Read Online The Albuquerque Turkey: A Novel by John Vorhaus - Free Book Online

whole different way. And that was a terrible terra incognita to us both. We felt brave going there. Felt brave ever since. God knows it’s tricky when grifters make love. But Allie and I managed somehow.
    And we managed pretty well right then.
    Later, over
huevos revueltos
, * a Hoverlander specialty, I filled Allie in on the night’s events. She seemed pleased that things were better with Woody. Pleased also, and this surprised me, that Mirplo’d hooked up. “That’s good,” she said. “He needs someone. Artists shouldn’t spend too much time alone.”
    “Wait. Artists? Allie, you’re not buying into that, are you?”
    “Why not? He’s half right, you know. Half of art is marketing, creating a demand.”
    “Yes, but the other half’s talent.”
    “Well, talent. We’ll see. What’s that stupid thing you say? ‘Keep giving them you until you is what they want.’ ”
    “No, that’s a stupid thing
you
say.”
    “I knew I heard it somewhere. Anyway, I want to see his studio.”
    “Why?”
    “Maybe I’ll buy something.” She shot me a grin. “Original Mirplos could be worth a ton one day.”
    On the walk over, I found myself checking out the passing traffic with more than passing interest, as if Woody’s cruising pursuers might somehow turn their attention to me. It didn’t seem likely, for Woody was no doubt adept at shaking a tail, and his costumes were, well, vigorous. Still, it’s kind of a chance to take, potentially bringing collateral damage down on your estranged son just while you’re getting unestranged and all. Why would a would-be doting dad do that, even if he needed your help?
    And what if he didn’t need your help after all?
    “Allie,” I said, “I think we may have a problem.”
    “With what?”
    “Woody. What if it’s all smoke? All this being on the lam, the disguises, everything. What if it’s just a setup for something?”
    Allie stopped. She let her head sag down on her chest for a moment, then lifted it and looked at me. “Do you actually think that?”
    “I don’t know, but we have to at least consider the possibility. I mean, that’s only prudent.”
    “If by prudent you mean paranoid.”
    “He wouldn’t be the first grifter to mook one of his own.”
    Allie sighed. “Look, Radar, I don’t suck at judging people, do I? I mean, I picked you out of the bad-apple barrel.”
    “Granted.”
    “Well, your father seems okay to me. I like him. And if he’s working to make me like him, let’s call that good old-fashioned charm, and just move on, huh? For once, just take things at face value. See how that works out.”
    “Innocent until proven guilty?”
    “If you can stand it.”
    “And if it turns out he really needs my help?”
    “Well, that’s a different story.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Operation Citizen, remember? Done with that life is done with that life.”
    We walked on. It seemed that Allie was trying to have it both ways, but it took me a moment to put the thought into words. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight,” I said at last. “I’m supposed to have a good, honest, wholesome relationship with my father. Give him the benefit of the doubt, take him at face value. In other words, be a loving son.”
    “Uh-huh.”
    “Only, I can’t lend the hand he might need.”
    “Not if it means straying from our path.”
    “Those two ideas kind of clash, you know. How do you hold them both in your head at the same time?”
    “I’m a complex person,” she conceded. “We’re here.”
    Here
was Vic’s Quonset hut, a half cylinder of ancient corrugated steel set back from a narrow street between an auto-body shop and a storefront psychic. The loud drone of something obnoxiously approximating music blared from within. We knocked loudly, but when it became clear that we’d never be heard over the din, we let ourselves in.
    The air was thick with a resinous scent I didn’t recognize, though I identified its source as a small, shiny brazier,