Suzie? Or Bobbi? Cheating on him? He had never even thought about it. Or cared.
'Nope.'
'I don't do boyfriends like that TV sports guy your buddy had me follow.'
'Not that either.'
'You need me to bond someone out of jail?'
Lorenzo smiled, revealing a set of bright white teeth.
'See, when I give a client the bad news about his cheating wife, he goes straight home and beats the hell out of her and gets arrested. So I bond him out. Then he finds the no-good bastard pumping his wife and beats the hell out of him and gets arrested again. So I bond him out again. My business is what they call 'vertically integrated,' like the oil companies.'
'No bond.'
Lorenzo finally stopped typing, removed his reading glasses, and looked directly at Andy.
'Then what services of mine do you require, Andy?'
Andy explained the efforts to find Frankie Doyle. After listening thoughtfully and stroking his goatee, Lorenzo said, 'McCloskey's a good man. Knows what he's doing.'
'He goes by the book.'
Lorenzo gave Andy a bemused expression. 'And you want something more than what's in the book from me, is that it?'
'I want you to find her and I don't care how you do it.'
'Woman don't want to be found, Andy, that's gonna cost more.'
'I'll pay whatever it takes.'
'Why do you want to find this woman so bad?'
'I don't. My client does.'
'Who's your client?'
'That's confidential.'
'Why does your client want to find this woman?'
'Also confidential.'
'Then my fee will be nine thousand nine hundred ninety-nine dollars. Cash.'
'Why?'
'Risk management, Andy.'
'No, why not ten thousand even?'
'Oh. You move ten grand in cash, you gotta fill out forms and answer questions at the bank, so the Feds can track your money. Which limits my tax-planning opportunities, if you know what I mean.'
Andy knew what he meant.
The money laundering law was purportedly to prevent criminals from using the banking system to launder their illegal profits-as if drug lords were stupid enough to move cash through their local savings and loan. Only politicians paying for high-priced call girls were that stupid, which is how the Feds nabbed the former New York governor.
'Okay. But you can't breathe a word of this, understand?'
Lorenzo laughed. 'Who am I gonna tell?'
'I guess you're right.'
'You know I'm right. Now, you said her last known address was Hysham, Treasure County, Montana, then she split. Any idea where she might've gone?'
Andy was about to say no, but he thought of the black-and-white drawings by F. Doyle at Colleen O'Hara's house. One had been of the Montana landscape. The others had reminded Andy of 'New Mexico or West Texas.'
Lorenzo nodded. 'Gives me something to work with. Come back in a few hours, I'll have something for you. And bring the cash.'
Andy rode down to Cissi's Market and had a roast beef sandwich and a Brown Cow vanilla bean yogurt for lunch. Then he went to the bank and withdrew $9,999. Two hours later, he walked back into Lorenzo's storefront. He was waiting.
'Did you find her?'
'Did you bring the cash?'
Andy handed the bank envelope to Lorenzo. He thumbed the cash like a card shark thumbing a deck of cards. He smiled.
'I found her.'
'How? Did you get her social security number? Her credit report? How'd you do it?'
'Now, Andy, you're asking me to share my trade secrets, to reveal my proprietary information, to disclose my-'
'I don't want to know.'
'Correct answer. You don't want to know how, you just want results. And I got 'em right here.'
Lorenzo placed a piece of paper in front of Andy. Two years ago, Frankie Doyle had changed her name to Rachel Holcombe in Hysham, Treasure County, Montana. One year ago, she had changed her name to Irma Bustamante 'Irma Bustamante?'
Lorenzo smiled. 'Irish girl got a sense of humor.'
— in Mosquero, Harding County, New Mexico. Four months ago, she had changed her name to Karen James in Mentone, Loving County, Texas.
'She likes small towns,' Lorenzo said. 'Only a hundred twenty folks live in Mosquero, fifty-six in Mentone.'
'Why would she change her name so many times?'
'She doesn't want to leave a paper trail, but she doesn't want to live off the grid. She's not using credit cards, but she wants a bank account. She wants to be legit, live a normal life, but she doesn't want someone to find her.'
'Her ex-husband hit her.'
'Good enough reason.'
'He said he wasn't trying to find her.'
'Asshole hits a woman, I'm not sure, Andy, could be he's a liar, too.'
'I guess you're right.'
'You know I'm right.'
Lorenzo now placed a printout of a Texas driver's license with a photo of Karen James in front of Andy. He studied her image. It was the same face he had seen in the photo at Colleen O'Hara's house.
'That's her. That's Frankie Doyle.'
'Check out the address.'
Andy looked down the license then up at Lorenzo.
'Buda, Texas? All this and she's living fifteen miles down the road?'
'Rent house. But she's moving up: five thousand people live in Buda.'
'Why would she live in unpopulated places in Montana and New Mexico and West Texas, then move just fifteen miles from Austin?'
'She wants to hide in plain sight. Figures she's covered her tracks, now she can live near a city, put her kid in a good school, enjoy things. She's ready to start her life over now, as Karen James.'
Andy pedaled back to his office. He poked his head into the tattoo parlor and found Ramon at his computer.
'Ramon, can I borrow your car?'
Without turning from the screen, Ramon said, 'Hey, Andy, listen to this email I got: 'Hello, I am pretty Russian girl, bored tonight. Would you like to chat and see my pics?' You think she's for real?'
'What's her name?'
'Candi. With an 'i.' '
'A Russian girl named Candi with an 'i'? I don't think so, Ramon. Can I borrow your car?'
'I don't think so, Andy.'
