“You’re a good man, Moses,” Cass slurred after her second drink. “Really, you are a good man…fuck ‘em all that’s what I say… She was just a sweet little girl, why’d they do that to her?”
“I don’t know, baby girl, I don’t know.”
“Fuck all men… All but you, Moses, you’re a good man.”
“Ok.”
“I mean it Moses, you are a good man…” Cass was out cold by the time we reached the 5, she fell asleep curled up in the seat with her head on my lap. I had tenderly stroked her hair until she had finally let go and drifted off. I wished she hadn’t had to see her sister like that, I wished I could protect her from all the ugliness in the world. But the best I could do was hold her head and let her sleep.
Highway 5 stretched out before us, a long dark ribbon that ran in a straight line to the horizon. All around us was an endless expanse of nothing, flat dirt broken up by small scrub brush and then more dirt. Few cars were traveling at this late hour. I blew past a tractor trailer pulling a load of onions, the scarecrow driving the rig shot me a thumbs up. My guess is he was glad to find out the Crown Vic wasn’t a cop car. Then I was out on this lonely stretch of hell, I saw no lights for over an hour. I was left by myself, just me and my dark thoughts. Whoever killed Kelly was out there somewhere, by now they would have figured out what I did in the desert. Could they be hunting me at this moment? In the rear view mirror a pair of low-slung headlights flew up out of the horizon. I was doing a clean eighty but they were quickly closing the gap. I eased the hammer down and let the beast roar. The speedo’ read 120 mph, but the headlights kept coming on, burning up the miles between us. I left my guns in the trunk out of fear that we might get stopped by the cherry tops. But now I would have gladly dealt with a cop just to have my trusty.45. I could start to make out the silhouette of my pursuer, it was a sports car, either an Audi TT or Porsche. I pushed it up to a buck forty, but couldn’t gain any ground on them, it had to be a Porsche. White light engulfed the interior of the Crown Vic, I flicked the mirror up to keep from being blinded. In a rush of wind a deep purple Porsche whipped past me. As they passed I looked over expecting to see the barrel of a shotgun, what I got was a glimpse of a salt and pepper haired man with his bimbo girlfriend. They were both laughing and bouncing along to what ever music they had ripping on their stereo, they didn’t even look over. I wasn’t a blip on their radar. Dropping back down to a less cop attracting speed, I noticed my knuckles were white as they gripped the steering-wheel like it was a life preserver and I was drowning. Maybe I was, and I was just too simple to know it. Just because some old fuck in a purple Porsche made me paranoid didn’t mean I wasn’t being hunted.
After a pit stop in a rest area, to piss and make myself a fresh cocktail, I rejoined the road. My pulse was back down to its normal speed driven thump. I slipped Joshua Tree into the CD player and let The Edge’s guitar licks take me away. Bono sang about how he had climbed mountains and ran through fields and still had not found what he was looking for. I knew the feeling only too well.
At the end of the central valley the highway snaked suddenly up the Grape Vine into the steep mountains. In only a couple of miles the road gains two thousand feet in elevation, the incline forces lesser cars and trucks with trailers to slow to a crawl. The Crown Vic purred up the incline at a steady 80 mph. If only I could trust the woman I was rolling with like I trusted this car.
CHAPTER 11
It was five AM when I dropped down out of the mountains and into LA. The sky was the palest of blues in the dawn as we passed the old WPA bridges that cross the LA river up and over the freeway. They were built a long time before the twisted web of concrete we call a freeway system scarred up Los Angeles. This town was like that, look at it from the proper angle and you were transported back to a time when Humphrey Bogart ruled the silver screen and instead of paying folks to stay at home and worry, they paid them to build wonderful stone bridges.
I carried Cass into my house. She stirred once when I laid her down in the bed, she reached out and touched my stubbled face and then went back to sleep. I unloaded the Crown Vic, and placed Marilyn on the kitchen table. Curling up on the couch I held my.45 to my chest. I still had phantom feelings of the highway moving under me. Sleep seemed many rumbling miles off. My brain was a jumble of fears and plans. What I should or shouldn’t do, who I should talk to, what wrong step might get us both killed. I blinked and an hour and a half had disappeared off the clock. I sat up, not much more rested but a little less blurry. I brewed a pot of coffee and sat on the back stoop drinking the rich black brew. My backyard was small and tangled, weeds had taken over the lawn and the orange tree was in bad need of pruning. The three roses had grown into wild bushes. The rent was cheap, my landlord was a widow who had moved to Oregon to be near her grandchildren, so I was left to do as I pleased. I hadn’t noticed how small and shabby the house was, but I’d never had a guest in it before. An hour later I checked on Cass. She was sleeping the sleep of the innocent. The hard edges from her face erased, she looked like the young girl she was. I left her a note and a loaded.45 and headed for the dog park.
Angel saw me as soon as I cleared the double gates. She let go her grip on Bruiser’s neck and galloped across the grass. Going to my knees I let her lick my face and nibble on my ears and nose.
“She missed her Daddy,” Helen said, offering a hand to help me up. She had a firm strong grip. “How was your trip?”
“Rough.”
“Looks like it. Getting any sleep?”
“Some. How’s the writing going?”
“We’re on hiatus, I should be working on a spec script, but life is short and I’m lazy.” While we talked, Bruiser came over and tried to get Angel to play, but she wouldn’t leave my side. She leaned into my leg, keeping contact. “Your girl can eat!”
“No, really? She’s always so demure at home,” I chuckled. We chatted about nothing important, new plans for the park, the city was tired of watching the trees it planted die from dog piss, everything but where I’d been. They were planning to build a lattice structure for shade and there was talk about replacing the struggling grass with ground up concrete. Five hundred dogs a day used the park, making it one of the rec. departments most used spots. Helen told me about her show, it dealt with vampires infiltrating the Mob, it had been picked up for a second season, so Bruiser wouldn’t starve this year. After the last few super charged days it was good just to chat. As I went to go Helen caught my arm, looking me square in the eyes.
“Are you ok, Moses?”
“I will be…”
“Kelly?”
“Among other things, yeah,” I said.
“If you need to talk, I work weird hours and don’t sleep much, so call me.” I wondered if she knew the truth about me, Kelly, the dead men, would she be so ready to be available? Maybe when it was all over I’d test her out, then again maybe she didn’t need this crap rattling around in her brain. Let Kelly remain pure in her memory, if no place else.
Picking Angel up I went back to my crib. She liked the Crown Vic, jumping from the front seat into the back and then up front again. To her it was a big rolling playpen. From the floor she watched my foot flexing on the accelerator, dropping onto her forepaws her eyebrows scrunched up and her butt wiggled as her body tensed. As I rounded a corner she leapt like a wild beast, all forty pounds of her landing on her prey, my foot, driving it to the floorboards. The Crown Vic gained velocity as it lurched forward toward the stalled traffic in front of me. Racking the wheel to the left I skidded across the path of oncoming cars and up a small alley. Picking Angel up by the scruff of her neck I sat her on the seat. After all I had survived it would be a real bitch if I died in a car wreck because of a puppy.