A Stranger Lies There Read Free Page A

passing a joint around and the one who killed it would do the driving.
    It went around twice and got back to me. The joint was hot and short in my fingers, the smoke sweet and dense in my mouth before filling up my lungs.
    Then the final burning ember fell onto my shirtfront and winked out.
    â€œHope you can drive fast,” Turret told me with a grin.
    *   *   *
    Friday, early afternoon in downtown San Francisco. Fog just starting to lift from the city, white clouds lit by the hazy sun drifting lazily up above. The air was cool and moist, though I was sweating behind the wheel of the car, watching the entrance of the bank across the street in my rearview mirror. I looked at my watch: only a few minutes had gone by but I was starting to get nervous.
    Suddenly, the pedestrians on the sidewalk in front of the bank froze, jerking their heads toward the entrance. Then they scattered in all directions, hunched over in fear, and I wasn’t sure if I’d heard the muffled report of gunfire.
    Moments later Turret burst through the front doors brandishing his weapon. He dashed across the street toward me, eyes blazing with adrenaline, and that’s when I knew everything had gone wrong.
    That morning we’d gathered once again at Ellen’s place to prepare for the robbery. Everyone had a gun except me, deadly-looking automatics that Turret had acquired a little too easily from an unknown source. His ready access to them made me wonder about the type of people he was associated with. We’d never learned much about Turret’s background; he’d suddenly just appeared in our lives, confident he could convince us to take such an enormous risk for a cause he professed to be loyal to. Now, far too late to say anything about it, I got a funny feeling about him.
    As he went over the final details, I glanced at Ellen. Grim-faced and serious, giving Turret her full attention. Rory looked more bleary-eyed than usual, constantly rubbing his forehead and lifting his hands to his temples as if he were in pain.
    Turret noticed it too and interrupted himself. “What’s the matter, Rory? You didn’t smoke too much last night did you? I told you we had to be on for this today. Focused. No drugs.” He didn’t seem happy.
    Rory defended himself. “Nah man, just a little headache. I’ll be fine.”
    â€œWhat happened?” I asked, trying to lighten the moment with levity I didn’t feel. “You get smacked in the head with your board or something?”
    Nobody laughed. To my surprise Rory confirmed it, shaking his head at the memory. “Wiped out pretty good this morning. But that wave was worth it. You shoulda seen it.”
    â€œYou went surfing?” Turret asked, miffed. “This morning?”
    Rory nodded. “Crack of dawn. Same as every morning. Something wrong with that?”
    Turret opened his mouth, seemed to change his mind and closed it. Then started over. “Take a fucking aspirin or something. We gotta concentrate on this.”
    Ellen raised an eyebrow at Turret’s sudden attitude. Rory got up without a word, went into the bathroom and came back with a bottle of aspirin. Popped two of them dry and sat back down.
    Turret finished up a few minutes later, tried to be reassuring. “I got it timed out perfect, everybody. Do your jobs right and everything will be fine.”
    Now he was rushing toward the car alone, finger still on the trigger. He clambered in and tossed the gun in the back, kept the large canvas bag in his lap.
    â€œFucking go!” he yelled frantically as he slammed the door.
    â€œWhat about the others?”
    â€œThey’re not coming. Now step on it!”
    I peeled out on the slick pavement, screeching around the corner toward a parking garage a few miles away, where we’d stashed my car—Turret had wanted to ditch the getaway car, a junker with stolen plates, as soon as possible.
    â€œWhat the