Was it my interruption of his line on that woman? Was it racism? Or maybe they’d cheated Christmas on his truck. His complaint might have raised some hackles.
I OPENED MY CAR DOOR and waited a minute for the interior to cool down a little before I climbed in. I drove out of the lot and around the back of the big glass showroom, where a sign said there was overflow parking. I parked again and made my way into the building.
A young Asian woman, Korean I thought at the time, came up to me with a big smile on her face.
“May I help you, sir?”
“Yeah, yeah,” I said as I looked through the glass walls, hoping I hadn’t been seen by the indelicate lot boss. “Brad Knowles told me that I could find out something I need to know from somebody in records.”
“Miss Goss?” the woman asked.
“Yes. That’s who it is.”
“Third floor. The stairs are behind you.”
THE STAIRWAY was next to the glass wall. As I made my way up, I felt like a hornet in a clear plastic bag. Just a glance at the building would have shown Knowles that I was there. All he had to do was put down his foot to get rid of me.
I’d hoped that the records office had solid walls to hide behind, but it didn’t. All that separated me from the outside world was a wall of colorless glass. I was the best man trying to take the groom’s place at the top of a three-tiered wedding cake.
“May I help you?” another woman asked me.
I had expected a face to go along with the name Goss. So when I saw the lovely young black woman sitting in the dark red chair, I was surprised. I guess it showed on my face.
“I’m not what you expected?” she asked.
I tried to speak, but I didn’t want to call her name ugly.
She smiled and cocked her head to the side.
Miss Goss was not pretty. Her features were too pronounced and insolent to be pretty. Her high cheekbones and ready-to-be-angry eyes made her beautiful. For the first time in a year, without the aid of sleep or stress, Bonnie completely slipped away from me. But as soon as I realized Bonnie was gone from my mind, she was back again.
“Do you want something?” Miss Goss asked.
“No . . . I mean, yes. Brad Knowles said that you could give me some information.”
Speaking his name, I glanced out at the lot. As if by magic, he looked up at the same time and saw me seeing him.
The hourglass was set. I smiled, putting love on the back burner for a moment.
“That’s a lie,” Miss Goss said.
“What is?”
“Brad sendin’ you up here. He wouldn’t send anybody up here and certainly not a big black man like you. I’m surprised he didn’t call security.”
“The man I need to find is named Christmas Black. He bought a red truck from you within the last three weeks.” Pretending to scratch my neck, I got a glimpse of Knowles looking around — for security, no doubt.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Easy. What’s yours?”
“Tourmaline.”
That made me happy. I laughed and decided that the .38 in my pocket would equalize any situation that security might raise.
“My name is funny?”
“Quite the contrary,” I said. “It’s a beautiful name. A gem.”
“I like your name too,” she said.
I could almost hear the heavy breathing of overweight guards climbing the stairs.
“Why’s that?” I asked as if I had all the time in the world.
“It’s got two syllables. I hate one-syllable names. Mel and Brad and all the rest of them: Bill, Max, Tom, Dick — I especially hate Dick — and Harv.”
“Christmas has two syllables,” I said.
Tourmaline admired my ability to think for a moment that seemed to last minutes.
“What’s it worth to you?” she asked.
“A hundred dollars or dinner at Brentan’s,” I said. “Both.”
Tourmaline smiled and I saw a light somewhere.
That’s when my old friend Thunder and a black security guard just as big as he was came out from the entrance to the stairs.
“Hey, you,” Thunder said.
I swiveled my head to regard him and his minion.
