The Last Kind Word (Mac McKenzie #10)

The Last Kind Word (Mac McKenzie #10) Page 44

Surprisingly—at least it was a surprise to me—Josie showed more concern for Fenelon than his girlfriend did. Claire watched him fall out of the booth without saying a word, took a deep drag of the cigarette she wasn’t supposed to be smoking, and swung her impressive legs over the edge of the wooden bench like she was about to stand, but didn’t. Instead, she looked down on her boyfriend’s sprawling body and shook her head slowly as if it were a sight she had seen so often that she had grown bored with it.

I slipped out of the booth and knelt next to Fenelon. His hand was massaging his injury. His eyes glazed over.

“What?” he said. “What?”

I leaned in and whispered. “You’re right. I need you. I need someone who knows his way around. No one can know we’re working together, though, especially Josie and her people. Call me names. Tell everyone you hate my guts and you’re going to get me. I’ll contact you through Claire and tell you what I need in a couple of days. Don’t let me down.”

“You bastard,” he said. I helped him up and he pushed me away, one hand still massaging the spot on his head where I hit him. There was a big red knot, but the skin was unbroken. “You sonuvabitch, I’m going to get you. I’m going to fuck you up.”

The bartender came to the booth in a hurry. “What’s going on here?” he asked.

“Fucker suckered me,” Fenelon said. “Hit me with a bottle.”

“I didn’t like the way he talked to Josie,” I said.

“What did he say?” the bartender asked. I told him. Apparently the bartender didn’t like it, either. He turned Fenelon around and shoved him toward the door. “I told you I didn’t want any more trouble from you. Now get out.” Claire followed dutifully. I trailed behind, listening to Fenelon’s loud albeit wholly unimaginative litany of epitaphs and threats. Outside the bar he turned on me.

“I’m not finished with you,” he shouted. It was an impressive performance. You couldn’t even tell he was acting, but then Fenelon was just playing himself, wasn’t he? I gave him the thumbs-up sign in a way that only he could see it and stood watching while he retreated to his car. Across the county road I noticed that the third armored truck had been returned to the terminal, the other vehicles had disappeared, and the enclosure was now locked tight. After watching Fenelon spin his wheels on the loose gravel and drive off, I went back inside.

Josie had returned to our original stools at the bar. I joined her there. She looked at me as if she didn’t know whether she should be impressed or angry. After a few silent moments, she asked, “Did you do that for me, hit Brian for insulting me?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“There’s no reason why you should.”

“What if he calls the police?”

“He won’t,” I said.

“What will he do?”

“Whatever I tell him.”

“How do you know?”

“Greed. The only thing that makes a man act more stupidly than a beautiful woman is greed.”

Josie studied me for a long moment and then motioned to the bartender and ordered another vodka Collins.

I waited until the ball game was over, about twenty after twelve, before settling the tab and leading Josie outside. She was unsteady on her feet. I poured her into the passenger seat of the Ford Taurus, went to the driver’s side, and proceeded to activate the GPS loggers.

“I can’t figure you out, Dyson,” Josie told me. “You’re such a nice guy and then you’re such a shit. I can’t figure that out. You can’t be both. How can you be both?”

“Practice,” I said. “Stay here.”

“I want to help.”

“Stay in the car.”

“Dyson?”

“What?”

Josie took my face in both of her hands, kissed me hard on the mouth, drew back, giggled, and brought her hand to her lips.

“Oh, no,” she said. “Oh, no. I didn’t mean to do that. You should go. You should go right now.”

“Stay here,” I told her again.

I crossed the country blacktop after making sure there were no vehicles coming that might catch me in their headlights. I opened my padlock and took it off the chain, being sure to lock it again so there would be no confusion later. Once inside the enclosure, I tagged the bottom of the back bumper of each of the three armored trucks with the magnetic boxes containing the GPS loggers. I returned to the gate and rechained and locked it using Mesabi’s padlock. Less than five minutes passed before I was once again settled behind the wheel of the Taurus. Josie was slumped against the passenger door, snoring softly.