He didn’t say anything else. He just watched me get into my truck. I drove half a block south and parked out on the street because the lot was so full. This was the place to be on a night in Orcus Beach, I guessed. Of course, like the gas station, you didn’t have much choice.
When I got out, I looked back up the street. Stu was still standing there by the pump, watching me. I gave him a wave. He didn’t wave back.
Rocky’s was a big wooden place, made up like a mountain chalet, though the nearest mountains were the Porcupines, a good three hundred miles away. There was a big plastic deer mounted right over the door, looking down at me. I stepped into the place, saw a lot of men in plaid flannel. Most of the women were in blue denim. I took a seat by the window. I could see the parking lot and the street, all the way down to the gas station. Stu wasn’t standing there anymore.
A waitress came over and gave me the first genuine smile I had seen all day. I ordered a beer and hoped she would move with all speed to get it. While she was doing that, I looked the place over. There was a big horseshoe- shaped bar attached to the far wall, and tables spread out haphazardly until you hit the pool table and dartboards in one corner and the big screen TV in the other. A Tiger game was on, but I couldn’t hear it over some horrible crap music coming from the jukebox. A kid who looked maybe fifteen years old was standing over the jukebox, picking out more horrible crap music to entertain everybody. One good reason to miss Jackie’s place.
The waitress brought over the beer and a glass. I ordered a cheeseburger and then poured the beer in the glass and drank half of it. It wasn’t bad, and Lord knows, I needed it, but it wasn’t Canadian. Another good reason to miss Jackie’s place.
I sat there for a while, waiting for the food to show up. I watched the game and tried to ignore the music. A heavy cloud of smoke hung in the air. It seemed like half the people in the place had cigarettes going at once. If there was a nonsmoking section, it must have been out in the parking lot.
The music stopped. For a few blissful seconds, there was nothing but the sound of people talking and laughing, and Ernie Harwell’s voice on the television set, calling the game. The Tigers were actually winning.
And then I saw her. She was sitting at the bar, on the farthest side of the horseshoe. She was alone, an empty bar stool on either side of her. She was smoking a cigarette and reading something on the bar in front of her.
I had seen Maria’s daughter. Randy was right. There was no mistaking the bloodlines. But even if I hadn’t…
Would I have known? Would I have taken one look at her and known that this was the woman Randy was looking for?
She looked up as the jukebox started again. I saw her face, the same face that Randy had seen thirty years before. Her hair was dark and pulled back over both ears. Her eyes were dark, as Randy had said, but there was something else about them-something slow and deliberate, something that Randy hadn’t been able to describe. You had to see it for yourself. The bartender said something to her and she smiled and then went back to her reading.
I watched her for a while. The door opened and a man came into the place. Stu, from the gas station. He looked around the room and spotted me, then looked away. He went and grabbed a man who was sitting at the bar. I would have bet anything this man was Rocky, the owner of the place. With his hand on Rocky’s back, Stu bent his head down and said something to him. Rocky looked up at him and then did a professional job of looking back at me without really looking.
I watched Rocky lean over the bar and say something to the bartender. Then I watched the bartender go over to the cash register, which happened to be a few feet away from Maria. He didn’t face her, but the way she looked up at him told me he was talking to her. She listened to him for a few seconds; then she looked over at my side of the room. When she caught my eye, she didn’t look away. She stared right at me for a long moment. I stared right back at her.
We didn’t get the chance to see who would blink first, because Rocky appeared in front of me. He was about my size and around my age, but he obviously spent a lot more time taking care of himself. There was an anchor tattooed on his left arm, faded with age. “You the one who ordered a cheeseburger?” he said.
“Nice place you got here,” I said.
“We’re out of cheese,” he said.
“Not a problem.”
“We’re out of hamburger, too.”
“What about the bun?” I said. “Are you out of buns?”
“We’ve got buns,” he said. “You can have a bun with catsup on it. Or maybe you’d better just hit the road and find another place to eat.”
“A place that isn’t out of cheese and hamburger,” I said.
“Exactly. That’s what I’d do if I were you.” The man folded his big arms and looked down at me. Over at the bar, I could see the bartender watching me. Stu kept watching me from the front door.
“I appreciate the information,” I said. “Let me finish my beer and I’ll be on my way.”
He held his ground like he was making up his mind about it, then slowly backed away from my table and went back to the bar. He sat himself on a bar stool, turning around so he could keep an eye on me. Stu gave me one last look, then went out the front door.
Five minutes passed. Maria sat on the far side of the bar, an odd little smile on her face. The bartender stayed right next to her. He wasn’t moving, no matter how many people wanted to order a drink. Rocky kept watching me. I kept sitting there, looking out the window into the night, wondering what the hell I was doing there and what I would do next. Getting in my truck and never coming back was beginning to feel like the right answer.
Before I could make up my mind, Rocky got up and went over to Maria. He bent down and said something to her. When she stood up, he offered her his arm. He walked her to the door and took her coat off a rack by the front register. As he helped her into it, khe looked at me and gave me another little smile.
I watched them through the window. In the dim light of the parking lot, I saw them walking to her car, a red Mustang convertible with the top up. Rocky held the door open for her. She got in and he closed the door. As she was pulling away, I took my little pad of paper out of my coat and wrote down the number on her license plate.
She drove out of the parking lot and turned left on the main road. Then I saw another car pull out behind her. It was a white Cadillac.
A white Cadillac.
Bells went off in my head. Where had I just heard about a white Cadillac?
I stood up and looked out the window. The license number. Could I see it from there? I read it to myself. SBV… Is that a V or a Y? Goddamn it all.
I wrote down the number, as best as I could make it out. I put a question mark over the V.
A white Cadillac. In the basement, Leopold had said something about a white Cadillac outside their house.
I threw a couple bills on the table and went to the front door. Rocky was just coming in. “What’s the hurry?” he said. “I thought you were going to finish your beer?”
“I’m all set, thanks,” I said.
“Let me take your check,” he said. He was blocking the door, and doing a damned good job of it.
“The money’s on the table,” I said.
“Let me get you your change, then.”
“Keep the change,” I said. “The service here is first-rate.”
“Very well,” he said. “Have a pleasant trip. Wherever you’re going.” He gave me one last look, like he wanted to make sure he’d remember my face. Then he stepped away and let me out the door.
When I got to my truck, something didn’t look right. I stood there looking at it from top to bottom. When I got to ground level, I saw my problem. Both tires were flat. I went over to the other side of the car. The other two tires were flat, too. I wasn’t going anywhere. I slammed my fist down on the hood.
When I was done counting to ten, I knelt down and looked at the tires. There didn’t seem to be any damage. Somebody had just let all the air out.
I got in the truck and rode it on the rims back to the gas station. When I got there, my man Stu was sitting
