Nick's Trip by Pelecanos George

Author:Pelecanos, George [Pelecanos, George]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: FIC000000
ISBN: 9780316126908
Publisher: Hachette Book Group
Published: 2011-06-28T16:00:00+00:00

BREAKFAST WORKED. I HAD two more cups of coffee, then voided my rotten bowels in the men’s room and washed up. When I walked out, Billy, who still looked somewhat ashen, took my place in the sole stall. I made a go-cup of coffee at the bar, thanked Wanda, and stepped out into the parking lot for some clean air.

Hendricks was sitting in his unmarked Ford, the powerful engine idling. He stepped out of the white car without cutting the ignition and strode slowly in my direction. He was in his brown uniform now, though his general appearance hadn’t changed. He had looked exactly the same the night before—like a cop.

“So,” he said, hooking his thumbs through the belt loops of his slacks. “How you feelin’ today?”

“Better now. Thanks.”

“Nothin’ a good breakfast can’t cure, right?”

“Russel’s a good cook.”

“Best in this part of the county.”

I glanced at the .357 Smith & Wesson that was holstered on his hip. The lacquered walnut stock gleamed in the sun. “I see you favor the four-inch barrel.”

Hendricks frowned with interest. “Now, how you know that, Stefanos?”

“My grandfather was an S & W man. So I heard enough trivia over the years for some to stick. Your gun’s squared on the butt—and they only square it on the four-inch. Smith and Wesson rounds the butt on the three-inch barrel.”

“That’s right.” Hendricks patted the holster. “It’s not that the barrel size makes a damn bit of difference to me. But it makes a hell of a better… impression if you have to draw it.”

“You have to much, down here?”

“It happens,” he said. “But I can’t say I favor this one at all. Fact is, the son of a bitch sights low. Much as I try to correct, I hit a full foot higher than I aim.”

“Aim low, then.”

“Thanks for the big-city tip.” Hendricks winked, looked over my shoulder, and smiled with satisfaction as he followed Billy’s labored trek from the door to the Maxima. I heard the engine start behind my back.

“I better get going,” I said.

“Where to?”

“See if Tommy Crane’s around. He was drinking with April at Polanski’s a week ago. Maybe he can tell me where she went.”

Hendricks said, “You don’t want to be messing with that guy, if you can help it.”

“Russel said the same.”

“Well, he knows. Crane nearly beat the life outta Russel one night at Rock Point, for nothing at all. I was doing a routine drive-by and ran right up on it. By that time Russel was on the ground spittin’ blood and froth, and Crane was still kickin’ in his ribs.”

“I’ll watch myself.”

“I’m not kidding,” Hendricks said.

“I’m not either,” I said. “This is just a job to me. And I don’t want to die.”

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