I didn?t feel up to my first round with Titan; I had something else on my mind. “I?ve got some things
to do,” I told Dutch. “You know as much about this mess as I do; you talk to the old man.”
“He?s not gonna like that even a little bit,” the big man growled.
“Tough shit,” I said, and drove off toward Benny?s Barbecue. I was anxious to see if the gray Olds
was still there. It wasn?t, but as I turned into the place, Stonewall „Titan?s black limo passed me,
going like he was late for the policemen?s ball.
I pulled around to the back of Bennys, oyster shells crunching under my tires, and found a tallish,
deeply tanned man with dishwater-blond hair that had seen too much sun and surf loading soft-drink
crates through the back door of the place. He was wearing black denim shorts and dirty sneakers, no
shirt, and could have been thirty, fifty, or anything between.
“We don?t open until five,” he said as I got out of the car.
“I?m looking for a pal of mine,” I said, following him inside. The place was dark and there was the
leftover chill of last night?s air conditioning lingering in the air, which smelled of stale beer and
shrimp He looked at me over his shoulder.
“1 don?t know anybody,” he said flatly. “Half the time I can?t remember my kids? names.”
“1 saw his car here a little earlier,” I said.
“No kidding. Maybe he had a flat.”
“He wasn?t around.”
“Probably ran outta gas. Maybe he had to walk up to the boulevard, pick up a can.”
“Could be. I kind of felt he was in here.”
“Hmm,” he said, stacking the soft drinks in the corner. “You know how long I been here in this spot?”
“No, but I bet you?re going to tell me.”
He drew two beers from the spigot behind the bar and slid one across the bar to me. It was colder than
Christmas in the Yukon.
“Thirty-three years. Be thirty-four in September.”
I sipped the beer and stared at him.
“You know why I been here this long?” he went on.
“You mind your own business,” I said.
“Right on the button.”
“This guy?s name is Nesbitt. Little squirt with roving eyeballs.”
“You ain?t been listening to me,” he said.
“Sure I have,” I said, sipping my beer. “If a fellow looks like that should come back by, tell him
Kilmer says we need to have a talk. Real bad.”
