nonemployees on the Air France shuttle bus.”
“But I don’t understand,” I said. “She told you that it was Holland who took the dog.”
“Yes.”
“Then why wouldn’t Holland …”
“They were always competing,” Bonnie said. “One was always trying to outdo the other one. Holland used to come up to see me when Roman was out of town. He wanted to kiss me but it was just because I was with Roman.”
“You kissed him?” I asked, but she didn’t answer.
I wanted to kiss her.
She wanted to kiss me.
But there had been too much kissing lately and none of it had come to any good. That voice in my head, a voice that I rarely heard, was trying to protect me from any more pain.
I must’ve been looking pretty hard at Bonnie. She bowed a little and said, “I’ll sleep on the couch, Easy.”
I didn’t argue.
She leaned over and kissed me on the lips, lingering for a moment. She moved away and then back to kiss me again. I touched her hair.
I felt very close to her at that moment; and then the doubt flooded back in.
“What are you doing here, Bonnie?”
“What do you mean?” she asked softly.
“I mean, why would you trust me? Why would you come to my house here when you don’t know a thing about me?”
“But I do know about you. I knew who you were when you came to my apartment the first time.”
“How?” I asked, but I already knew the answer.
“Idabell told me. She called after she ran from the school. She told me what happened between you in the classroom and she said that you took Pharaoh. So when you came over asking about her I knew that you could be trusted.”
“How’s that?”
“Because you were trying to protect her.”
I leaned over, not necessarily for another kiss, but she moved away.
“We have time,” she whispered.
“You take the bed,” I answered. “I got some stuff to think about out here.”
She rose and went back to my room.
THE PHONE RANG an hour later. When I put the receiver to my ear the first thing I heard was a blaring horn. Then:
“Easy!”
“Yeah?”
“It’s me, Jackson!”
“I can hear ya, Jackson. I know who you are.”
“I’m in trouble, man.”
“What kinda trouble? Are you at the motel?”
“Naw, I’m outside’a this pool hall down in Venice.”
“Pool hall?”
“I didn’t hear from you, man. I was goin’ crazy in that room. I didn’t even have no book or nuthin’.”
“So why’nt you go to a bookstore?”
“Shit, man. You know,” Jackson said. “I wanted a drink and some music, that’s all.”
“Somebody see you?”
“Yeah. Guy named Paul Dunne. He’s a pool hustler down on Jefferson. I never knew he made out this far west.”
“Paul gonna turn you over?”
“They got money on my head, Easy. Anybody turn me over for cash.”
“Get back to the motel, Jackson,” I said. “An’ keep your nose inside too. I’ll be there tomorrow at the latest. Okay?”
“Okay, man. Okay.” He sounded scared. I liked that, because the only time Jackson ever did what he was told was when he was scared.
AFTER I GOT OFF THE PHONE with Jackson I went back to thinking. Thinking about Idabell making love to me on that early-morning desk; about Roman lying dead in the garden while we did; about the dog and the croquet set; about Holland laid up dead; and then about Idabell dead in my car.
It all came down to Bonnie Shay. The killer waiting in front of her house and then even coming back. Yes,
