Booked to die

“Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

“No…no ride. Here comes the bus.”

He broke away and ran across the street. A car swerved and almost hit him. He spun around and without breaking stride ran full-tilt to the bus stop. He had dropped the copy of JR at my feet.

I picked it up and watched the bus roll away. What the hell was that all about? I wondered.

It was about fear. Peter had been so scared of something that his mind had stopped working. Something had scared the hell out of Pete.

I stood where I was and looked around. A busy but harmless intersection: cars raced through on four lanes and people hustled along the sidewalk. Two convenience stores faced each other across the street. On the third corner was a little shopette and a Mexican cafe. The thrift store took up the fourth corner. I tried to remember what Peter had been doing, where he’d been looking, when it had happened, but I couldn’t be sure. I walked across the street and went into one of the convenience stores. I bought some gum. Then I shrugged it off and went back to work.

26

“Rita mckinley called,” Miss Pride said when I came in. “About fifteen minutes ago.”

I played it cool. Checked the day’s receipts. Verified my suspicion that it had been a lousy day. We had barely broken a hundred: cleared expenses was all.

I walked up the street and visited Ruby. He was getting ready to pack it in. Neff had gone home for the day. The firm of Seals & Neff had taken in less than fifty dollars.

It had been a lousy day on Book Row all around.

I didn’t go down as far as Jerry Harkness. I could see a light coming from his window, so I knew he was there. I could see a light in Clyde Fix’s place as well.

Night had come with a vengeance. I felt alone in the world and I had a hunch that, whatever Rita McKinley had to say to me, it wouldn’t make that feeling go away.

But it did. When I called her, she was full of apologies.

“I’m not usually rude to people, Mr. Janeway. Put it down to jet lag.”

“I didn’t notice at all,” I lied.

She spoke into the sudden yawning silence. “If you still want to come up, of course you’re welcome.”

“Just say when.”

“Tomorrow afternoon would be as good a time as any. Make it late afternoon and that’ll give me time to wind down from the trip.”

I felt light-headed, almost giddy. Janeway’s still at bat, folks: as incredible as it is to believe, he’s been standing at the plate popping fouls into the bleachers for more than twenty-four hours, and the game’s still hanging in the balance.

Miss Pride was watering her plant, which had been repotted twice and was growing into a small tree. I had never seen anything grow like that in just three months.

“What kind of thing is that?” I said.

“I have no idea. Just something I dug up myself.”

“If it grows teeth, kill it.”

We began to go through the nightly ritual, preparing to close.

“So you didn’t tell me,” I said: “how was Harkness?”

“A dear. A perfect gentleman.”

I sighed.

“I know you’d love an excuse to go up there and tear his head off, but I’m afraid I can’t give you one. He was just fine. His manners were beyond reproach.”

“Just watch your flank, Miss Pride, just watch the water fore and aft, port and starboard. Now what do you say we lock this baby up and call it a bad day?”

“It was pretty dreary. I’ll get the lights and put the recording on.”

She disappeared into the back room. I locked the front door and began counting the money. I had just got started when I felt my hackles go up. I turned and looked through the glass. Jackie Newton was sitting in a car at the curb, watching me. It was a long black car, not one of his. The gunsel was behind the wheel.

“Uh-huh,” I said.