Blossom

they always water it down, you know.'

'Not here.'

'I guess not. I mean…not with men serving the booze, right?'

37

SHE CHATTERED on through her London broil. I told her why I was there. How I studied the local newspapers for a few weeks before I ever came into a town to work. She nodded, paying attention, mouth full.

The waiter cleared the plates away, doing it right, easy on the 'sir,' not oiling it. He knew the difference between Atlantic City respect and the kind you earn with something other than cash.

Cyndi ordered chocolate mousse for dessert. I had the lemon water ice they called sorbet.

I lit a smoke. 'Seems like the hot story around here's been that sniper…the one shooting those kids who go parking in lovers' lane.'

'Oh, they caught him. It was some kid, believe it or not. One of those crazy teenagers. God, I'm glad he wasn't running around when I was a girl, as much time as I spent in parked cars.'

'They sure they got the right one?'

'Well, I think so. I mean…you never know, right? But ever since they busted him, there's been no more.'

'Shootings?'

'Yeah.'

'Why d'you think he'd do it?'

'Well…oh God, I just realized…I feel so stupid…I don't even know your name.'

'Mitchell. Mitchell Sloane.'

'Mitch?'

'Sure.'

'Mitch, I'll tell you…when I used to dance, some of those men who'd come in, they just flat out hated women. You know what I mean? The way they'd watch you sometimes, not smiling or anything. Why would they come to a topless joint if they hated us? It doesn't make sense, I know, but it's true. Mean men. You could always tell.'

'You figure someone like that?'

'Maybe. I mean…why would a kid hate so much he'd want to kill people just for screwing outdoors? Maybe it was one of those religious nuts. We'd get them in the bar sometimes too. Always trying to save us.'

38

IT WAS AFTER eight when we left the restaurant. I put the tab on American Express, tossed a trio of ten- spots on the table for Charles. 'Always a pleasure to see you, madam,' he said by way of goodbye to Cyndi. A man who knew how to act. He should get together with the hostess some night, teach her the facts of life.

I punched Glenda's line on the car phone, let Cyndi listen to the taped message play back through the speaker-phone. Hit the Retrieve key. The machine's computer-chip voice said, 'Hello. You have no messages. You may hang up and I will reset the unit. Or enter remote code now to change your message.'

'Where shall I take you?' I asked her.

'You really have to go to work tonight?'

'If I want to pay my bills.'

'Well, I left my car at work. I mean, I didn't know you'd…'

The Lincoln whispered past the darkened dunes near the water.

'That's where it happened. One time.'

'What?'

'The killings. That's where the kids go to park. Where they used to go.'

'They'll find another place.'

'They sure will.'

I pulled into the diner. 'Where's your car?'

'Around the back.'

It was a red Chevy Beretta, looked new. One of those Garfield plastered against the back side window. Cute.

I turned off the ignition, flicked the switch for the power windows, lit a smoke.

'I'm not sure when I'll be by again. This work I'm doing, it takes you different places, different hours.'

'Well, you don't have to come here to see me, honey. I mean, you can if you want, or call me here or anything.' She fumbled in her purse. 'You have a pen?'

I gave her one. She wrote down her phone number and her address in a careful, round schoolgirl's hand. 'Here!'

'Thanks, Cyndi.'

'You know, it's funny. Blossom, she tried to talk me out of going out with you. She said you were some kind of trouble. I mean, can you imagine…her telling me something about men. Like she'd know a preacher from a pimp.'

'Maybe she does.'

'Not old Blossom. That girl's so straight. I told her she could go ahead and wait for Mr. Right. I was gonna have some fun while I'm still young. She said that was okay. Said you looked like Mr. Wrong to her.'

'I'm just a man. Passing through.'

She slid across the seat to me, one hip hard against mine, twisting her breasts against my chest, her lips so close I couldn't see her eyes.

'Well, Mr. Just Passing Through, you make sure you come and see me before you make up your mind, huh?' Kissing me hard, the backs of her fingers trailing across my fly. I pressed my hand against the back of her blouse as I kissed her. No straps. The hostess had seen it before I had.

'I won't,' I told her.

She kissed me again, promising.

I watched her climb into her red car and drive off.

39

I SWITCHED THE Lincoln for the Chevy and made my way to the hideout, thinking it through. Cyndi wasn't going to work. She was connected, but to the wrong side of the night. I needed somebody wired in at the other end. The sniper wouldn't be wearing a double-knit leisure suit with a white belt and gold chains. Even the topless bars would be too bright for his eyes.

When I got downstairs it looked the same. Except for a canvas sack suspended from a beam in the ceiling by a short length of towing chain. I tapped the bag— it was stuffed with something. I looked a question at Virgil.

'Heavy bag,' he said. 'Best I could do. Lloyd, he's one angry young pup. I figured, let him pound on it awhile, work some of that stuff out. Like we used to do inside.'

'Good idea. He know how to do it?'

'He don't have a clue. Figured maybe you'd show him a few things, give him something to work on while he's down here.'

The kid was sitting on his cot, watching me in the faint light. 'Would you?' he asked.

'Sure. But first, we got to talk.' His face fell. 'All of us talk,' I said. The kid brightened up at that.

I sat down, lit a smoke. 'First of all, we got to get us some breathing room. The cops still want you guys— we got to make that right.'

'Roll on in?' Virgil asked. Ready for it, if that's what it had to be.

'I think so. The detective, the one who came to your house . the one who scammed you into waiting till his partner came up with a search warrant…?'

'Sherwood, he said his name was. Don't know if it was first or last. Sherwood.'