F is for Fugitive (Kinsey Millhone 6)

Pearl was sketching in the story for me with the practiced tone of frequent telling. No details I hadn't heard before, but I was thankful he'd introduced the subject without any further prompting on my part. He was just warming up, enjoying his role as tribal narrator. "You staying at the Ocean Street? I ask because this fella's dad owns that place."

"Really," I said.

"Yep. They found her down on the beach right in front," he said. Residents of Floral Beach had been telling this tale for years. Like a stand-up comedian, he had his timing down pat, knowing just when to pause, knowing just what response he'd get.

I had to watch what I said because I didn't want to imply I knew nothing of this. While I'm not averse to lying through my teeth, I never do it when I'm apt to be caught. People get crabby about that sort of thing. "Actually, I know Royce."

"Aw, then you know all about this."

"Well, some. You really think Bailey did it? Royce says no."

"Hard to say. Naturally, he'd deny anything of the sort. None of us want to believe our kids would kill someone."

"True enough."

"You have kids?"

"Unh-unh."

"My boy was the one who spotted the two of 'em pulling into the curb that night. They got out of the truck with a bottle and a blanket and went down the steps. Said Bailey looked drunk as a skunk to him and she wasn't much better off. Probably went down there to misbehave, if you get what I mean. Maybe she sprung it on him she was in a family way."

"Hey, there. How's that little Heinie car acting?"

I glanced back to see Tap behind me, a sly grin on his face.

Pearl didn't seem thrilled to see him, but he made polite noises with his mouth. "Say, Tap.

What're you up to? I thought that old lady of yours didn't like you comin' in here."

"Aw, she don't care. Who's this we're talking to?"

"I'm Kinsey. How're you?"

Pearl raised an eyebrow. "You two know each other?"

"She had her bug in this afternoon and wanted me to take a look. Said it was kind of whiny up around sixty. Whiny Heinie," he said, and got real tickled with himself. At close range, I could smell the pomade on his hair.

Pearl turned and stared at him. "You got something against the Germans?"

"Who, me?"

"My folks is German, so you better make it good."

"Naw, hell. I don't care. That Nazi business wasn't such a bad idea. Hey, Daisy. Gimme a beer. And hand me a bag of them barbecued potato chips. Big one. This gal looks like she could use a bite to eat. I'm Tap." He hiked himself up on the barstool to my left. He was the sort of man who saved his handshakes for meetings with other men. A woman, if known to him, might warrant a pat on the butt. As a stranger, I lucked out.

"What kind of name is Tap?" I asked.

Pearl cut in. "Short for tapioca. He's a real puddin' head."

Tap cut loose with a laugh again, but he didn't seem that amused. Daisy showed up with the beer and chips so I never did find out what Tap was short for.

"We're just talking about your old friend Bailey," Pearl said. "She's stayin' down at the Ocean Street and Royce is fillin' her head full of all kind of thing."

"Aw, that Bailey's something else," Tap said. "He's quick. He had a million schemes. Talk you into anything. We had us a good time, I can tell you that."

"I just bet you did," Pearl said. He was seated on my right, Tap on my left, the two of them conversing back and forth across me like a tennis match.

"Made more money than you ever seen," Tap said.

"Tap and him did a little business together in the old days," Pearl said to me, his tone confidential.

"Really. What kind of business?"

"Now come on, Pearl. She doesn't want to hear about that stuff."

"Eat a man's chips, you might want to know what kind of company you're in."

Tap was starting to squirm. "I straightened myself up now and that's a fact. I got me a good wife and kids and I keep my nose clean."

I leaned toward Pearl with mock concern. "What'd he do, Pearl? Am I safe with this man?"

Pearl loved it. He was looking for ways to prolong the aggravation. "I'd keep a hand on my wallet if I was you. Him and Bailey took to putting ladies' panties on their heads… stickin' up gas stations with their little toy guns."

"Pearl! Now, goddamn. You know that ain't true."