wondered if she kept them on during the day to hide the fact that I was here. And was she a single woman hiding me from nosy neighbors, a guardian angel hiding me from whoever’s trying to rub me out, or both?
“Let’s have it,” I said.
“What?”
“Whatever it is.”
“When you’re better,” she said, “we need to talk.”
“It’s as bad as all that?”
“Worse.”
“Do your best.”
“Another time. When you’re stronger.”
“Now.”
“Why so anxious to get your heart hammered on, soldier?”
“You really think you can top Lauren being dead?”
“Oh. I didn’t know you knew.”
“Well I do. What else you got?”
“You’re wanted for murder.”
“Oh yeah? Just one?”
“It’s serious, soldier.”
“I know it is, but doesn’t mean it matters to me.”
“Harry Lewis is now mayor.”
“And I’m the reason,” I said.
“You helped Lauren’s husband become mayor?”
“It was his consolation prize.”
“Yeah?”
“Lauren and I left together. We just didn’t arrive at the same place. ’Sides, he really was the best candidate. Howell’s bent but bad.”
“That’s the other thing,” she said. “Howell took a powder. They’re looking for him same as you, but he vanished.”
“What about Walt? Rainer? Ann Everett?”
“No mention of them in the paper.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. I’ve read every word of every issue since you got yourself shot again.”
“I’ve got to speak to Pete,” I said. “I gave him all the evidence he needed to put the big squeeze on ’em. Wonder who got to him. Guess he’s bent as the rest.”
Chapter 5
C lip and I were in a car he had somehow secured for us, not far from police headquarters watching for my old partner Pete Mitchell.
The car, an English pea-green 1940 LaSalle, obviously belonged to a patriot. A red, white, and blue tag on the front bore a soaring eagle, its talons clutching an American flag shield, and read Buy U.S. Defense Bonds, while a yellow bumper sticker on the back said REMEMBER PEARL HARBOR, Dec. 7, 1941. In the backseat, various war publications with covers—like the one depicting a white American woman being assaulted at the end of bayonets by Jap soldiers in uniform and read JAP BEAST AND HIS PLOT TO RAPE THE WORLD—were mixed in with packets of matches showing falling bombs that read Tokens for Tokyo and buttons that said To HELL with HIROHITO.
I was reclined as best I could be in the passenger seat. Clip was hunched behind the wheel, failing at not looking suspicious.
We were smoking black market cigarettes. “Paper Doll” by the Mills Brothers was on the radio.
“Every cop in town looking for you,” he said, “so where our asses go?”
“Bold, huh?”
“I’d say that German bitch done fried your brain but good … but you did shit like this before she got holt to you.”
“Ever find her?”
“No suh, she done gone wit da wind,” he said, a big smile on his face. “Bitch be as crazy as you say she be, she might be staking out police headquarters too.”
I smiled, and we fell silent a few moments.
The darkish day was wet and cold, but I didn’t mind. It was nice just to be out in it—out of the house, out of bed, out of my head for a while.
The papers on the seat between us let me know how much I had missed while I was out of commission—at home and in the war—but nothing was more disturbing than the article about the four young women who had been murdered in the area over the past few weeks.
Eventually, I shifted in the seat and winced, trying not to show just how bad the slightest movement hurt.
“Anything go down,” he said, “you be no help at all, will you?”
“I don’t know …” I said. “You could always use me as a body shield.”
W e sat for hours—something truly challenging for guys as impatient as the two of us.
It seemed as though every cop in town came and went a number of times, but no Pete.
“Maybe he off today,” Clip
“Let’s have it,” I said.
“What?”
“Whatever it is.”
“When you’re better,” she said, “we need to talk.”
“It’s as bad as all that?”
“Worse.”
“Do your best.”
“Another time. When you’re stronger.”
“Now.”
“Why so anxious to get your heart hammered on, soldier?”
“You really think you can top Lauren being dead?”
“Oh. I didn’t know you knew.”
“Well I do. What else you got?”
“You’re wanted for murder.”
“Oh yeah? Just one?”
“It’s serious, soldier.”
“I know it is, but doesn’t mean it matters to me.”
“Harry Lewis is now mayor.”
“And I’m the reason,” I said.
“You helped Lauren’s husband become mayor?”
“It was his consolation prize.”
“Yeah?”
“Lauren and I left together. We just didn’t arrive at the same place. ’Sides, he really was the best candidate. Howell’s bent but bad.”
“That’s the other thing,” she said. “Howell took a powder. They’re looking for him same as you, but he vanished.”
“What about Walt? Rainer? Ann Everett?”
“No mention of them in the paper.”
“You sure?”
“Positive. I’ve read every word of every issue since you got yourself shot again.”
“I’ve got to speak to Pete,” I said. “I gave him all the evidence he needed to put the big squeeze on ’em. Wonder who got to him. Guess he’s bent as the rest.”
Chapter 5
C lip and I were in a car he had somehow secured for us, not far from police headquarters watching for my old partner Pete Mitchell.
The car, an English pea-green 1940 LaSalle, obviously belonged to a patriot. A red, white, and blue tag on the front bore a soaring eagle, its talons clutching an American flag shield, and read Buy U.S. Defense Bonds, while a yellow bumper sticker on the back said REMEMBER PEARL HARBOR, Dec. 7, 1941. In the backseat, various war publications with covers—like the one depicting a white American woman being assaulted at the end of bayonets by Jap soldiers in uniform and read JAP BEAST AND HIS PLOT TO RAPE THE WORLD—were mixed in with packets of matches showing falling bombs that read Tokens for Tokyo and buttons that said To HELL with HIROHITO.
I was reclined as best I could be in the passenger seat. Clip was hunched behind the wheel, failing at not looking suspicious.
We were smoking black market cigarettes. “Paper Doll” by the Mills Brothers was on the radio.
“Every cop in town looking for you,” he said, “so where our asses go?”
“Bold, huh?”
“I’d say that German bitch done fried your brain but good … but you did shit like this before she got holt to you.”
“Ever find her?”
“No suh, she done gone wit da wind,” he said, a big smile on his face. “Bitch be as crazy as you say she be, she might be staking out police headquarters too.”
I smiled, and we fell silent a few moments.
The darkish day was wet and cold, but I didn’t mind. It was nice just to be out in it—out of the house, out of bed, out of my head for a while.
The papers on the seat between us let me know how much I had missed while I was out of commission—at home and in the war—but nothing was more disturbing than the article about the four young women who had been murdered in the area over the past few weeks.
Eventually, I shifted in the seat and winced, trying not to show just how bad the slightest movement hurt.
“Anything go down,” he said, “you be no help at all, will you?”
“I don’t know …” I said. “You could always use me as a body shield.”
W e sat for hours—something truly challenging for guys as impatient as the two of us.
It seemed as though every cop in town came and went a number of times, but no Pete.
“Maybe he off today,” Clip
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