Fast Lane

Chapter 24

The next day I rented a car and was parked across the street from Charlie’s Silver Dollar Bar by eleven thirty. There was probably no reason to rent the car-I was sure the old man hadn’t bothered to find out what type I had-but there was no reason to take any chances.

A few minutes before noon I saw him hobbling down the street towards the bar. When he got to the door, he jerked his head around suspiciously and then pushed his way through.

I took out a pair of binoculars and watched him through the storefront window. He was sitting facing the door, hunched forward with his hands gripping the edge of the table for support. I settled back in the car and got myself comfortable for the wait.

After about an hour, he got up and took a few steps towards the door. He hesitated, and then glanced around before sitting back down. That seemed to develop into a ritual he repeated every ten minutes. By two o’clock he was shaking and twitching pretty bad. He broke down then and had himself a drink. After that first drink he had some more.

It was three o’clock before he walked out of the bar. Stepping outside he froze for a moment, uncertainty clouding his face. He seemed to have shrunk since entering the bar, and watching him hobble down the street reminded me of a whipped dog. He had that same beaten look about him.

I put the car in first gear and kept fifty yards behind him. I didn’t have to follow him long-he stepped inside a three-story flophouse only a block from the bar.

I pulled the car over and sprinted to the front door. I stood quietly and listened. He was on the staircase, and I counted his footsteps. Eighteen of them. When the sounds faded, I counted to ten and raced up the stairs. Eighteen steps took me to the third floor. I flattened myself against the wall and peered down the hallway. He was still there, slowly stumbling along. Then he stopped, took a key from his pocket, opened the door he was standing in front of and stepped inside. After the door closed, I walked over to it. Room thirty-nine. I gave the lock a quick once-over. It was a five-buck special; it wouldn’t take more than a screwdriver to get past it.

I could’ve taken care of things then and there, but as I mentioned before there was no reason to take any risks. All I had to do was show a little patience and everything would be just fine. I now knew where to find Bert Debbles. A seven-buck-a-night flophouse, where the drug addicts and bums wouldn’t find anything unusual about a ruckus coming from a neighboring room.

* * * * *

I had myself an early dinner. A full slab of ribs, French fries, and two big pieces of chocolate cake. After that, I sat for a while over a few beers and then had some coffee. I was feeling pretty good. By the time I left the restaurant it was nine o’clock. I headed to a pool hall and played for a few hours, losing a hundred bucks to a seventeen-year-old hustler. That was okay, just a way to kill some time. By the time I got home it was past midnight.

There were about a dozen messages on my answering machine where the caller paused but decided not to say anything. Probably the old man dying to give me a piece of his addled mind. It was funny though, nothing from Mary. She hadn’t tried calling my office either. I guess she must’ve decided to give me the full two weeks before contacting me.

I lay down and waited, and Bert Debbles didn’t disappoint me. Within twenty minutes the phone rang.

I answered it.

“Just who do you think you’re playing with?” he rasped. I could visualize his face, all red and quivering with rage. “You think I’m an idjit, do you? I’m going right back home and see the police about you!”

“Hold on,” I insisted. “I spent all day trying to raise that money and only got home five minutes ago. I asked for a way of getting a hold of you, but you wouldn’t tell me.”

“You got the fifteen thousand dollars?”

“I got a little over eleven thousand. That’s all I could raise.”

“That ain’t good enough!”

“What do you want from me?” I said. “I got all I could out of my house. I hit up everyone I know for loans. There’s nothing else.”

There was a long pause, which he ended by swearing. When he was through, I asked if he wanted me to give him the money now.

“No. Give it to me tomorrow. Same place. Noon. And boy, you better be there!”

“I can’t,” I said. “I have to go out of town tomorrow. We’ll have to make it the next day.”

“Lookie, I ain’t fooling around!”

“Well, old man,” I said, “if I don’t do what I have to, my career’s finished anyways. It wouldn’t matter to me if you sold my life story to the tabloids. The following day, or go to hell.”

There was more silence and then he said I’d better show up the following day, that he wasn’t going to take any more crap from a worthless bastard like myself.

I did have things that needed to be done, but they probably wouldn’t take more than a few hours. I figured it wouldn’t hurt the old man none to let him sweat one more day.

* * * * *

The next morning I called Jerry Bry at his office. When he got on the phone, he asked me to listen carefully and then slammed the receiver down. It was a pretty childish trick and I shook my head sadly thinking about it.

Well, I had to talk to him. I got dressed and headed downtown. I stood across the street from his office building and waited. Around noon he stepped outside. I followed right behind him, and I guess he must’ve had too much on his mind because he didn’t notice me.

I was going to tap him on the shoulder and suggest we find a quiet place to talk, but he saved me the trouble by walking into an alleyway to cut across the block. I followed him into it, and stepped on the heel of his shoe.

“Hey!” he shouted “What the hell-” He turned and saw me.

“Hello, Jerry,” I said. “I tried calling you earlier but I guess we had a bad line.”

“You’re asking for trouble!” He tried to push his way past me but I grabbed him and shoved him against the wall. I then slapped him with the back of my hand. Three times across the face. Hard enough to stun him, but not hard enough to leave any marks.

“That’s not a nice way to talk to a friend,” I said. “How’s the wife?” He looked at me stupidly. “She’s just fine.” A nasty smile slowly twisted his lips. “And how’s that girl, Mary Williams?”

I didn’t say anything. I had his jacket lapel wrapped in my hands. I pushed hard against it.

“You sent her to me,” he said. “What did you expect?”

“Not that. It was a pretty stupid stunt you pulled. I ought to kick your teeth in for it.”

“Hey, look. Get your hands off me!”

I tightened my hold. His smile stayed frozen on his face but started looking a little sick.

“Come on,” he pleaded. “Let go, okay?”

The sight of him was turning my stomach. I let go. He adjusted his jacket. “That was a hot little piece of ass you sent me,” he said, his smirk coming back to his lips. “I’ll play daddy for her any time. I’ll be glad to put her on my knee and spank her whenever she wants. You tell her that.”

“You dirty-”

“Yeah?” he asked. “What are going to do about it? You want to talk to my wife, go right ahead, but I’ll have a talk with my daughter afterwards.”

He must have misunderstood my expression, reading something other than contempt from my face. “How does it feel?” he asked, his voice breaking out into an ugly laugh.

“I won’t have to talk to your wife,” I said. “The police will be doing it for me. Mary wants to file attempted rape charges against you.”

It took several seconds for my statement to register, but when it did, it left his face dull and flabby. “She wouldn’t do something like that,” he said.

“I’m afraid she would. How are you going to explain it to your wife?”

A hurt look played on his mouth. “You better make sure she doesn’t. It will all come out if she does. All of it.”

I clenched my teeth. “You’re going to talk to Mary again. I don’t know what you’re going to say, but whatever it is, it better be good. This time you’re going to convince her you’re her daddy and that you’re just plain confused about what you did.”

I wish it could’ve been that easy, but no amount of convincing would change Mary’s mind. But I sure wished it could be that way. “You’re going to get down on your knees and lick her boots if you have to,” I went on. “For the first goddamn time in your life you’re going to act like a human being. And you better give a damn good performance.”

Bry was accepting my order grimly. “Give me her number and I’ll call her,” he said.

I shook my head. “I’m going to be there when you talk to her. And brother, if you don’t convince her you’ll be crapping out teeth for days.”

I took a step away from him. “I’ll be bringing her over to your house tomorrow night,” I said. “Around eight. It would be a good idea if your wife had plans for then.”

I walked out of the alley leaving him nodding dully.

* * * * *

I spent the rest of the day at the office. It’s funny, but there always seems to be a pile of chores that need to be done. I chipped away at them, and before I knew it the sun had gone down and it was ten o’clock.

Before leaving, I unlocked the bottom drawer of my desk. All folks in my line of work have at least one untraceable gun-they’re goddamned liars if they tell you they don’t. There’s too great a risk you’re going to need one.

Buried in the back of the drawer was a thirty-two caliber pistol. The serial numbers had been filed off, and if the police were able to trace it they wouldn’t find much except that it had been stolen during a burglary. Since then, the gun had passed through three states before finding its way to the back of my desk drawer.

I took out the gun and cleaned it. I then loaded it and put it in my pocket.