Страница 35 из 55
“By the way, I brought you this book.” Jerry picked his backpack off the floor, found a thick hardcover book, and slid it across the table to Co
Co
“It’s thirty bucks.” Jerry held out his hand.
Co
“I don’t see why you’re this curious,” Jerry said. “It’s pointless now. The card burned up with Folger’s shop. Damn shame.”
“Did you ever see the card?” Co
“Sure, lots of times. He had it hanging behind the counter in his shop. I’d see it anytime I went over to trade some cards. It was about so big.” Jerry spread his arms up then down to indicate poster size. “It was all framed up along with Monroe ’s letter. Shit, I almost forgot about the letter. He had a personal, handwritten letter from Monroe too. It was all set up just beautiful. Before he put it in the frame, he used to take it out of the safe to show me.”
“Safe?”
“Yeah, Folger had a safe built into the floor, hidden behind a secret panel under the register. I think he thought it was cool or something. But I guess he was too proud of the card to lock it away and liked to have it on display instead.”
Co
Jerry had demolished his burger and fries. He looked around the table in case he’d missed something. “Say, how about some dessert here?”
Co
Jerry called after him. “I can get you a signed DiMaggio in mint condition for a good price. It won’t have the other signatures, but it’s a good card.”
Co
As they’d arranged, Co
Co
His new copy of The King and Queen of America wasn’t an easy read. He flipped to a spot in the middle, had to read it twice to get anything out of it. The author talked about Jacques Lacan and some kind of fake persona Marilyn Monroe put out for the public and how deep inside there was the “real” Marilyn that maybe got lost somehow. Co
He decided he needed to say something to Randy. “You were right.” He cleared his throat. “All that stuff you said about my attitude and everything. You were right. I was out of line, and I’m sorry.”
Randy didn’t say anything for long seconds. Finally, a sly smile spread slowly from ear to pointy ear. “You can’t help it. You illogical Earthlings are all governed by your human emotions.”
27
A dull shred of daylight remained when Randy dropped Co
There were a few things Co
He drove to Folger’s torched strip mall on Davis Highway. The place was a muddy, scorched mess, halfhearted, yellow police tape draped around the scene. It looked a shambles, but not particularly hazardous. He parked on the side in the shadows, stepped over the police tape.
There was still something of a roof left in places, held up by ash-black beams. Co
Co
He had the vague notion that he’d check the safe tonight, simply see if he could find the thing, and if it was undamaged, he would come back the next day with some heavy equipment and drill it out.
Co
He finally worked the panel all the way back. The safe underneath was unscorched, and presumably whatever might be inside was still undamaged. Co
It was open.
The elation of his good luck quickly segued into discouragement with the realization nothing of value would be within. Otherwise, Folger would have locked it. He might as well have a look. Co
He reached in, came out with a copy of X-Men. A yellow Post-it note stuck to the plastic covering said #172 First Byrne. Co
No DiMaggio card.
“Damn.” But he wasn’t really surprised.
It had been difficult enough to find a thirty-six-foot sailboat. Something as small as a baseball card could be hidden in any of a million places. He reconsidered Je
He pointed the Plymouth toward Mobile.
Co
Co
He took a deep breath, went to her door.
When he knocked, the door creaked open, darkness within.
Hell.