“I just told you.”
“You don’t even know a crime’s been committed.”
“I’m pretty sure Harry’s in there.”
“You hear what you’re saying? A guy is snatched and kept in the kidnapper’s home? How do you come up with an idea like that?”
“I’m psychic,” Raylan said.
“Oh, well, why didn’t you say so?”
Raylan sat at a desk in the court support squad room to call Joyce at home.
“Did she show up?”
“After I sat there for almost a half hour. The reverend goes, ‘Oh, have you been waiting long?’ She looks like Marianne Faithfull with dark hair.”
“I told you she has that hippie look. How’d you get along?”
“I showed her up to Harry’s apartment and gave her the key. That was it.”
“I thought you wanted a reading.”
“The reverend was tired. She said she had to rest and meditate. If I want to come by in the morning she’ll see me.”
“She’s just gonna sit there?”
“I don’t know, I’ve never meditated.”
“Well, what do you think of her?”
“In what respect,” Joyce said, “her looks, her manner? Do I get the feeling she’s sincere, a nice girl? Or do I think she has you believing whatever she tells you?”
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Raylan said.
Melinda surprised him, walking up only a few minutes after the waiter had served Raylan his beer and conch fritters, on the sidewalk outside the Santa Marta. She said, “Well, hey,” coming to him with a big smile. She wore a blue tank top and a little purse that hung from her shoulder on a chain. Raylan had the Guidelines Manual open on the table. Sitting down, Melinda looked at it and said, “What’s that?” making a face. “Like you’re doing your homework.”
“Looking up things,” Raylan said. “I was afraid you might be in Hialeah, dancing.”
“I’m going later.” She smiled again. “You were waiting for me?”
People strolling past in their trendy outfits would observe the young girl sitting with the older guy in the only suit and tie on South Beach. Raylan would raise his gaze beneath the hat brim and they’d look away. He said to Melinda, “I’ve been thinking about you. You okay?”
It seemed to surprise her. “Sure, everything’s fine. Except I haven’t seen Do-do all week.”
“Who’s Do-do?”
“Bobby. Everybody calls him Bobby Deo? I call him Bobby Do-do.”
“He mind?”
“I don’t say it to his face. I did once and he tried to slap me around. I told him, he ever touched me again I’d leave. I don’t need that.”
“I guess not,” Raylan said. He took off his hat and laid it on the table and saw Melinda smile.
“You have nice hair. I thought you might be bald-why you wore the hat. Oh-I phoned Bobby today, where he’s working? Some colored guy answered and said he’d left and wasn’t ever coming back.”
Raylan closed the Guidelines Manual.
“Maybe to get rid of you.”
“He did. He goes, ‘I’m busy,’ and hangs up on me. Very impolite.”
“Bobby was there yesterday.”
“Oh, you saw him? Good. Was he working?”
“Taking a rest.”
“He must’ve finished; that’s why he left.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Well, if he was working he’d still be there.” She looked up, as though Bobby might be coming along the street. “I should’ve asked what time he left. I sure haven’t seen him.”
Raylan said, “You really want to?”
Melinda gave him a look with half-closed eyes, putting it on. “You trying to move in?”
“I’m older’n Bobby,” Raylan said. “And he’s too old for you. Where’s home?”
“Perry, Georgia. You know where it is?”
“I’ve been through there.”
“Everybody who comes down Seventy-five has. You work at a motel cleaning rooms, making beds, or you get out of town. Here, I can waitress if I want and have something to do at night.”
“Bobby’s a bad guy,” Raylan said.
She seemed about to speak, maybe to defend him, and changed her mind to think about it first, looking out at the street.
“You can do better.”
She looked at Raylan now and nodded. “You’re probably right. I mean about him being a bad guy.”
Raylan said, “Can I ask you something? What is it about him you like?”
“Not much, when I think about it.”
“But you’re attracted to him?”
“Well, sure, he’s hot. Look at him, his hair… You should see him dance.”
“I’ve got another question. What’re you doing tomorrow, around noon?”
“What do you mean?”
“You ever been to a Huggers Gathering?”
It got her to smile again.
“I’ve been to a couple, yeah, and I went to a Deadhead party at the Miami Arena. I mean in the parking lot, I didn’t go to the concert. I don’t like the Dead, that grandpa rock. I like Pearl Jam, Spin Doctors… It’s funny, I think of Huggers and Deadheads as almost the same-they’re not all, but you see everybody smoking doobs and getting dosed on acid. I’ve done that and I’ve done nitrous oxide, everybody going around talking like Donald Duck. Those Hugger girls are a trip, they look at you funny if you shave your armpits. I do mine once a week, and my nails. Yeah, they’re fun, Hugger parties, except they’re always trying to hug you and I like my space. Where’s this one?”
“West Palm.”
“Sure, I’ll go, I’ve never been there. But I certainly don’t see you hanging out with Huggers.”
“That’s why I need you,” Raylan said, “help me find a guy I’m looking for without showing myself and spook him.”
“What’d he do?”
“I’ll tell you tomorrow, on the way,” Raylan said. “There was something else I wanted to ask you. Did the colored guy say Bobby had finished his work, so he packed up and left?”
“Uh-unh, just that he wasn’t coming back.”
“Does he have clothes up in the room?”
“A lot. He has like ten pair of shoes, these real nice silk shirts he wears when we go dancing-”
“You sure he hasn’t been back.”
“I’m positive.”
Raylan picked up his beer. “You want to have some supper?”
“I don’t mind. Sure.”
“Then I’m going to see a lady who tells fortunes.”
Melinda squinted at him, smiling a little. “Huggers and fortune-tellers; you’re into some weird shit, aren’t you?”
“It’s different,” Raylan said.
He imagined Dawn looking at him through the peephole before opening the door. She had on the same blouse and white skirt, no shoes though and seemed vulnerable, waiting with that expectant look in her eyes, hopeful. Raylan came in carrying the Guidelines Manual and she closed the door, not saying a word.
“Did you meditate?”
“Some.”
“Have anything to eat?”
“I’m not hungry.”
He watched her go to the dining table by the kitchenette, it didn’t seem with any purpose. She picked up a deck of tarot cards and laid them down again, idly fanning out the deck on the bright varnished surface. Raylan wondered if she was being a poor soul for his benefit.
He said, “Bobby’s gone.”
It brought her around.
“Gone where?”
“That’s the question. Gone on down the road or gone from this earth plane?”
“How do you know?”
“Louis told a person I know Bobby left and wasn’t coming back. I was wondering, you suppose you could check with somebody in the spirit world, find out if he crossed over?”
Dawn kept staring at him. “You’re serious.”
“Or you could call the house and ask Louis.”
She said, “You think Bobby’s dead?” Sounding awed at the idea.
“The kind of person he is, the kind of people he associates with, I’m surprised he’s still with us-if he is. Bobby left your house with a bad attitude. Louis says he’s gone, and I’d like to know what happened to him.”
“But why do I have to call?”
“I’m asking you to,” Raylan said, “and if you help me it could keep you out of prison.” He saw her expression change. “Or reduce your time.”