Shane had, that very morning, figured out how to take advantage of Cratchit’s intel-sharing with Ricks. However, Shane wasn’t certain the grungy Mill Street bar would be open on Sunday afternoon, so he hopped on his bike to find out.
Cratchit was in the corner when Shane entered the nearly empty bar.
“Ain’t foun’ yer druggie yet?” Cratchit’s bony hand reached for the freshly-opened bottle of beer Shane handed him.
“Gave up. Yesterday, I went to that last place you told me about and Ricks left something that tells me he’s heading back to California. So I’m going back too. No reason to stay around here.”
“That cute little gal ain’t gonna keep ya?”
How did Cratchit know Bethany was cute? “Too much time has passed. She’s got a new life here. I gotta get back to work or I won’t have a job left.”
“Where do ya work?”
“I’m a bank executive.”
Cratchit cackled so loudly and so long that he began coughing. It took several sips of beer to settle him. “That’s a good ‘un. You’d look jus’ perfeck in a suit an’ tie... sittin’ there an’ turnin’ down loans fer poor folks.” He took another long draught. “So what do ya really do? Work at a garage somewheres?”
“Bike shop in Long Beach. Harleys mostly. Repairs and restorations for the museum that’s in the works.” Shane swallowed some beer from his own longneck and then looked Cratchit in the eyes. “Did Ricks ever tell you anything about his boss?”
“Nary a word. But I figgered he wuz takin’ orders from somebody lots smarter’n him.” The old man’s eyes were steady. “This boss man... he don’t play too nice. I figger he’s ‘bout a thousand pounds of trouble in a hunnerd pound bag. But you prob’ly know that.”
“Seems likely.” Shane nodded. “But I don’t guess he’s even around these parts. I got him pegged as a long distance manager with real clean hands and maybe a fancy manicure.”
Cratchit took another long slurp and studied Shane’s face closely. “No, ya don’t. He might be off in Kalamazoo, but his hands is dirty an’ there’s blood in his claws.” The old man raised his own gnarled hands to emphasis the point.
That part of Shane’s bluff might not be working. He shrugged. “Well, in case that boss character ever does show up, clean hands or dirty—it’s gonna be up to the local cops now.”
“So yer ackchuly givin’ up?”
Shane nodded.
“That don’t seem like ya... somehows.”
“I’ve been here since Monday night.” Shane’s finger stabbed the table for emphasis. “If I haven’t found that skinny meth head in seven full days, I’m not likely ever to. Besides, like I said, I’m positive he’s gone back to the coast.”
“What happens when ya find ‘im back yonder?”
“When I find Ricks, I’m gonna rip his meth head clean off and stuff manure down his neck.” Shane took a long drink.
Cratchit nodded as though he approved. “When ya headin’ out?”
“First thing in the morning. After a good night’s sleep.” Shane took another sip. “I’m beat.”
“It’s gonna rain tomorry. Bad storm. ‘Sposed to squat here all day.”
“I’ve been through a little rain before.” Shane fished in his thick wallet and placed a ten dollar bill on the soiled tabletop.
Cratchit snatched it quickly. Once it was safely tucked in a shirt pocket, he asked, “What’s the sawbuck fer? I ain’t tole ya nuthin’ today.”
“Maybe it’s a thank you note. Hadn’t gotten jack from anybody else around here.” Shane took a long swallow and held up his bottle. About a third remained at the bottom and he knew the old man would finish it. “Just call it a goodbye gift.”
****
Kaser had been back in Nashville since Saturday evening and was ready to launch his final mop up of the few remaining spills: his two hirelings and the estranged couple who’d held the surviving evidence of Durocher’s skeleton. As usual, he’d done an exceptional job, way above and beyond the assignment’s original intent. But that was his M.O.—the only way to do a job was thoroughly. Even if the client had no intention of taking things that far. Kaser knew best. His ex-colleagues in various black ops programs had begun acting like they were afraid of him. But that was best, because it meant respect. And fear—both were important. But those colleagues had to understand that he was better. And if being better made Kaser slightly unpopular, too bad. They were jealous. He often wondered which ones of them had supported his expulsion, his burn notice. It didn’t truly matter, because he’d never encounter them again. But if they ever did cross paths, he’d have to dispose of them.
Kaser wasn’t sure if the Muse woman actually comprehended anything or if she was still just trying to piece together some tidbits. It would help if he knew what was in that little suitcase, and Melvin the Mutt hadn’t remembered much. But whoever possessed the overnighter was a potential leak which Kaser must plug.
Though he was aware of Holder through both Ricks and Mutt, all Kaser actually knew about the biker was that he’d recently been in Verdeville searching for Ricks. Kaser had no fondness for Ricks, but that particular meth head was a hired sub-contractor, so anybody trying to find Ricks would have to be dealt with.
Was Holder a threat? Not certain. In Kaser’s expanded interpretation of business, everyone was a threat, even a frail lady on heart medicine who talked to her cat. It was not important to figure out exactly how someone was a risk. Kaser’s job was to eliminate them. He was a fixer, a cleaner. The mistakes other people made or inherited were sometimes quite complex. The only certain way to clean up some messes was to obliterate them. Collateral damage? No problem. You can kill a snake with a .22 caliber slug or a full load of 12 gauge buckshot. The only difference was the number of wounds and size of the holes.
****
Beth had come to dread Sunday afternoons: her ritual visit to the folks.
It was about twenty miles to the east edge of Nashville, a dozen or more across the city, and another ten to Exit 196. Forty-two miles, plus a couple north to their subdivision. Just to pop in and sit for an hour or two. They didn’t typically have much to say and Beth usually had little to tell them. Oh, she could explain about her burglary, about Ricks driving two thousand miles to follow and accost her. But she wouldn’t.
Beth usually talked about her sometimes creepy boss and often tedious job; the parents complained about their boring neighbors. They always asked if she was dating. She never answered directly... which was, in itself, the answer. Dad sometimes talked about the weather, which he could feel worse in his missing leg. Chit chat. Hardly varied.
One subject was off limits, at least in her presence: Robert’s name never crossed their lips.
Beth was dressed enough for this visit and already had purse and keys in hand. She unlocked her rear door but couldn’t open it. Not today. Shane was back in her life, to some extent, and that threw her off balance sufficiently that she could not bear a couple of hours chit-chatting with her folks. If they asked whether she was dating, she’d probably bawl and then have to explain.
She wouldn’t. Not today. Couldn’t.
She put down her purse, kicked off her shoes, and lay on the couch where Shane had slept the night before. After pulling up the blanket which had covered him, Beth napped soundly for over two hours.
When she woke in a groggy haze, the last thing on her mind was calling her parents. She half-heartedly checked e-mail, but had nothing to write to anyone.
About nine o’clock, Shane phoned and said he was making an early night of it. He also explained the ruse he’d planted with Cratchit. That would surely be in Ricks’s ears within hours. “Now, we’ll just have to wait for him to pop up.”
“Any idea where he’ll pop? Or when?”
“No telling, but if he believes I’ve left town, he can come out from hiding and show himself.”
“You don’t think he’d head to the coast, on the belief that he’s following you home?”
“I doubt it, Bethany. Until Ricks locates what he was hired to get, I don’t think he’ll leave Verde-town.”
“Whatever.” She yawned audibly. “Look, I’m completely bushed.”
“You said you took a long nap.”
“I did. But now I’m tireder now than when I laid down.” Beth sighed heavily. “I’m gonna soak in the tub.”
“Okay. Uh, Bethany... I still love you.”
“I know, Shane.” Beth couldn’t allow herself to say it, but she still loved him too. At least she thought so.