Baca - Page 24

“Oh, she said lots of things, but if you mean when she left, yes. She said she would talk to Hondo tomorrow.”

Hondo said, “I’ll come by in the morning, pick you up.” He left without saying good-bye to Bond.

I went to the couch and Bond sat beside me, playing with the hairs on my neck. She said, “Don’t you want to go into the bedroom, let me show you my surprise?”

I was silent for a minute, then said, “No, I’m not up to it tonight.”

She got upset. “Just what is your problem? Do you have the hots for her? If tha

t’s the case, then fine, bring her back and we can all three enjoy each other. It might liven up what’s turning out to be a real shit of an evening.”

“I think it might be best if you leave.”

Bond jerked to her feet and said, “Fine! You don’t know what you’re giving up, Mr. Baca.” She stormed into the bedroom and came out carrying a small overnight bag. “And you can consider yourself fired, too. You’re off the case, you asshole!” She went out the open door and I heard the Jaguar start and wheels squeal as she left.

I leaned forward and rested my head in my hands. No matter what my intentions, I have a way of screwing up with women without even trying. I walked to the door and closed it, then went to the cabinet to take out a bottle and try to kill enough brain cells so that I’d get rid of the ones that carried the memory of this night.

**

I woke the next morning at sunrise with a good one. The Flintstones glass was still half-full of orange juice and vodka, the ice long melted, and I had a throbber of a headache that started behind my right eye and ran back along my skull and down my neck, which felt like it was impaled with ice picks. My tongue felt coated and I could smell my own breath. I walked to the kitchen and drank two large glasses of water, then went to the bedroom and put on my gym shorts, running shoes and a white tee shirt and went out the door.

The first mile was probably equal to the death march on Bataan. In the first four hundred yards, I struggled, with my calves and thighs aching like a bad tooth. I huffed and croaked, gasping as I tried to pull in enough air through lungs that felt as small as soda straws. The sweat started early and my shirt was soaked at the end of the first five minutes. I kept at it. At the end of the second mile, I thought I might live. I continued for a third before slowing to an easy walk and circling back to the house. I was okay physically when I got there, and I showered, changed, drank coffee, and ate toast while I waited for Hondo.

He drove up at seven-thirty and we headed to the office.

He said, “How are you feeling?”

“Okay.”

“I talked to Hunter last night after I got home. She stayed in a hotel last night, but I talked her into coming over to talk.”

“I didn’t plan for that to happen.”

“I told her that, but I couldn’t tell her you and Bond weren’t sleeping together. Seems Bond put the knife in and twisted it while she and Hunter were talking, made it out that you and she were long time lovers, that she’d been living with you for months. You can sure pick them.”

“Can’t I. By the way, Bond fired us last night after you left.”

“You told her to leave, didn’t you?”

“Uh-huh. That was her parting shot.”

Hondo let a big smile spread across his face.

I said, “What are you smiling about?”

“We get to send her money back and don’t have to be tied to her anymore.”

“Yeah, but we do have to eat, pay bills, stuff like that.”

“I’ve still got a few dollars in the bank, and we don’t have car payments – well, we’ve got to pay for Shamu’s body work, and we can wash towels and clean up for Archie in the gym to take care of rent. We’re on top of the world.”

“What about food?”

“I’ve got three bags of Julio’s chips and three jars of salsa that Hunter brought. They’re in the trunk. Between that and the large box of uncooked spaghetti in my cabinet, we can live large.”

“These the chips we were getting for Vick?”

“He’ll never know.”

Tags: Billy Kring Mystery
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