Peter Leonard - Trust Me

He drove to the end of the street, and turned around driving back toward the house. When they were within fifty meters he turned off the lights, moving closer, parking behind a Toyota Tundra pickup truck, two houses away. Tariq saw a man emerge from the Cadillac and walk with the woman, who he believed was Karen Delaney's sister, to the front door and enter the house.

Virginia said, "Do you like what you do, chasing people around, collecting money?"

She opened a bottle of Miller High Life and handed it to him.

"I'm going to retire and buy a motel on the beach. The kind with efficiencies." He sat at the kitchen table. She cracked a beer and sat across from him.

"What're efficiencies?"

"Rooms with kitchens. So people can go down and stay for a couple of weeks or a whole season, and they don't have to eat all their meals out."

Virginia said, "Where is this motel going to be?"

"Florida," O'Clair said. "Somewhere on the Atlantic side, Del-ray, or further south, Pompano, maybe." He'd rent out rooms and take it easy. No more muscling people for money. No more Detroit winters. O'Clair knew for a fact that he never wanted to see snow again as long as he lived. "Now's a good time to buy because most motel owners haven't seen a tourist since Easter."

Every couple of weeks he'd buy the Sun-Sentinel at Borders and check out the real estate prices. He'd mix himself a cocktail and think of names for the place. He kind of liked Pirate's Cove. Get a sign with a pirate in a bandanna winking at you-a friendly pirate. Somebody you'd like to drink rum with and tell stories. He also liked Treasure Island for a name-another one where you could use a pirate on the sign, or a big treasure chest full of loot.

"We went to Fort Myers once," Virginia said, "for a family vacation." She sipped her beer.

O'Clair said, "That's on the Gulf side."

"We'd drive straight through," Virginia said. "Twenty-four hours. My dad would only stop for gas."

"I do it in two days," O'Clair said. "Spend the night in Valdosta."

"Where's that at?"

O'Clair said, "Southern Georgia. It's down near the Florida border. You think 'cause you're close to Florida you're almost there and you've got another eight hours of driving ahead of you."

Virginia said. "Can I come down and visit you?"

"I've got to get a place first," O'Clair said. He took a sip of beer.

Virginia got up and came around and stood next to him. He wondered what she was doing. His chair was out about a foot from the table.

She said, "Will you kiss me?"

He was hot and sweaty and wondered about his breath. "I better not."

"Come on," Virginia said.

She sat in his lap and brushed her mouth against his. It was clumsy at first until she zeroed in on him and locked her lips on his, and stuck her tongue in his mouth. He noticed her eyes were closed. The kiss lasted about ten seconds. Then she pulled away and looked at his face.

"You're a good kisser," Virginia said.

O'Clair was thinking, I am?

"Want to hang out sometime?"

"What do you mean?" O'Clair said.

"You know," Virginia said, "go to a bar or a club, hang out."

"That'd be nice," O'Clair said.

"What's your number?"

"What do you want my number for?" O'Clair said.

Virginia said, "Why do you think? So I can call you."

He checked his shirt pocket for something to write on and pulled out a business card that said, Bobby Gal, Sales Consultant, Tad Collins Buick-Lexus. "Do you have a pen?"

She got off him and went to the counter and got a pen and gave it to him. He wrote his number on the back of the card and handed it to Virginia. He got up and held her hands and looked her in the eye and said, "I'm going to ask you one more time. Know where your sister's at?"

She smiled at him and said, "And I'm going to answer you one more time. No, I honestly do not."

"Would you tell me if you did?"

"Yes," Virginia said, "because I believe you'd help her."

It sounded like she was telling the truth the way she said it. "I better go."

She walked him to the front door and kissed him again.

"Take it easy," O'Clair said.

"Yeah, you too."

He thought about her as he walked to the car, imagined her in a bikini, bringing him a beer while he cleaned the pool. O'Clair barefoot in a pair of Bermuda shorts, working the long handle of the skimmer. Or better yet, Virginia would do the cleaning. He'd watch her from a lounge chair, drinking a beer. He liked looking at her. He could sit there all day and look at her.

Tariq watched the man exit from the house twenty minutes later. He watched the Cadillac drive down the street and disappear. Five minutes after that a light appeared in a second floor window. Omar saw it and pointed.

He said, "You see?"

"Yes," Tariq said. "I see." He was thinking about the money, Ricky instructing him: call me, update me, keep me posted. But what did Tariq have to update? Did he know the whereabouts of Karen Delaney? No. He glanced at the clock on the dashboard again. The time was 1:48 a.m. He glanced at the house and saw the light turn off. Omar looked at him and Tariq nodded.

They exited from the vehicle, closing the doors as quietly as possible. They walked to the house. The air was still hot, the street dark and quiet. They moved along the side of the house to the rear. There was a door with four glass panels. He peered in and saw a stove and refrigerator. Tariq tried turning the door handle, it was locked.

Omar had another idea. Occasionally, Omar would surprise him. He was ten feet away, removing a window screen with his knife. He stood on a patio chair and hoisted himself up and through the window and less than one minute later he unlocked the door for Tariq. They crept through the house to the front door. He was looking up the stairs ready to move when he heard a phone ring and stood there quietly. The phone was ringing. It rang five times before stopping. He could hear a woman's voice talking in the upper level of the house.

They waited until it was quiet again and started up.

Virginia said, "Do you have any idea what time it is? I was sound asleep."

"I just wanted to make sure you were all right," Karen said, looking out at the skyline of Chicago.

"Where are you?" Virginia said.

"In a safe place." She picked up her drink, sipped Stoli on the rocks, her second, trying to relax. "How's Mother?"

"That little blonde killed Fly."

"What're you talking about?"

"Fly and O'Clair showed up while you were gone. Fly's dead."

"My God," Karen said. She was confused. What were Fly and O'Clair doing there?

"I loved him," Virginia said.

"You were afraid of him," Karen said. "And now you're better off without him." She decided to tell it straight, not sugarcoat it.

"You should talk," Virginia said, anger in her voice. "The winners you've been involved with."

It was true. Karen's taste in men was as bad as her sister's. Maybe worse. "Tell me how Mother is."

"You brought some excitement to her life," Virginia said. "To say the least."

"Is she all right?" Karen walked across the room and sat on the bed.

"It depends what you mean by all right," Virginia said.

Karen said, "What do you think I mean?"

"Well she's not hyperventilating anymore," Virginia said.

"What…?"

"She was breathing into a paper bag," Virginia said. "That's what can happen when someone gets shot right before your eyes."

"I tried calling her," Karen said. "Where is she?"

"Aunt Jean came and picked her up," Virginia said. "She didn't want to be in the house alone after what happened. Can you blame her?"

"I'm sorry, I tried to keep you out of it," Karen said. She could see cars ten stories below, cruising along Lake Shore Drive.