KnockOut - Catherine Coulter [76]
He said, “That woman sitting at the register was looking at us even before we pulled in. I want to sit here awhile before I get out of the car and fill the tank. We’re two strangers, doing nothing, and she looks like she’s on red alert. This might end up being interesting.”
“I hope we luck out and find Caldicot Whistler here. He’s probably the key to this Children of Twilight cult, maybe to all of it.”
“I finished putting together what MAX could find about him this morning,” Savich said. “He’s thirty-seven years old, a graduate of Harvard Law who worked for four years in a private law firm in Manhattan, then took off without a forwarding address after he was turned down for a partnership. No wife, no kids. Actually he has no living relatives that MAX could locate.
“We have a four-year gap until we pick him up again here in Georgia, leading this Children of Twilight cult. Surprisingly, it’s the only mention MAX could find about him.
“Ah, look. Our subject behind the glass is giving us the evil eye, probably wondering if we’re criminals or we’re using Bricker’s Bowl as a hideaway to cheat on our spouses. And that boy’s putting too much air in that tire. If he’s not careful, it’s going to explode.”
Sherlock said, “I ran searches on Children of Twilight myself.”
He waited. “But?”
“Well, I did find a reference to a possible origin of the phrase, but, Dillon, it’s really out there—”
“And your point would be?” Savich held up his hand. The woman on the other side of the glass was reaching for the phone at her right elbow. He said, “Tell me the origin when we’re done here. It’s time for me to pump gas.”
Savich leisurely stepped from the car and eased the nozzle into the gas tank. The woman at the register dropped the phone into its receiver and turned back to watch him. He could tell from twenty feet away that her face was loaded down with makeup, from bloodred lipstick to bright blue eyelids. He gave her a little wave.
He replaced the gas nozzle and walked inside to pay the woman. He saw lines of suspicion form on her face. Her blue-shadowed green eyes were lined with black.
He smiled at her. She didn’t smile back.
“Hello,” he said, his voice smooth, confident. “Nice dress.”
She looked surprised and uncertain, the compliment unexpected, and she leaned toward him but only for a moment. Then she pulled back, crossed her heavy arms over her chest. She eased one leg over the other, letting her flowy blue print dress ease up to her knees.
“That’ll be only fourteen dollars and sixty-three cents,” she said, extending her hand. “Why’d you stop here when you didn’t need any gas to speak of?”
Savich glanced at her name tag as he peeled the bills out of his wallet. “You’re Doreen, right?”
“That’s me,” she said, and took his money. “You got three pennies?”
She had a deep Georgia drawl, every word syrupy-slow and with vowels. Savich shook his head no, watched her make change.
She gave him back a lot of nickels and pennies—payback, he supposed—then asked, her voice careful, “You and the missus take a wrong turn?”
“Oh, no,” Savich said. “We’re here to see the Backmans.”
He saw the whip of fear in her eyes before she smoothed it away. “Nice family,” Doreen said, looking down at an old People magazine with Drew Barrymore’s expressive face on the cover. He saw Doreen didn’t believe him. She said, “Outsiders usually pay with credit cards, not cash, particularly if they don’t have anything to hide.”
Savich said easily, “But then again I didn’t get much gas, did I? I like to keep rental cars nice and full. Do you also know Caldicot Whistler, Doreen? Good-looking guy about your age?”
Savich loved this woman. She was wide open, every thought clear on her face. He saw the flash of recognition, then fear or suspicion, or alarm, he wasn’t sure which.
“Nope, never heard of this Whistler. Dumb name.”
“I don’t know. I think Blessed is a pretty dumb name too, don’t you?”
“No.”
“Can you give me a recommendation for a place to stay?”
“The Backmans won’t put you up? They got more bedrooms in that big house than that Hearst Castle place