He nodded as we got in the elevator and headed down. I stopped at the second floor. Mickey went down to ground level. Three minutes later I was signing Flo out of the drunk tank. She recognized me, looked away as I walked her out. She was a mess.
“I have a hangover,” she said as we left the lockup.
I held her big canvas bag that passed for a purse. It weighed at least fifteen pounds.
“You’re surprised?”
“I don’t usually have hangovers,” she said. “I just feel queasy, have a beer, and I’m all right.”
“A beer won’t help you this time,” I said.
“No,” she agreed as we stepped out into the street.
The sky was still overcast but it wasn’t raining.
“They won’t let me take my car,” she said. “I suppose that means I’ll never drive again.”
“Not legally,” I agreed, starting to walk.
“Where are we going?” she asked as I moved down the sidewalk.
“To get a car and take you home,” I said.
“I’ll be stranded there,” she wailed.
“You have money. There are cabs,” I said.
“You’re mad at me, Lewis,” she said.
“No,” I answered. “I’ve learned not to expect much from people so when they don’t deliver I’m not disappointed.”
“You’re disappointed in me?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said. “But I’m not judging you. I’ll take you home. You hide, wait till you hear from me, drink yourself to death, and hope I find Adele who’ll probably be taken away from you even if I do. If you find the old Flo, have her give me a call.”
We walked slowly down to the corner, turned left, and hit the EZ Economy Car Rental Agency in five or six minutes of silence.
“I look like shit,” Flo mumbled.
I said nothing as we went through the door. Alan was there handing keys to a customer, a young Hispanic in a trim suit carrying a briefcase.
“Fonesca,” Alan said, bright and false. “Your car’s ready.”
I held my hand out for the keys. Alan looked at Flo.
“The cops told you?” he guessed.
I said nothing.
“We had no choice,” Alan said. “You know what kind of profit margin we survive on here? I’ve got a kid starting college next year. Fred’s got a stomach he should donate to Johns Hopkins or the Smithsonian or Barnum and Bailey. We can’t afford to fool around with the law.”
“You’re forgiven,” I said. “Keys.”
He reached over to the rack of keys, selected the right one, and handed it to me.
“New key chain,” he said. “Windshield’s new. We patched the bullet hole. Can’t even see where it was.”
“How close did it come to hitting me?” I asked.
“Not very,” Alan said. “Passenger side about chest high.”
“Someone tried to kill you?” Flo said, coming a bit out of her fog.
“Someone shot at me,” I said.
“Because of Adele?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” I said. “But that’s a good guess. Let’s go.
“Ten percent off on the next rental,” Alan called as I went out the door with Flo behind me.
Alan followed us out while I helped Flo in and went around to the driver’s side. I looked at Alan and said, “You could have called me before you called the police.”
Alan nodded.
I got in and drove off heading south. Flo wanted to talk but she didn’t have anything to say. I turned on the radio and got two thirty-year-olds talking about the best time of the day to have sex. I changed the station and got a woman psychologist who was setting up brick walls against sex. I wasn’t thinking about sex. I pushed another button and got Louis Prima and Keely Smith singing “That Old Black Magic.”
“What do I do while I’m waiting if I don’t drink?” Flo mumbled.
“Eat, look at the water, watch television, read a book, listen to your records,” I suggested.
“Without Adele, something’s missing. I fill the something with whiskey sours and gin and fruit.”
“Buy a business,” I suggested.
“What?”
“You’ve got money. Buy a business.”
“Gus and I had one. I didn’t like it. Got on my knees and said thanks to the Lord when he retired.”
“Buy one you like,” I said, turning west on Oak right near the DQ. We were in Washington Park, clearly marked, a neighborhood of upscale homes, some of the oldest and best maintained in Sarasota. It looks like an MGM 1940s street where Andy Hardy might have a girlfriend. When I wasn’t in a hurry I’d bicycle through Washington Park, driving back in time for a few blocks to Osprey, which I did now.
“Like what kind of business?”
“I don’t know. Get a small place that specializes in western records or open a little bar where you can get bands in to play country.”
“Good advice,” she said. “I’ll think about it. What about you?”
“Me?”
’Take a big step back to the land of the living,” she said. “Hold my hand. I’ll teach you to square-dance. You tell me to get a life. I’m telling you right back.”
She was right. I had no business telling Flo Zink how to live or die. We were silent the rest of the way to Flo’s.
“Think about it,” I said, pulling into her driveway. “And let me know if Adele calls.”
She opened the door.
“Want to come in for a drink? Beer for you. Sprite for me.”
“I don’t think…”
We could hear the phone inside ringing. Flo left the door of my car open and ran for the house. I got out, leaving my door open too, and followed her as she found her keys, scrambled in, and ran for the phone.
“Hello,” she said.
I stood next to her.
“Sorry? You’re sorry? You’ve got a goddamn good reason to be sorry,” Flo said, a bit of her old self emerging. “Where the hell are you? What the hell are you doing?… I was in jail all night. That’s where I was. That’s why I didn’t answer the fuckin’ phone… No, I’m all right. I won’t be driving for a while, probably never, but I’m all right. Are you coming back?… No, I just got some ramrod back and I’m asking you a question? I made it before you and I’ll make it again. I’ve got some plans… Yes, I want you back, but this old broad is getting flatter and softer since you started playing games again. I don’t much care for the woman you’re talking to, but I mean to… Fine, here he is. I’m going to take a bath and watch the boats from the deck and think about better times when Gus was alive and kicking ass.”
She looked angry now, more than a bit of the old Flo. She handed me the phone.
“Lew?” Adele asked.
“Yeah.”
“Is she all right?”
“No,” I said.
“Can you help her?”
“Can you?”
“I’m not finished,” Adele said. “I’ve got a lot of work left. You told him what I destroyed?”
“I told Lonsberg what you destroyed,” I said.
“How’s Mickey?”
“He’s confused,” I said. “He’s in my office waiting for me. Why don’t you meet us there?”
“I can’t,” she said. “I’m not done. There’s hurting to be done. Did you read Plugged Nickels?’ she asked.
“Some of it,” I said. “It’s not my kind of book.”
“Chapter six, first five paragraphs,” she said.
“What about them?”
“Read them,” she said.
“I’m getting too old for games, Adele,” I said.
“I was too old when I was twelve,” she said. “My father was screwing me and I was turned over to a pimp when I was thirteen, but you know all that. So a little game playing won’t hurt you or me. I missed out on game playing when I was growing up and going down.”
“I’ll read it,” I said. “But I’ve got a condition.”
“No more manuscripts destroyed. Not for a day or two. You bought time by helping Mickey.”
“Have you any idea who took a shot at me last night?” I asked.
“Son of a bitch shot at you?” she screamed. “Tell the legend I’m tearing two of his books right now. Tearing them and throwing them into the Gulf. Rains Rising and Childhood on Fire”
“I thought you weren’t going to destroy any more manuscripts. We have a truce.”
“Screw the truce,” she said. “You want to get killed? Mickey’s grandfather was a good man. So are you. Flo’s a good woman. Ames is…”