“I’ve got to get into the trailer. Hell, we stand here and talk all night and it’ll be morning before I get it done.” Daron pointed to the trailer/office. “I’m going to get some answers tonight.”
“You stole a dead guy’s money?” I thought the park bench incident was bad enough.
“Look, I didn’t say that. I’ll fill you in on all of the details later. Right now, are you two going to stand guard? All you’ve got to do is give me a signal if someone is coming.”
I wish I’d never asked the question.
Em shook it off. “What’s the signal?”
“Start a conversation. Just pretend that you guys can’t sleep, you’re out walking and you start talking — loud, so I can hear you.”
I looked at Em and she shrugged her shoulders. Kind of like, what the hell. We’re here, we may as well pitch in. Like she was game for anything. I was still thinking about Styles taking the money off of a dead man. And the fact that the Federal Bureau of Investigation was checking out my girlfriend.
Styles put his finger to his lips and walked softly to the trailer. He stepped up on the wooden landing and the wood creaked under his weight. We all froze for a second. Then Styles gently tried the door. The moon gave us just enough light so we could see him ease the door open.
A soft light spilled from the entranceway and I could see a dim lamp burning on what appeared to be a small wooden table. I watched Styles look both ways, then he turned to us, gave us a thumbs-up, and pulled the door behind him, leaving just a small opening. Hopefully enough of an opening that he could hear us if we had to start talking. Loudly.
Em took my hand and squeezed it. Then she let go and motioned to me. We walked several yards from the trailer.
“You get into the damnedest predicaments.”
“You were the one being followed by the FBI.”
“I hope your buddy finds out why.”
“Daron?” We were whispering, and my throat was getting raspy. You can’t whisper too long before it irritates the vocal chords.
“Yeah. Daron.”
“He’s not my buddy. He may be James’s buddy, but he’s not mine.”
She was quiet for a moment. “He took the money off of a dead guy? That’s sick.”
“It’s better than killing the guy.”
“I guess, but not by much.” Em looked up and down the grounds. “There’s no sign of anyone standing guard.”
“No. Remember, he said the trailer guard usually crashes on the couch. He’s probably asleep in there.”
“And if he wakes up and finds Daron working on their computer?”
I didn’t want to consider that.
“Styles will have to deal with it.”
“And, Skip. What was the deal with the shoes?”
“The shoes?”
“Daron brings me designer shoes and wants to know the value? What was that strange scene all about?”
“Oh, yeah. That’s another story.”
“You’re just full of stories, aren’t you? You and your friends.” She gave me an impish smile.
She was here because of me. I was here because of — probably James. And Daron was keeping the whole thing alive, with a bunch of stories that had a ring of truth to them. But with Styles, who knew?
“Tell me the story about the shoes. What’s he got? A foot fetish? Come on, I’ve got time. What else are we going to do?”
“Um, it’s not something you want to know about right now.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Don’t do this to me.”
“Em, I’ll tell you later.”
“Oh, I’ll probably figure it out anyway. But if he asks again — ”
“Asks what?”
“The value.”
“Yeah?”
“The value of Loeffler Randall shoes.”
I’d never heard the name. But I wasn’t a student of feminine footwear. “Loeffler Randall shoes?”
“If he asks the value — ”
“What?”
“About three hundred seventy-five dollars.”
“Wow.”
“They’re quality shoes. Think Sex and the City.”
Em cried when they cancelled Sex and the City.
“Okay, I’ll give him the price.”
“Maybe half that on eBay.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
E m had fallen asleep, stretched out on the damp ground, cradling her head in her folded arms. I was sitting next to her, watching her, her diaphragm rising and falling with her soft breath. Her blond hair spilled over her arms and I thought about watching her all night long. I truly believe I could have. I was still wondering how I’d gotten into this situation. James was probably right. It was the questions I’d asked. And the fact that I knew about Cabrina Washington. I’d met the girl. For some reason, that meeting and my questions had triggered a response. Possibly my meeting and questions were the reason that we were all in a situation that no one seemed to understand.
There was no breeze, just the heat and humidity, and I could feel sweat running down my back. My T-shirt was wet, and there was a thin layer of perspiration on my face. I strained to hear any unusual sounds, but the droning of some insects, the call of an occasional bird, and Em’s breathing were all I could pick up.
I may have dozed. I hope that wasn’t the case. I’d like to think that I was a little more alert than that. I’d like to think that if I am asked to participate, I participate with everything in me, but the truth is, I may not be as reliable as I should be. Chalk it up to youth, or maybe too many beers during college. All I know is that Styles was standing above me, tapping me on the shoulder and I hadn’t seen or heard anything.
“Hey, Skipper, let’s get out of here.”
It only took a second to shake off the cobwebs. I reached down and touched Em on the cheek. She shivered and opened her eyes. Even in the dark, I could see the first sign of confusion. Then she shook the webs off too.
“Come on.”
“What did you find?”
“You’re in the notes.”
“What?”
“Back to your truck. Quick.”
I was struggling to get up.
“I’m what?”
“You’re on the computer. Look, there’s a little explanation, but basically LeRoy thinks you and James are plants.”
I couldn’t figure it out. Plants? My mother had plants in the kitchen window. James had a fake palm tree that someone had given him, sitting in the living room window in our postage-stamp apartment. What the hell kind of plant was I?
“Plants?”
Styles extended his hand, I grabbed it and he pulled me into an upright position. “The full-timers think you and James are plants. They think the cops or the FBI planted you to get information on the murder of the senator.”
No. Was he crazy?
“Are you crazy?”
“No. They may be crazy. I’m not.”
“Daron, they can’t be serious.”
“Damn it, let’s get the hell out of here.”
“Plants?”
“Please! Move.”
I was with him. The last thing I wanted to do was spend another night in this park. The sooner we debriefed, the faster we could get out of here and spend the night in a real bed. I realized it was late. James would have been back by now, the card game would have been finished a couple of hours ago. “Were you mentioned?”
“It’s not important.”
“Were you? Did Thomas LeRoy identify you as the guy who killed Bland? The guy who took his money?”
“Yeah. He did. He said they thought I was a prime suspect. Now, would you get your girlfriend so we can get out of here?”
Em staggered to her feet, and we stumbled around the tent, for all the world looking like two drunks trying to find their way home. And we hadn’t had a drink. Not one beer.
I pulled her, hurrying her along. If someone was going to wake up and start screaming “thief,” I didn’t want to be anywhere nearby. We started jogging, and reached the far end of the tent. I stopped and took in long, painful breaths. Too many beers, not enough exercise. We caught our breath, and as we made the turn, I looked around to see if Daron was following. There was no one.