Highway 61 Resurfaced (v5) by Bill Fitzhugh

Author:Bill Fitzhugh
Language: eng
Format: mobi
ISBN: 9780060597610
Publisher: William Morrow
Published: 2005-03-31T04:00:00+00:00

17

NOW THERE WERE three things Rick knew about her: karate, French, and French kissing. Based on how good she was at these, Rick assumed Lollie was a pretty good specialed teacher. So that was four things. He wondered how long the list was. And how long would it be until he learned more? As he wiped the last bits of grease from his fingers, Rick said, “You any good with computers?”

She wiggled in her seat and said, “Try me,” like she was Mae West.

“I thought we were saving that for later.”

“Down, boy,” she said, pointing at the monitor. “Databases. How to search. Try to focus.”

“You started it,” he said. He showed her the basics, gave her his Web site passwords, and turned it over to her. “I’ve gotta feed Puff Kitty. Holler if you need help.”

“Puff Kitty?”

“That’s his rap name. When he gets scared, his tail puffs up like a gang member.” Rick was about to go when an e-mail pinged in. It was from Smitty Chisholm. He’d talked to a professor at Ole Miss who had done research on minor figures of the Delta blues. He had a phone number and an address for Crippled Willie Jefferson, just outside Greenville. The professor also said he was trying to track one down for Earl Tate. Lollie hit the print button.

With this little bit of good news, Rick went into the reception area to medicate and feed Crusty. As he applied the ointments and pills, he could hear Lollie typing at a fever pitch. A few minutes later, he heard the printer spooling up. Then more typing, some disgruntled noises, then more typing, and so on. Rick took a minute to trim Crusty’s claws. “How’s it going in there?”

“So far so good,” she said.

As Rick picked Crusty’s nose, he heard the printer going again. A minute later she said, “All done.”

“What?” He couldn’t believe it. He walked back into the office with a flat toothpick in one hand and a boogery cat in the other. She waved a few sheets of paper in the air as Rick stared in disbelief. He traded Crusty for the papers and started reading. The first thing was a newspaper article with a grainy photograph, the others pages looked like part of a complaint or a deposition from a lawsuit entitled Sunflower Retirement Village v. Good Move Transit Group, the parent company for several large moving firms. The summary indicated that the retirement community had relocated recently and had hired one of Good Move’s subsidiary companies to do the heavy lifting. When it came time to unload, the drivers said they couldn’t until the residents paid for some unexpected expenses, which amounted to several thousand dollars apiece above the contracted price. Rick looked at the plaintiffs’ names, but there were no LeFleurs or Doogans. He said, “Okay, they’re bad guys, but what’s it got to do with the price of tamales in Vicksburg?”

“Maybe nothing,” she said. “Maybe something.”

“Maybe you want to explain.”

“Okay.” Lollie put Crusty on the floor and rubbed her hands together excitedly.

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