Hondo held up his hand, “You don’t have to worry. It’s all taken care of.”
“When did you do that?”
“Oh, I didn’t. Mickey did. She got three bikes, said she’d meet us at the start of the trail.”
Oh great.
CHAPTER THREE
We changed into shorts and tee shirts and we both wore our New Balance trail shoes. I left my pistol at the office, but Hondo put his Glock forty-five under the driver’s seat of the Mercedes. The Black Ops knife he put in his short pocket.
As we rounded the last curve to the trail, we saw the parked BMW and Mickey standing nearby in the shade of a small tree, with three bikes lined up like soldiers beside her. Mickey waved and jumped up and down when she saw us, as excited as a kid. She didn’t have to wave. No one was going to miss her in the hot pink and lime-green spandex biking shorts and matching spandex top she was wearing. She wore a small purple fanny pack, and her hair was a spiky, punked mohawk that had green and pink glitter gelled into it.
Hondo said, “Man, even her shoes are pink.” He was right. So was her bike, at least I assumed it was hers. She hurried over to the car as we stopped.
“I am sooo glad to see you two again. It gives me such a sense of security with two big macho guys on the case. I just know we’ll make a great team.” She almost squealed with the last words.
“Ahh, Mickey --”
“You’re right Mickey,” Hondo said, “That’s exactly what Ronny told me on the way here.”
Mickey blushed. I swear. She looked at me and said, “Thank you, Ronny. Most people don’t like me around. They uh, well...I don’t hear very many nice things come my way. It was nice, what you said.”
I felt like an ass.
Hondo said, “Which bike is mine?”
Mickey clapped her hands in delight, then took one of ours in each of hers and led us to them. “Yours, Hondo, is the black one, and Ronny’s is the white one. Mine’s the pink one.” Thank goodness. They were Colnagos, expensive bikes.
“Where’d you get these?”
“The dealer keeps them at his shop. They’re Bob’s.”
“How many does he have?”
“Twelve, well thirteen counting mine. Bob did a commercial in France for Colnago and part of his contract called for receipt of them as an incentive. He just wanted to have a different one for each month.”
“He changes bikes each month?”
“Well, he did until the yellow one became his favorite. After he was photographed on it for the cover of People Magazine, he felt it matched his hair better.”
His hair. What a reason to pick a three thousand dollar bicycle. “And that’s the bike he had at the house.”
“Yes. It’s the only one he’s ridden in the last six months.”
Hondo adjusted his seat and was ready to go. Mickey hopped on her bike and moved it from the shade into the sun. The light on all that bright pink and green made my eyes squint, like looking at a neon sign from three inches away.
Mickey led out, saying over her shoulder, “I rode with Bob many times on this trail. He had two favorite routes that I thought we could try first.” Mickey may have really been a male and only about five-six and one-twenty, but that pink bike was moving. By the time I adjusted my seat and was pedaling, they were already two hundred yards ahead. I stood up and leaned into it, changing gears and moving my feet fast on the pedals so that in ten minutes I pulled up beside Hondo. I readjusted myself several times on the seat and couldn’t find a comfortable position.
Hondo said, “I bet riding that tiny seat hurts something fierce.”
“No worse than hopping on a running chainsaw.” I wiggled again and found a position that was a little better.
Hondo said, “Yeah, but that squeeze old Frank gave you would have killed a lesser man.” He grinned at me, then sped up beside Mickey and told her to watch the right side, that he would watch the left and I would watch both.
We had the trail to ourselves so far, and the sun on us felt warm and penetrating. I had a good sweat going. My muscles limbered up and the pain between my legs lessened to that of a throbbing bad tooth. There hadn’t been much rain and the brush on the hillsides and in the canyons had a brown, brittle look, making what green shrubs and trees there were stand out like fresh paint. Dust stayed in the air behind us as we moved higher, following the contours of the ridges in a steady upward angle.
Two hours later, we reached the main fork. Mickey moved under the shade and we followed her. Her cheeks were flushed and her eyes bright with energy. “Wow, that is sooo exhilarating.” There was fine sweat on Mickey’s face, but she must have been wearing waterproof mascara today because it hadn’t run. Hondo and I were huffing and I could feel the tremble in my thighs from that last climb.