half drunk, half hungover—the worst combination. She decided she’d drop this Pendergast guy off at the old Kraus place, then go park under the powerlines and kill a few hours with a book.
She glanced over at the FBI man. “So, what’s with the black suit? Somebody die?”
“Like you, I’m rather partial to the color.”
She snorted. “What’s this catch you were talking about?”
“I need a car and driver.”
Corrie had to laugh. “What, me and my stretch AMC Gremlin?”
“I came by bus and I’m finding it rather inconvenient to be on foot.”
“You’ve got to be kidding. The muffler is shot, the thing goes through a quart of oil a week, there’s no AC, and the interior is so full of fumes I’ve got to keep the windows open, even in winter.”
“I propose compensation of a hundred dollars a day for the car and driver, plus a standard rate of thirty-one cents per mile for fuel and depreciation.”
A hundred bucks was more money than Corrie had ever seen at one time. This couldn’t be happening, it had to be some kind of bullshit. “If you’re a hotshot FBI special agent, where’s your own car and driver?”
“Since I’m technically on vacation, I haven’t been issued a car.”
“Yeah, but why me?”
“Quite simple. I need someone who knows Medicine Creek, who has a car, and has nothing better to do. You fit the bill. You’re no longer a minor, correct?”
“Just turned eighteen. But I’ve got another year of high school. And then I’m out of this Kansas shithole.”
“I hope to have concluded my work here long before school begins next month. The important thing is, you
She laughed. “If hating is knowing. Have you thought about what the sheriff’s going to think about this arrangement?”
“I expect he’ll be glad you found gainful employment.”
Corrie shook her head. “You don’t know much, do you?”
“That lack of knowledge is what I hope to rectify. Leave me to deal with the sheriff. Now, do we have a deal, Miss Swanson?”
“A hundred bucks a day? Of course we have a deal. And please, do I look like a ‘Miss Swanson’ to you? Call me Corrie.”
“I shall call you Miss Swanson and you shall call me Special Agent Pendergast.”
She rolled her eyes and swept purple hair out of her face. “Okay,
“Thank you, Miss Swanson.”
The man slid a wallet out of his suit coat and removed five hundred-dollar bills. She could hardly take her eyes off the money as he casually unwired her broken glove compartment, placed the bills inside, and wired it back up. “Keep a written record of your mileage. Any overtime beyond eight hours daily will be paid at twenty dollars an hour. The five hundred dollars is your first week’s pay in advance.”
He pulled something else out of his suit coat. “And here is your cell phone. Keep it turned on at all times, even when charging at night. Do not make or receive personal calls.”
“Who am I gonna call in Shit Creek?”
“I haven’t the faintest idea. And now, if you’d be so kind as to turn the car around and give me a tour of the town?”
“Here goes.” Corrie glanced in her rearview mirror to make sure the coast was clear. Then she swung the wheel around violently, braking and accelerating at the same time. The Gremlin slewed around in a one-eighty, tires squealing, and ended up pointed back in the direction of town. She turned to Pendergast and grinned. “I learned
“Very impressive. However, I must insist on one thing, Miss Swanson.”
“What’s that?” she said, accelerating back toward town.
“You must not break the law in my employ. All traffic rules must be strictly obeyed.”
“Okay,
“The speed limit on this road is forty-five, I believe. And you have not buckled your seatbelt.”
Corrie glanced down and saw she was going fifty. She eased down to the correct speed, then slowed even further as they entered the outskirts of town. She tried to fish the seatbelt out from behind the seat, the car swerving back and forth as she drove with her knee.
“Perhaps it would be more convenient if you pulled off to the side of the road to do that?”
Corrie gave an irritated sigh and pulled off, retrieved the belt, and buckled herself in. She started up again with another screech of rubber.
Pendergast settled back. The passenger seat was broken, and he reclined into a semi-supine position, his head just barely at the level of the window. “The tour, Miss Swanson?” he murmured, eyes half closed.
“Tour? I thought you were kidding.”
