He returned to the living room. “Why don’t you like NASCAR? NASCAR’s fun.”
“NASCAR’s boring. A bunch of idiots, nothing personal, driving around in circles.”
“What’s your idea of fun?”
“Shopping for shoes. Having dinner in a nice restaurant. Any movie with Johnny Depp in it.”
“Honey, that’s all girl stuff. And Depp’s done some pretty weird shit.”
I was going piece by piece, picking through the clutter on the floor. I was torn between wanting to put things away and restore order, and feeling like I needed to keep the integrity of a crime scene. I decided to go with restoring order because I didn’t want to believe something terrible had happened.
“Maybe you shouldn’t be touching this stuff,” Hooker said. “Maybe there’s something bad going on.”
“I’m doing denial,” I told him. “Try to be supportive. Help me look.”
“What are we looking for?”
“I don’t know. A place to start. An address book. A name scribbled on a piece of paper. Matchbooks he picked up in bars.”
“I don’t need matchbooks. I know the bars Bill liked. We went out drinking together.”
“Do you know any of his friends?”
“It looked to me like Bill was friends with everyone.”
An hour later, I had everything put away. Couch cushions were back in place. Books were neatly shelved. Knives, forks, assorted junk, and condoms were returned to drawers.
“What have we got here?” I said to Hooker. “Did you find anything?”
“A black lace G-string under his bed. Your brother is an animal. What have you got?”
“Nothing. But he made that phone call to me and he cleaned out his refrigerator. The only thing left is a can of Budweiser.”
“Barney, that doesn’t mean he cleaned his refrigerator. It means he had to go shopping for more Bud.”
“These days most men call me Alex.”
“I’m not most men,” Hooker said. “I like Barney. Tell me about the phone call.”
“Bill said he had to leave Miami for a while. I could hardly hear him over a boat engine. He said if some guys showed up looking for him, I shouldn’t talk to them. And, he said I should tell you to kiss his exhaust pipe. I heard a woman scream and the line went dead.”
“Wow,” Hooker said.
It was six-thirty, and it was getting dark. It was still raining, I didn’t have a car, and all that was standing between me and starvation was a single can of Bud. What’s worse, I suspected if I opened it I’d have to share it with Hooker.
“Do you have any ideas?” I asked Hooker.
“Lots of them.”
“About how to find Bill?”
“No. I don’t have any of those ideas. My ideas run more to food and sex.”
“You’re on your own with the sex. I wouldn’t mind hearing your ideas about food.”
Hooker took his car keys out of his pants pocket. “For starters, I think we should get some.”
I did a raised eyebrow.