Valediction

Quirk pointed his chin up and put his head back and stretched his neck and sucked on his front teeth a little. 'I'll have to think about that,' he said.

'Me too,' I said.

'Yeah,' Quirk said, 'but for you it's harder.'

CHAPTER 41

My living room was littered with records and Paul and Paige were lying among them listening to Anita Ellis and Ellis Larkins. It was an album Paul had bought me as a half joking Father's Day gift. They were drinking jug wine and smoking. I sniffed.

'I believe I sense the presence in this room of a controlled substance,' I said.

'You going to shoot at us?' Paige said.

'With the price of bullets the way it is,' I said, 'I'll let you off with a vicious beating.'

Paige grinned at me. 'Oooh, good,' she said. 'I'm really into that.'

I went to the refrigerator and got a beer and sat at the counter and sipped it and thought and listened to Anita Ellis and thought. Paul and Paige passed the joint back and forth between them and the smell of marijuana grew richer. Back door. The Anita Ellis album ended and Paul put on a group called Razmatazz. What if Winston were running Paultz?

'They sound like halfway between Manhattan Transfer and the Four Freshmen,' Paige said.

'Except the Freshmen had no female vocalist,' Paul said.

Winston had churches around the country, disciples to mule the stuff around, a built-in way to launder the money. What if Mickey Paultz worked for Winston? Then what? I got another beer and a shot and went back to the counter. Then everything was possible.

Paige was lying on her back with her head in Paul's lap.

'Lemme look at the album cover,' she said. If Winston were the big boss, then he'd conned us all. When I started nosing about, he'd tried threatening me off. Then he'd had Paultz send his bozos to threaten me. And then when that didn't work he'd conned me, and everyone else. He'd set Paultz up and while he was doing that he'd arranged a new retail outlet for himself, then he killed Paultz before Paultz got wise, and once everything died down he'd go back to work. Except he was no longer head of the church.

'But Sherry is.'

Paul said, 'What?' Paige mimicked him. 'Whaaat?' They both giggled.

'Thinking out loud,' I said.

I looked at my watch, it was 9:15. I looked at the two kids lying on the floor together listening to music, smoking some grass, and drinking some wine, and giggling at things that grass made funny. If Sherry were in love with Winston, maybe she would do what he asked. Maybe she'd cover for him. Maybe a kid full of God and need would give her lover Christian forgiveness and help him in the heroin trade. And it should work. Hell, I'd even extorted some capital from Mickey Paultz for them to use while they lay low. No wonder she liked me. A friend in need is a friend indeed. I shook my head. The possibilities buzzed around inside my skull. There was not a single piece of evidence to make me think all these things. It was entire speculation rooted only in the fact that Tommy Banks had seen Sherry spend the night with Winston or he said he'd seen it. Tommy had lied to me before. Most people had. Susan too. I poured a little more whiskey. I drank some and chased it with beer. There was no more beer in the bottle. I got another bottle. I didn't know a fact. I didn't know who was with whom or who was in charge of what or who was good and who was bad and what to do. Maybe I should forget about it and lecture the kids on drug abuse. I tried saying drug abuse and slurred the s, and decided to forgo the lecture.

Paige raised her head from Paul's lap and put her arms around his neck and pulled him forward toward her. I drank most of the shot of whiskey. What I should do is sleep on it. I should just finish off the beer I was drinking and then go to bed and sleep on the situation and no doubt would wake up knowing just what I should do. That was it. I'd sleep on it. I tried saying sleep and slurred the s. So I went to bed.

CHAPTER 42

I woke up the next morning knowing exactly what I had to do. And I did it. I got out of bed and took two aspirin. Then I went into the kitchen. Paul and Paige had opened the sofa bed in the living room and were asleep in a tangle of bedclothes. Not neat sleepers. I made coffee and sat at the counter and drank it. I turned on the CBS morning news so I could watch Diane Sawyer. Maybe I should write her a letter. If it didn't work out with Susan, or Linda . . . I raised my coffee cup to her. 'Music beyond a distant hill,' I said. Diane ignored me. The phone rang. It was only 7:15. Too early for Susan to be calling from San Francisco. Maybe Diane Sawyer.

I said, 'Hello.'

It was Hawk. He said, 'You want to rescue what's left of your body 'fore it's too late?'

'You just getting in?' I said.

'No way, babe. Something in the genes, got to git up and git to choppin' that old cotton.'

'And lifting that barge,' I said, 'and toting that bale.'

'And beating my feet on de mud.'

I said, 'You want to run?'

'Yeah, I want to pump some iron too. You busy?'

'No,' I said. 'There's things I should do but I don't know what they are or how I should find out.'

'You ought to be used to that,' Hawk said. 'I be by,'

I took a shower and put on sweat clothes and went down to the street. Hawk's Jaguar pulled into the curb as I