what?”
“Come on, hon, what do you want from an old lady?”
“If I knew an old lady I’d tell you. Do you know what she looks like?”
She thought again. “You know, I do. Chucky said she was pretty; dark and sweet; but heavy-set. That sort of surprised him; I guess that’s why he mentioned it. He said Jimmy’d always gone for the skinny ones, the little lost-looking ones. Alice was real different from Jimmy’s other girls. She’s not part of that crowd, you know, Jimmy and Chucky’s crowd. I don’t think Jimmy was hanging around with them either so much anymore, since he met her.”
“Well, thanks, Ellie. That’ll help.” I reached for my check; only the sandwich was on it.
I paid her, finished my coffee as she made change from the ornate cash register. As I zipped my jacket she put her hand on my arm. “Wait,” she said. “I think I did see Jimmy. I’m not sure, but I think it was him. Chucky told me Jimmy’d bought a truck—one of those stupid things with the big wheels and the light bar on the cab?”
“What about his old van, that he worked on so hard?”
“Oh, he still has that, I think. Anyhow, a truck like Chucky told me about tore through here about two weeks ago as I was coming in. Ran the stoplight, had to drive onto the curb to miss the mail truck coming from Spring Street. I think it was Jimmy’s, but he wasn’t driving. Some girl was.”
“Alice?”
“I don’t think so, not if Chucky was right. This one was small, with lots of blond hair. And laughing, as though tearing around town on two wheels was funnier than anything.”
I kissed her skinny hand. She pulled it back, laughing. Then her face got serious. “Is Jimmy in trouble, hon?”
“I don’t know. But Brinkman’s looking for him, and the state troopers. Just to ask him some questions, for now. But I don’t want Jimmy to do anything stupid if Brinkman finds him.”
“Oh, lord. Sheriff Brinkman would love that, wouldn’t he?”
“Yeah, he would. Keep an eye out for him, will you, Ellie? I’ll see you later.”
I stepped out into the afternoon. Lighting a cigarette, I looked up and down the street. A yellow dog wandered, sniffing, along the sidewalk opposite. The stoplight at Main and Spring changed. No one was at it.
It was a big county. Finding a dark, heavy-set girl named Alice, if that was all I had to go on, could take weeks.
And there was another problem. I had a client. I’d taken Eve Colgate’s money to follow a trail that was already four days old and getting colder by the minute.
I reached in my pocket, found the list of antique shops I’d made a century ago, this morning at Antonelli’s. I looked at my watch. Two o’clock. If I was smart about it, I could get to the places I’d targeted and be back at Antonelli’s by six-thirty or seven. If the place was open—and if I knew Tony, as soon as MacGregor was through with him and MacGregor’s boys were through with his cellar, he’d be open—maybe Tony would talk to me.
If he wouldn’t, maybe the Navy would let Chuck Warren talk to me.
Either way, at least I’d get a drink.
6
ONE OF THE antique shops on my list was in Schoharie, down Main Street from the Park View. A wooden sign in the shape of a sheep hung over the sidewalk. The proprietress, a thin, quick woman, was very nice, but as far as Eve Colgate’s silver, I came up dry. I gave her the number at Antonelli’s, asked her to call me if anything like what I’d described turned up, and left.
I decided to hit the farthest of the other shops first and then work my way back across the county. I U-turned in the middle of Main Street, went south where Main turns into 30 and 30 turns into a four-lane highway. Down here in the valley there was nothing dramatic about this road, but it was fast. Even where it was only two lanes, it had been widened and straightened, something they did to the old roads around here when they didn’t build new ones to bypass them entirely. Now 30 cut
“Come on, hon, what do you want from an old lady?”
“If I knew an old lady I’d tell you. Do you know what she looks like?”
She thought again. “You know, I do. Chucky said she was pretty; dark and sweet; but heavy-set. That sort of surprised him; I guess that’s why he mentioned it. He said Jimmy’d always gone for the skinny ones, the little lost-looking ones. Alice was real different from Jimmy’s other girls. She’s not part of that crowd, you know, Jimmy and Chucky’s crowd. I don’t think Jimmy was hanging around with them either so much anymore, since he met her.”
“Well, thanks, Ellie. That’ll help.” I reached for my check; only the sandwich was on it.
I paid her, finished my coffee as she made change from the ornate cash register. As I zipped my jacket she put her hand on my arm. “Wait,” she said. “I think I did see Jimmy. I’m not sure, but I think it was him. Chucky told me Jimmy’d bought a truck—one of those stupid things with the big wheels and the light bar on the cab?”
“What about his old van, that he worked on so hard?”
“Oh, he still has that, I think. Anyhow, a truck like Chucky told me about tore through here about two weeks ago as I was coming in. Ran the stoplight, had to drive onto the curb to miss the mail truck coming from Spring Street. I think it was Jimmy’s, but he wasn’t driving. Some girl was.”
“Alice?”
“I don’t think so, not if Chucky was right. This one was small, with lots of blond hair. And laughing, as though tearing around town on two wheels was funnier than anything.”
I kissed her skinny hand. She pulled it back, laughing. Then her face got serious. “Is Jimmy in trouble, hon?”
“I don’t know. But Brinkman’s looking for him, and the state troopers. Just to ask him some questions, for now. But I don’t want Jimmy to do anything stupid if Brinkman finds him.”
“Oh, lord. Sheriff Brinkman would love that, wouldn’t he?”
“Yeah, he would. Keep an eye out for him, will you, Ellie? I’ll see you later.”
I stepped out into the afternoon. Lighting a cigarette, I looked up and down the street. A yellow dog wandered, sniffing, along the sidewalk opposite. The stoplight at Main and Spring changed. No one was at it.
It was a big county. Finding a dark, heavy-set girl named Alice, if that was all I had to go on, could take weeks.
And there was another problem. I had a client. I’d taken Eve Colgate’s money to follow a trail that was already four days old and getting colder by the minute.
I reached in my pocket, found the list of antique shops I’d made a century ago, this morning at Antonelli’s. I looked at my watch. Two o’clock. If I was smart about it, I could get to the places I’d targeted and be back at Antonelli’s by six-thirty or seven. If the place was open—and if I knew Tony, as soon as MacGregor was through with him and MacGregor’s boys were through with his cellar, he’d be open—maybe Tony would talk to me.
If he wouldn’t, maybe the Navy would let Chuck Warren talk to me.
Either way, at least I’d get a drink.
6
ONE OF THE antique shops on my list was in Schoharie, down Main Street from the Park View. A wooden sign in the shape of a sheep hung over the sidewalk. The proprietress, a thin, quick woman, was very nice, but as far as Eve Colgate’s silver, I came up dry. I gave her the number at Antonelli’s, asked her to call me if anything like what I’d described turned up, and left.
I decided to hit the farthest of the other shops first and then work my way back across the county. I U-turned in the middle of Main Street, went south where Main turns into 30 and 30 turns into a four-lane highway. Down here in the valley there was nothing dramatic about this road, but it was fast. Even where it was only two lanes, it had been widened and straightened, something they did to the old roads around here when they didn’t build new ones to bypass them entirely. Now 30 cut
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