The counter man smiled huge. “You own a bookstore? I love books. What bookstore do you own?”
“Fortnum’s, on the corner of Bayaud and Broadway,” I answered.
“I know that. My wife goes there. Books are cheap there and then you can sell them back and get cash money.”
“Yep, that’s it.” I nodded and smiled, happy to meet a customer-by-proxy.
Ally was busy scribbling my name and numbers on a piece a paper she found in her purse and when she was done, she handed him the paper. “Maybe you could give us a call if you see Rosie or Tim. Would you do that?”
“Of course. I’m an employer, only my wife works for me but I understand how important it is to trust your hired help. I will call you.”
“Thanks.”
We went out and sat in my car and stared at Tim’s house while we thought about what to do next. We both were new at this. Neither of us had tracked down a stoner-on-the-run before. We’d stalked plenty of guys, but we’d known where to find them.
We both ate a cupcake to get the brain juices flowing.
“That was a nice guy,” I said through yellow cake and cream.
“Yep,” Ally replied, her mouth equally full.
Someone tapped on Ally’s window and we both jumped and swiveled our heads to the side.
I nearly spewed better-living-through-chemistry cream on my windshield at what I saw.
It was Grizzly Adams, but the serial killer version. He was enormous, had lots of wild, blond hair, a thick, seriously overlong (we’re talking ZZ Top here) russet beard and was wearing a flannel shirt even though it had to be nearly ninety degrees.
He was also carrying a shotgun and had some kind of freaky-ass goggle apparatus on the top of his head.
“You want somethin’?” he growled.
“We’re looking for Tim Shubert,” Ally replied calmly.
“He’s not here,” Grizzly said, “move along.”
“Yep, yep. Going!” I shouted and started the car, put it into gear and took off.
“Where are we going?” Ally asked.
“Hell if I know.”
“We should have asked him some questions,” Ally said, completely at ease
“Right. No. We’re trying to avoid me getting dead. Definitely you getting dead. I don’t talk to people who carry shotguns around in broad daylight.”
“He looked interesting,” Ally said contemplatively.
Shit.
* * * * *
It was just after four.
After our introduction to Grizzly, we’d swung back by Fortnum’s to help out Jane for awhile and ask if she’d heard from Duke (answer: no).
Now, Ally and I were in my dark blue VW Beetle, windows down, sunroof back, sitting outside Rosie’s house sipping leftover water and waiting.
My Beetle wasn’t exactly a rock ‘n’ roll-mobile but it was cute. It had cream leather seats that were great in the winter because they heated up. Now that it was summer, the seats stuck to your legs and every time you got out, it felt like three layers of skin tore off (another reason to wear jeans).