After Midnight

“Yeah. Hey, I’d just end up having to pee again.”

“Okay.”

“Let’s go.”

Judy walked in front of me. I followed her toward the door, the pistol swinging in my pocket, rubbing against my thigh. She opened the door, then stepped aside.

I went out into the hallway. Nobody was there.

Judy came after me, using the outside knob to pull the door shut. Then she gave it a couple of twists and shoves to make sure the door was locked.

Which took care of any prints I might’ve left on the knob. Side by side, not saying a word, we walked down the silent hall to the foyer. There, she whispered, “Where’d you park Tony’s car?”

“In the lot.”

“This lot?”

“Yeah.”

“You found an empty space for it?”

“I put it in L. Is that okay?”

“Fine. That’s right next to mine.”

As we hurried down the stairway, she said, “I’ve got an idea. Why don’t we leave it there and take my car?”

“Are you sure you want to?” I asked.

What does this do to my plan?

Not that I actually had a plan anymore.

“This whole business is pretty hairy,” she said. “Going to the woods at this time of night. I’d just rather be doing it in my own car. At least I can be pretty sure it won’t break down on us.”

“Fine by me,” I said. “You drive.”

“You point the way.”

We came out of the stairwell into the parking lot.

Nobody else seemed to be around.

My loafers clopped loudly on the concrete floor. Judy’s sneakers were nearly silent.

“If we find Tony,” she said, “we’ll bring him back here so he can drive himself home. Unless he needs emergency treatment.”

“There’s his car,” I said, pointing at it.

“Yeah.”

It looked just fine sitting there. A few shiny drops of water sparkled on the trunk and rear bumper, but I saw nothing to worry about.

“That’s a good place for it,” Judy said. “Nobody ever parks there but guests. It can stay right where it is for a few days, if he needs to be hospitalized or something.”

“I don’t really think he’ll need to be hospitalized,” I told her.

14

NIGHT RIDERS

“Exciting, isn’t it?” Judy said as we reached the top of the driveway ramp.

“What is?” I asked.

“This. Going out like this.” She swung her car onto the road and picked up speed. “I never go anywhere this late at night. I’m almost always asleep by now.”

“Me, too,” I said, but I wasn’t really paying attention.

I was preoccupied, just then, with my feelings of relief. Now that we’d left the apartment building behind us, I was finally free of Tony.

I mean free!

He and his car were gone!

Adios, toot-toot, bye-bye!

I would never go near them again, and nobody would ever find out what I’d done.

Not even Judy.

I looked over at her. She kept turning her head, glancing around like an eager tourist. There wasn’t much to see, though, unless you’re fascinated by empty streets, porch lights and darkness.

“It is exciting to be out like this,” I told her.

“Sort of spooky, too,” she said.

“If you think it’s spooky now, wait till we get to the woods.”

“I can hardly wait.”

“Do you know how to get there?” I asked.

“I can find Miller’s Woods all right, but I’m not sure about the turn-off to the picnic area. How about you?”

“I’m pretty sure where it is.”

We were nearing the business district, so I said, “You’d better not take Central. When I came through, there were some unsavory characters hanging around.”

“We can do without unsavory characters,” she said.

A block short of Central, she turned onto the same street I’d used earlier. It looked deserted.

“The fewer people see us,” I said, “the better.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Two gals by themselves.”

“Are you trying to scare me?”

“We just have to be careful, that’s all. You never know who might be out there.”

“Most people are all right,” Judy said.

“Not the sort who are cruising the roads at this hour.”

“We are.”

“We’re the exception. Anyway, it only takes one lunatic to spoil the night.”

“You’re a regular cockeyed optimist,” she said.

“That’s me.”

“Maybe instead of a lunatic, we’ll run into a wonderful, charming stranger.”

“Run over one?”

“Into.” She turned her head and smiled at me. “You’re a trouble maker.”

“Yep.”

“I know ’em when I see ’em. I’m one, too.”

“You? A trouble maker? You seem like such a nice girl.”

“I’m that, too.”

“How can you be nice and a trouble maker?”

“I make benign mischief.”

Normally, I might’ve laughed at that. It was a pretty cute thing to say, benign mischief. But it almost made me cry.

Here Judy was, out in the middle of the night on a mission of mercy. Having herself an adventure. She’s nervous but excited and having fun, saying cute stuff, and she doesn’t have the slightest inkling that I’m going to leave her dead in the woods.

It was awfully sad if you think about it.

And I couldn’t help but think about it, riding along in the car with her.

On her last ride.

Too bad she wasn’t an ugly, snotty, miserable bitch. Then I wouldn’t have felt so bad.

“Are you okay?” she asked after a while.