Hunting Sweetie Rose

CHAPTER 66.

Plinnit called at two the next day. By then, we’d already crossed into Wisconsin. Leo always went fast, no matter what he was driving.

“I didn’t figure you’d call, Lieutenant,” I said, loud enough to be heard above the clattering.

It was a lie. I most certainly was expecting his call.

“You on the road?” he asked.

“They’re a mess.” He didn’t have to know which road I was on.

“I’m at your, ah… residence.”

He must have gotten big news, if he wanted to jam it down my throat in person.

“I’m out, catching up on things,” I said.

He paused, waiting for me to say where I was. When I didn’t, he said, “I should wait for you?”

“I’ll be home late.”

“Say again? I can’t hear, for the noise at your end.”

“I said I’ll be home late.”

“If we’re not in jail,” Leo mouthed, next to me.

“I’d hoped we could talk in person.” His disappointment sounded genuine.

“You stopped by with DNA results?”

“Only a partial profile, I’m afraid. Your hands were cleaned, of course, and there were nylon fibers under your nails as well, indicating you’d scratched at the carpet, removing more evidence.” His voice brightened. “Still, there was enough to analyze.”

He paused, savoring his moment. The pressure on him to find Sweetie Fairbairn must have increased tenfold since the news got out that her donating spree had been illegal. The recovery of millions of unlawfully disbursed dollars was at stake now, and Plinnit was destined to spend the rest of his career, and the years beyond, testifying in one claim trial after another.

Naturally enough, he’d want to share his pain. When the DNA results came back, he must have fairly flown out to the turret.

Except I had deprived him of satisfaction, once again. I wasn’t at home.

“Who was the attacker, Lieutenant?”

“You already know.”

“Let me guess: You compared what you got from my hands with the samples from Sweetie Fairbairn’s toothbrush or hairbrush?”

“Sweetie Fairbairn was the one who attacked you, and you damned well know it.”

Very carefully, I said nothing.

“She’s playing a sick little game,” Plinnit continued. “She cut my officer and attacked you. My only question is why you won’t say that.”

“You saw the hotel lobby video. The person who used the elevator key to the penthouse was not Sweetie Fairbairn.”

“That can-collecting runt must have let her in through the emergency door. My gut tells me you’re in this somehow, Elstrom. I’ll be in touch,” he said, hanging up.

“Plinnit’s not satisfied,” I said to Leo.

“The DNA was as you expected: Sweetie Fairbairn was the one who attacked you?”

“The profile was incomplete, but that’s where it points.”

“You might be right about this trip after all,” he said, “but I was wrong about taking this truck on the highway. I’m going deaf.”

I’d been particular about what we needed. It couldn’t be checked for mileage or traced, by receipt, back to either of us. That ruled out a rental. It couldn’t be recognizable as belonging to either of us. That ruled out his Porsche and my Jeep. Finally, it had to haul a couple of long-handled things, which didn’t rule out anything, but when I finished explaining all this to Leo, he nodded, smiled, and got the same truck from the self-storage facility we’d used to get poles for Ma and her sister strippers. With its rust, gray primer, and faded blue paint, the loaner truck was remarkably unremarkable. It was perfect.

Except it was noisy. Its panels rattled; its transmission whined. The shovel and pick I’d thrown in the back only made the din worse.

“You sure we couldn’t have flown, at least partway?” Leo asked. Again.

“What’s the rush? We don’t want to get there before dark.”

“We could have passed the time at a Burger King.”

“No plane tickets, no credit card charges, no surveillance videos, no records of any kind. If I’m wrong about what we’ll find, we could be committing a serious crime.”

“Are you wrong?”

“No chance. Plinnit’s partial DNA results just said I’m right.”

That point silenced him, and he let me sleep while he drove another hundred miles. I was still exhausted. I’d been up most of the night, imagining the impossible, at least until it became so glaringly obvious.

“We just passed a sign for a cheese house,” he said, when I woke up. “Next exit. Authentic Wisconsin cheddar. They might even put it on a hamburger.”

“No sit-down restaurants, no lingering anywhere. Have a Ho Ho.”

“We’re low on gas, and I’ve hated Ho Hos my whole life.”

“Then get something when we gas up-but remember: Use cash only, and keep your hat low.”

“I should have brought my plastic glasses, the ones with the rubber nose.”

“Just remember your hat.”

“I suppose this all means there’s no chance for the Would You? No fried jalapeño cheddar broccoli florets?”

“Are you nuts? That’s the last place we can be spotted.”

“Second to last,” he corrected, referring to our ultimate destination.

“We’ll be back in Rivertown by morning, and can eat like kings.”

He cleared his throat. “Unless we’re in jail.”

“There’s that,” I agreed. “You’re sure Endora will send a text when she’s verified the delivery?”

He checked his phone. “Nothing yet.”

He headed off the interstate, grunting as he bypassed the cheese house, and pulled into a busy-looking gas station. I slid down low on the seat as he stopped at the pump farthest from the door. He put on his glaucoma sunglasses, tied the chin strap on his straw hat, and got out. After filling the tank, he slouched in to pay for the gas. He was inside a long time.

When at last he came out, he was carrying a paper bag.

“What’s in the bag?” I asked, when he got behind the wheel. It smelled wonderfully of things fried.

“I kept my hat low, like I had a scalp disease,” he said.

He started the truck and drove us back onto the interstate.

“What did you bring me to eat?” I asked, sitting up now that we were safely away.

He’d set the bag on the floor where I couldn’t reach it.

“Three hamburgers for me. They look good.”

“How many for me?”

“I got you something even more special.” He set the bag on the seat between him and the video camera, reached in, and came out clutching a package of Ho Hos.

Then he laughed and laughed.