“He said he was looking for his dog.”
“What kind of dog?”
“This black mangy mutt, I don’t know. It looked like, if he was going to have a dog, that would be the dog.”
“You know, it’s not like I hate the guy. He’s just a little too out there for me. This whole black-jacket-and-boots thing, I’m just not into that. And he’s- Wait, here it is.”
She slowed the car, turned into a cobblestone lane that wasn’t much wider than the car, and inched forward.
“What are you doing?” I asked. “Where the hell are you going?”
“I never have to pay for parking. I can almost always get out this way.”
“This isn’t even a road!” I said. “It’s a walkway! And besides, your mom or I always give you money for parking.”
“Hey, if you guys want to give me money for parking, I’m not going to turn it down. I put it towards other educational expenses.”
“Like parties?”
“Of course not,” she said, looking straight ahead. “Someday they’re going to get smart and close this off and then I’ll need it anyway.”
“Where does this come out?”
“Edwards Street. There’s a little chain at the end, and you just have to unhook it to get out, there’s not a lock.”
“You better hope not or you’re going to have to be very good at backing up long distances down narrow alleys.”
Like I said, this walkway was only slightly wider than the Virtue, with Galloway Hall on one side and some other building on the other. It wasn’t even suitable for service vehicles, with low, vine-covered archways overhead that I could almost reach sticking my arm out the sunroof. I was starting to feel a bit pissed.
“This is wrong,” I said to Angie.
“Dad, you’re such a Boy Scout, you worry about everything. I’m a student. You cut costs any way you can.”
“What about the ticket you pick up when you enter the grounds? It never gets checked or validated or whatever. You ever hand it in by mistake some other day and you’ll owe hundreds of dollars in parking fees!”
Angie reached over and touched my knee. “Dad, take your medication. And go unhook that chain up there.”
I did as I was told, skulking about like a guilty man, looking over my shoulder for campus security, certain we’d be arrested at any moment. Angie drove through, then I hooked the chain back across and got back into the car.
“You were saying, about Trevor,” Angie said, pulling onto Edwards.
“He had some computer thing he wanted to show you.”
“Any excuse. He’s got some new computer thing every other day. He called me this afternoon, says, guess who? Says it’s Neo, for crying out loud.”
“Neo?”
“Keep up, Dad. The character, in the movie. God. Just promise me, Dad, that you won’t do anything stupid again.”
“You mean, like, with…” I struggled to remember the Pool Boy’s name again.
“Exactly.”
“I’m sorry about that,” I said. “I know you’ve been pissed at me for a long time.”
“No kidding.”
“And I’m sorry if you guys broke up over that.”
Angie shrugged. “Well, I’m sort of seeing…” She stopped herself.
“Sort of seeing?”
“Never mind.” She gave me a small smile. “I think, from now on, you only get boyfriend information on a need-to-know basis. And right now, you do not need to know.” She gave the car some gas. “It’s cute, but it seems a bit slow.”
Patiently, I again explained the hybrid concept.
“So, it’s got, like, batteries in it? Like the TV remote?”
“Not those kind of batteries. Big batteries, which are constantly recharging to run the electric motor, which takes over from the gas motor. Look, it’s good for the environment, okay?”
“Maybe we can put our recycling in it,” Angie said.
When we got home, I told her there was a plate of food waiting for her in the kitchen.
“I’m going out,” she said, smiling apologetically. “I’ve got to get ready.” And she disappeared up to her room.
Paul, who’d heard us come in, shouted up from the basement, “Dad! Some Lawrence guy called, said you should call him!”
I did.
Lawrence said, “Now that you’re a two-car family, can you get yourself out to Brentwood’s tonight? I’ve got a few things to do and might be heading straight to our little stakeout from the other side of town.”
“When do you want me there?”
“How about eleven?” Lawrence said. “And park around the corner or something, not in front of the store.”
That seemed good. This idea, this plan of action that I’d neglected to mention to Sarah, was forming in my head, and the later I could rendezvous with Lawrence, the better.
“I think this’ll be the last night for me,” I said. “They’re getting antsy for the story, and the truth is, Sarah’s scared to death, me hanging out with you.”
Lawrence chuckled softly. “I’m not even optimistic they’ll show. Not after last night. Our friends in the SUV may be going for a lower profile. Although I have to admit, I didn’t think they’d show last night either.”
“True.”
“Listen,” Lawrence said. “That Wylie kid. I did a little checking after we had our run-in with him.”
“You’re kidding,” I whispered, huddling myself secretively around the receiver, even though neither of the kids was in the room with me. “What did you find out?”
“I think it’d be better if I told you about it later, when we get together. That’ll give me a little more time to check a couple more things.”
“Can’t you tell me now?”
“It can wait. Actually, meet me at the doughnut place around ten-thirty. I’ll be in the Buick again. They managed to get a new window in it this afternoon.” And he hung up.
Shit. He couldn’t tell me now? My daughter’s being dogged by some potential nutcase and he wants to tell me the details later?
I considered phoning him back, then held off. He was doing this as a favor, no charge, so I didn’t feel I had the right to get pushy. But he had something on the kid, that much was for sure, which only strengthened my resolve to be proactive. By the time I saw Lawrence tonight, I might have a bit of information to share about Trevor Wylie myself.
There wasn’t all that much to do to prepare for the job I was about to undertake in the hours before I joined Lawrence at Brentwood’s men’s store. He’d explained to me that the most important item for any would-be private detective about to go out on a stakeout was a bottle to pee in.
I stepped into the little mudroom we have between the kitchen and the back door, where we keep our two blue recycling boxes: one for bottles and cans and one for newspapers. There was, in the box for bottles and cans, nothing but the glass Snapple apple juice bottle I’d dropped in there the morning before. There was clearly more work to be done to make this family environmentally conscious.
I leaned over and grabbed the bottle. The screw-on cap was still attached, so it would do. I was ready to go on my first stakeout.
