“He’s got some time off,” Quirk said. “Trouble at home.”
“What kind of trouble?”
“Guy he lives with has AIDS,” Quirk said.
“Jesus,” I said.
Quirk nodded, looking at the courthouse.
“How about him?” I said.
“He’s okay,” Quirk said.
“So you came because Farrell couldn’t?”
“Right, and Belson’s tracking down the other Olivia Nelson, or the real Olivia Nelson, or whoever the fuck that is in Nairobi, and the case is getting to be sort of a heavy issue… and I figure I better come down and save your ass, so Susan wouldn’t be mad.”
“Thanks,” I said.
“You’re welcome,” Quirk said. “I called Hawk and he said he’d keep track of Susan until this thing shook down a little.”
“You think someone might run at her to get to me?”
Quirk shrugged.
“Being careful does no harm,” he said.
The two suits walked down the steps of the courthouse, came down the side street and into the parking lot. In a minute they exited the lot in a green Dodge, and passed us, and headed out Main Street. Quirk let his car into gear and followed them easily, letting several cars in between. Quirk was too far back to stay with them if the suits were trying to shake a tail. But they weren’t. They had no reason to think they’d be followed. Quirk and I should be lickety-split for home. In ten minutes, they pulled into the parking lot of a Holiday Inn, out near the little airport, where Cessnas and Piper Cubs came and went several times a day, carrying Alton’s heavy hitters to and from important events. Quirk and I dawdled in the parking lot of the Piggly Wiggly across the street, while the suits got out and went into the motel. Then we pulled over to the motel and parked. Quirk adjusted his gun onto the front of his belt so that it showed as he let his coat fall open. Then we went into the lobby and walked briskly to the desk clerk. Quirk flashed his badge, and put it away. It could have said Baker Street Irregulars on it, for all the clerk had a chance to read it.
“Lieutenant Quirk,” he snapped, “Homicide. I need the room number of the two men who just came in here.”
The desk clerk was a middle-aged woman with a lot of very blonde hair. She looked blank.
“Come on, Sis,” Quirk said, “this is police business, I don’t have a lot of time.”
“The two gentlemen who just passed through here?”
Quirk looked at me.
“Is she a smart one?” he said. “Is this one a quick learner?”
He looked back at her.
“That’s it, Sis. The two guys just passed through here. Room number and make it pretty quick.”
He drummed on the counter softly with his fingertips.
“Yes, sir,” the clerk said. “That would be Mr. O’Dell and Mr. Grimes. Room 211.”
“Okay, we’re going up.” Quirk said. “If you do anything at all, except mind your own business, I’ll close this dump down so tight it’ll squeeze your fanny.”
“Yes, sir,” the clerk said. “Stairs at the end of the corridor, sir. Second floor.”
“No shit,” Quirk said, and turned and hustled down the corridor toward the stairs with me behind him.
“So tight,” I said, “it’ll squeeze your fanny?”
We were going up the stairs.
“Cops are supposed to talk like that,” Quirk said.
“I liked `The Killers’ bit from Hemingway.”
“ ‘Is she a smart one?’ Yeah, I use that a lot.”
We were on the second floor and stopped in front of room 211. Quirk put his ear to the door. He nodded to himself. Then he knocked on the door. There was a moment of silence, then the door half opened and Vest looked out. Quirk hit the door with his shoulder and Vest stumbled back. The door banged open wide.
The Partner was sitting on one of the twin beds with his back to the door, talking on the phone. He half turned as we came in and I kicked the door shut behind us.
He said, “What the fuck?”
Quirk walked over and broke the phone connection.
“Exactly,” Quirk said.
A small holstered gun lay on top of the television set. Vest made a grab at it and yanked it from the holster. Quirk barely glanced at him while he chopped the gun out of Vest’s hand and kicked it under the bed. Vest threw a punch at Quirk’s head. Quirk slapped it aside and stepped away. He looked at me.
“You want this?” he said. “Even up the business in the jail?”
