The Weasel closed the door after her, laughing, turned and walked away. Washington had never seen anything like it. Kohler couldn’t have missed it. The man didn’t care. And from the looks of things, Mrs. Monday was beyond caring. The doctor started the car and Washington put down the binoculars.
He didn’t have to follow them. He knew the way to the doctor’s house. He could afford a few minutes to take care of his personal business. He picked up the phone and called Long Beach. He asked for Captain Roberts. Time to tell his boss what he’d already told Hart.
“ Robert’s desk,” a voice he didn’t recognize said.
“ Is he there?” Washington asked.
“ No, he’s not. Who’s calling please?” It wasn’t 9:00 yet. He was always there till 9:00, rain or shine. He never took a vacation. He never got sick. He was there every morning, six days a week from 8:00 to 9:00. Office hours for his men, he called it. That was when he took complaints, solved problems, listened to worries. Only something important would drag him away. A major crisis. An officer shot. Washington felt his chest tighten.
“ This is Washington, I won’t be in today.”
“ Hugh Washington?”
“ That’s right.”
“ God, I’m sorry about your partner, he was a great guy. Everybody liked him.”
“ What are you talking about?” Hugh felt the lump welling up in his throat. Not Walker, not him. He was young, with a family. He sat on the bed, the phone still at his ear, waiting for the inevitable words he knew were coming next.
They came.
“ Walker died early this morning. I’m sorry, I thought you knew.”
He dropped the phone, buried his head in his hands. He blamed himself. If he would have played it by the book and turned everything over to Homicide, or better yet, stayed out of it all together, Walker would still be alive, but instead he went off half cocked, ignoring all the rules, and Walker had paid.
And he didn’t know where Glenna was.
Chapter Twelve
“ Wake up,” Glenna said, “It’s almost 9:00. You’ve been asleep for over eight hours.” She was backlit against the early morning sun coming in the front window. It basked her hair in a halo, reminding him of how she looked the night before, when she had been lit up by that spot. “We’re going to have to find some clothes for you and get out of here before someone comes.”
He looked down at what he was wearing and last night came flooding back. It was real, Roma was dead. The car was gone. They were hiding in a dry cleaners and he was sleeping on a pile of clothes in a stranger’s shorts and tee shirt. After they’d decided they had to spend the night, he went foraging through the piles of blue paper covered laundry and struck pay dirt-underwear, tee shirt and shorts.
He took his find into the small toilet, stripped and gave himself a whore’s bath at the sink, using a roll and a half of paper towels to clean the manure off himself. He grimaced when he remembered holding his head under the faucet, smelling and seeing the brown muck being washed out of his hair and down the drain.
“ Where do you plan on going?” he asked.
“ I don’t know. Out of here.”
“ We won’t get ten feet before the cops pick us up. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to sample the bill of fare in the local jail.”
“ I don’t care what bill of fare I sample right now. I’m starving,” she said. “We have to get out of here. It’ll be just as bad if they catch us in the cleaners or on the street. Either way, we’re caught.”
“ I think we should stay here for awhile.”
“ What are we going to do when Mr. Dry Cleaner shows up for work?” she said.
“ It’s Saturday. A town this small probably rolls up its sidewalks on the weekends.”
“ You’re probably right.” She sighed, closed her eyes, crossed her legs into a full lotus and started to breathe, pulling the air deep into her lungs, holding her breath, then exhaling.
He watched, fascinated. She was serene, her face as worry free as a child’s. The rise and fall of her breasts, erotic. Her hands on her thighs, peaceful. She was contradiction personified.
He left her meditating and went looking for clothes. He found two pair of Levi’s that fit and stuffed them into a white drawstring laundry bag. He added two denim work shirts, four pair of boxer shorts, two white tee shirts, a Levi Jacket, a pair of dark brown slacks and a white dress shirt. He carried his booty back to where Glenna was sitting in her yoga position and laid it down. He sat next to it.
She opened her eyes.
“ What have you got there?”
“ Clothes, a couple pair of Levi’s, underwear, socks.”
“ You’re gonna take them? More than you need?”
“ This from the girl who wanted to break and enter last night.” He was having a hard time understanding her.
“ But not to take one thing more than we needed and I would have sent the money for what we took when I got home.”
He dug under the pile of clothes that he had used for a pillow and pulled out Eddie Lambert’s wallet. He took out a hundred dollar bill, reached up and put in on counter. “There, does that make you happy?”
“ A nice gesture, but it’s pretty stupid.” She arched her eyebrows with a twinkle of laughter in her eyes. “We might need the money. No matter how much you have in that wallet, when it’s gone we might wish we had that hundred bucks. Take it back. We’ll send the money later, when we know we can afford it.”
“ You’re saying we an awful lot when it’s really just me. Once we’re out of here, you go home, back to your family. They’re probably worried sick right now.”
“ No way. My mom has a new boyfriend and they’re both somewhere off the coast of Baja on the Love Boat. My dad knows I’m okay. I left a message, remember?” She crossed her arms around her chest.
“ A message that probably scared him out of his mind. I’m a wanted murderer, remember that? Even if he thinks I’m innocent, he has to be worried about what might happen to you if the police catch up to us. You could get seriously hurt or worse, killed. No, you’re going back as soon as we’re safe.” He hoped he sounded firm.
“ You’re gonna need me,” she said. “I’ll bet every cop in the state is looking for you. I’ll bet your picture has been all over the news all night long. You think that stupid eye patch you put on last night will fool anyone? And who’s gonna buy food? You? Who’s gonna find a place to spend the night? You? Who’s gonna get us a car? You? And who’s gonna get us out of here? You need me and you know it.”
He stared at her with clenched fists. It was true, he needed someone. Not her though, not a child, and not a girl. He had friends he could call. He looked up at the phone.
“ Don’t even think about it,” she said.
He remained silent, caught in her deep brown eyes.
“ You’re thinking you can call someone. Well, you’re wrong. The police have already talked to everyone you know. Probably the press, too. I can see your friends on CNN, ‘He was such a quiet man. Friendly, always said hello. He’s the last man in the world you would think would ever do such a thing. It must be because of the war. Come to think of it he always was a little strange. His wife leaving him like that must have pushed him over.’ You call someone like that, they’ll go for the fame and the glory. They’ll turn you in. We’re all you have, me and my dad.” It was her turn to look up at the phone.
She was right and he knew it and even if she wasn’t, he didn’t want to involve his friends. They had families, kids. The last thing they needed was a call from him. “Okay,” he said, “call your father.”
She scooted next to him, pulled the phone off the counter, started pushing the buttons.