Read Online Who in Hell Is Wanda Fuca? by G. M. Ford - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: G. M. Ford
Ads: Link
again.
Buddy shot him a murderous glance. "Anyway, Leo. To make a long story
short. He lost us." Buddy hung his head.
"Guy drives like Barney Oldfield," said George, staring at his
mismatched wing tips.
"Any ideas which way he was headed?"
"Up University. That's as far as we got."
"Toward the freeway?" Buddy and George nodded.
"Okay," I said. "Good work. Here's what we're going to
do."
"You're not pissed?" asked Buddy.
"We're not fired?" George showed great relief.
"Hell, no," I said. "You guys did just fine." Buddy
staged a recovery.
"If George here wasn't so goddamn slow, we'd a kept him in sight, Leo.
I know we would have. He" - pointing at George - :wouldn't ride in the
backseat."
"I get carsick riding backward," whined George.
"You're the one insisted on sitting back there," Buddy snorted.
"The passenger seat's sopping wet," George shot back.
"Who are you shittin', George? How could you tell? You're generally a
bit damp down there anyway." Buddy looked around the group for agreement.
I put a stop to it.
"Is there a pay phone handy down there?" These were the guys to
know. Checking coin slots was part of the daily routine.
"Three," said Ralph immediately. "One all the way over by the
Curiosity Shop. One inside the Antique Mart and one by the Hot Dog Stand."
"Okay," I said. "Here's what we're going to do." The got
out their notepads. "You guys are going to do the same thing you did the
last time they met, with one exception. This time I want Ralph over at one of
the pay phones."
"Which one?" asked Ralph, pencil poised.
"It doesn't matter, Ralph," I snapped. "You decide."
Chastened, Ralph went back to drawing in his pad. "Harold, you get your
cart and wander about. Buddy, you and George be ready in the car same as
before, but this time" - I paused for effect - "the minute they're
both there, you guys have Ralph give me a call. I'll be waiting at home. If the
pattern holds, I ought to have plenty of time to get down there. I'll follow
him."
"What do we do, then?" asked Buddy.
"You guys pile in the wagon and follow her. If she goes back to the
building, stake it out and keep taking license numbers." I remembered.
"Where's the license numbers you guys have gotten so far?"
Buddy rummaged around in the pocket of his parka and handed me the list.
"What if she don't' go back to headquarters?" he asked.
"Then try to follow her." I waited for it to sink in. "Any
questions?"
Ralph started to raise his hand, but an elbow from Buddy made him
reconsider. "We're ready," Buddy said.
"All right then, fellas. Back to work."
They rose as a unit and headed out the door. From the doorway, I reminded
them. "Take the stairs." They waved agreement. I closed the door.
having the crew around was hard enough on my neighbors. Over the years I'd been
part of a couple of ugly scenes that had played out here in the building. Most
of my neighbors already looked at me with a jaundiced eye. To my knowledge, I
was the only resident who'd ever actually shot anybody on the premises. I was
afraid that getting caught in an endeavor with this group might push one of the
neighbors over the edge. I watched until the boys opened the fire door and
started down.
I was behind in my paperwork. I owed a couple of expense reports on a
skip-tracing job I was working on and a final report and billing on a
prenuptial investigation I'd just completed. And this was just the old
business.
Last evening, I'd retrieved a lit of nine new possibles off my answering
machine, weeded it down to the six most promising, and made a note to follow up
sometime today. Sometime was now.
I started with Jed James. Jed was a local attorney whose investigative work
I handled when the time and finances permitted. He did mostly pro bono work,
but usually scammed up a way to get me paid full rate for my work.
Jed was the scourge of the local law enforcement community. His ten years
spent as the ACLU's chief litigator back in New York had given him both a taste
for
Buddy shot him a murderous glance. "Anyway, Leo. To make a long story
short. He lost us." Buddy hung his head.
"Guy drives like Barney Oldfield," said George, staring at his
mismatched wing tips.
"Any ideas which way he was headed?"
"Up University. That's as far as we got."
"Toward the freeway?" Buddy and George nodded.
"Okay," I said. "Good work. Here's what we're going to
do."
"You're not pissed?" asked Buddy.
"We're not fired?" George showed great relief.
"Hell, no," I said. "You guys did just fine." Buddy
staged a recovery.
"If George here wasn't so goddamn slow, we'd a kept him in sight, Leo.
I know we would have. He" - pointing at George - :wouldn't ride in the
backseat."
"I get carsick riding backward," whined George.
"You're the one insisted on sitting back there," Buddy snorted.
"The passenger seat's sopping wet," George shot back.
"Who are you shittin', George? How could you tell? You're generally a
bit damp down there anyway." Buddy looked around the group for agreement.
I put a stop to it.
"Is there a pay phone handy down there?" These were the guys to
know. Checking coin slots was part of the daily routine.
"Three," said Ralph immediately. "One all the way over by the
Curiosity Shop. One inside the Antique Mart and one by the Hot Dog Stand."
"Okay," I said. "Here's what we're going to do." The got
out their notepads. "You guys are going to do the same thing you did the
last time they met, with one exception. This time I want Ralph over at one of
the pay phones."
"Which one?" asked Ralph, pencil poised.
"It doesn't matter, Ralph," I snapped. "You decide."
Chastened, Ralph went back to drawing in his pad. "Harold, you get your
cart and wander about. Buddy, you and George be ready in the car same as
before, but this time" - I paused for effect - "the minute they're
both there, you guys have Ralph give me a call. I'll be waiting at home. If the
pattern holds, I ought to have plenty of time to get down there. I'll follow
him."
"What do we do, then?" asked Buddy.
"You guys pile in the wagon and follow her. If she goes back to the
building, stake it out and keep taking license numbers." I remembered.
"Where's the license numbers you guys have gotten so far?"
Buddy rummaged around in the pocket of his parka and handed me the list.
"What if she don't' go back to headquarters?" he asked.
"Then try to follow her." I waited for it to sink in. "Any
questions?"
Ralph started to raise his hand, but an elbow from Buddy made him
reconsider. "We're ready," Buddy said.
"All right then, fellas. Back to work."
They rose as a unit and headed out the door. From the doorway, I reminded
them. "Take the stairs." They waved agreement. I closed the door.
having the crew around was hard enough on my neighbors. Over the years I'd been
part of a couple of ugly scenes that had played out here in the building. Most
of my neighbors already looked at me with a jaundiced eye. To my knowledge, I
was the only resident who'd ever actually shot anybody on the premises. I was
afraid that getting caught in an endeavor with this group might push one of the
neighbors over the edge. I watched until the boys opened the fire door and
started down.
I was behind in my paperwork. I owed a couple of expense reports on a
skip-tracing job I was working on and a final report and billing on a
prenuptial investigation I'd just completed. And this was just the old
business.
Last evening, I'd retrieved a lit of nine new possibles off my answering
machine, weeded it down to the six most promising, and made a note to follow up
sometime today. Sometime was now.
I started with Jed James. Jed was a local attorney whose investigative work
I handled when the time and finances permitted. He did mostly pro bono work,
but usually scammed up a way to get me paid full rate for my work.
Jed was the scourge of the local law enforcement community. His ten years
spent as the ACLU's chief litigator back in New York had given him both a taste
for
Similar Books
