“And that’s why Toby killed him. Cut off his head. To get Duane out of the way. He did it all because he wanted me.”
“Jeez,” Pete said.
“The killer’s name is Toby,” Jeff announced. “Right? Am I right?”
Sherry frowned. “Did I say that?”
“Yeah, you did. Toby.”
“Oh. Okay. His name’s Toby.”
“Toby what?” Jeff asked.
“Never mind.”
“Come on, tell.”
“Forget it,” Sherry said.
“What?”
“His name. Forget it, okay? I don’t want you guys knowing who he is.”
“I’d love to know who he is,” Pete said, and drank some more.
This stuff really is good.
“Cough up his name, lady,” Jeff said. His smile looked a little crooked.
“Huh-uh. No.”
“Vee haff ways of making you talk.”
“Cut it out,” Pete said.
“Dat’s how vee make you talk!” His eyes gleamed as he grinned. “Vee cut it out of you!”
“Knock it off,” Pete said. “I mean it.”
“It’s all right,” Sherry said.
Dropping his act, Jeff leaned toward her and said, “Make you a deal. You tell us who he is and we’ll kick his ass.”
“I wanta kill the bastard,” Pete said.
“I don’t want you guys anywhere near him. You’re nice guys. Jim was a nice guy. He tried to help, and he almost got killed.” She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and winced. Then she drank some more of her Bloody Mary. Done, she said, “The cops can take care of him.”
“Maybe they’ve already got him,” Pete suggested.
“Last I heard,” Jeff said, “they didn’t have any idea who done it.”
“Let’s check the news. Hang on.” Pete stood up and set his glass on the table. It landed somewhat harder than he’d expected. Jeff and Sherry flinched at the quick noise. “Sorry,” he said. Then he headed for the house. He felt light and a little wobbly.
This is so cool, he thought.
Just don’t fall down.
I’ll have to write about all this later, he told himself. My first bout with booze.
In the kitchen, he grabbed the portable radio. As he lifted it off the counter, it slipped. Gasping, he caught it. Then he clasped it to his bare chest. With his other hand, he pulled up his sagging trunks. Then he ran outside.
Sherry looked worried as he approached.
Jeff was finishing off his Bloody Mary.
Pete turned on the radio, listened for a moment to the cheerful, confident voice, and said, “It’s ‘The Best of Rush Limbaugh.’
” “The Rush-man,” Jeff said. “All right!”
Pete placed the radio on the table, picked up his drink, and sat down. “There’ll be news pretty soon. They have reports on the hour ’n half hour.”
“Wha’ time is it now?” Jeff asked.
Pete shrugged. He saw that nobody was wearing a watch.
“No hurry,” Sherry said. “I can wait.”
“Is Rush okay with you?” Pete asked her. “A lot of people think he’s awful.”
“You’re talking to a ditto-head,” Sherry said.
Jeff let out a whoop. “Makes three of us! The Three Rushkateers!”
Smiling, Pete shook his head. This is so great! he thought.
“What?” Sherry asked.
“I don’t know. It’s just weird. I mean…I don’t know.”
“I do,” Jeff said.
“What?”
“Pete’s smitten with you,” he explained, nodding sagely.
“Hey,” Pete said.
“Head over heels.”
“Knock it off, huh?”
“Madly in love.”
“I’m gonna kill you,” Pete said, blushing furiously.
Grinning, Jeff held out his empty hand as if to ward off a blow. “Take it easy, dude. You kill me, how’m I gonna be your best man?”
Sherry laughed, then winced and said, “Ow.”
“Only hurts when you laugh?” Jeff asked her.
“Hurts all the time. But more when I laugh.”
“Jeff’s such an asswipe,” Pete said.
Oh shit! Did I say “asswipe?”
“Just tellin’ the truth,” Jeff said.
“Damn it!”
Sherry met his eyes. “Don’t be embarrassed, Pete. Okay? It’s all right. Whatever you’re feeling. It’s fine. Hell, it’s great. I’ve got no problems if you like me. Or even if maybe you feel…something stronger. You’re a good guy.”
“How ’bout me?” Jeff asked.
“You’re a blabber-mouth,” Sherry said.
Pete glimpsed a hurt look in his eyes, but it quickly vanished. Grinning strangely, Jeff asked, “But would ya kick me outa bed?”
“Hey!” Pete snapped.
“Jus’ kidding.”
“Kidding aside,” Sherry said, “you’re a good guy, too. Even if you are a troublemaker.”
“Does that mean you would or wouldn’t kick me—”
“I’ll kick you in the nuts,” Pete warned.
“No kicking allowed. You’re my heroes. You’re both great guys and my friends forever. So no fighting. How about another drink, Pete?”
“Sure.”
“Me, too,” Jeff said.
“I don’t know about that.”
“Come on.” Grinning, he held out his glass. “Like my old man says, ‘Can’t fly on one wing.’”