“I’ll see what I can do,” I said.
ON THE FRONT PORCH Etta and I were confronted by a sandy-haired man with dead blue eyes.
“Hello, Mr. Snow,” Etta said quickly. She seemed nervous, almost scared.
“EttaMae,” he replied.
He was wearing gray slacks and a square-cut aqua-colored shirt that was open at the collar. Folded over his left arm was a dark blue blazer. He wore a short-brimmed straw hat, tilted back on his head.
His smile was malicious, but that’s not what scared me about him.
EttaMae Harris had lived with Mouse most of her adult life; and Mouse was by far the deadliest man I ever knew. Not once had I seen fear in Etta’s face while dealing with Mouse’s irrational rages. I had never seen her afraid of anybody. Abel Snow therefore had a unique standing in my experience.
“And who is this?” Abel asked.
“Brian Phillips,” I said.
“What are you doing here?”
“Seein’ how the other half lives.”
I smiled and so did Abel.
“You lookin’ for trouble, son?”
“Now why I wanna be lookin’ for somethin’ when it’s standin’ right there in front’a me, pale as death?”
Etta cleared her throat.
“You here about Willis Longtree?” Abel Snow asked me.
“Who?”
Snow’s smile widened into a grin.
“You got something I should know about in your pocket, Brian?”
“Whatever it is, it’s mine.”
Snow was having a good time. I wondered if his heart was beating as fast as mine was. We stared at each other for a moment. That instant might have stretched into an hour if Etta hadn’t said, “Excuse me, Mr. Snow, but Mr. Phillips is givin’ me a ride to L.A.”
He nodded and stepped aside, grinning the whole time.
THE BASKET was where Sheila Merchant said it was. I flipped through the ledger for a minute or two and then put it in the trunk.
ETTA FELL ASLEEP on the long ride back to L.A. I asked her a few more questions about Mouse, but her story never wavered. Raymond was dead and buried by her own hand.
I dropped her off at the mariner’s house in Malibu and then drove back home. That was about nine o’clock.
BONNIE WAS WAITING for me at the front door wearing the same jeans and sweater.
“Hi, baby,” she said.
“Can I get in?” I asked and she stepped aside.
The house was quiet and clean. I had straightened up now and then but this was the first time it had been clean since she was gone.
“Where the kids?”
“They’re staying with Mrs. Riley. I sent them because I thought we might want to be alone.” Bonnie’s eyes followed me around the room.
“No,” I said. “They could be here. I don’t have anything to say they can’t hear.”
“Easy, what’s wrong?”
“EttaMae called.”
“After all this time?”
“Mouse is definitely dead and she knows a young boy who’s in trouble.” I sat in my recliner.
“What? You found out all that?” Bonnie went to sit on the couch. “How do you feel?”
“Like shit.”
“We have to talk,” she said in that tone women have when they’re treating their men like children.
I stood up.
“Maybe later on,” I said. “But right now I got to go out.”
“Easy.”
I strode into the bathroom, closed the door, and locked it. I showered and shaved, cut my nails, and brushed my teeth. When I went to the closet to get dressed Bonnie was already in the bed.
“Where are you going?” she asked me.
