Ellie Warren stepped from behind the counter to refill coffee cups and chat. She turned when she saw me sit; her thin face lit in a big gap-toothed grin.
"Well, hi there, stranger!" She came to the counter, plunked the coffeepot down, gave me a peck on the cheek. "I haven't seen you since before Thanksgiving! Where have you been?"
"I haven't been up, Ellie."
She nodded, her eyes glowing conspiratorially. "Making yourself scarce?"
"You think I needed to?"
She laughed. "Probably didn't hurt." She pushed a string of faded red hair back from her face. "Hey, hon, what happened?" Her long thin fingers touched the cheek she hadn't kissed.
I winced. "Nothing; it's okay. But I'm starving. What's good?"
She smiled wickedly. "Nothing here. Come by my place later, I'll fry you some chicken that'll make you cry."
"How about a sandwich to hold me till then?"
"If you have to."
"A BLT on toast. And coffee."
Ellie waltzed down the counter, stuck my order on a spindle at the kitchen opening. She came back, poured my coffee, leaned her elbows on the counter.
"How've you been, Ellie?" I asked through the coffee.
She spread her skinny arms, grinned again. "As you see. Not getting older, getting better."
"You couldn't get any better, Ellie. How's Chuck doing?"
Ellie's son Chuck was twenty-one, a loud, wild boy. He and Jimmy Antonelli had been inseparable troublemakers for years. Brinkman had arrested them more times than anyone could count on drunk-and-disorderlies, as public nuisances, for property damage, willful endangerment, trespassing, and once, after they'd stolen a car, for grand theft. The car turned out to belong to a cousin of Ellie's, who refused to press charges.
Until the boys were seventeen, all Brinkman could do was grit his teeth while the family court judge sent for Tony and Ellie. He'd lecture them, let them pay the boys' fines, and send them home. But finally even the judge got disgusted. As soon as they were old enough by state law to serve time as adults, he started sentencing them to weeks at a time in the jail behind the sheriff's office.
Brinkman had enjoyed that.
Ellie laughed. "He's doing great. Basic training is over and he's been at sea a couple of weeks now. I've got a picture. You want to see?"
"A picture? I thought you'd be good for a dozen, Ellie."
"He only sent me the one, so far. It's only been three months."
She reached under the counter for her purse, rummaged through it. She flipped her wallet open, smiled as she looked at the photograph, passed it to me.
Chuck Warren had Ellie's smile, with more teeth. His eyes were as challenging as ever, but his mustache was gone, and his thick blond hair was cropped close and largely hidden under a seaman's cap.
"Christ," I said. "He must have been really scared, to go and do that."
"He thought Jimmy was going to end up doing fifteen years in Greenhaven. We all did. He knew it could have been him. It made him think" She laughed again. "Sometimes, you have to hit them over the head with a frying pan to get their attention."
The bell in the kitchen rang. Ellie went down the counter, brought back my sandwich, along with coleslaw and fries I hadn't ordered. "A big guy like you needs some real food," she explained, eyes twinkling.
I salted the fries. "Ellie, I need to find Jimmy. Tony says he's been living with a girl. That mean anything to you?"
She frowned, folded her hands together under her chin. "I haven't seen him since Chucky left."
"This would be from before that. Tony says he moved out around Christmas."
The door opened, letting in cold air and two men who sat at the end of the counter. Ellie winked at me, went over and took their orders. She poured them coffee, came back, and refilled my cup. "You know, I think he did have a girl. I never met her, but Chucky told me. Oh, what was her name?" Her face furrowed into lines of concentrated thought, then melted. "Alice. Alice something."
"Alice what?"
"Come on, hon, what do you want from an old lady?"
"If I knew an old lady I'd tell you. Do you know what she looks like?"
She thought again. "You know, I do. Chucky said she was pretty; dark and sweet; but heavy-set. That sort of surprised him; I guess that's why he mentioned it. He said Jimmy'd always gone for the skinny ones, the little lost- looking ones. Alice was real different from Jimmy's other girls. She's not part of that crowd, you know, Jimmy and Chucky's crowd. I don't think Jimmy was hanging around with them either so much anymore, since he met her."
"Well, thanks, Ellie. That'll help." I reached for my check; only the sandwich was on it.
I paid her, finished my coffee as she made change from the ornate cash register. As I zipped my jacket she put her hand on my arm. "Wait," she said. "I think I did see Jimmy. I'm not sure, but I think it was him. Chucky told me Jimmy'd bought a truck—one of those stupid things with the big wheels and the light bar on the cab?"
"What about his old van, that he worked on so hard?"
"Oh, he still has that, I think Anyhow, a truck like Chucky told me about tore through here about two weeks ago as I was coming in. Ran the stoplight, had to drive onto the curb to miss the mail truck coming from Spring Street. I think it was Jimmy's, but he wasn't driving. Some girl was."
"Alice?"
"I don't think so, not if Chucky was right. This one was small, with lots of blond hair. And laughing, as though tearing around town on two wheels was funnier than anything."
I kissed her skinny hand. She pulled it back, laughing. Then her face got serious. "Is Jimmy in trouble, hon?"
"I don't know. But Brinkman's looking for him, and the state troopers. Just to ask him some questions, for now. But I don't want Jimmy to do anything stupid if Brinkman finds him."
"Oh, lord. Sheriff Brinkman would love that, wouldn't he?"
"Yeah, he would. Keep an eye out for him, will you, Ellie? I'll see you later."
I stepped out into the afternoon. Lighting a cigarette, I looked up and down the street. A yellow dog wandered, sniffing, along the sidewalk opposite. The stoplight at Main and Spring changed. No one was at it.
It was a big county. Finding a dark, heavy-set girl named Alice, if that was all I had to go on, could take weeks.
And there was another problem. I had a client. I'd taken Eve Colgate's money to follow a trail that was already four days old and getting colder by the minute.
I reached in my pocket, found the list of antique shops I'd made a century ago, this morning at Antonelli's. I looked at my watch. Two o'clock. If I was smart about it, I could get to the places I'd targeted and be back at Antonelli's by six-thirty or seven. If the place was open—and if I knew Tony, as soon as MacGregor was through with him and MacGregor's boys were through with his cellar, he'd be open—maybe Tony would talk to me.
If he wouldn't, maybe the Navy would let Chuck Warren talk to me.