They can handle things once they're established. Now, that do you any good?"
"It makes sense, Sam. Thanks for calling."
"No trouble. Like I said, I'll be wanting a favor someday."
"You'll get it."
I held down the cutoff bar, let it up and gave the operator the out of town number for Hank Feathers. He was in a hotel a hundred miles away on an assignment they threw at him the last minute and had tried to locate me earlier and couldn't. I said, "What's up, doc?"
"Something you'll have to run down personally. The printer at the paper . . . the one who lives near Irish Maloney . . . well, his wife forgot to tell me something. One of her constant visitors backed into a parked car one night and never left a calling card. Minor damage, but she just happened to be coming home, saw the accident and took his license number and stuck it under the windshield wiper of the car he bumped."
"A neighborhood car?"
"Can't say. She didn't keep a record. She was just indignant about him running off."
"When did it happen?"
"A couple of weeks ago."
"Good deal. I'll see what I can do."
"One more thing . . . will you get over and see old man Wilkenson? He's bugging me on the hour. Get him off my back. So he'll yak for a couple hours about the old days, but then it's over."
"Yeah, sure. See you when you get back."
"Two, three days. No more."
Anita looked at me curiously when I got back in the car. "Are we going someplace?"
I nodded. "Making house calls. You're going to see an insurance investigator at work. At least I hope everybody thinks so."
"Why?"
"Because all this trouble the Bannermans are in has an answer and it's not the one you think it is."
"I thought you didn't care about them."
"I don't baby, not one damn bit. Only you. If it touches you then I'm involved too. As long as you're wearing the Bannerman name it's going to stay clean one way or another. I told you . . . there's not one thing I want from them. I was out a long time ago. I'm the bastard Bannerman, I never had anything and never wanted anything. In a way I'm lucky. What I never had I don't miss. I can work things out for myself and although I don't eat high off the hog I manage to keep my stomach full. I'm free and clear because I don't own enough to get into debt over. Don't think there weren't times when I envied Rudy and Teddy all they had. I used to hate their guts because they had it all and took what little I had away too. But it's over now and that's it. For you I'm pushing, no other reason."
"I love you, Cat. I shouldn't say it, but I do. I always have."
"I know, kitten."
"Cat . . . there's nothing I can do. It's . . . it's too late."
"Is it?" My voice felt tight and funny. I let the clutch in and pulled away.
We took the area a block at a time and rang doorbells, going back to the empty places until we caught someone home. We didn't have a bit of luck tracing the car until six thirty when I had about four houses to go. A woman came by with an armload of groceries, saw me getting into the car and stopped me. I had used a fake name all along and almost didn't hear her when she said, "Oh . . . Mr. Wells . . ."
Anita pointed past me. "She's calling you, Cat."
"Yes?" I remembered her from one of the first calls.
"I was mentioning your visit to my husband when he came home. Well, it wasn't our car, but a friend of his who was staying overnight. He found his car damaged in the morning with the man's license number on his windshield."
"That's just fine, ma'am. We'd like to settle the matter as soon as possible, so if you can give me his name I'll get right to him."
"Certainly." She shifted her packages. "Jack Jenner . . . and he lives on Third Avenue North. He's in the book."
"Thank you. This has been a great help."
At the first pay station I stopped, looked up Jenner in the phone book and dialed his number. He seemed surprised to hear from me because so far he hadn't done anything about the incident. He read the license number out to me, I told him to process it as quickly as he could, thanked him and hung up.
Anita said, "Have you found it?"
"Almost. There's a shadow figure in the picture and when the light hits we'll know for sure. Let's go back to my motel. I want to clean up and we can eat."
"I was supposed to see Vance. He'll . . ."
"He can wait. A kissin' cousin has some rights, hasn't he?"
"Uh-huh," she laughed, "but he'll be mad."
"What he needs is another poke in the mouth."
"He'll never forgive you for what you did to him."
"Tough. He was asking for it."
She nodded, not looking at me. "He's . . . always been like that. He had to fight his way up, you know . . . supported himself at school, started small in business and made everything the difficult way."
"What's new about that, kid? Someday I'll tell you my story."
I swung in at the motel and killed the engine. I opened the door, got one foot out when I saw the other car that was already nosed out start to move. The lights were off and if the top hadn't crossed the lights of the office I would have missed it. I yelled, "Down!" and gave Anita a shove that sent her on her back on the ground through the door on her side.
The blast of the gun came on top of the winking yellow light from the muzzle and a bullet smashed into the dashboard over my head sending glass fragments all over the place. I pulled the .45, thumbed the hammer back and let two go toward the car that was swerving in the gravel and heading back to town. From the angle I had to shoot I knew damn well that I had missed him, but they weren't sticking around for a shootout. There could always be a second time.
I got Anita to her feet and inside as people came pouring out of their rooms. The clerk was shaking like a leaf, knocking on my door trying to find out what happened. I told him everything was all right . . . it was an attempted stickup that didn't come off and nobody got hurt.
But I was wrong. He had called the police the minute he heard the shots and Lieutenant Travers himself answered the call. He came in with a uniformed sergeant, closed the door and stood there with his hands behind his back. "Mr. Bannerman . . . I assume you have a reasonable explanation for the shooting."
I told him the stickup story and he didn't go for it.
His smile was pretty grim. "You know," he said, "I've had about enough of the Bannerman crap. They think they can get away with anything in this town and most of the times they can. I've been read off too often by my superiors who were under pressure and took too much lip from cheap politicians too many times. I think this time I'll nail me a Bannerman." His smile got colder with each word. "We had a complaint that you carry a gun. This so?"
There was no sense denying it. I nodded toward the chair where it lay under my coat.
Travers said, "Get it, Fred."
I knew what was coming next and started to get dressed. When I finished he said, "Let's go. All the talking you can do at headquarters with witnesses and someone to take your statement." He looked at Anita. "You too, miss."
CHAPTER EIGHT
They sat us down around a table, my gun laying there in the middle and Travers looking pleased with himself. He had given Anita the opportunity to make a phone call and she got Vance Colby. He was on the way over.
In the meantime I made small talk, got the point across that I'd like some representation myself and after
