The Long Lavender Look Read Free Page A

abundantly, but I knew the evidence would disappear quickly. There is a kind of semi-immunity you acquire if you live long enough in mosquito country. The itch is caused by the blood-thinner they inject, so they can suck the mixed fluids up their narrow snouts. But the redbug bites are something else. No immunity there. We both had them from ankles to groin. The itch of the chigger bite lasts so long that the mythology says they lay eggs under the skin. Not so. It is a very savage itch, and the only way to cut the weeks down to a few days is to use any preparation containing a nerve-deadening agent, along with a cortisone spray. The sun warmed us and began to dry the money. More cars and trucks began to barrel through with fading Doppler whine. A flock of ground doves policed the area. I scratched the chigger bites and thought of a big deep bed with clean white sheets.
    At twenty of seven an oncoming VW panel delivery slowed and turned in and parked on the other side of the building. Two men in it, both staring at us as they passed out of sight. The money and papers were dry enough. We gathered them up and started toward the front of the place and met one of the men at the corner of the building. A spry wiry fifty. Khakis, baseball cap, with AL embroidered in red over the shirt pocket. I could hear the twang-ing and banging as the other man was sliding the big overhead doors up.
    "You broke down someplace?" Al asked. It was complimentary. We did not look as if we could afford to operate a bicycle.
    "We went into the canal last night, a ways up 112."
    "Lots of them do," said Al. "Narrer road with a lot of lumps in it. Lots of them don't get out of the car neither. Let me get the place opened up, and when my other man comes on we'll see about getting you out."
    "Hope you don't mind," I said. "I slipped the lock on your men's room so we could clean up."
    He gave me a quick and narrow look and went quickly to the door to the men's room and inspected the lock. He found the right key in his pocket and tried it. "Long as you didn't bust nothing, okay. How'd you do it?"
    "Piece of wire."
    "That there's supposed to be a good lock."
    "If it was, I couldn't get in. It looks good, but it's builders' junk. If you've got the same junk on your main doors, you better get them changed."
    With a certain suspicion and reluctance he thanked me and hurried off to get his station set up. I wandered around. The place was well run. Tidy and clean, tools in the right places, paperwork apparently under control. The other fellow was big and young. It said TERRY on his pocket.
    Snug trousers and tapered shirt and big shoulders. Face that could have looked handsome in a rugged way, but the eyes were set too close together, and the chin receded just enough to keep Page 6

    the mouth ajar. So he merely looked tough, coarse, and dumb. They were beginning to get some gas trade and some diesel fuel business.
    Then a Highway Patrol sedan stopped at the near island. Al went to take care of it, then called and waved me over. The trooper was older than average, and heavier than average, with a broad red face and very large dark sunglasses.
    He asked me if I was the owner and then if I had my license and registration. Then he sighed and dug around for the proper form and we went inside the station and used Al's desk.
    After copying the information off my license, he studied the registration. Miss Agnes's age apparently upset him. "A Rolls Royce what?"
    "Well, a custom pickup. I mean somebody turned it into a pickup truck a long time back."
    "Is it worth all the trouble and the expense to get it out of where it is, McGee?"
    "She... uh ... it has a certain sentimental value."
    "Pass the inspection? Got the sticker on the windshield?"
    "All in order, officer."
    He sighed again. "Okay. Any other vehicle volved?"
    "No."
    "Where and when did it happen?"
    "About twenty miles north of here on Route 112. A little after ten o'clock last night. I was heading south."
    "How