I twisted them, felt around for a starter, and then stepped on it. The engine coughed into life, and I heard the door to the office slam open, and Hobbs’ voice came out to me.
“Hey, you! Hey, you, get the hell out of that truck!”
I said something unprintable and then backed off the gravel, gunning the truck forward on the dirt road. When I hit the macadam, I turned right and went like sixty. I passed the flashing red lights of the police car, and I heard them blowing their horn, so I knew they’d spotted me. I saw them making a U turn in the rear view mirror. I kept my foot down to the floorboard, driving like a maniac. I was outside of town in ten minutes flat. I took the first cutoff I saw, kept on that until I came to a fork in the road, and then followed that for about five minutes, keeping on the right branch. I passed a grove of trees, and as soon as the ground was flat again, I turned off the road and crossed the field, heading back for the stand of trees. I swung into a large clearing between the trees, cut the lights and the engine, and then sat back to listen. In a few minutes, I heard the wail of the siren, and then I saw the bright headlights and the flashing red lights swoop by on the road beyond the trees. The first car had hardly passed when a second followed, its lights slicing through the darkness. I sat in the cab of the truck and lighted a cigarette, wondering how long it would take them to figure what I’d done. Probably not very long at all.
I wondered if Hobbs carried any artillery in the truck. I opened the glove compartment and rummaged around there. Outside of a few oily rags, a flashlight, and a couple of road maps, there was nothing. I got out of the cab and walked around to the back of the truck. A tarpaulin was bunched into the far corner of the truck, and a barrel was roped to the sides near the back. I looked into the barrel, found a batch of tools, and picked out a monkey wrench. A wrench wasn’t a gun, but it could bash in a few heads if it ever came to that. I tucked the wrench into my waistband and climbed over the tailboard, walking toward the tarpaulin.
I stooped down, pulled back the tarpaulin, and then felt the hackles on my neck rise.
A redhead was sprawled on the floor of the truck. Her mouth and her eyes were open. She was naked, and there were purple bruises on her throat, and long crimson scratches on her breasts and her belly.
My hands were trembling. My first thought had been of Anne. It had taken me about five seconds to realize the dead redhead wasn’t my wife, but the shock was still on me. I stood looking down at her. She’d been a pretty girl, with short red hair like Anne’s. Her eyes were a startling, glassy blue. She was well-built, with pale full breasts, and a hard, flat stomach.
I covered her quickly, my hands still trembling. I backed away until my legs hit the tailboard, and then I climbed down and walked to the side of the truck. My first idea was to get the hell away. I let the idea peter out until I’d calmed down a little. When my hands were a little steadier, I lighted another cigarette and then tried to make some sense out of it.
She’d been strangled and pretty badly mangled. She was naked. I formed a mental picture of what had happened, and the picture fit perfectly with the kind of joint Zach Hobbs ran.
She was also in the back of a truck, and you don’t put someone in a truck unless you plan on taking her someplace.
That figured. If she was one of Zach’s girls and killed on the premises, he’d want to get her far away. Murder would buy the state police, and the state police wouldn’t help his type of business.
The girl was new, if she was the same one Marie had planned on. sending down to me. She’d arrived yesterday, Marie had said. Yet Bunny, the blonde, said they had no redheads. Apparently, Bunny was buddy-bunny with Hobbs. She’d lie for him, of course, and especially if she’d been the blonde who’d accompanied Anne to the bus terminal.
And all at once, it fell into place.
The dead redhead, and Anne’s abduction, and all of it. Every blessed bit of it. I was right back to go again, and back to go was a visit with Zachary Hobbs. Back to go was a few missing teeth unless somebody started talking, and started damned fast.
I kept off the road, working my way through the trees, staying out of sight and hearing until I hit the town. I cut down to the beach then, and I stayed on the sand until I was opposite the motel. I waited, watching the macadam road until there was no one on it. Then I ran across to the dirt road, up past the gravel patch and behind the office into the shower stall.
Light flickered through the knotholes at the back of the stall. I put my eye to one of the holes. Hobbs was behind his desk, busy on the phone. I tried to make out what he was saying, but it was just a mumble from where I stood. The blonde, Bunny, was leaning against the wall staring straight ahead of her, puffing on a cigarette.
I took the monkey wrench out of my waistband and waited until Hobbs put the receiver back into its cradle.
“It’ll be okay,” he said to Bunny.
“Did they get him?”
“No, but they found the truck. It’ll be okay.”
I waited for him to say more. He came out from behind his desk, and he walked to Bunny, taking the cigarette from her hand and grinding it beneath his heel. Without preamble, he thrust his hand into the front of her blouse.
She tried to back away, but she was pinned against the wall.
“Zach,” she said, “for Christ’s sake. Can’t you pick a better time?” He threw his other arm around her waist and said, “I told you it’s going to be okay. Come on, baby. Come on, now.”
I didn’t wait for more. I left the shower stall and stayed in the shadow’s close to the office, working my way around to the front door. I listened outside the door for a second, and then threw it open.
Hobbs had his fat lips planted on the side of Bunny’s neck. He pulled his head back when the door opened, and then he dropped the girl and rushed over to the desk. I was closer, but we got there at about the same time because he’d had a start on me. He threw open the top drawer and reached into it, and I caught one glimpse of blue gunmetal, and then I brought the monkey wrench up and down in a fast blur.
It caught him on the wrist, and he pulled his hand back in pain. I shoved between him and the desk, slamming him back against the wall and reaching into the drawer for the gun. It was a .45 with the look and feel of a well-oiled, cherished weapon. I closed my fingers around it, and then snapped the safety release with my thumb, tucking the monkey wrench back into my waistband at the same time. Bunny stood to one side, her hand to her mouth, not bothering to button her blouse.
“All right, brother,” I said to Hobbs. “Let’s get at it.”
“Let’s get at what? You know the police are after you, Riley? You know what they’ll do to you when they get you?”
“You know there’s a dead girl in the back of your pickup, Hobbs?”
His eyes flicked to Bunny, and then back to me. I could almost hear the gears grinding inside his skull, and I had to hand it to him for quick thinking. “You killed someone, did you?” he said quickly. “That ain’t going to help, Riley. The cops’ll just...”
“Let’s cut the comedy,” I said. “Let’s stick to the goddamn facts.” I hefted the .45. “I learned how to use this bastard in the Army. I haven’t forgotten how.”
“What facts you talking about?” Hobbs asked. “You must be nuts.”
“Fact one: the dead girl in your truck is a redhead. You had a redhead here yesterday, but you haven’t got one now.”
“We never had...”
“Fact two: my wife came up to take a shower early this morning. Later this morning, she got on a New-York-bound bus, accompanied by a blonde I’ll bet was our rabbit friend here.”
“Bunny!” the blonde corrected vehemently.