Motor Mouth (Alex Barnaby 2)

We went back to the motor coach, made some sandwiches, and zapped on the television. No point sitting in traffic. In another half hour it would thin out, and we could pack off for the airport.

My phone rang, and I wasn’t surprised when I saw the readout. Gobbles. Probably missed the team plane and wanted a ride home.

“I need help,” Gobbles said.

He was whispering, and he was hard to hear, but the desperation in his voice was clear.

“Sure,” I said. “Do you need a ride?”

“No. And I can’t talk. I’m afraid someone will hear me. I’m trapped in the sixty-nine hauler. I crawled in here to hide, but now I’m sealed up and can’t get out. I can’t even get the floor hatch open. You have to help me.”

“You’re not serious.”

“You’re going to have to sneak me out somehow. You can’t let the drivers know I’m here. I’m already in enough trouble. And Ray Huevo is involved in this, so you have to be real careful.”

“Involved in what?”

“I can’t tell you, but it’s serious shit. Oh fuck! They’re pulling out. Sweet Jesus, I’m gonna die. I’m on the second deck with the cars, and the truck’s moving. You and Hooker are the only ones I can ask for help. I trust you. You have to get me out of here.”

“Okay, don’t panic. We’ll come up with something.”

I disconnected and looked over at Hooker.

“Gobbles is trapped on the second deck of the sixty-nine hauler and wants us to rescue him.”

“Darlin’, you’ve had too much beer.”

“I’m serious! He’s involved in something bad. It has to do with Ray Huevo and two guys who look like goons-in-suits. He said he crawled into the truck to hide and got locked in.”

“And he didn’t bang on the side of the truck and yell because…”

“He’s scared.”

We both turned at the sound of the hauler slowly rumbling down the road past the motor coach.

“We have to get him out,” I said to Hooker. “I don’t know what this is about, but he really sounded panicked. And he said something weird on the roof. He said Clay was intentionally run down.”

“Sounds to me like Gobbles has been watching too many Sopranos reruns.”

“I had the same thought, but it doesn’t matter because the problem at hand is that he’s trapped in Spanky’s hauler.”

“Never let it be said I walked away from a friend in need,” Hooker said. He shoved off the couch, crossed to the little built-in desk on the other side of the room, and took a gun out of the desk drawer.

“I’m a rootin’, tootin’, shootin’ Texan,” he said. “And I’m going to rescue my good buddy Gobbles.”

“Oh boy.”

“Not to worry. I know what I’m doing.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“If you’re referring to that incident with the condom, it wasn’t my fault. It was too small, and it was a slippery little devil. And anyway, it was defective. It had a big hole in it.”

“You did that with your thumb.”

Hooker grinned at me. “I was in a hurry.”

“I remember.”