'Bulldog?'
'Bullfrog,' he said. 'Then disappeared like a government check in East Austin. Not even a broken Thunderbird bottle left behind. Plus, that murdering son of a bitch who came in with you last month, he said her name, and I knew that Duval used to hang out with her.'
'Let me ask you something else,' I said. 'Why do you think Mr. Long went for his pistol?'
'Well, Billy Long was always pretty touchy and…'
'And?'
'He hated niggers,' he said, 'and I suspect that one in particular. Maybe they'd had some trouble over business or something. Maybe a woman.'
'And you, Mr. Wilbur?'
'What about me?'
'You ever have any trouble with Duval or Walker?'
'Hell, man, I just work here, and to folks like that, we're all niggers of one sort or another.'
As soon as afternoon visiting hours at Breckenridge Hospital started, I went up to check out Renfro. He lay propped up in bed, the tangle of tubes gone, and his right hand in a small cast. The small ponytailed man sat beside his bed, fussing over him. Renfro introduced us.
'I guess I should thank you for saving his worthless hide,' Richie said. 'But what he was doing out there in the middle of the night, I hesitate to guess. He just won't take care of himself, no matter what, I -'
'I'm going to be fine,' Renfro interrupted, holding up his hand. 'Spleen's fine, and the bullet just clipped the big bone in the middle of my hand. I'll be out of the cast in six weeks.'
'Just missed the ligament by a hair,' Richie continued breathlessly. 'Would have ruined his hand. Forever.'
'Richie, darling, would you get me a Coke?' Renfro said. 'Mr. Milodragovitch, you want something?' I shook my head as Richie headed for the door. 'And that's a real Coke, Richie, not a diet one.' Richie paused long enough to give Renfro a disgusted look, then hustled away. 'If I'd wanted a Jewish mother,' he said, 'I'd have had one. Jeez. Any word from Sissy?'
'Nothing,' I lied. 'You said she had some sort of secret income, some kind of sugar daddy.'
'Yeah, she's been pretty flush the last five or six years,' he said, 'ever since she quit selling lots for Hayden Lomax, but she never said a word about where it came from.'
'I didn't know she worked for Lomax,' I said, then suggested, 'she must have been highly motivated to keep her mouth shut.'
'You know, that makes sense,' he said, then chuckled. 'You'd probably have to shove dirt into her mouth to keep her quiet.'
He didn't know how right he was. 'Her money's safe. I'll get it back to you in a few days,' I said. He might need it for hospital bills. He'd certainly earned it. 'You take care.'
'Hey, man, I'm going home tomorrow, you know,' he said, then looked terribly embarrassed. 'Thank you again.'
'What for?'
'Saving my life, man.'
'Part of the job description,' I said, then waved goodbye, and left quickly before Richie could return to give me another lecture about Renfro's bad habits. I had enough of my own.
I called Cathy from a pay phone in the hospital lobby. She didn't sound all that glad to hear from me, but it had been that kind of day.
'Have you seen her?' I asked.
'I picked her up at the airport,' she said coldly.
'How is she?'
'Mad enough to chew up ten-penny nails and shit upholstery tacks.'
'I guess I just didn't do what she wanted me to do.'
'You've always been pretty good at that, haven't you?'
'You could say that,' I said.
'Well, she's my oldest friend, man, and you're just some guy I did drugs with and fucked,' she said.
'So I'm not on the old friend list, huh?' I asked, followed by an empty chuckle. Her silence was answer enough. 'When she stops spitting tacks,' I said, 'tell her to give me a call. I should be back by then.'
Cathy just sighed, said she'd try, then added, 'How's your back?'
'It's there.'
'I could give you another number.'
'It wouldn't be the same, honey,' I said, and this time I hung up without saying goodbye.
Molly's face brightened when I showed up with two paper bags hanging from my hands. A bag full of sandwiches and salads from Central Market and a bag full of detective novels from Bookstop, but I wouldn't let her look in the bags until I cleaned up her wound and replaced the butterfly bandages.
Tough as she was, I suspected she'd be a whiner about this part. I loosened the butterflies with alcohol. When I tried to get to the hole in her ear, she squealed like a baby.
'If you're going to be a sissy about this,' I said, 'I'll bet I can find some tin snips and just cut the goddamned thing off.'
'Well, it hurts,' she said. 'I don't mind big pains, but these little stinging things drive me as crazy as swamp skeeters.' She stayed quiet, though, until I finished the rest of the job. 'What's the verdict?'
'You'll live,' I said. 'You've got good bones and great skin. You'll be lovely into your old age.'
'Thank you,' she said, smiling. 'Can I ask you something?'
'Ask, and I'll tell you.'
'What did you mean about my Daddy knowing how unpleasant you could be?'
'The first time I found him in Houston, he tried to kick me in the nuts while a crowd of drunks held me down,' I said. 'The second time, he tried to hit me with a Scotch bottle. I broke his jaw and knocked out half a dozen teeth.'
'Poor old Rollie,' she said, 'he never had any luck, the cathead tongs took his arm, the drinking took his bar, then the government took his boat.' She broke into a thoughtful smile. 'You son of a bitch, you remembered the address on the card, didn't you?' I nodded. 'When you took that old man down that way, I guess I should have realized that you had more than muscle between your ears.' I nodded again. 'I wondered how the hell you found me.'
'You dropped so many hints, lady, that it almost seemed you wanted me to find you.'
'What an odd idea,' she said. 'What the hell makes you think that?'
'Just guessing,' I said. 'And also just guessing that Rollie Molineaux isn't really your father.'
'He took my mother and me in,' she said quietly, 'he gave me his name, raised me from a pup after she died, and he was always as good to me as he could be. He never judged me and he always tried to help. Whatever kind of trouble I managed to stir up. You can't ask for more than that.'
'He's pretty tough for a one-armed guy.'
'He's pretty tough, period,' she said. 'He and another guy beat a man to death in the parking lot outside the bar when I was a kid.'
'The other guy wouldn't be Jimmy Fish?' I said, guessing.
'How the hell did you come up with that?'
'Just a guess,' I said. 'I've got to go out of town this afternoon and I can't get back until about this time tomorrow.'
'I get to go home then?'
'You get to go home when I find out what the hell is going on.'
'Oh, you'll get tired of having me around,' she said. 'Everybody does, eventually.'
'You going to be all right?' I said as I handed her the bags.
'I'll be fine,' she said. 'I noticed that you slept on the floor last night. Somebody cleaned the critters out of the corn?'
'I wouldn't know,' I said. 'Don't make too much noise,' I added. 'Right now not too many people know you're
