R is for Ricochet

I said, "While you're at it, think about this. O

"I'm in that position, too," she said, as though feeling competitive about her ability to squeal. She held up the last inch of her cigarette. "I have to put this out."

"Give it to me."

I reached over and took the butt end, holding it with about as much enthusiasm as I'd feel for a freshly salted slug. I left the office and carried it down the hall to my tatty toilet with the permanent rust stains. I dropped it in the John and flushed. I could feel the tension between my shoulder blades. This was work and I had no way to tell if the pitch would be effective. If nothing else, I hoped she'd give up her fantasy of what Beck was.

When I returned to the office, she was standing by the window. I sat down at my desk. With the light coming in, she was almost entirely in silhouette. I picked up a pencil and made a mark on my blotter. "Where's your head at this point?"

She turned and smiled at me briefly. "Not as far up my butt as it was."

And that was where we left it.

I told her to take her time thinking about the situation before she decided what to do. Vince Turner might be in a hurry, but he was asking a lot and, one way or the other, she'd better be convinced. Once she'd agreed, he couldn't afford to have her changing her mind. I watched her through the window. She got in her car and sat there long enough to light up again and then she took off. Once I knew she was gone, I put a call through to Cheney and laid out the sequence of events, including the hapless FBI agent who'd put the plan at risk.

He said, "Shit."

"That was my reaction."

"Damn. And there's no name on this crud?"

"None, and no description of him, either. I'd have pressed her for details, but I was too busy trying to act like I didn't know the whole of it in advance."

"She buy it?"

"I'd say so. In the main. Anyway, I thought you'd want to call Vince and let him know where we stand."

"Which is where?"

"I'm not sure. Reba needs time. This is a lot to digest."

"Doesn't sound like she was that surprised."

"I think she's always known more than she lets on. Now that it's out in the open, we'll see what she does with it."

"Makes me nervous."

"Me, too. Let me know what Vince says."

"Will do. See you later."

"Okey-doke," said I.

Chapter 14

I closed the office at 5:00, locked the door behind me, and retrieved my car. I drove the long way home so I could stop at my favorite service station and fill the tank with gas. As I cruised down State Street past the heart of town, I spotted a familiar figure. It was William in a dark fedora and a dark three-piece suit, walking briskly toward Cabana Boulevard, swinging his black malacca stick. I slowed and honked, pulling over to the curb. I leaned over and rolled down the window on the passenger side. "You want a ride?"

William tipped his hat. "Thank you. I'd appreciate that."

He opened the car door and angled himself in, his long legs sticking up awkwardly in the cramped front seat. He kept his cane between his knees.

"You can slide that seat back and get yourself more room. The lever's right down there," I said, pointing toward his feet.

"This is fine. It's not far."

I glanced over my left shoulder, waiting for a break in traffic before I eased into the flow. "I didn't expect to see you down here and you're all decked out. What's the occasion?"

"I attended a visitation at Wynington-Blake. Afterward, I had a cup of tea with the sole surviving family member. Lovely man."

"Oh, sorry. I didn't realize someone died. I wouldn't have sounded quite so chirpy if I'd known."

"That's all right. This was Francis Bunch. Eighty-three years old."

"Gee, that's young."

"My thought precisely. He was mowing his lawn Monday and blew an aneurysm in his brain. His second cousin Norbert is the only one left. At one count, there were twenty-six first cousins and now everybody's gone."

"That's a tough one."

"It is. Francis was quite the fellow – U.S. Army veteran, who fought in WW Two. He was a retired pipe-fitter and a Baptist. Preceded in death by his parents, his wife of sixty-two years – Mae was her name – seven children, and his brother, James. Norbert said Francis loved working in his yard so he went the way he would have wanted, except perhaps not quite so soon."

I turned the corner onto Cabana Boulevard and drove the three blocks to Castle, where I turned right again. "How long had you known him?"

William looked surprised. "Oh, I never met the man. I read about him in the paper. With so many of his family gone, I thought someone should be there to pay their respects. Norbert was most appreciative. We had a nice long chat."

"I thought you'd given up funerals."

"I have… in the main… but there's no harm in attending a service now and then."

I turned right onto my street, passing Rosie's. I spotted a space halfway between my apartment and the restaurant and then did a half-assed job of parallel parking. Close enough, I thought. I shut the engine down and turned to him. "Before you go, I've been wondering about something. Did you, by any chance, call Lewis in Michigan and talk him into coming?"

"Oh, he didn't require much persuasion. Once I mentioned Mattie's name, he was Joh

"William, I can't believe you did that!"

"Neither can I. In a moment of inspiration, the idea popped into my head just like that. I thought, Henry's complacent. He needs an incentive and this ought to do the trick."

"I didn't say I liked the plan. I think it stinks."

He frowned, somewhat taken aback. "Why do you say that? He and Lewis are jealous of one another. I'm surprised you weren't aware."

"Of course I'm aware. I'd have to be brain-dead to miss that. The problem is Henry's reaction is just the opposite. He's not going after her. He's backing away."

"He's a sly one, that Henry. Always has a little something hidden up his sleeve."

"That's not what I hear. He's saying he refuses to compete. He thinks it's tacky behavior so he's retiring from the field."

"Don't be fooled by that ploy. I've seen this a dozen times or more. He and Lewis set their caps for the same fair maiden and the jousting begins. It's actually working out even better than I'd hoped. You know Lewis talked Mattie into staying an extra day. You should have seen the look that came across Henry's face. That set him back on his heels, but he'll rally. It may take a bit of doing, but he'll prevail."

"Have you talked to him?"

"Not since yesterday. Why?"

"When I came home last night, her car was gone and his place was dark."

"He didn't come to Rosie's. I can assure you of that. You know Lewis invited Mattie to go with him to the art museum and then lunch afterward."

"William, I was sitting right there."

"Then you must have seen her response. She sparked to the idea, which Henry couldn't fail to notice. He probably came up with something special for the two of them last night."

"I don't think so. When I talked to Henry, he was adamant."

William waved the idea away. "He'll back down in the end. He'll never let Lewis get the better of him."

"I hope you're right," I said dubiously.

We opened our respective car doors and got out, taking leave of each other on the street. I wanted to say more, but it seemed wiser to let the subject drop. He seemed so sure of himself. Maybe Henry would come back fighting and William's meddling would be "just the ticket," as he'd referred to it. I watched him set off toward Rosie's, whistling and twirling his cane. As I went through the gate, I picked up Henry's afternoon paper, which was still lying on the walk.