Keller half-listened while the two of them worked their way through a lengthy list of potential suspects. Earlier, he’d remembered a job years ago that had sent him across the country to a town in Oregon, where someone had spotted a man who’d vanished into the Witness Protection Program. Keller liked the place, liked the life the man was leading there, and found himself contemplating retirement. It was just a fantasy, but in the course of it he’d made the horrible mistake of getting to know the fellow.
When, inevitably, he’d come to his senses, his mission was consequently far more difficult. Still, you did what you had to do. But, having done it, you took pains to avoid such complications in the future.
As Roy went on and on, now explaining how he’d known it was his duty to tell this woman on Robin’s Nest Drive what had happened to Harold, because otherwise she might never know, or she’d read it in the paper, or worst of all the police would turn up on her doorstep and give her the shock of her life, and—
On and on and on, with Pete chiming in now and then, and with Roy admitting that, well, he had to admit he’d wanted to confirm some of the things Harold had told him about the lady, because Harold had a tendency to exaggerate, but in this instance Harold had it right, all right, and—
All of this, he realized, was very different from what he’d gone through in Roseburg, Oregon. There he’d liked the man, and he’d had to set that aside and do his job. But here in Baker’s Bluff, the more time he spent with Roy and his friend Pete, the fewer his reservations about earning his fee. Every sentence spoken, every clap of that big hand on his shoulder, made Keller a little more eager to swing that brand-new Stanley hammer not merely with professionalism but with pleasure.
And now, of course, it was out of the question.
“Back in a minute,” he said. “I want to hear the rest of this.”
He got to his feet. Roy was in the middle of a sentence, but Roy was pretty much always in the middle of a sentence, and a call of nature was something a beer drinker could certainly understand. Keller went to the restroom, answered nature’s call, and left the room.
Back in a minute. I want to hear the rest of this.
Well, how was that for a pair of barefaced lies, one right after the other? He certainly didn’t want to hear anymore, nor would he be back, not in a minute and not in an hour. He walked out of the men’s room and down the hall and out the door, took a quick backward glance to make sure no one was paying attention, and crossed the lot to his car.
He got behind the wheel, stuck the key in the ignition, and looked over at the passenger seat, where the hammer was waiting. He shouldn’t have bought the hammer, he thought. For that matter, he shouldn’t have bought that second ticket to Chicago. He should have stayed home.
He got out the Pablo phone, made a call.
“I can’t do anything,” he said. “I bought a hammer, it’s on the car seat next to me, perfectly good hammer, never been used — and all I can do is toss it.”
“If you toss it far enough,” Dot said, “you could wind up with an Olympic medal.”
“I think that’s a different kind of hammer.”
“You’re probably right. What happened?”
He told her.
“I get it,” she said. “You got to know them, and you bonded a little, and the idea of taking them out—”
“—is more appealing than ever,” he said, “because not even Krazy Glue could bond me to these two idiots. But I’ve been seen with them, and in a public place, and—”
“And if anything happens to either of them, somebody’s going to remember their friend with the hammer.”
“And come looking,” he said.
“I’ll tell the client,” she said. “And I’ll send the money back.”
“He paid?”
“In full for the original job, which he won’t get back because we fulfilled the contract. But he sent half the payment for your friend in the cowboy hat, and—”
“Not my friend.”
“It’s just an expression, Pablo. He sent half by FedEx, and I’ll send it back to him. God, how I hate to return money.”
“I know.”
“Once I actually have it in hand, you know, it’s not their money anymore. So why should they get it back?”
Wait a minute...
“Dot—”
“Oh, I know why. I’m talking about how my mind works. But, you know, that’s just my mind, and I’ve learned not to pay too much attention to it. I’ll send the money back.”
“Not just yet,” he said.
“Oh?”
“I just thought of something.”
He retrieved his key, opened the door. He paused for another glance at the passenger seat, wishing the fedora were sitting there. But no, all that was there was the hammer, and he had no use for it now.
Back in the Spotted Tiger, he stopped at the bar for three bottles of beer and carried them back to the table. “Well now,” Roy said appreciatively. “Thanks, pardner. Pete, we’re drinking to the man with the hat.”
Keller took a hearty sip of beer, acknowledging the toast. It struck him as curious, given that he was the only bareheaded man at the table, but it seemed to confirm what the salesman at Peller & Smythe had said about the classic quality of the fedora. It continued to impress people even when you were no longer wearing it.
“Something I was thinking,” he said. “Maybe I’m remembering wrong, but didn’t you ask your friend, the one who got killed—”
“Harold,” Pete supplied.
“Right, Harold. Didn’t you ask him if the lady had a sister?”
“Well, you know,” Roy said. “Sort of joking with him. Seems to me he said she was an only child.”
“But wasn’t there something about how he thought she’d be up for a threesome?”
Roy got a look on his face.
Pete: “Hey, look who swallowed the canary!”
Roy: “No such thing.”
Pete: “Where’d that canary-eating grin come from? There’s something you ain’t telling.”
Roy: “Well—”
Well, Roy explained, he was going to mention it. Because he’d actually brought up the subject to Melania, and the last thing she wanted was anything that involved another woman. Anything that went down in her life, she wanted to be the only girl in the room.
“But a second guy,” he said, “might be different. And I was gonna say something, but, well, two guys is one thing and three guys is another, and—”
Keller held up a hand, palm forward. “You know what they say,” he said. “Four is a crowd. And I’m leaving town first thing in the morning, won’t be back for close to three weeks.”
Pete wanted to know where he was going, and that required some swift improvisation. Keller invented a trip to San Francisco, and Roy said he’d always wanted to go there, and Pete said he’d heard it was cold in the summer, so why would anyone want to go there?
Keller picked up his beer bottle and drank deep. He wasn’t working, there wouldn’t be any work for him, so why not enjoy the beer? And drinking it was something to do while he waited for the conversation to get back on track.
“So I can’t,” he said, when he got the chance. “But the two of you—”
Pete: “Yeah. Like how about tomorrow?”
Roy: “Well, I can’t just drop in, say ‘Here’s my friend,’ he wants to join the party.”
Keller: “Maybe if you called her...”
Pete: “Yeah! Call her!”
Roy: “And when her husband answers?”
Pete: “So you hang up. But if she’s the one who answers...”
Roy squinted, thinking about it. He said, “Two on one. Something else they call it, but what is it?”
“Threesomes,” Pete said, helpfully. “Threesome, three-way.”