Hardcase

CHAPTER 2

In the old days, they would have opened the front man-door for Kurtz and let him leave wearing a cheap new suit, with his possessions in a brown paper bag. These days they provided him a cheap vinyl bag for his possessions and gave him chinos, a blue button-down shirt, an Eddie Bauer windbreaker, and a bus ride into nearby Batavia.

Arlene Demarco picked him up at the bus station. They drove north to the Thruway and then west in silence.

"Well," Arlene said at last, "you look older, Joe."

"I am older."

About twelve miles farther west, Arlene said abruptly, "Hey… welcome to the Twenty-first Century."

"It arrived inside, too," said Kurtz.

"How could you tell?"

"Good point," said Kurtz and they were silent for another ten miles or so.

Arlene ran her window down and lit a cigarette, batting the ashes out into the brisk autumn air.

"I thought your husband doesn't like it when you smoke."

"Alan died six years ago."

Kurtz nodded and watched the fields go by.

"I guess I could have come to visit you once or twice in eleven years," said Arlene. "Keep you up to speed on things."

Kurtz turned to look at her. "Why? No percentage in that."

Arlene shrugged. "Obviously, I found your message on the machine. But why you thought I'd pick you up after all these years…"

"No problem if you didn't," said Kurtz. "The buses still run between Batavia and Buffalo."

Arlene smoked the rest of her cigarette, then tossed it out the window. "Rachel, Sam's little girl—"

"I know."

"Well, her ex-husband got custody, and he still lives in Lockport. I thought you'd want to—"

"I know where he lives," said Kurtz. "Attica has computers and phone books."

Arlene nodded and concentrated on driving.

"You're working with some legal outfit in Cheektowaga?"

"Yeah. Actually, it's three law offices in what used to be a Kwik-Mart in a shopping center. Two of the firms are ambulance chasers, and the third one is just a capper mill."

"Does that make you a full-fledged legal secretary?"

Arlene shrugged again. "Mostly I do word processing, spend a lot of time on the phone tracking down the claimants, and look up the occasional legal crapola on the Net. The so-called lawyers are too cheap to buy any law books or DVDs."

"You enjoy it?" asked Kurtz.

She ignored the question.

"They pay you what?" said Kurtz. "Two thousand or so a month?"

"More than that," said Arlene.

"Well, I'll add five hundred to whatever they're paying you."

She snorted a laugh. "To do what?"

"Same thing you used to do. Just more of it on computers."

"There some miracle going to happen to get you your P.I. license back, Joe? You have three thousand bucks a month set aside to pay me?"

"You don't have to be a licensed P.I. to do investigations. Let me worry about paying you. You know that if I say I will, I will. You think we can get an office near the old place on East Chippewa?"

Arlene laughed again. "East Chippewa's gotten all gentrified. You wouldn't recognize the place. Uptight little boutiques, delis with outside seating, wine and cheese shops. Rent has gone ballistic there."

"Jesus," said Kurtz. "Well, office space near the downtown will do. Hell, a basement would do as long as it has several phone lines and electricity."

Arlene exited the Thruway, paid the toll, and headed south. "Where do you want to go today?"

"A Motel 6 or someplace cheap in Cheektowaga would work."

"Why Cheektowaga?"

"I'm going to have to borrow your car tomorrow morning, and I thought it might be more convenient for you to pick me up on the way to your job. You can give them notice tomorrow morning and pack your stuff, I'll pick you up in the early afternoon, and we can look for the new office."

Arlene lit another cigarette. "You're so considerate, Joe."

Kurtz nodded.