‘’Sides,’ Sue said, ‘I think her husband done the dirty deed.’
Neal gave her a look.
‘Yup,’ she said, and bobbed her head.
‘I know who did it, and it wasn’t Vince Conrad. It was the guy I shot. Rasputin.’
‘So who’s to say Conrad didn’t like hire yer Rasputin to do it?’
‘There’s no reason to think he did,’ Neal told her.
‘Ya hear how he talked?’
‘He sounded upset.’
‘Well, he’s an actor. Guy like that, I betcha he can turn it on and off like a faucet. Anyways, I thought he sounded real phoney. Ya know? Like he was too sad.’
‘She was his wife.’
‘Yeah, but they was separated, right? Gonna get divorced?’
‘Apparently.’
‘Well, there ya go.’ She gave Neal a quick, decisive nod, as if she’d just proven her case.
‘People get divorced all the time,’ Neal pointed out.
‘Only sometimes they just go and slit their wife’s throat, instead.’
‘That’s fairly rare,’ Neal said. ‘Even in Brentwood.’
‘Sure’s convenient, ol’ Vince just happenin to be in Hawaii when she got herself murdered. I mean, ya can’t find yerself much of a better alibi than that.’
‘Doesn’t prove anything.’
‘Ya ever see him in the movies?’
‘Conrad? Sure.’
‘Makes my skin crawl.’ As if to prove her point, she grimaced and writhed.
Neal saw goosebumps rise on the back of her right forearm. And as he looked, he noticed the mellow tan of her arm, and how it had a fine layer of golden, downy hair.
Sue let go of the steering wheel with one hand, and rubbed the arm as if trying to make the bumps go away.
‘Ya ever see him in that Dead Eyes movie?’ she asked.
‘Yeah.’
‘Didn’t he just give ya the worst kinda creeps?’
‘He was supposed to. He’s an actor. It was just a role he was playing. Look at all the creeps Karloff played, but everyone says he was the greatest guy . . . a real gentleman, sensitive, kind . . .’
‘Well, Conrad ain’t no Karloff. He’s just a weird creep, ya ask me.’
‘Which doesn’t make him a killer,’ Neal said.
‘How come yer stickin up for him?’
‘I just don’t see any reason to think he had a hand in it. You should see this Rasputin character. I mean, I hope to God you never do, but . . . he sure didn’t seem like someone who’d been hired. He’s a sadistic degenerate.’
‘Now that there’s a reward, we gotta get him.’
Neal stared at her.
‘Ya know?’ Letting go of the wheel with her right hand, she reached out and gently rapped Neal on the upper arm. ‘How ’bout it? We can split the reward fifty-fifty.’
‘Twenty-five thousand each,’ Neal said.
‘That’s a brand new four-wheel-drive Jeep Cherokee for me. How ’bout you? What’ll ya get yerself?’
Neal shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I’d probably put it in the bank, save it for a down payment on a house.’
‘There ya go! A nice, big ol’ house fer you and Marta. Ya gonna marry her?’
‘Eventually, I guess.’
‘Whatcha waitin on?’
‘My career to take off. I can’t marry someone when she’s making more money than I am. I’d have to be able to support her.’
‘Well, first ya get the reward for this Rasputin guy, then ya write up a movie about it, and yer gonna be rollin in dough.’
‘It’s a thought,’ he admitted.
‘How ’bout we turn this buggy ’round right now, and head on back to Los Angeles . . .?’
‘What about the Fort?’ Neal asked.
‘If we wanta get that reward, we gotta act quick ’fore somebody else beats us to the punch.’
‘I don’t know how we’d go about finding him, anyway.’
‘Well, he’s gonna come after you, ain’t he? Ya said how he’s got yer address. What we gotta do is be there, all set to catch him when he shows up.’
‘There’s no telling when he might decide to come after me,’ Neal pointed out. ‘Since he didn’t do it right away . . . My guess is, he’s probably laying low somewhere, too badly hurt to worry about me. So it might be . . . who knows? A few days . . . even weeks . . . before he drops in on my place.’
‘Well, we wanta be there when he does.’
‘Right now,’ Neal said, ‘we’re only a two or three hour drive from the Fort. It’d take us six if we went back to L.A. So why don’t we just go on ahead? I mean, I want to see the Fort. Don’t you?’
‘Well, sure.’
‘We can do the place, find a motel or something and spend the night, then worry about all this other stuff tomorrow. How does that sound?’
‘Well, okay.’
‘Good.’ He yawned. ‘Now let me get a little rest. I’ll take over the driving in a while.’
‘Okey-doke.’
He settled down in his seat, shut his eyes, and yawned again. He felt as if he’d been worn out by so much talking to Sue.
It’s going to be a long day, he thought.
Everything’s gotten so complicated.
All he’d wanted to do was get away from Los Angeles and his problems about the murder – go off and hide from the police and Rasputin . . . even from Marta.
A few days, a week maybe. Solitude and quiet so he would have a chance not only to recover from his wounds, but to figure out what he should do next.
A chance to play with the bracelet, too.
So much for all that, he thought.
Maybe we should go back and try to nail Rasputin.
Tomorrow, he told himself. Or the day after. No big hurry.
In a vague and tired way, he wondered if he should try to get separate rooms for the night.
Better, he thought. Stay in the same room, what’ll I tell Marta?
Even if we don’t sleep together . . .
Neal fell asleep.
He woke up suddenly when the brakes screamed and he was thrown against his safety harness.
He couldn’t see what the trouble was.
‘Sorry ’bout that,’ Sue said.
‘Jeez! What happened?’
‘Some ol’ kitty-cat run out. Thank God I missed him.’ She glowered at the rearview mirror.
‘Scared the hell out of me,’ Neal said. His heart was still slamming.
‘Well, I’da hated to just squish the thing. I like kitties.’
Neal inhaled deeply and tried to calm down. ‘I didn’t know what was going on.’
‘Anyway, I was wantin to wake ya up. I’m starvin, and we’re comin to a town pretty soon. Wanta stop and get us some lunch, maybe?’
‘Sure, I guess so. How long was I asleep?’
‘Oh, I reckon maybe ten minutes.’ She grinned at him. ‘Do ya feel refreshed?’
He laughed. ‘I’m wide awake, that’s for sure.’
A few minutes later, they stopped at a place called Yosemite Slim’s Café in the town of Lee Vining. Neal wasn’t terribly hungry, so he ordered a plate of hot wings. He wanted a beer to go with it. He figured he would soon be driving, though, so he went for a Pepsi, instead. Sue asked for a bacon-cheeseburger, chilli fries, and a Pepsi.
Their drinks were brought right away. While they sipped and waited for the food, Sue glanced around at the other customers.
‘Ya got the bracelet on ya?’
‘In my pocket. But we’re not going to use it here, if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘Just for a second, okay? Kid over there’s got himself a milkshake. I wanta see how it tastes.’
‘You could’ve ordered one.’
‘Ya got any notion the calories in a shake?’
‘Y’got any notion the calories in a bacon-cheeseburger and chilli fries?’
Sue laughed. ‘Well, ya gotta draw the line someplace, or ya turn out fat as a blimp.
C’mon. Reach it to me under the table.’
Again, Neal hated to seem like a stodgy old stick-in-the-mud. If they were sitting in chairs . . . but they weren’t; they sat across from each other in a booth.
Neal couldn’t think of a good reason to refuse her request.
If she wants to do it, why not let her?
‘Okay,’ he said. As he took the bracelet out of his pocket, he told her to lean against the wall and brace herself. ‘You don’t want to fall under the table.’
He reached out beneath the table, and felt Sue pluck the bracelet from his fingers.
‘Thanks,’ she whispered. Grinning, she wiggled her eyebrows at him. She scooted sideways a bit, and leaned to the left until her upper arm met the wall.
‘Here goes,’ she whispered.
Neal felt like a conspirator, a partner in crime. His heartbeat quickened as Sue lowered her head.
‘Coast clear?’ she asked.
Neal glanced around. Nobody seemed to be approaching or watching. ‘Yep.’
Sue raised her right arm. She was wearing the bracelet. She brushed her wrist across her lips and suddenly went limp. Her arm dropped out of sight.
She looked as if she’d fallen asleep.
Trying to appear casual, Neal sipped some Pepsi up through his straw.
Sue started to sink.
Oh, my God!
Though she still leaned against the wall and seat cushion, she was going down – her rump sliding forward, slipping out from under her.
Neal flung his right leg sideways and blocked her knees.
She stopped sliding.
But she was already dangerously slumped. Her breasts were level with the table’s edge. Neal supposed that half her rump must be off the seat. The pressure against his leg seemed to be increasing.
Turning his head, he spotted the kid with the milkshake. The boy sat at a table with his family, his right side toward Neal.
No way to catch the boy’s eye.
Never should’ve let her do this.
Get back here! he shouted in his mind.
The kid took a big bite out of a hot dog.
Is that even where she went? Maybe she decided on someone else. Maybe she’s in me. ‘Sue? You in here? Hello? If you’re in here, get the hell out. Right now! You’re falling under the damn table!’
Neal’s leg, all that held her up, was starting to tremble from the awkward position and the strain of her weight.
He coughed loudly.
Several people turned and glanced at him. Even the kid’s mother. Not the kid, though; he was blithely stretching his mouth open wide for another bite of the wiener.
Neal wondered if there might be a way to pull the bracelet off Sue’s wrist.
No. Her right arm hung at her side. Though he couldn’t see the bracelet, it was obviously down beside her hip – the table in the way. No way to reach it without drawing all sorts of attention.
Get back here, Sue!
Damn it!
The kid was now picking up his milkshake.
The mother noticed Neal glaring at the boy.
He smiled at her and looked away fast.
This is what I get!
Sue!
He jerked his leg upward, freeing it from the push of her knees.
She slid fast.
Too fast.
Neal tried to stop her, but couldn’t.
He blurted, ‘Watch out!’
The edge of the table clipped Sue’s chin so hard that the table shook, the silverware rattled, and ice cubes clinked inside their Pepsi glasses. The blow knocked her head backward. A moment later, she vanished under the table.
Everybody looked.
Including the kid.
Ducking, Neal peered under the table. Sue was scrunched in the narrow space, her back against the booth, one knee up, her other leg shoved sideways at an awkward angle as if she’d fallen in the act of trying to kick Neal in the shin.
Her panties were white.
Her throat was red with blood.
Twenty-Seven
Neal opened the car door for Sue.
She muttered, ‘Thanks,’ and climbed in. He shut the door.
As he strapped himself into the driver’s seat, he looked at her. She met his eyes with a hurt, accusing stare.
She wore a bandage on her chin.
The blue of her chambray shirt was still dark in front with moisture from the washing she’d given it in the restroom. With the help of the waitress, she’d apparently been able to get out most of the blood.
‘I’m really sorry,’ Neal told her.
He’d already said it a dozen times during their meal – and been answered by a stare. Though they’d both eaten, Neal hadn’t been able to enjoy the taste of his hot wings; he’d felt too sick with guilt.
‘I thought ya was s’pose to be a nice guy,’ Sue said.
‘I usually am,’ he told her through the tightness in his throat. Shaking his head, he started the car. As he drove out of the parking lot, he said, ‘I don’t know why I did that to you. I was angry, and . . . I didn’t mean for you to get hurt.’
‘Well, I did.’
‘I know.’ His eyes stung. Not for the first time since letting her fall. ‘I just wish there was some way to take it back.’
‘There never is. I been hurt by guys before, and they’re always so sorry later on. But that don’t make it go away.’
‘It wasn’t like I beat you up,’ he protested, annoyed at finding himself lumped in with others. ‘I just got tired of holding you up. It was your own fault just as much as mine. You were only supposed to be gone for a minute. If I hadn’t been so quick to act, you would’ve fallen under the table right away.’
‘Yer real good at savin gals fer a little while.’
‘Oh, thank you. Very nice.’
She turned her head and looked out the passenger window.
Down the hillside from the road was Mono Lake, California’s version of the Great Salt Lake. Neal had seen it many years ago, but didn’t remember it being so large.
‘That’s Mono Lake,’ he told Sue, hoping to take her mind off the incident at the restaurant.
‘I know.’
‘Pretty, isn’t it?’
‘No. It’s spooky-lookin. Like it oughta be someplace on the moon.’
‘Would you like to go down for a closer look? I think there’s an access road just ahead.’
‘No.’
‘It’s salt water, you know. It’s so salty that it won’t let you sink.’
‘I ain’t aimin to swim in the thing. If I was aimin to swim, I wouldn’t wanta go in, anyhow, ’cause of my cut chin.’
‘I sure wish I could remember what Mark Twain wrote about it.’
‘What, my chin?’
‘Mono Lake. He wrote all sorts of stuff about it in Roughing It. I read the book a couple of years ago, but . . .’
‘I shouldn’t of said it,’ she interrupted, turning to face him.
‘Shouldn’t have said what?’
‘That about . . . not savin gals. It was a low-down, dirty crack. I’m sorry.’
‘Well . . . thank you.’
‘Anyhow, reckon I did stay in that kid too long. Sorry ’bout that, too.’
She’s trying to make up. This is great!
‘How was the milkshake?’ Neal asked.
A corner of her mouth lifted. ‘Never got more than a sip. The dang thing was so thick, the poor little snot couldn’t hardly get it up his straw. Thought he was gonna suck his eyeballs in. It sure was a tasty hot dog, though. Flame broiled, ya know, so its skin was all crispy. Mmmm.’
‘Glad you enjoyed it.’
‘Not sure it was worth gettin my chin split open.’
Neal took a deep breath. ‘We both need to be a lot more careful about when we use the bracelet.’
She grinned. ‘We sure raised some commotion, though, huh?’
‘God almighty,’ Neal muttered, shaking his head. ‘That fat guy was bound and determined
to call the paramedics.’
‘How ’bout that little girl started bawlin her head off?’
‘You think that’s funny?’
‘Didn’t amuse me at the time,’ she said, and laughed.
‘In retrospect, however,’ Neal pointed out, ‘there’s not much that’s funnier than making a little girl cry.’
Sue laughed harder. Then she winced and cupped a hand against her chin. It seemed to take a few moments for the pain to subside. Then she said, ‘Ya know what the really bad part was? Bein down there kinda trapped like that, and everybody gawping down at my drawers.’
‘Your drawers?’
‘My undies. My panties.’
‘I know what drawers are. I’m just surprised you do. Only not very. Where’d you pick up a word like that?’
‘It’s what my pappy called ’em.’
‘Ah.’
‘Anyhow, ya don’t exactly feel like the Queen of the Hop when yer down on yer back like that showin off yer skivvies to every dink in ten counties.’
‘They looked fine,’ Neal said.
Blushing, Sue said, ‘Well, thank ya very much.’
Ahead was the turn-off that led to the shore of Mono Lake, so Neal said, ‘Are you sure you don’t want to go over to the water? We have plenty of time. As it is, we’ll probably reach the Fort before two o’clock. You usually can’t check in to a motel or anything before three.’
Sue lifted her eyebrows and the corners of her mouth. ‘Ya gonna tell ’em I’m yer wife?’ she asked.
‘We don’t have rings.’
‘Well, that didn’t stop ya back at Yosemite Slim’s.’
‘I had to tell them something. They were starting to think I’d kidnapped you.’
‘We could get us rings at a souvenir shop,’ Sue said. ‘Or we could tell ’em I’m yer sister.’
Neal suddenly thought about Karen and Darren.
‘Lord, no,’ he said. ‘The last thing I’d want is to have people think I’m shacking up with my sister.’
‘Well then, I’ll just go ahead and be yer wife.’
‘That’d be better. Or we could get separate rooms.’
‘No! I don’t wanta stay all by myself at some ol’ motel. I’d hate it. Anyhow, it’d cost twice as much. Thanks but no thanks. I’ll be yer wife, thanks all the same. Nobody’s gonna care, anyhow, if we ain’t got rings. Shoot, ain’t nobody gonna care if we’re even married or not.’