Crazy Joe by A. J. Llewellyn & D. J. Manly

Author:A. J. Llewellyn & D. J. Manly
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Gay & Lesbian
ISBN: 9781681750279
Publisher: Amber Quill Press, LLC
Published: 2015-05-19T23:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

"Any idea where Pool might have stashed those sex dolls?" Montana asked me after Stanley had stunk up the men's john, and we'd released him on his own recognizance.

"No idea." I really didn't. Every time I tried to tune into Captain Pool, I felt a cloying blackness seep into my soul. It was eerie. It hadn't happened to me much, but for me, it usually signified bad news.

There was still no news of Captain Pool, but the immediate worry about his absence seemed to have abated. Fred had told the others that the captain had called him with a message. "I forget what it was," he said. Everybody was pissed with him, but try as he might, Fred couldn't recall their conversation.

"I keep trying to remember," he told me and Montana. "I've even tried drinking prune juice. Had about a gallon of the stuff already."

"And that works on your memory?" I asked.

"It works on something. I--ah. Oh." Suddenly there was a terrible rumbling sound from his gut. Fred went cross-eyed and grabbed his belly. "Oh no. I think I gotta go." He sprang up from his chair and bolted through the station. Wait until he realized Stanley had left the restroom reeking.

"Let's go check on Pool's car," Montana whispered.

We walked outside and I pointed out the captain's black, 1963 Studebaker Gran Turismo Coupe. It was one of those vehicles Southern good ole boys take such pride in, but spend most of their free time keeping roadworthy.

There was a sign dated two days ago in the windshield saying, Car broken down. Please don't tow. Will get it by Saterday.

"Nobody noticed this before?" Montana asked.

"No. And think it's because it wasn't there until a couple of hours ago. This isn't his handwriting. It's Fred's. And, by the way, Fred is notorious for his misspellings. I don't know anyone else who spells Saturday with an e for the u."

Montana shook his head, then frowned. "So you think the phone call he got from Pool was asking him to put the note in the windshield?"

"Yes, I do."

"How did Fred get in the car?"

"Captain Pool keeps it unlocked. Thieves have wrecked the door mechanisms so many times he keeps it available to them now."

Montana took a handkerchief out of his jacket pocket, used it to open the driver door and stuck his head inside. He took a good look around.

"It's in mint condition," he said, closing the door again. "No signs of violence or struggle. I wonder why he wanted to convey the idea the car was broken down?"

"To buy time?" I guessed.

"Or, he was forced to make that call so nobody would go looking for him." Montana stared at me. "Does that seem probable?"

"Could be."

"What?" he asked. "What are you thinking?"

I hesitated. "I always wondered how Pool got to buy a car that's worth about forty grand. Maybe he and Bauer are in on the drug dealing thing together."

Montana gave me an appreciative look. "You think they're not just having sex parties."

"Right." I took a deep breath.

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