“What time is it?” Mia asked suddenly aware that she had a job to get to.
I checked my wristwatch and then the wall clock. It was 1:50 p.m. She was supposed to start work in ten minutes. We hurried to the Jag and pulled into the curb in front of IHOP three and a half minutes later. Not a land speed record, but close.
“Meet me here at nine okay?” Mia said as she started to get out of the car then turned back to me and added, “gimme a little kiss big boy.”
Who could refuse such a request? If it was a quick peck on the cheek I expected, was I in for a surprise. Mia mashed her lips against mine in what was a long passionate probing affair before she broke away. “I’m going to be late,” she gasped. “And I want to find out more about your wife—the one the old cop said he was sorry about.”
“I thought you might. See you at nine,” I mumbled as I worked at getting my lips, brain and Jag back into gear. “As opposed to the other wives,” the little voice inside my head said—a bad joke and the timing—worse. Forget it.
Unlike the earlier dash to get Mia to IHOP, I drove at a leisurely pace back to my boarding house and parked and locked the Jaguar in the garage. I didn’t really know what to do about those two monster straw bags Mia had brought with her. Side by side, they filled the back seat. I decided to leave them right where they were. I could get them to her later if I needed to. I re-checked that both the car and the garage door were securely locked before heading to my room. I thought that I would spend the next hours reviewing what I already knew, go over what Langdon had said and perhaps make a few more notes. Perhaps things would fall into place, and I would find the clincher that would bring Langdon on board. The notes that he made during his investigation would be invaluable.
“Hi Doc—how have you been?”
“Jesus, you scared the crap out of me Max,” I said to Frank’s bodyguard slash killer—when necessary.
“Sorry about that Doc. I thought you might have noticed the Caddy parked out front. I’ve been worried about you.”
“Too small, I guess I missed it,” I said as I glanced over at the big white Escalade. “You’re looking pretty spiffy there in your golfing togs Max. I didn’t know you played. How is Frank? And what are you doing here?”
Frank is my brother and the one who didn’t get the old man’s Jaguar.
“He’s good. He sends his regards. He’s a bit worried about you. He’d like you to give him a call. The stuff in Toronto is starting to wind down. He needs to talk to you about certain disbursements—and some other stuff.”
Max was a guy I’d known for quite a few years. Frank inherited him from Dad with the same job description. He was the type of person you never wanted to turn your back on even though when he applied himself he could be quite charming.
“I’ll get around to that Max just as soon as I get some sleep. I’ve been working overtime.”
“Anything I can help you with Doc?” he said as he extended a Blackberry cell phone. “The numbers are all entered. Sooner rather than later I think.”
“Thanks, but no Max. I’m good for now,” I said as I took the phone.
The Doc name goes back to when Frank and I were little kids playing cowboys. He was Wyatt Earp and I was Doc Holliday—why not? My name was Joe; his was John. Frank was nothing like Wyatt unless you wanted to start counting bodies.
“Then I guess I’ll leave you to it Doc. Stay in touch. My number is on the cell too. Call me if you need anything. I’m going to be down this way for a bit.”
I watched as Max smiled and returned to the Escalade. I could see the outline of another large person in the passenger’s front seat—probably Max’s bodyguard slash killer.
This was another complication I didn’t need in my life right now.
Langdon had said that if we turned up even one thing that he had not found during his work on the case he would give us any and all the information that he had. I wanted to believe him. I thought my theory about the location of the body and the side of the road on which it was found might sway him a bit. But I needed more than that. In a flash of optimism I believed that if we could get all the files the old cop had recorded on the case, there might even be a snowball’s chance in hell of finding out what had actually happened to Vickie on that fateful night three years ago—even if we never found the guy.
Sooner rather than later Max had said. I sat on the side of my bed and called Frank.
“Talk to me.” Frank saw that in a movie and has used it ever since.
“Hi Frank. How are they hanging?” That’s what I always have to ask so he knows no one is holding a gun to my head—or it isn’t Rich Little doing an impression of me.
“One behind the other for speed. What’s up?”
“I just had a visit with Max. He said I should give you a call.”
“Yeah, I got some stuff we need to go over about Annie’s estate, but the timing is bad just now. Can you call in about two hours or so?”
“Sure—no problem … dead air. Frank had hung up.
After last night’s bedtime adventure at the Howard Johnson’s Motel, I now also had to figure out what my relationship with Mia had become and where it was going. My intentions were good. I had fully intended to work throughout the afternoon and evening while Mia worked her shift at IHOP. I wanted to be able to pick her up at nine with some fresh ideas. The spirit was willing but the body was weak. Within fifteen minutes of lying down with the Xerox copies of relevant newspaper articles and all my notes spread out on the double bed, I was dead to the world. My night with Mia had wiped me out.