Robert Crais - Lullaby Town

Rollie grunted. "I don't like we got a cop in this. Maybe he's undercover."

"Maybe."

"Yeah." He didn't say anything for a minute, but there was a lot of breathing. "You know, Elvis, I haven't asked who you're working for."

"I know."

After a while Rollie said, "Okay. I'll run these and get back to you."

Thanks, Rollie."

He hung up without saying good-bye.

By the time I got back to Karen Lloyd's, the sun was settling comfortably in the trees to the west and the arctic air had made its predicted move down from Canada, dropping the temperature and clouding the skies.

Joe Pike was sitting in one of the wing chairs with the cat in his lap and Karen Lloyd was making noise in her kitchen. I had the car, but Pike beat me back. One of life's imponderables. I said, "You made good time."

"I followed the kid with the pimples to an apartment building on Broadway and 96th Street. Name on the post drop was Richard Sealy."

"Aha. Richie."

"Uh-huh. I called Rollie a little bit after you. He'll run a make."

There was more noise from the kitchen. Heavy glass tumblers set hard on a counter. "You been here long?"

"Long enough."

More noise. Drawers slamming shut. I looked toward the noise, but Pike didn't. "Everything okay?"

"Nope." Pike's mouth twitched.

Karen Lloyd came out of the kitchen with a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken. Her mouth was narrow and tight, and she took short, quick steps. She said, "We're having the Colonel. I want you to come here and look at this." She put the Colonel on the table and went back through the kitchen toward the garage. I looked back at Pike. "You get it like this, too?"

Pike's mouth twitched again.

I went back through the kitchen. Karen was standing in the laundry room at the door to the garage with her arms crossed. The door to the garage was open. "Look at what that bastard did."

I thought she meant Charlie DeLuca, but she didn't. A gleaming new blue and white Yamaha snowmobile was parked next to her LeBaron. "It's going back. I told Peter about the gifts. I thought we had it straight, but this is what I find waiting for me when I got home with Toby." No questions about the mafia. No Did you discover what's going on ? No Did you find out where he gets the money ? No Are we going to get out of this alive' ?

I said, "That louse."

She turned red. "It's not an appropriate gift. Toby's too young."

"Sure."

"It's dangerous. Can't you see that?"

"It's not as dangerous as motorcycles, and I don't think it'll skew your son's values if he gets a nice gift from his father."

She shut the door on the garage. "I wouldn't think that you'd understand."

Karen went back into the kitchen and put out the rest of the things she had brought from the Colonel and then she called Toby to the table. He came out sulky and silent. She asked him what he would like to drink and he said nothing. She asked him if he wanted rolls and the cole slaw and he said no. She asked him if he wanted a breast or a thigh and he said he didn't care. Sore about the snowmobile, I guess. Pike made himself a cheese sandwich and ate as if he were alone.

We were most of the way through the chicken when the white van that said WKEL-TV turned into the drive and the tall, thin woman got out. The weenie with the minicam got out with her. When Karen saw them coming through the big front window, she said, "Oh, Jesus Christ."

I said, "Would you like me to get it?"

Karen shook her head and went to the door. "No, thank you. This is my house, and my problem."

The doorbell rang just as Karen opened the door. The tall, thin woman tried to step in past Karen, but Karen wouldn't get out of the way. The tall woman gave a nice local-news on-camera smile and put out her hand. Karen didn't take it. "Hello, Ms. Lloyd. Janice Watkins, WKEL-TV. I do local color and human interest, and I was fascinated when I heard that Peter Alan Nelsen, the filmmaker, is your husband." Janice Watkins seemed neither to mind nor notice that Karen hadn't taken her hand. Probably used to it.

Karen said, "You've made some sort of mistake. I'm not married."

The smile didn't falter. "Ex-husband, then. I know how that is, I've got two." She chuckled. Establishing rapport.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Watkins. I don't know what you're talking about."

A corner of the smile gave way. "Peter Alan Nelsen and his entourage are staying at the Howard Johnson's."

Toby craned around the bucket of chicken, trying to see. Pike pushed the bucket out of his way.

The thin woman said, "You've been seen with him. So has your son. Everyone is saying that Toby Lloyd is Mr. Nelsen's child and that Mr. Nelsen has journeyed across the country to find him." Journeyed . She was working up the human-interest angle, all right.

"I've never been married to Peter Alan Nelsen and I don't know what you're talking about."

The smile faltered. "You weren't?"

"No."

"Is Peter Alan Nelsen the boy's father?"

"No."

Janice Watkins blinked. She tried to peek past Karen to see if Peter Alan Nelsen was lurking inside. I waved at her.

Karen Lloyd said, "You've interrupted our meal. Do you mind?"

Janice Watkins narrowed her eyes. "Ms. Lloyd, I have this information on very good authority."

Karen Lloyd leaned toward Janice Watkins. "Ms. Watkins, chew a used rubber." Then she slammed the door.

Toby was staring at his plate when Karen came back to the table. His face was red and her face was tight and pale. When she picked up a piece of original recipe, her hand trembled and she put it back down.

Toby said, "Why did you tell'm he wasn't my dad?"

Karen lifted the piece of chicken again and this time took a small bite. She didn't answer. After a while Toby got up, took his plate into the kitchen, then went down the hall to his room.

Karen Lloyd put down her chicken and said, "Shit."

At seven-fifty that evening the doorbell rang again and this time when Karen answered, Peter Alan Nelsen came in without Nick or T.J. or Dani. He said, "I've been thinking about this and I've got a way to make everybody happy." Toby must've seen the limo, because he came out of his room.

Karen stiffened as if someone had injected her with Super Glue and said, "He can't keep that thing." First words out of her mouth.

Peter started to say something, but then he didn't. Showing restraint. "I'm not a dope. I know I'm here at a bad time. You're trying to straighten out this thing with the DeLuca people, and you've got me here, and you've gotta be worried about Toby. Lemme lighten the load for you. How about I take Tobe back to L.A. with me until you guys get this worked out?"

Toby said, "Yeah!"

Peter looked from Karen to me and then back to Karen. He spread his hands. Toby'll be safe, and I'll be out of your hair, and you can take care of what you need to take care of. When it's done, you can give me a call and Toby and I will come back and we can work out our family situation."

Toby was giving it the ear-to-ear. "Great! Can I meet Sylvester Stallone?"

Peter said, "Sure."

Karen said, "No."

Peter frowned. "No, he can't meet Sylvester Stallone, or no, he can't go to L.A.?"

Karen went back to one of the wing chairs and sat down. Her knees were together and so were her hands. "He has school. He has basketball."

I said, "It might make things easier."

Peter said, "Jesus Christ, Karen, it won't kill him to miss a few days of school."

Toby said, "I can get Miss Garrett to give me the work. I won't fall behind."

"No."

Peter said, "What do you mean, no?"

"It would be too disruptive. Who knows how long this is going to take?"

I said, "I think it's a good idea."

Karen flashed the hard eyes at me. "Nobody asked you."