The Night Monster_ A Novel of Suspense - James Swain [93]
“Not much in the way of parking,” Linderman said.
“Like I said, it’s a real friendly place.”
I drove down a side street and found a metered parking lot. I parked in a spot, and dug in my pockets for some change. Linderman produced a quarter.
“My treat,” he said.
He got out, and fed the coin into the meter. I saw him pull the rest of the change from his pocket, and start feeding in more coins.
“Damn meter only gives twelve minutes for a quarter,” Linderman said as we headed toward town. “Even Washington, D.C. isn’t that bad.”
We turned the corner with the rain blowing in our faces. Main Street was quiet, and I spied movement in a storefront window a block away. The fleeting image of a man’s face. It was gone as quickly as it appeared.
“We’re being watched,” I said.
“Think your car is safe?” Linderman asked.
I glanced down the street at my Legend. The notion that someone might break into the trunk and steal Linderman’s guns felt very real to me.
“Not really,” I said.
Linderman took Buster’s leash from my hand. “Why don’t you go do some snooping? I’ll stay here, and make sure no one breaks into your car.”
“Sounds like a plan. If you need me, just make Buster bark.”
“How do I do that?”
“Nudge him with your toe.”
I headed down Main Street. The sidewalks were cracked and uneven, with pools of water everywhere I stepped. I came to a pharmacy and ducked beneath the striped awning. I looked up and down the block, then went inside.
The pharmacy was empty. Along the back wall was an old-fashioned ice-cream counter with a hand churn and a penny lick. It was the first thing I’d seen in Chatham that felt friendly. Behind the counter stood a coarse-featured woman wearing blue jeans and an oversized man’s denim work shirt. Her eyes held mine suspiciously.
I can be as charming as the next guy. I flashed her my best smile.
“Good morning.”
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“My buddy and I want to do some fishing,” I replied, sticking with my script. “I was wondering if you could recommend a place to buy bait.”
“Try Reggie’s Bait and Tackle,” she suggested.
“Is that in town?”
“No. I can show you where it is on a map.”
“I’d really appreciate it.”
She moved down the counter and fetched a map that was stuck between the wall and the cash register. She walked with a pronounced limp, and used her hands to stop herself from falling. I got up close to the counter, and pressed my belly to the edge. Looking down, I saw that her right foot was missing from the ankle down.
“Aw, hell, this is the wrong map,” she said. “Hold on a minute.”
She grabbed a cane and pushed open a swinging door to a back room. A towheaded little girl darted out, holding an ice-cream cone.
“Mind your own business, Macey,” the woman said.
“Yes, Momma,” the little girl said.
The woman limped into the back of the store. Macey took her mother’s place behind the counter, the top of her head barely reaching the Formica. Her face was smeared with chocolate ice cream. I’d learned more as a cop talking to kids than I had from anyone else. I pulled a paper napkin out of a dispenser, and handed it to her.
“You’ve got ice cream on your face,” I said.
Macey wiped away the ice cream while licking her cone at the same time.
“How old are you?” I asked.
“I’m not supposed to talk to strangers,” she said.
“I’m a nice stranger.”
“Momma will spank me if she catches me talking to you. Momma doesn’t want me talking to nobody. Says people can’t be trusted.”
“Some people can be trusted.”
Macey eyed me warily. I pulled out my wallet, and removed a crisp five dollar bill. Placed it on the counter, and drew my hand away. Macey glanced back at the room where her mother had gone, then stuffed the bill into the pocket of her dress.
“I’m looking for a couple of friends of mine,” I said. “One of them is named Lonnie. The other is named Mouse. They live in Chatham.”
Macey shook