White Heat by Paul D. Marks

Author:Paul D. Marks
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Down & Out Books
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 25

Laurie would have preferred I stay with her the next day. It wasn’t a horrible proposition. If I didn’t have other things to do, I might have. Guilt and wanting to do penance had made me stay the night. I didn’t think Craylock would come at her during the day. Roaches like him hide from the light. I could have been wrong. Nonetheless I couldn’t stay with her twenty-four hours a day. I wasn’t a bodyguard. Was this a rationalization? Justification for my leaving.

I went home, showered. Didn’t know how I would spend the day. I felt Teddie slipping farther and farther away. Or was it Rita? I hadn’t heard from her in a couple days. Of course, she hadn’t heard from me either. Why? I put it out of my head.

The phone rang.

“Duke, Tommy here.”

“I take it the South Central Olympics are over. You sound tired, man.”

“Haven’t slept in days. And I’m on duty again. At least the riot’s over and things are settling down, sort of. Just don’t believe what you see on the news. It’s a hell of a lot worse out there. They’re trying to make it like everything’s back to normal. Ain’t so. At least tonight I’ll get to go home and sleep.”

“Sweet dreams.”

“Thanks, bud. I’m back at West Hollywood station. C’mon down. I’ll look up the stuff you want.”

I was just about in my rental car before he hung up. West Hollywood station wasn’t far from my house. Would take me ten or fifteen minutes to get there. Traffic was still light. Lots of people staying home behind locked doors.

The station was guarded more like a military installation than a sheriff’s station that day. It was hell getting through the heightened security. When I finally did, Tommy could barely raise a smile.

“Glad to see you, bud,” he said. Dark circles engulfed his eyes. His uniform looked like it’d been run over by a truck, not the usual crisp look. He pulled out several thick mug books, dumped them unceremoniously on a desk.

“Stalkers. Let me know when you’re done with them and I’ll get you some more.”

I flipped through the dog-eared pages. Black faces. White faces. Brown and yellow faces. No discrimination here. No Weasel either. I wasn’t really looking for Craylock, but I kept an eye out for him too. Didn’t expect to find him. And didn’t. Tommy came back.

“Hey, Tom, how ’bout we look up some stuff on the computer?”

“I shouldn’t be doing this for a civilian.”

“Aw shut up. You’ve been watching too many crummy TV shows.”

He flicked a button on a keyboard. A computer monitor lit up. He punched some keys. “All right, whadda you want?”

“Check out a guy named Jim Talbot or James Talbot, J. Talbot. Even Talbot James.” Hell, the Weasel might have been stupid enough to give me his real name or a variation of it. Several histories, even computerized photos, popped up. None looked like my Weasel.

“Doesn’t mean he ain’t done nothing. Only that he’s not in our system.

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