Joe and Grasso had been dragged half to death, and their faces and bodies showed the effects. Darwin took one look at them and said, “Relatives of yours, Augustus?”
To me, he said, “Do I want to know why their pants are sopping wet?”
“I wouldn’t think so,” I said.
“You got any dry clothes they can wear so they don’t ruin the jet seats?”
Quinn and I gave Darwin our camouflage blankets and watched him wrap them around the two waifs. I remembered the two thousand dollar suit and tie Joe wore last week at the cemetery and thought,
Darwin took Joe and Grasso back with him to Washington, and Quinn and I took one of the company’s Gulfstream jets back to headquarters.
This time, we both slept the whole way.
When I got back to headquarters, I kept my promise to Garrett Unger and let him go back to his wife, knowing in a week or so the police would arrest him along with Arthur Patelli, the guy who torched Addie’s house.
CHAPTER 51
“It was the suit, man. I swear to God, she loved the suit.” This was Eddie Ray, telling his story about the girl he met in sporting goods. “Words can’t describe her.”
“You were probably drunk,” said Rossman, and the others laughed. The old friends were hanging at Daffney Ducks, the neighborhood watering hole. Eddie Ray had grown up and lived his entire life—forty-six years—within five miles of this place.
She’d been shopping for a birthday present for her dad. A fly rod. It couldn’t be just any rod, had to be the best. Eddie Ray was so stunned at her beauty, he’d just stood there without saying a word. She’d said, “That’s a great-looking suit you’re wearing. Is it an Armani?”
“Laugh all you want,” he said to his drinking buddies, “but I’ve got a lunch date with her tomorrow.”
“Tell us where,” said Lucas, “and we’ll all give her a ride.” He made an obscene gesture with his hands and hips.
More laughter.
“She ain’t like that. This is a high-class broad. Seriously.”
The blond beauty had asked about his suit, and he couldn’t just stand there and say nothing. Eddie Ray had choked up the courage to say, “I’m not sure of the label, but I got it at the JC Penney’s.” She’d nodded, impressed. Things were going good, so he tried for a joke. “But it cost a hell of a lot more than a penny!” he’d said, then added, “Pardon my French.” It hadn’t mattered about the profanity. “I like that,” she’d said. “You’re funny.”
Now, back at the bar, buying a round of drinks for his skeptical buddies, Eddie said, “I’ll take a picture, and you can judge for yourself.”
“Make sure you get the front end,” said Rossman. “I’ve always wanted to see lipstick on a pig.”
“I’ll take a picture, all right,” said Eddie Ray, “and when you see it, you’re gonna shit!”
They’d talked a few minutes, and he’d picked out the best rod in the store for her. She’d been impressed by his knowledge of the sport. He’d asked her name, and when she said, “Monica,” he said, “I knew a girl named Monica once, back in high school. Real pretty, she was.” Monica had smiled a sly smile and said, “I bet she was your girlfriend,” and he’d winked and said, “You’d win that bet for sure.” They’d laughed, and she’d said, “You probably had lots of girlfriends in high school if you had that cool mullet back then,” and he’d modestly said, “No more’n my share, I expect.” Then he’d told her about being on the football team and how he blew out his knee that last season, and by then they were checking out and he couldn’t help but give her the employee discount, meaning, he bought the rod and let her reimburse him, which she did with cash. Cash he was now blowing on drinks for his friends.
“Hold up,” he said to his friends. “I can only do the first round. I gotta save my dough for my date tomorrow.”
She’d been so grateful for the discount, she felt she should do something to repay him. “Have dinner with me tonight,” he’d said, wondering how those words had escaped from his mouth. She’d said, “Hmm. I can’t have dinner, but if you feel like driving to the city tomorrow, I can meet you for lunch.”
Eddie left the bar early to get himself together for the big date that promised to change his life.
The guys kept drinking and talking, and Lucas tried to take bets on whether or not Eddie Ray’s lunch date would show up tomorrow. No one was taking. They decided Eddie Ray had been the victim of a great-looking broad who was playing him for the discount.
They were wrong.
When Eddie Ray got to the restaurant and asked for Monica, he was handed a small envelope by the hostess. Eddie’s knees went weak, and he had a sinking feeling in his heart. It was a classy rejection, he thought, but a rejection just the same. Of course, there was always a chance she’d gotten tied up with something at the last minute. If so, she wouldn’t have known how to contact him.
So there was a glimmer of hope, Eddie decided. He took the note, walked to an empty chair, sat down, and tried to fight the feeling of rejection that had permeated his life since the day his knee blew out.
The note said she’d ordered a private lunch for them in suite 316.
Eddie raced to the elevators and pressed the button. He didn’t care if it seemed too good to be true. He’d seen several movies where the gorgeous party girl wants to get away from her life and winds up humping the pool boy or the maintenance man. Eddie wasn’t kidding himself; he knew this wasn’t going to be the start of a lasting relationship.
He also knew that when a girl asks you to her hotel room, you don’t say no. She was practically promising him sex, probably after a nice lunch and some flirty conversation. As he knocked on the door, he thought,
Callie had other plans, of course.
