Read Online Hawk Moon by Ed Gorman - Free Book Online
Authors: Ed Gorman
Tags: Mystery & Crime
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Ralph?"
She set down her Janet Dailey novel, reached over and turned around a small sign that read Back in a Minute .
"C'mon, hon," she said. "I'll show ya."
Ralph turned out to be a large and not entirely attractive hog who, the motel clerk assured me, was perfectly harmless as long as you didn't leave anything breakable out in your room. Ralph lived in the back, the best friend of the motel owner's eight-year-old daughter. He was an industrious and talented hog, our Ralph. He could climb up on the garbage cans and then shimmy through your window if you'd been silly enough to leave it open. It cost them a lot to replace screens every now and then, but it was worth it for the laugh, and Ralph didn't do it all that often, anyway.
I said goodnight to both Ralph and the lady. The lady was still giggling. Ralph was still grunting.
I did all the things I'd been wanting to do for the past couple hours, including taking a small overdose of aspirin, and then I slipped into bed and slept.
Chapter 9
T he knocking on my door seemed to be part of the dream I was having. Two, three times they knocked before I realized it was for real.
I didn't know where I was, not at first. That happens sometimes when I'm on the road. Back in my Bureau days that was a problem. Traveling isn't good for a guy who is a small town boy at heart.
I tugged on my trousers and stumbled to the door, taking my Ruger with me for company.
There was an eye-hole and I used it.
Cindy Rhodes stared back at me. Her fine-boned face looked kempt and pretty even in the middle of the night. Only the dark eyes revealed something wild and frantic. She'd changed shirts. This one was a blue western-style one, and it fitted her most appealingly.
I opened the door and the hot muggy dark leapt inside like a pet who was supposed to stay outside all night.
"Could we go get some coffee?" Cindy asked me, straight out.
"Sure," I said.
"There's a truck stop not far from here."
"All right."
"This is really shitty of me, waking you up this way."
"You wouldn't do it unless it was important." I smiled and yawned. "At least, I hope you wouldn't."
T he truck stop was full of cowboy truck drivers in western shirts and Elvis sideburns and an endless hankering for Hank Williams Jr. records. Sleepy-eyed waitresses transported lots and lots of scalding black coffee to tables and booths. Men came and went from the showers in the back. I couldn't imagine their lives. You hear about the hookers and drugs, but most of these men and women are decent, hardworking folks with families and a real sense of responsibility. The loneliness must get pretty bad: you out there somewhere in Utah in the middle of a midnight blizzard, and your wife and daughter back in Texas dreaming of Daddy in their uneasy slumber.
We had some of the scalding coffee.
Cindy said, "He's in trouble."
"David?"
"Right. Bad trouble."
"I'm not sure what that means." I waited for her to explain.
"Neither am I, but he stopped by tonight and wanted to know how much I had in my savings account."
"Did you tell him?"
"Yes." Pause. "I've never seen him like this — not when he was sober, anyway. Really scared, almost to the point of being crazy."
"He give you any idea of what the trouble might be?"
She shook her head. In the light, her sweet smart face showed the late hour and the strain. "I'm going to take out two thousand dollars in the morning and give it to him."
"Is that everything you've got?"
"Yes."
"Must have taken you a while to save it."
"He's my husband."
I thought of the way he'd smirked about her earlier at the casino. She was the nice bright girl in the high-school class who always fell in love with the dashing bad boy. Some of those girls never got over those bad boys. Not ever.
"He owes you an explanation."
Sad quick smile. "David's not much on explanations."
I sighed. "David doesn't seem to be much on anything, does he?"
"You don't like him, huh?"
"Let's say I like you a whole lot
She set down her Janet Dailey novel, reached over and turned around a small sign that read Back in a Minute .
"C'mon, hon," she said. "I'll show ya."
Ralph turned out to be a large and not entirely attractive hog who, the motel clerk assured me, was perfectly harmless as long as you didn't leave anything breakable out in your room. Ralph lived in the back, the best friend of the motel owner's eight-year-old daughter. He was an industrious and talented hog, our Ralph. He could climb up on the garbage cans and then shimmy through your window if you'd been silly enough to leave it open. It cost them a lot to replace screens every now and then, but it was worth it for the laugh, and Ralph didn't do it all that often, anyway.
I said goodnight to both Ralph and the lady. The lady was still giggling. Ralph was still grunting.
I did all the things I'd been wanting to do for the past couple hours, including taking a small overdose of aspirin, and then I slipped into bed and slept.
Chapter 9
T he knocking on my door seemed to be part of the dream I was having. Two, three times they knocked before I realized it was for real.
I didn't know where I was, not at first. That happens sometimes when I'm on the road. Back in my Bureau days that was a problem. Traveling isn't good for a guy who is a small town boy at heart.
I tugged on my trousers and stumbled to the door, taking my Ruger with me for company.
There was an eye-hole and I used it.
Cindy Rhodes stared back at me. Her fine-boned face looked kempt and pretty even in the middle of the night. Only the dark eyes revealed something wild and frantic. She'd changed shirts. This one was a blue western-style one, and it fitted her most appealingly.
I opened the door and the hot muggy dark leapt inside like a pet who was supposed to stay outside all night.
"Could we go get some coffee?" Cindy asked me, straight out.
"Sure," I said.
"There's a truck stop not far from here."
"All right."
"This is really shitty of me, waking you up this way."
"You wouldn't do it unless it was important." I smiled and yawned. "At least, I hope you wouldn't."
T he truck stop was full of cowboy truck drivers in western shirts and Elvis sideburns and an endless hankering for Hank Williams Jr. records. Sleepy-eyed waitresses transported lots and lots of scalding black coffee to tables and booths. Men came and went from the showers in the back. I couldn't imagine their lives. You hear about the hookers and drugs, but most of these men and women are decent, hardworking folks with families and a real sense of responsibility. The loneliness must get pretty bad: you out there somewhere in Utah in the middle of a midnight blizzard, and your wife and daughter back in Texas dreaming of Daddy in their uneasy slumber.
We had some of the scalding coffee.
Cindy said, "He's in trouble."
"David?"
"Right. Bad trouble."
"I'm not sure what that means." I waited for her to explain.
"Neither am I, but he stopped by tonight and wanted to know how much I had in my savings account."
"Did you tell him?"
"Yes." Pause. "I've never seen him like this — not when he was sober, anyway. Really scared, almost to the point of being crazy."
"He give you any idea of what the trouble might be?"
She shook her head. In the light, her sweet smart face showed the late hour and the strain. "I'm going to take out two thousand dollars in the morning and give it to him."
"Is that everything you've got?"
"Yes."
"Must have taken you a while to save it."
"He's my husband."
I thought of the way he'd smirked about her earlier at the casino. She was the nice bright girl in the high-school class who always fell in love with the dashing bad boy. Some of those girls never got over those bad boys. Not ever.
"He owes you an explanation."
Sad quick smile. "David's not much on explanations."
I sighed. "David doesn't seem to be much on anything, does he?"
"You don't like him, huh?"
"Let's say I like you a whole lot
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