Matt Hilton - Dead_s men dust

"Unless Petoskey's more dangerous than we're giving him credit for," I pointed out.

"Could be, but I stand on my?rst opinion. He's a small potato playing at the big time. The way I remember, he's too chickenshit to take someone out for real."

"You've been gone from here a long time. People change." "Okay, I'll concede that. But it still leaves another option, doesn't it?" "John's made an enemy of someone else? Someone who is prepared to kill him."

Rink leaned forward, turned on the engine, and pulled out into the traf?c. He turned to me, said, "But you're still?xin' to start with Petoskey?"

"Yeah. We're going to do it loud and hard. We need to shake him up, Rink. Make him fear us. I'm going to make him tell us where John is. Hopefully, it'll end there," I said. "But I don't think so."

"No," Rink said. "Now that you've got me thinking, I don't?gure so, either."

The city was behind us now and we were entering a grimier section of town.

"What are we doing here?" I asked.

"Just thought we'd take a detour and scope out the land. Harvey said Petoskey does business from an of?ce downtown, also mentioned this place he visits when the dealings are a little more underhanded. Thought we'd just drive by and take a look. Thought it would be better to hit him there than downtown. Less chance of the cops arriving and saving his ass before we're through."

Up ahead was a building right out of a ghost story. Rink raised his chin to indicate the place.

"What do you think?"

"Is it haunted?" I joked.

"Only by hobos, I guess," Rink said.

The building was a huge redbrick affair, but little of the original color showed through the accumulated soot. Five stories high with a?at roof, rows of windows on each level. Not too many of the windows retained their original glass. Some were boarded over with molding plywood, while others bore remnants of glass like the shards of teeth in a crone's mouth. The uppermost windows had fared better; perhaps they'd been replaced more recently. Beyond the dull glass there appeared to be sheets of semiopaque plastic.

"What do you think the plastic's for?"

"Not the obvious," Rink said. "It's not there to catch blood. More than likely it's to dampen down any sounds from inside."

"Looks to me like there could be squatters on the lower?oors."

"Uh-huh. Good cover. Who in their right mind's goin' to want to run a gauntlet of crackheads and thieves?"

"Only those who really have to," I said.

Rink spun the car around in an abandoned lot so we could take a second drive by Petoskey's hideout. Second time around it looked no better.

"Time to meet Harvey?" Rink asked.

"Yeah," I said. In the rearview mirror, the building took on the color of old blood. It seemed to exude the promise of unrestrained violence.

"Mr. hunter?" Louise Blake looked me up and down.

"You're John's brother?"

"Yes."

"You look like him."

We shook hands.

"Please. Sit down. I've already taken the liberty of ordering coffee," I said.

She sat down and immediately reached for her mug. Quick gulp. Not so much a need for the caffeine as for something to occupy her trembling hands. She pushed the cup from her, almost empty. Fiddled with the handle. There was a faint knocking coming from the table as if the spirits were making contact at a seance.

You might say that she was a little nervous.

I'd never met her before, but I recalled John talking about the beauty he was working with. I'd suspected he was glorifying her through the bottom of his beer goggles, but seeing her now, I had to admit she was a good-looking woman. Even pinched with worry and nervously adjusting her clothing, she had the?ne bones and full lips of a model. Not Vogue standard, but perhaps your mail-order catalog girl on the way to the big time.

Something else struck me. Louise Blake was a younger version of Jenny. One not changed by childbirth, and the ultimate betrayal of trust.

"I hope you don't mind meeting me here?" Louise said. She crossed her arms beneath her breasts to hug herself. Most likely it was another attempt at concealing the shakes. "The thing is, I don't think it would be a good idea for you to show up at my house."

"This place is as good as any," I told her. I was nursing my cup of strong coffee, while Louise looked like she wanted more. She required reassurance that she was among friends. I made the introductions.

Harvey Lucas had arranged the meeting with seclusion in mind. Neutral turf, he called it. More like minimal space. We were squashed into a booth in a greasy spoon diner at the end of a strip mall. There weren't too many customers at this hour of the afternoon, and those who were there apparently understood the concept of privacy. The booths on either side of ours remained empty, which added to the ludicrous scene of the four of us packed together at a table designed for two. Rink and I sat on one side, while Louise and Harvey sat facing us. Pressed into the corner by the window by Harvey's imposing bulk, Louise looked like a cornered rodent menaced by a panther.

When you think of a private eye, you might picture a middle-aged white man in a houndstooth sports jacket and mustard slacks. Possibly wearing a fedora to cover his thinning hair. Harvey was anything but. He was six feet?ve, two hundred and twenty pounds of sleek muscle, with a bullet head. And his skin was blue-black to the point that it re?ected the overhead lights.

Harvey Lucas looked like a professional boxer and dressed with the panache and?air of a movie star. I'd learned that he was an ex-army Ranger, the connection to Rink now obvious.

Harvey cut into the conversation in a rich baritone. "Been some strange-looking people hanging around Miss Blake's place these past coupla days. Thought it best we did our business out of sight."

"Petoskey's people?" I asked.

"Could be," Harvey said. "But if you ask me they look too slick to be involved with Siggy. Got a few good photographs of them if you want to take a look."

"Yeah, we'll have a look when we're?nished here," I said. Then I turned to Louise. "Do you know anything about who's watching your place?"

She shook her head and her reddish hair momentarily covered her features.

Harvey stepped in again. "Miss Blake was unaware of the surveillance of her home until I pointed it out to her."

"I knew something was going on," she offered in an attempt to save face. Apparently there was a tough side to Louise Blake. "I could feel it. As if there were eyes on me everywhere I went. But no, I didn't see anyone. Not that I'd know them anyway. I've never seen this Petoskey."

"What're your feelings, Harve?" Rink asked.

Harvey rolled his head on his broad shoulders, turned down the corners of his mouth. "Don't like it one bit, Rink."

Harvey had my complete agreement. To Louise, I said, "In your letter to Jennifer Telfer you said that you thought John was in some kind of trouble. Was it because of something speci?c he said?"

Louise shook her head. "He didn't say anything. That was the problem. What bothered me more was the way he was acting."

"What do you mean? You said he was frightened."

"Yeah, he was kind of jumpy. A car would pull up and he'd sneak to the window, peak out a corner of the blinds, that kind of thing. He couldn't sleep too well, either. Tossed and turned all the time, jumped at any noises from outside."

"Did you ask him what was wrong?"

"Of course I did. But he wouldn't tell me. Just said he had something on his mind." "But you didn't push him about what it was?" I asked. "No. I just thought it was to do with him starting a new job. Maybe it was too much for him to handle or something. You know, like the pressure was getting to him?"

"John started a new job?"