Marked Man

61

I took the expressway to I-95 and followed it south, through Chester, around Wilmington, continuing on the way to Baltimore and Washington, D.C. I kept careful watch on my rearview mirror and spotted nothing, which meant not a whole lot. It was becoming pretty damn clear that I had no idea for the life of me how to spot a tail.

I sped up, slowed down, I pulled over and stopped, started again and wove my way through traffic. They were there, I had no doubt, Fred and thick little Louie, in their Impala or boxy Buick or two-tone Chevy with whitewall tires. They were there because I had told everyone and his brother that I was bringing Charlie home. They were there, but they were hidden from my gaze. Still I kept looking. Why? Because they would expect me to keep looking.

I paid my toll into Maryland and kept on driving, south, south. Whatever I-95 is, it is not the scenic route. I jiggled around in my seat, fiddled with the radio. Sports talk, news, classic rock. What is up with classic rock? Get your own damn music, why don’t you? Oh, yeah, they did and they didn’t like it, so they come after ours. I jiggled some more in my seat, as if my bladder were bursting. Oh, good, a rest stop. I swerved right, cut off a van, and headed in.

I slammed into a parking spot, hopped out, looked behind me a couple times as I hustled into the building. It had the usual crap: a Burger King, a Mrs. Fields Cookies, Pizza Hut Express, Popeye’s Fried Chicken, and then, to salve your conscience, a TCBY. Worth a visit all on its own, wouldn’t you say? But it also had Starbucks to keep you awake and a bathroom to pass all the coffee that was keeping you awake. I headed straight to the bathroom, to the left of the entrance. Looked around and then entered one of the stalls, second from the end. It was occupied.

“Here you go, mate,” said Skink in a whisper as he handed me a set of blue overalls and a hat. He was wearing a suit exactly like mine, same tie and shoes.

“You look good, Skink.”

“You want me to dress like you again, you gots to start dressing better. Hurry.”

“I sort of need to pee,” I said.

“No time.”

I tossed him my keys and started to climb into the overalls. “I’m parked third row back, right in front of the entrance.”

“Swell.”

“You don’t look anything like me.”

“Can’t be helped. I’ll hang here for a bit and then put a hand to my face. By the time they cotton that I’m not you, you should be long gone.”

“If my ride shows.”

“That was up to you, mate.”

“Be careful when you go out there. They won’t be so pleased to see you.”

“They’s the ones ought to be careful. Out you go.”

I tugged on the hat, shook my head a couple of times, and then settled into a bent slouch, like I’d been steering an eighteen-wheeler for twelve hours straight. I gave Skink a good-old-boy bang in the shoulder before I left the stall.

Keeping the slouch, I looked around the bathroom as I rinsed my hands. One old guy stood at a urinal, a young kid was washing up. Nothing there to worry about. I grimaced into the mirror, set the hat just so, and headed out of the bathroom.

The entrance I had come in was to the left, I darted right and ducked into a little shop selling candy and books. At the end of the shop was a door that led to the gas station. As soon as I stepped through the door, a white-and-green cab shot out of a parking spot and came right at me, swerving at the last second so that the front passenger door stopped right at my hip. I opened the door, looked in, and hesitated a moment before jumping inside. Off we went, hitting the northbound exit of the highway.

“Why the hell is she here?” I said, thumbing toward the backseat.

“The lady insisted on coming,” said Joey Pride.

“We have to drop her somewhere.”

“Don’t think she’ll be dropped.”

“Monica,” I said angrily. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“You told me to meet Joey,” she said.

“And give him the message and then let him go off without you.”

“That second part sort of slipped my mind.”

“Monica.”

“Charlie is going to tell you what he knows about my sister.”

“That’s right.”

“Then I need to be there. I told you I waited long enough for the truth.”

“You couldn’t get rid of her, Joey?”

“I had about as much success as you’re having. But it makes the view in my rearview a hell of a lot nicer, I’ll tell you that.”

“And why are we in a cab? I told my father to tell you to borrow something different.”

“I did. From my friend Hookie.”

“But it’s still a cab.”

“Not my cab. So where are we headed?”

“To a morgue, most likely. This is a foul-up. This is a complete mess. Were you followed?”

“Nope.”

“You sure?”

“I got the eyes of a falcon. We’re clean.”

“For the time being. We’re not going to be able to get rid of you, Monica?”

“No,” said Monica.

“Crap. Okay, I have to make a call. Joey, keep going north until we reach 295 East, then go over the Delaware Memorial Bridge. We’re heading into the Garden State.”