Chapter 21
“How’d you know to try ‘Dismas’?” Neal asked Waverly.
“Just a hunch. The Church was involved, so it was a possibility. There may be more than one security code, depending upon how many people are in on it; if so, that reduced the odds against us finding our way in.”
Ralph asked, “How’d you even hear about Dismas?”
“I had a religious aunt.”
“Yeah? I don’t see no marks.”
“Marks? Oh. Heavens, no. Aunt Cora wouldn’t swat a mosquito.”
“She wasn’t so religious, then. So what’s ‘Absolution’ mean?”
“In the Catholic faith—”
Ralph grasped Waverly by his necktie. “I been up to my ass in Catholics since Monday. If I hear one more lousy mea culpa from you I’ll perform extreme unction on your face. What I want to know is what’s ‘Absolution’ got to do with two dead priests, one dead landlord, and a Kentucky fried hooker.”
“Okay,” said Waverly in an E.T. voice. He was choking.
Neal said, “You know, this doesn’t do much for your claim that you didn’t strangle Vinnie.”
Ralph let go. “Sorry, kid. Ain’t nobody had a day like mine since Job.”
“No harm done, Mr. Poteet.” He stood sucking in air.
“Feed ‘Absolution’ into that thing and see what it shits out,” Ralph told Neal.
“You got a way with words, Ralph.” He tapped out the code. “Uh-oh.”
“What?” Ralph couldn’t read the response.
“‘This file Priority One Confidential. Enter secondary access code.’”
“More passwords?”
“I’m going to try ‘Catholic Church.’”
“Stop!” Waverly grasped Neal’s wrist before he could begin striking keys. “Ask it if the file has a safeguard.”
“What’s a safeguard?” Ralph asked.
Neal said, “It’s like an alarm in case someone tries to break into a file.” He entered the question. “Uh-oh.”
“Safeguard?”
“Yeah.”
“Can’t you get around it?”
“I won’t try.”
“Why the hell not?”
“Because I got no way of knowing what kind of safeguard it is. Some of them not only shut you out, they also record your attempt to break in and run an automatic trace. In an hour we could be up to our eyebrows in cops.”
“Shit,” Ralph said. “It’s getting so a grifter can’t make a dollar. We might as well be living in Russia.”
“Well, we learned something,” Neal said.
“Like what?”
“You’re in even deeper shit than I figured. What do you plan to do?”
“Find out what’s Absolution, what else?”
Neal laughed. “I can see the headline now: ‘P.I. Found Slain; Sought Absolution.’”
“Funny guy.” He looked at Waverly. “So, kid, you learn anything about the detective business?”
“It can be frustrating, can’t it?”
“It’s a bitch. Can you say ‘bitch,’ kid?”
Waverly lifted his chin. “Mrs. Lovechild discourages profanity. She says it’s a sign of a minimal education and low intelligence.”
“Kid, I never knew how to cuss till I met Gus Lovechild. How you going to get in with folks if you don’t speak the language?”
“Mrs. Lovechild says a Lovechild operative should stand above the crowd, not bring himself down to its level.”
“Next time she says something like that, tell her to go fuck herself.”
He colored. “She’d fire me.”
Ralph looked at Neal. “What’s that on his face?”
“He’s blushing. You wouldn’t recognize it.”
“Come on, kid. Didn’t you ever once want to say or do something that’d make Goosey Lucy’s panties ride up?”
“Well.”
“Spit it out. It’s good for the gut.”
“Only when she comes to work with that ruffled thing around her neck. It makes her look like a Victorian turtle.”
Ralph laughed. “Tell her.”
“I couldn’t.”
“You got to. Otherwise that stuff keeps building up till it comes out your ass and you’ll be carrying around one of them inflatable inner tubes for the rest of your life.”
“You better listen to him,” Neal said. “Ralph knows his assholes.”
“Thanks, Mr. Poteet. I’ll remember.”
Neal shut down the system and stood. “Where do you go from here, Ralph?”
“I got a place to hole up. Can I get a lift to Ann Arbor?”
“You won’t know till you stand out front and stick your thumb out.”
“Come on, Neal.”
“What happened to your car?”
“I gave it to a bum.”
“I bet it never knew the difference.”
“The police recovered it,” Waverly said. “I heard it on the radio. They found it abandoned.”
“How about you, kid? I bet you’re busting to take somebody for a spin in that Rabbit.”
Waverly puckered his forehead. “Isn’t that—?”
“Aiding and abetting and accessory after the fact of murder,” Neal finished. “Knowing Ralph is a treasure trove of once-in-a-lifetime experiences.”
“You should turn yourself in, Mr. Poteet. The sooner you do that, the sooner you’ll clear your name.”
“Right now it ain’t my name I want to get clear.”
“Leave the kid alone. You already made a burglar out of him.”
Waverly reached for the telephone by the keyboard. “I’ll call a cab.”
“Tell them to pick me up on the corner.”
Ten minutes later, Ralph stood on the corner, hands in his pockets and shoulders hunched against the cold. Neal had left first and Waverly had stayed behind to rearm the burglar alarm. Ralph had Absolution on his mind, surely a first.
A pair of bright headlights swung around the corner and slowed, blinding him momentarily. He stepped forward and grasped the cab’s door handle. At that instant he realized it wasn’t attached to a cab at all, but to a black station wagon, whose driver stuck his martyr’s emaciated face and head of stubbly hair out the window and said, “Get in.” Carpenter’s hand was wrapped around the butt of a silenced automatic resting on the windowsill.