Lucifer's Weekend (Digger) (17 page)

"Ten bucks says I can get over on her," Digger said.

Gus looked at him, at the woman again and said, "You’re on."

The woman came into the bar and sat across from Digger. Gus turned to approach her when Digger called out, "Hey, lady."

"What?" she responded. "What do you want, fella?"

"I’ll give you two dollars to do disgusting things to my body."

"Cheapskate," she said. "I never take less than four."

"Two-fifty," Digger said.

"Three-fifty."

"Three," Digger said. "Not a penny more."

"Okay," she said. "But you buy the penicillin."

Gus LaGrande’s head was tennis-matching back and forth. His mouth hung open as the young woman got up, walked around the bar and threw her arms around Digger’s neck. They kissed and Digger said, "Koko, this is Gus. He owes me ten dollars."

"That’s a switch. A bartender owing you money," she said. She sat next to Digger and ordered Perrier water.

"Why do you drink that crap?" Digger asked. "It’s club soda."

"Sure, it is. But it comes in a bottle. I don’t want to drink anything that comes out of a hose in a bar. How do you know what’s been in the hose? You taught me that. I just arrived and already you’re bitching at me?"

"I’m not bitching. Drink whatever you want. I thought you were going to call me to pick you up."

"There was a cab right near the bus stop and I thought I’d save you the trouble. You don’t look too bad."

"Was I supposed to?"

"I don’t know. Somebody shot at you, I thought you’d be hiding in a corner under a table."

"The bullet ain’t been made with my name on it, little lady," Digger drawled. "Where’d you get that silly cowboy hat?"

"I bought it up at my mother’s. I love it."

"It looks nice," Digger said. "It’s just that it makes you look like all those other knickknacks around here. Everybody in Belton, PA, wears a cowboy hat."

She whispered in his ear, "Play your cards right, I’ll let you rip it off me."

"Hold that thought," he said.

"I’m glad to see you. I got a scare when I was coming up here."

"What was that?" Digger asked.

"A cop’s car was parked down near the foot of the drive. I thought maybe you were in some kind of trouble."

"No, I’m not in trouble," he said. "Was there a cop in it?"

"Yes. Some big slug. He looked like a snail in a hat."

"I’m in trouble," Digger said. "I think he’s the one that pegged the shots at me. What was he doing?"

"Just sitting there."

"He’s waiting for me," Digger whined. "The bastard’s waiting for me to take a step out into the street and then he’s going to draw down on me and leave my bleeding body in the dust. I hate Belton, PA."

"I don’t want you shot at," Koko said. "You’re not much, but I don’t want you killed before I get you trained."

Digger stared glumly into his drink because he was afraid. Not for himself, but because he didn’t want Koko around if anybody made another strafing run at him. Who knew what that bastard Harker was capable of? It was a bad idea letting Koko come here.

"What’s wrong, Digger?" she said.

"Who says something’s wrong?"

"I’ve been here five minutes already and you haven’t tried to force me into bed yet."

"What do you think I am, some kind of animal?"

"We’ll let that pass without comment," she said.

"You sit here and wait a minute."

"Where are you going?"

"Up to my room," Digger said.

"I want to see your room."

"It’s haunted," he said.

"What?"

"The presence of Hondle Sycamore permeates the place," Digger said. "I haven’t slept since I got here. I feel his cold fingers on my neck."

"Hugo Stockelbrinner," she said. "Don’t worry about it. I laughed him off nine years ago, I can do it again." She paused. "He had
warm
fingers as I recall. With warts."

"You wait here."

"I’ll accompany you. For protection."

"Boy, you just can’t get him out of your mind, can you?" Digger grumbled. "We’ll be right back," he told Gus.

She followed Digger into his room, then whirled around, looking at it.

"This is it, Dig. The very room. Even that stupid red pendant is still on the chandelier."

"You’re disgusting. All you think about is sex, sex, sex," Digger said.

"Same bed too. I remember the big brass headboard."

"You want me to send downstairs? Maybe they still have the same sheets." Digger was fumbling in a dresser drawer, dumping a pile of tape cassettes into a small plastic laundry bag. When he turned around, he saw that Koko had flopped onto the bed. She extended her arms toward him.

"Same mattress too," she said. "Come here, Dig, I’ll relieve your tensions."

"Talk about creatures of habit," he said. "You just don’t know how to act once you get in this room."

"Well, maybe it’s best," she said. "Maybe the memories of this room ought to belong only to Hugo and me. Dear, sweet Hugo. I wonder what he’s doing now. Maybe I’ll call and see if he’s still around."

Digger growled and dove on top of her. She buried her lips against his and when he finally let her go, she said, "I knew if I was subtle and smart, I’d eventually wear you down. Make love to me."

"In a little while," he said.

"Thanks for the rejection," she said, sitting up.

"It’s not a rejection. You’ll understand later. Come on."

"Where are we going?"

"Just trust me," Digger said.

"The last man I trusted was Hugo Stockelbrinner. At least he meant well. Actually, though, he did pretty well too."

Downstairs, he had Koko wait in the lobby hall while he talked to Gus in the bar.

"Gus, are you going to be here tonight? Can I borrow your car?"

Gus hesitated a second. "Sure," he said. "Something wrong with yours?"

"It’s lugging a little bit," Digger lied. "I don’t want to chance it."

"Okay." Gus handed him a set of car keys. "It’s the green Volvo to the right of the door."

"Good." Digger took out his wallet and handed Gus a fifty-dollar bill.

"You don’t have to do that," Gus said.

"Company expenses," Digger said. He leaned close so that Koko could not overhear. "Listen, remember that girl who was here the other night?"

"Yeah. Dolly? Was that her name?" Gus asked.

"Yes. If she comes in, looking for me, tell her to wait."

"All right."

"And if anybody calls, take messages. I’ll be calling in."

"You’re quite a man," Gus said.

Digger grunted. "Here’s my car keys," he said. "In case you need it."

"Which car is yours?" Gus asked.

"The one with the bullet hole in the back windshield," Digger said.

"Now drive naturally," Digger said. "And keep an eye open and see if the cop’s car is still there. Then turn left onto the main road."

"Okay," Koko said.

Digger lay on the back seat as Koko went careening down the narrow road that led from the LaGrande to the main highway.

"Slow down, for Christ’s sakes," he yelled.

"You said drive naturally. This is natural."

"Then drive unnaturally slow. I’m going to wet my pants," he said.

Koko slowed down, then stopped at the entrance to the highway.

"Cop’s car is still there," she said softly. "The gorilla’s still in it."

"Okay. Make your left onto the highway and keep driving."

He felt the car turn left and accelerate smoothly down the road.

"Is he following you?" Digger asked.

"No."

"Good." Digger sat up and peeked out the rear window. There were no cars behind them.

"Okay," he said. "When you get over this hill, pull off and stop. I’ll drive."

"Why you? You always get lost," she said.

"Because you drive like a goddamn kamikaze and I’m not ready yet to drive into a battleship’s smokestack."

"You’re a pain in the ass, Digger."

"Yes, I am. Pull over."

"What is this place?" Koko asked.

"It’s a motel. What does it look like?"

"It looks like a goddamn chicken barn," Koko said. "What are we doing here?"

"Just wait here a minute," Digger said as he got out of Gus LaGrande’s car.

He was back in a few minutes.

"We’re in luck," he said. "It’s in the back."

"What’s in the back?"

"You’ll see."

"If I wanted to stay in rooms like this," Koko said, "I could start turning tricks in Times Square."

"Don’t exaggerate. It’s not that bad. Look. You’ve even got a free newspaper, courtesy of the management."

"Not bad, huh? And I bet you can’t beat the price either. You know what’s wrong with you, Digger?"

"I’m sure you’ll tell me," he said.

"You’re just like your mother."

"That’s a foul accusation," Digger said.

"She buys your father’s ties at Tie City and she buys paper plates at Paper City. Your father’s shoes come from Shoe City. If she had to have surgery done, she’d have it done at Knife City. Just as long as it’s cheap. You’re the same way. Look at this place. Motel City. I left my mother’s beautiful house to come see you and you want me to stay in this dump."

"It has its charms," Digger said.

"Name one."

"Nobody will shoot at you here," he said.

She looked at him for three long seconds, then draped her arms over his shoulders.

"Oh, Dig. That’s what this is all about?"

"Yes, ma’am."

"Oh, Dig."

"I ain’t letting you get killed until I get me some Oriental nookie," he said.

"You had to go and spoil a tender moment, didn’t you?" she said.

"You know me. Bad Joke City," he said.

He left Koko hunkered down with his tapes and tape recorder and the complimentary motel copy of the
Belton Bulletin
. At a phone booth in a gas station he called Gus LaGrande.

"Any calls?" he asked.

"Yes. Louise called. She wants you to call her. Do you know her? That’s the only name she’d give—just Louise."

"Yeah, I know her. No other calls?"

"No. Do you mind if I ask, how many women do you know in this town? Is there any broad you don’t know?"

"Women are the custodians of the world’s secrets," Digger said. "He who would be wise would cultivate women."

"That’s too deep for me."

"Try this," Digger said. "If Dolly with the big tits comes in, hold her there for me."

Digger dialed Louise Gillette’s number. When she answered, she wasted no time in pleasantry.

"Mr. Burroughs, I agree with you. I think my husband was murdered."

"Did something happen to change your mind?" he asked.

"I drove up to the campsite with Cody. I looked at the electricity and I saw the bullet holes near the door where somebody shot at you. Until I saw that, I think I believed you were lying."

"I wasn’t."

"And then Ardath told me about the window in your car, and how Lem Harker was driving by, looking it over."

"One of the bullets got that," Digger said.

"Mr. Burroughs, I want you to find the killer. I’ll retain your services for whatever it costs."

"You’re already paying enough," Digger said. "Double indemnity doesn’t apply in cases of murder. If we’re right, your insurance is only worth five hundred thousand."

"I don’t give a damn if it’s worth only six cents. I don’t need the money. I want my husband’s killer."

"All right," Digger said. "Who called you today and convinced you to take the million?"

"Lucius Belton," she said immediately.

"How’d he get you to change your mind?"

"Oh, well," she said with a sigh, "I’m sure you’d find out sooner or later."

"Yes, I would," Digger said.

"He told me any investigation into Vern’s death wouldn’t turn up anything except the fact that Vern was having affairs with a number of women." She paused a moment. "Belton used me, Mr. Burroughs. He knew how protective I was of Vern’s reputation."

"It sounds like it," Digger said.

"I hate being used," she said. "Do you think he had anything to do with Vern’s death?"

"I don’t know. I don’t have a motive for him," Digger said.

"Find out. Mr. Burroughs?"

"Yes."

"Was my husband having an affair?"

"Yes."

"With whom?" she asked.

"Nobody you know," Digger said.

"I’ll let that stand for now. If there’s anything you want me to do, let me know."

"I will," Digger said.

Marla Manning winked and nodded to Digger when he walked by the piano. When her set was over, she joined him at a small table in the back of the Orleans jazz club.

"Hiya, Walt," she said. "I guess I ought to thank you for getting me across the road last night. I was ripped out of my gourd."

"Right and wrong," he said.

"What do you mean?"

"Right, you were ripped. Wrong. My name’s not Walt."

She pushed her chair back a little from the table.

"Oh?"

"No, my name is Julian Burroughs, and I’m in town investigating the murder of Vern Gillette."

"Murder? What…?"

"No, Marla, it won’t work," Digger said. "You know more than you’ve been telling me and that gig’s over now. You can tell me and I can clean this up and keep you out of it, or you can let me turn everything over to the state cops and you can tell them all about it."

"What am I supposed to know?" she asked.

"I know you were up in the cabin with Gillette the night he got killed."

"How do you
know
that?" she asked.

The trouble was Digger didn’t know. He suspected but he didn’t know. He decided to run a bluff. He pushed his chair back and started to his feet.

"Sorry, Marla. We don’t have anything more to talk about. You can tell it to the cops."

She leaned forward and grabbed his sleeve.

"Sit down, dammit," she said.

"To listen to more of your bullshit?" he said. "No thanks."

"Sit down. Please."

Digger sat down, but perched on the edge of the chair as if ready to leave as soon as he could.

"Okay, I was up there," she said.

"I know," he said. "Now tell me about it. And don’t leave anything out."