'You ever do any soldiering, Mr. Burke?'
I rapid–processed the various stories I could tell, but none of them fit just right. Something about the way the man looked at me said he wasn't going to take no for an answer.
'Not for the U.S.,' I said.
He raised an eyebrow as a question, waited for my answer.
'It was a long time ago,' I told him. 'In Africa.'
'The Congo?'
'No. Biafra.'
'You were a mercenary?'
'A freedom fighter,' I told him, not even a hint of a smile on my face.
He dragged deep on his cigarette. 'You have rank over there?' he asked.
'No sir.'
'Get paid good?'
'Not like the pilots did.'
'Yeah. I could tell. I can always tell a man that's been a working solider.'
'How can you do that?'
'You relax inside the fire. It goes around you, and you know there's not a whole hell of a lot you can do about it. You know your real job is getting out alive. There's no rules.'
'You did that?'
'In the Nam. Surprised?'
'No,' I told him truthfully. 'Infantry?'
'That's right,' he said, nodding his head. 'A ground grunt. I was just a green kid, but I saw a lot of working pros. Especially when we went over the border. I've seen the look before.'
'You can see it in prison too,' I said, not even thinking about why I was breaking the rules…telling a source the truth.
'You've been there?'
'Yes.'
'And now you work as a private eye?'
'Yes sir.'
He took a deep breath, hands clasped in his lap. 'Her room's in the back. Look around all you want. You can't miss it— there's a big teddy bear on the bed.'
I went over the room with a microscope. No diary, no address book…maybe the cops had them. I checked inside Diandra's clock radio, slit open a tube of toothpaste, opened every book, even checked the teddy bear for seams.
When I came back out, he was still sitting there. 'I didn't find anything,' I told him.
'I know. But this isn't the only place you're going to look, is it?'
'No sir.'
'If you find anything, you'll tell me?'
'I will.'
He got to his feet, moving slowly like there was a piece of broken glass inside his gut. His handshake was way too powerful for his slender frame, pulling me close. 'You think something happened to her, don't you?' he whispered.
'I don't know.'
'I still know how to do things,' he said in the same whispery tone. 'You find out anything, I'll be here.'
In the Lexus, I raised the kid on the car phone.
'Hello,' he said.
'It's me. I'm on my way back.'
'He called. Did I…'
'Not on this phone,' I told him.
As I turned into the bluestone drive, I spotted the kid. He had a green garden hose in one hand, a big clump of sponge in the other. The Plymouth was shining in the afternoon sun, as close to its original dull gray color as it ever got. I parked the Lexus, got out and walked over to him.
'What's going on?' I asked, pointing at the Plymouth.
'I just thought I'd clean her up a bit. Man! When was the last time you washed her?'
'I generally
