didn't speak. Finally he said, through tight lips, 'Jesus, man. You could've been killed.'
'Yeah. By whom, Jimmy?'
He rubbed his grimy face. 'Honest to God, Mr. S., I don't know,' he said. 'But if I find out, I'll kill him. I swear I will.'
I laughed, shook my head.
Jimmy looked at me in surprise. He smiled weakly. Lydia, looking over, smiled too.
'Jimmy, listen, what about the burglary?'
He gave me a blank look. 'What about it?'
'Could Ginny have done that?'
He shrugged. 'I guess she could have. She's always trying to prove she's tough. Bad, you know. Like she smokes Camels, without filters. She could've done it to show, like, that she could.'
