Quarry in the Middle - Max Allan Collins [48]
Pretty sure I knew where she was headed.
Chapter Ten
At a quarter till eight or so, the Lucky Devil parking lot wasn’t close to full. This was a Friday, and one of their big nights, but the Lucky was chiefly an after-hours joint, so Chrissy had no problem finding a parking spot near the building.
I took a space in the row behind her, shut off the engine and sat in the dark watching her, trying to figure out what the fuck to do. Tailing Chrissy’s Firebird to the Lucky hadn’t allowed a stopover at the Wheelhouse motel to grab my spare nine millimeter.
So I didn’t have a gun on me. And I didn’t have a plan. All I had was my brute strength, and we’ve seen how well that had served me in this venue…
Well, maybe I had a vague plan.
The Lucky Devil parking lot was about as handy as a pair of gloves with two lefts—the three doors facing the lot all were exit only: that one off the soundproofed private poker room, another off the casino, and one with FIRE EXIT ONLY written on it for the strip club.
To gain entry, you had to cut over to the sidewalk and walk around the building, or cut through the alley where not long ago I’d had so much fun. I figured to watch Chrissy and follow her on whichever path she chose, and intercept her before she could go in, only fuck me sideways—she was heading for the casino exit!
And now she was knocking on the thing…
It must have taken a while for the bouncer to climb down off his perch and answer her insistent pounding. He was unfamiliar to me, a bushy-brown-bearded bruiser bursting his black Lucky Devil polo with both muscles and fat, and he was not happy to be disturbed.
Finally emerging from her self-absorbed stupor, Chrissy was animated, words and spittle flying out of her. The bearded guy scowled, nodded, but shut the door on her. She dug into her little pink purse and got out some cigarettes and was lighting up when I grabbed her.
“Let’s talk,” I said, and the cigarette hit the gravel as I pulled her by the arm toward my car. The night was unseasonably chill, and her nipples were erect under the t-shirt, but for some reason that just annoyed me. Her expression was a hissing cat’s, but she was too thrown to do much about it.
Still, the parking lot was lighted, if half-heartedly, and my actions were right out there for the world to see. Several patrons, groups of guys, a couple of couples, some girl duos, were laughing and making their way toward the Lucky from their various cars, but nobody thought twice about some jackass dragging a protesting girl along. Again, just that kind of town…
“You fucker!” she said, her upper lip curling back. “You’re in trouble!”
We were to the car now, and she started to scream, and I slapped her. The sound rang in the open air like a gunshot. She gave me a look that wondered how I could be such a brute to a beautiful girl like her.
“Shut up,” I told her. “I’d rather kill you than fuck you.”
She had a hand to her red-blossoming cheek, but that statement crinkled her forehead as her brain tried to process it.
I had her wrist in one hand and used my other to work the key in the trunk. The lid opened and I nodded toward the yawning space.
“Get in,” I said.
“Fuck you,” she said. But quietly.
“We need to talk, but here is not good. I won’t hurt you if you behave. Get in.”
By the way, I’d driven the Sunbird over to River Bluff on Wednesday, to give it a thorough cleaning, not that it would have fooled any forensics experts. But at least it wasn’t blood-crustedly awful in there. I’m not that big a monster.
Anyway, she was crawling in, frowning, but more confused than afraid, when a hand grabbed my arm, and it was the bearded bouncer.
“That’s not nice,” he said, and head-butted me.
If I’d had the time for a thought, it would have been:This is what happens, going around unarmed.
But I didn’t have the time.
When I woke up, I was lying on my back and looking up at ceiling tile.
“Little early for the game, aren’t you, Jack?”
I knew the voice: Jerry G’s.
And by now I knew where I was—supine, with my knees up, on one of