Bad Guys (14 page)

Ahead, I could make out the edge of the Chevy’s taillights, and could see that Trevor had his foot on the brake as he turned the ignition and put the car into gear. I did the same, engaging the Virtue’s oh-so-quiet motor, slipped the car into drive, and held my foot on the brake, waiting for this convoy to get under way.

Even further ahead, I saw Angie get into her car, and about a minute later, she had her blinker on (good girl!) to indicate that she was pulling back into traffic. Then Trevor pulled out, and I brought up the rear. So far, I was the only one who had any idea how ridiculous this all looked.

Angie was heading crosstown along one of the main thoroughfares. Four lanes, lots of traffic lights. I wasn’t always able to keep the Camry in sight, although the burned-out brake light helped. But when I couldn’t spot Angie, I looked for Trevor, since he was closer and every bit as eager to keep Angie in his sights as I was.

I had a hunch where we were going. If we stayed on this route, we’d be at the Midtown Center, the site of Lawrence’s and my shootout with the black Annihilator. The mall sign came into view, and Angie, and then Trevor, moved over into the right-turn lane as they approached the entrance.

Angie swung into the mall parking lot without signaling, trolled up and down the aisles looking for a spot. It didn’t look much like it had the night before, when Lawrence’s Buick and the SUV did doughnuts chasing each other, not another car to be seen anyplace.

Angie found an opening, pulled into it, and Trevor’s Chevy rumbled past behind her. I needed to find something fast, before I lost her going into the mall. About twenty spaces further away from the mall entrance I found a spot flanked by a massive Ford Expedition and a small sports car. I slipped in, hopped out, locked the car, and started running in the direction of the mall. Under the lights of the entrance, I could see Angie heading inside. About sixty feet behind her, I could see the back of a young white male in a long black coat I was pretty sure was Trevor.

I could guess what he was up to. Another “accidental” meeting. He’d bump into her near the food court, be amazed that they’d run into each other, suggest they grab a coffee or something to eat. I could already imagine Angie’s discomfort.

Following someone in a car was one thing, but trailing someone—two people, actually—on foot was going to be something different altogether. What now, Marlowe? I hadn’t trained long enough with Lawrence to know how to handle this one.

By the time I reached the mall doors, I saw Angie rounding the corner of a jewelry store to enter into the main part of the mall. Not too far ahead of me, a boot-clad Trevor walked by briskly.

My breathing became shallow and rapid. I hadn’t counted on doing anything like this at all. I thought all I needed for this kind of work was a car and a Snapple bottle. Now, I needed a disguise. A fake face, like everyone wears in
Mission: Impossible
, would be good. Or, a hat. Something I could pull down over my eyes.

Angie wandered into a Banana Republic. There was no need to follow her inside. There was only one way in or out, which Trevor must have figured out, too, since he was hanging back, positioning himself on the opposite side of the mallway, in front of an electronics store that sold CDs and DVDs. He pretended to check out the new releases set just inside the door. I parked myself behind a two-sided mall directory sign that offered sufficient cover while I kept watch on both the Banana Republic and the electronics store.

I figured I’d be in this spot for a while. Angie, like her mother, never went into a fashion store and walked right back out again. Whenever I happened to accompany either of the women in my household to the mall, even on a supposedly short errand to go into a drugstore to buy a lipstick, I always allowed an hour.

I usually killed time in a bookstore or grabbed a coffee. Sometimes I left the mall altogether, ran some other errand, maybe trekked over to some hobby shop that carried sci-fi models, and came back in sixty minutes. But this time, I was staying put. The only comforting thing was, this would be as much torture for Trevor as it was for me. Maybe trailing after Angie in a mall would be enough to cure him of stalking.

I was still standing behind the directory sign, one eye peeking around the side, when I realized a small girl in a puffy-sleeved dress, no more than five years old, was standing a few feet away and had been watching me for several minutes.

“What are you doing, mister?” she asked.

Terrific. Shirley Temple had blown my cover.

“Go away,” I said. I was about to say something else when I spotted Angie coming out of Banana Republic, store bag in hand. She headed in the direction of the Sears, the anchor store at the far end. Trevor picked up the trail, keeping to the opposite side of the mall walkway. She ducked into a Gap right next to the food court, so I walked over to a coffee stand that still afforded me a view of the front of that store.

I bought a large coffee, shifted over to where they had the cream and sugar and stir sticks, found a lid that fit, and when I looked up, there was Angie, standing right in front of me.

“Dad? What are you doing here?” she said, her head cocked quizzically to one side. Her question didn’t sound accusatory. The truth was, she seemed very happy to see me.

I was so rattled I was having a hard time speaking, let alone coming up with an answer.

“You? At the mall? Without Mom? This is totally unbelievable.”

Think. Think. Think. Was it almost our anniversary? No, no, that was months away. If I said that, she’d never believe it. Her mother’s birthday? I’d had a habit of keeping track of that one, but no, I was pretty sure we’d celebrated that only four or five months ago. Valentine’s Day had long since past, Christmas was still a couple of months off, and—

“I’m looking for clothes,” I blurted.

“Clothes?” Angie said. “
You’re
looking for
clothes
?” Then she looked upward, as if there was no roof there and she was looking into the heavens.

“What are you doing?” I asked.

“Looking for flying pigs,” Angie said.

I attempted to look indignant. “I can’t shop for clothes?”

“Doesn’t Mom buy all your clothes?”

“Not all of them. I do know how to buy clothes on my own.”

She smiled. “Since when? You’re totally hopeless. You’re telling me you’ve come out here, on your own, to buy a new wardrobe.”

“I don’t know why that’s so incredible. I just had to have a coffee to fortify myself before starting.”

“I don’t think it’s incredible,” Angie said. “I think it’s wonderful. Because, let’s be honest, you could use a bit of sprucing up.”

“You think so?” My eyes were darting about, trying to find Trevor.

“I mean, you always wear the same sort of thing. You’ve got your blue jeans, but then, once in a while, if you really want to dress up, you wear your black jeans. And these pullover shirts you wear, I mean, what is it with these?” She was plucking at my top with her fingers.

“The thing is,” I said, “it’s been pointed out to me in the last couple of days, as recently as last night, in fact, that my fashion sense leaves a lot to be desired. An opinion that was not contradicted by your mother. So I thought, while she was out of town on this retreat thing, I’d pick out a few new things.”

“That is so terrific,” Angie said. “You know what?” She glanced at her watch. “I’ve got a bit of time. I’ll help you. Since we haven’t got five gay guys here to give you a makeover, it might as well be my job.”

“No, no, that’s okay, you’ve got stuff to do.”

“No, really, this’ll be fun. Let’s hit the Gap. It’s sharp, but not too flashy. Finish that coffee and we’ll go over.”

I didn’t see Trevor anywhere. Maybe seeing Angie hook up with her father had scared him off. I drank my coffee as quickly as I could, but it was still pretty hot, and it took me a couple of minutes. Finally, I pitched the paper cup into the trash and allowed Angie to drag me over to the Gap, wondering whether Joe Mannix had ever been dragged off a stakeout to pick out new pants.

“Okay,” she said, taking me first to a display of shirts. “I think you’d look good in something like this.” She held up, against my chest, a plaid, button-up-the-front shirt. “What are you?”

“What do you mean, what am I?” I was waiting for an insult.

Angie rolled her eyes. “Size? Are you large, extra-large? I’m guessing you’d take a large.”

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” I said.

A salesperson wearing a “Gary” nametag approached. “May I help you with anything?”

Angie said, “My dad wants to get some pants, maybe some khakis?”

“Sure, they’re over here, if you want to follow me.”

Angie motioned for me to come along. Gary of the Gap said, “He’d prefer loose fit, you think?”

Angie nodded. “Oh yeah, no kidding.”

And I thought, Hello? I’m here,
too
. You can ask
me
questions.

Angie loaded me down with three pairs of pants, half a dozen shirts. “Go try these on,” she ordered.

“Honestly,” I said. “I think I’ll just get the shirts. I don’t have to try them on. They’ll be fine. But the pants, it’s a lot of trouble.”

Angie looked at me sternly.

I was directed into a changing room. I slipped off my shoes, pulled off my pants. I pulled on a pair of navy blue khakis first, and one of the checked shirts Angie had handed me. I tucked in the shirt, slipped my shoes back on, and grabbed the wallet from my pants. This has long been a fear of mine, that my wallet will be stolen while trying on new clothes.

When I stepped back into the main store, Angie was there with Gary.

“Oh my God,” she said. “You look terrific.”

“I want to take another look at some shirts up at the front,” I said.

“Oh sure!” Angie said and then, glancing at Gary, said to me, “I’ll be right here.” She and Gary were chatting, and it didn’t sound like the subject was fashion. Didn’t she already have a boyfriend?

I walked to the front, not to look at shirts, but to scan the mall. There were dozens of people walking past, but at a glance, I didn’t see anyone who resembled Trevor.

I returned to the back of the store, told Angie I hadn’t seen anything else I cared for. But by the time we got to the counter, I had five shirts, three pairs of slacks, a new belt, and five pairs of socks.

While Gary was removing all the tags and scanning the items, I said to Angie, “So, what have you been doing tonight? Did you come straight to the mall?”

“No,” she said. “I met a friend for coffee first.”

“Oh yeah,” I said, trying not to act too interested. “Anyone I know?”

“No.”

“A good friend, someone from school?”

“Just a friend,” she said. She spotted a rack of boxers. “You know what, you should get some of those, too.”

“I’m not sure it’s appropriate for my daughter to be buying me boxers. That has to cross a line somewhere.”

“If I have to see you walking around the house in them, I should have the right to pick them. Here,” she said, grabbing three pair and tossing them onto the counter just before Gary rang up the sale.

“Okay,” said Gary. “That comes to $576.42.”

“What?” I said.

Gary repeated the amount for me. “Will that be on your Visa, sir?”

I handed over my plastic and Gary ran it through. As I walked out of the store, loaded down with three bags, Angie said, “That’s the most fun I’ve had shopping in months.”

I wasn’t sure I was cut out for this whole surveillance thing. I didn’t think I could afford it.

AS WE CAME OUT of the Gap, Angie stopped, maneuvered herself between the bags I had in both hands, and hugged me. “We should do that more often,” she said, giving me a quick peck on the cheek. I let the bags slip from my hands and hugged her back.

“Thanks for letting me do that for you.”

“Thank
you
,” I said. “I hope I didn’t take up too much of your time.”

Angie glanced at her watch. “Well, I do have to get going now, but I’m not going to be late or anything.”

“Where you off to?” I asked.

“Just doing some research for an essay I’ve got to do. I’m getting together with a friend.”

“Same friend you got together with earlier?” I asked.

“Nope, different,” she said, giving me another quick peck on the cheek. “Gotta go, Daddy.”

I felt my throat thicken. I could not remember her calling me that in years, not since she was little. It was as though, with one word, she had emerged from a period when it was not cool to show that you loved your dad.

As we walked out of the mall together, I kept scanning, looking for Trevor. My guess was he’d packed it in. We came out into the night air. “Where you parked?” Angie asked. I pointed in the general direction, but said I would walk her to her car before going to mine.

“How is it so far?” Angie asked, referring to our new wheels.

“Pretty good, although I might get it checked out. It wouldn’t start for me right away when I left the house. Had to try it three times before it would turn over.”

“Lemon city,” Angie said.

“I’m sure it was just a one-time thing.”

“Hey,” Angie said, looking puzzled, “you left the house long before I did. What did you do before you went to the mall?” Her question made sense, given that when she did find me at the Midtown Center, I had yet to do any shopping.

“Hobby shop,” I said. I was losing track of the number of times I’d lied to my own children this evening. “There was a new version of the
Enterprise
ship, from the
Star Trek
movies, the early ones, with the original crew?”

Angie sighed. “You’re such a dork. At least you won’t be quite as nerdy in your new clothes.”

I was about to laugh when I spotted a black Chevy, lights on, engine presumably running, parked alongside the sidewalk that went around the mall’s perimeter. I could see one head silhouetted behind the wheel. It was hard to tell whether it was Trevor, because he appeared to be holding something in front of his face. Binoculars, maybe, or a camera.

“What is it?” Angie asked. “You see something?”