SERIOUSLY...?: A Lou Fleener Thriller by Duane Lindsay

Author:Duane Lindsay [Lindsay, Duane]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2017-03-31T04:00:00+00:00

Back in the car, back on the road, this time heading for Evanston, a wealthy suburb north on the lake, Lou says, “You catch the part about coming home in uniforms?”

“I did. That means their street clothes must have gotten burned up at the bar.”

“So all those guys, they’ve got to come home in their Nazi costumes?” Lou starts to laugh, thinking about it. “That’s got to be like the guy sneaking out the window when the husband comes home, has to run away buck naked.”

“Probably worse,” agrees Cassidy. “The naked guy might get a little sympathy. Who’s going to worry about these guys?” She looks at the list. “Who’s next?”

Doesn’t really matter who’s next because he isn’t there. Nor is the next guy or the next one after that. Lou and Cassidy drive all over the city, from north Schaumburg to the western suburb of La Grange. Nobody’s home, nobody’s seen them and good riddance.

“Seems like our Nazi party is keeping a low profile.”

“Scattered like cockroaches.”

“I’ll have the chicken in a basket, please.” They’re at a Dairy Queen on the side of the road in some small town west of the city. It’s somehow become evening and the ice cream stand is buzzing with kids in baseball uniforms, families and teenagers sharing sodas. The sky’s gone from harsh blue that hurts the eyes to a muted purple that’s sinking into black. A pair of orange sodium lights over the picnic benches makes an oasis for them all. Big moths swarm around the lights.

They’ve decided to eat in the car and the windows are open. They listen to the chatter and the low drone of cicada and the click and buzz of June bugs flying into everything. They’ve got fries in a red plastic basket between them on the seat and sodas perched precariously on the dash and the radio’s playing something soft. Lou dabs a bit of ketchup from her lip and she smiles at him.

“This is a perfect evening, Lou.”

“Yeah; it is. Long drive home though.”

“True, but it’s nice all the same.”

“Can you believe we checked every address and came up empty?”

“No. Hard to believe I’m actually depressed about not talking with a Nazi.”

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