Sue Grafton - N Is For Noose

"Anybody in particular?"

Margaret shrugged. "A waitress at the Rainbow and one at Tiny's. Alice, the one with red hair."

"I know her," I said.

"That's all he talked about, how horny he was. Poontang, he called it. I was embarrassed. I mean, what kind of talk is that coming from your dad? He couldn't have been more obnoxious. He got in fights. He borrowed money. He dinged the truck. People around here won't tolerate behavior like that. It drove Hatch insane so, of course, the two of us were fighting. Hatch wanted them out of here and I can't say I blamed him. What are you going to do though, your own dad? I could hardly ask him to leave. He'd been here less than a week."

"So what finally happened?"

"We sent him and Alfie off on a fishing trip. Anything to get them out from underfoot for a couple of days. Hatch lent 'em a couple of fishing rods he never did get back. He was p.o.'d about that. Anyway, I don't know what happened, but something must have gone wrong. Next morning, Alfie showed up and said they'd decided to take off and he'd come for their things."

"Where was your father?"

"Alfie told us Daddy was waiting for him and he had to get a move on or Pinkie'd be furious with him. I didn't think anything about it. I mean, it did sound like him. He was always trying to get Alfie to fetch and carry for him."

"Did Tom know all this?"

"I told him in March when Daddy's remains turned up. Once the body was identified, Tom notified me and I passed the news on to the rest of the family. Before that, as far as I knew, Dad was fine."

"Didn't it strike you as odd that no one in the family ever heard from him once he supposedly left here?"

"Why should it? Bad news travels fast. We always figured if something happened to him, someone would be in touch. Police or a hospital. He always carried ID. Besides, we heard from Alfie now and then. I guess the two of them split up, or that's the impression he gave."

"Why did he call?"

Margaret shrugged. "Beats me. Just to see how we were doing is what he said."

"Did he ever ask about your dad?"

"Well, yes, but it wasn't like he really wanted to get in touch. You know how it is. How's your dad?…

What do you hear from him?… And that sort of thing."

"So he was wondering if Pinkie ever showed up again. Is that it?"

"I guess. Finally, he stopped calling and we lost touch with him."

"Maybe he realized Pinkie wasn't ever going to put in an appearance."

"That's what Tom said. He thought Daddy might have been murdered the very day Alfie left, though there was never any way to prove it. One thing they found was a gas receipt he'd tucked in his pocket. That was dated the day before. Him and Alfie filled up the tank on their way to the lake. You think Alfie knew something?"

"Almost certainly," I said.

"Maybe the two of them quarreled."

"It's always possible," I said. "Judging from his behavior, he was either trying to create the impression that Pinkie was alive, or he really wasn't sure himself.

The last time you saw him… when he stopped by to pick up their belongings… did he seem okay to you?"

"Like what?"

"He wasn't nervous or in a hurry?"

"He was in a hurry for sure, but no more than he'd be with Daddy waiting."

"Any signs he'd been in a scuffle?"

"Nothing that I noticed. There wasn't any dirt or scratches."

"How did they plan to travel? Bus, train, plane? Hitchhiking?"

"They must have gone by bus. I mean, that was my assumption because the truck was left over at the Greyhound station. Hatch spotted it in the parking lot later that same day," she said.

By the time I left Margaret's, it was close to nine-thirty. I unlocked the VW and slid under the wheel, sticking the key in the ignition. A car approached and as it pulled up alongside, I could see that it was Macon, driving a black-and-white. Even through the car window I could tell he was better dressed for the cold than I was. I was wearing my brown leather bomber jacket, but was short the gloves, scarf, and cap. I rolled down my window. His car idled, static from the radio filling the air. The temperature had dropped. I blew on my fingers briefly and then turned the key in the ignition, firing up the VW just to get the engine warm. I adjusted the heat, which in a VW consists of moving one lever from OFF to ON. "What's up?" I asked.

"I'm on tonight anyway so I thought I might as well follow you home. I talked to Selma a little while ago and she told me what was going on. I'm glad you came back. She was worried you'd abandon ship."

"Believe me, I was tempted. I'd rather be at home," I said.

"I remember this Pinkie Ritter business. Ornery son of a gun. Was Margaret any help?"

"About what you'd expect," I said, evading the issue. "I'm heading over to Tiny's. She says he hustled one of the waitresses so I'll see what she says. It might not mean anything, but I could pick up additional information. Maybe a jealous husband or a boyfriend was dealing out paybacks. You have any other suggestions?"

"Not offhand. You seem to be doing pretty good," Macon said, but he didn't sound convinced. "Why don't you let me ask around and see what I can find out. Seems like the fewer people who know what you're after the better."

"My sentiments exactly. Anyway, I better get a move on before I freeze."

Macon glanced at his watch. "How long will this take?"

"Not that long. Thirty minutes at best. I'm not even sure Alice works Saturdays. I'm assuming she does."

"Why don't I follow you as far as the parking lot? I can swing back at ten and follow you to Selma's. If the woman isn't working, have a Coke or something until I show up."

"I'd appreciate that. Thanks."

I rolled up the window and put the car in gear. Macon pulled out first, waiting for me to do a U-turn so I could follow him. With the boys entrenched in their poker game inside, I was feeling safer than I had all day.

The parking lot at Tiny's was packed with cars, RVs, and pickup trucks with camper shells. I tucked the VW into a small gap at the end of the last row. Macon waited, watching me cross two aisles, passing through the shadowy spaces between vehicles. Once I was at the rear entrance, I turned and waved to him and he took off with a little toot of his horn. I checked my watch. 10:05. I had until 10:30 which should give me plenty of time.

Saturday night at Tiny's was a rowdy affair; two alternating live bands, line dancing, contests, whooping, hollering, and much thumping of cowboy boots on the wooden dance floor. There were six waitresses working in a steady progression from the bar to the crowded tables. I spotted Alice with her gaudy orange hair half a room away and I pushed my way through the jostling three-deep bystanders ringing the room. I had to yell to make myself heard. She got the message and pointed toward the ladies' room. I watched her deliver a sloshing pitcher of beer and six tequila shooters, then collect a fistful of bills that she folded and pushed down the front of her shirt. She angled in my direction, taking orders as she came. The two of us burst into the empty ladies' room and pushed the door shut. The quiet was remarkable, the noise in the tavern reduced by more than half.

"Sorry to drag you away," I said.

"Are you kidding? I'm thrilled. This is hell on earth. It's like this most weekends and the tips are shit." She opened the first stall door and stepped just inside. She took a pack of cigarettes out of her apron pocket. "Keep an eye out for me, would you? I'm not supposed to stop for a smoke, but I can't help myself." She shook a cigarette free and fired it up in no time. She inhaled deeply, with a moan of pleasure and relief. "Lord, that's good. What are you doing here? I thought you went home to wherever it is."