Frank pricked up his ears as he worked out why Mary Lou cared so much about the far end of the parking lot. The pancakes had landed at the pit of his stomach and he was feeling sleepy while he digested them.
“Where should we get our next ride do you reckon?”
“Out there, maybe?”
“Yes but if we boost something here, chances are someone will connect us to the vehicle.”
“There’s another restaurant half a block down the road. I can make out its neon sign from here.”
“Much better idea. You ready to head out?”
Mary Lou swigged back the last mouthful of coffee and Frank paid up. They sauntered over to the nearby lot and took their pick of the saloons. Nothing too fancy, nothing too new, nothing too old. Just a sensible ride that’d turn no heads.
A black hooded family saloon squatted the lot three spaces from the end. Mary Lou stood in front of it pretending to check her make-up in her handbag mirror while Frank opened the driver’s window, popped open the door and slid inside to kick-start the engine. It roared into life within two seconds and she jumped in as he drove off.
“That was fast.”
“Sometimes I'm lucky. There’s a full tank of gas too so I can make it all the way without stopping.”
Back to the other lot where they transferred their possessions into the new vehicle and pushed the Falcon into the copse. They kept going until it got stuck in a rut or ditch. Then they grabbed some branches and threw them on top for camouflage.
Frank remained behind the wheel as they headed for the station. Mary Lou was quiet, aware they would split up soon and still not happy about the situation - even though it was the safest thing to do.
Twenty minutes later they were in the middle of Cincinnati and the main building was in front of them. Frank and Mary Lou divided their spending money, so she’d enough for the train fare and a bite to eat on board and he could still buy food and more gas.
“Would you like me to come in with you until you’re on the platform?”
“Yes I would, but no you shouldn’t. If the cops wired a description, it’ll be of me, not you, Frank.”
“All the more reason for me to ride shotgun until you’re safe in a carriage.”
Before she could argue the point any further, Frank pulled in and got out the car. Mary Lou knew she wanted him by her side and stopped any further attempts at protesting.
They each carried a money bag and Mary Lou stuffed her clothes on the top of the notes so she’d have less to carry. There were only two passengers in the line and soon she held a one-way ticket in her hand and the knowledge she was facing a twelve hour journey ahead of her.
The next train for Oklahoma City was due to depart in fifteen minutes so the couple had enough time to saunter to the platform and for Frank to hug and kiss her before he helped her find the right passenger car and settle into her seat. He put her bag in the rack above her head and passed her a fashion magazine he’d found on a bench.
“I’ll be waiting for you in the station when you get off. We’ll be lying in bed together tonight.”
He kissed her again and walked out the carriage without looking back because he was certain he’d seen a tear roll out her eye and that broke his heart.
15
FRANK KNEW HE would take less time than Mary Lou because he could go a direct route and she’d have to follow the train tracks as they zigzagged across the country. So he took it easy, never going more than five miles an hour under the speed limit and letting folks pass him as they saw fit.
Even though he chose not to use the expressway, he still found straight roads and desolate countryside. The highway was as flat as this morning’s pancakes. This gave him the advantage of seeing any impending traffic coming from the rear or head on. And nothing appeared on either horizon.
Frank cranked the music up and opened a window because this was going to be one long dull journey. The black bag with the cash was back in the trunk and his clothes were strewn on the backseat. He had dumped them there when he returned to the car after leaving Mary Lou. He figured if any prying eyes were to take an interest then levels would subside at the sight of his shorts and a tee.
His plan was to travel parallel to the expressway as that represented the shortest distance between cities but he needed to avoid the freeway itself. There was nothing to see but painted lines on the highway so Frank got to thinking about Mary Lou and her rose.
A man’s mind was bound to wander on a journey such as this. The more he thought about the rose nestling below her belly button, the more he wanted to savor it there and then. For a second the car rumbled and Frank found himself in the dirt and dust of the side of the highway heading towards the gulley edging the field. He swerved the steering wheel hard right and the back of the vehicle swung sideways. The rear passenger tire lost footing and dangled in mid air over the ditch as Frank tried to cling to dirt. Another twist of the wheel and the back end lurched in the opposite direction until all four tires were eating tarmac and Frank settled the vehicle squarely in the middle of the only lane pointing to St Louis.
With the car stable, Frank pulled over to the side of the road and stopped. A minute later the cold sweats ceased to pour out his armpits and back and he breathed again. His stomach churned, so he leapt out just in time to spew into the ditch which had tried to kill him less than sixty seconds before.
Frank slumped into the dirt to regain control of his body, which seemed to be trying to escape from him. Mary Lou was right: they should never have split up. He was safer with her by his side. Too late though - and the thought of her rose entered his mind’s eye yet again, almost taunting him with the lust of his poor decision.
He found spittle returning to his mouth and he sloshed it around to take the taste of vomit away from his teeth. Frank’d have killed for a glass of water then. His heart rate subsided to a normal level and he considered standing up but waited another minute before doing anything so ambitious.
Four minutes later Frank sat behind the wheel and released the clutch. The vehicle kangarooed forwards and, ten feet further, he regained control and the saloon purred onwards while he accompanied the rock ‘n’ roll with loud singing. He hit two or three of the right notes but no-one was judging, which was just as well given the noise he generated.
The car carried on following the lines of the road all the way to St Louis. Frank drove round the outskirts rather than open himself to the possibility of the city cops somehow having his identity to match with his face but he needn’t have worried. No police round here were watching out for him.
His stomach rumbled and he realized he’d been sat in the damn car for three hours without a piss or a bite to eat. The boredom of escape took over and he allowed himself to be consumed with the idea of a cheese burger with fries, onion rings and a coffee.
All the places he passed in the burbs were way too empty, making him far too memorable a patron, or jam packed and he wasn't prepared to wait too long for his food. Thirty minutes more and he was the other side of the urban sprawl heading towards Cincinnati.
A sign appeared announcing the nothing town as House Springs and two minutes later Frank was parking in the House Springs Deli, which claimed short-order cooking was their speciality. The lot was half filled with cars but there were sufficient spare tables he could get served fast enough for his stomach.
As ever, he brought his bag with him and placed it under his feet beneath the booth. Norma Richardson approached Frank and asked him what he’d like to drink.
“Coffee, please.”
As she walked away to grab the pot, he noticed the bottom two buttons on her dress were undone. He watched the flesh of her legs rise above her knees until it vanished in the murky shadows of her clothing.
With those legs locked in his mind, Frank inspected Norma’s face and body. Long brown hair with a slight wave. Bright blue eyes with a pointy nose. Average height. Breasts that created a pronounced cleavage because she had big tits or beca
use her blouse was too small. Either way, he liked what he saw. The image of her decolletage and Mary Lou's rose merged as he ordered the food he’d been salivating over for the last hour.
NORMA LAUGHED AT another of Frank’s jokes. He knew he wasn’t that amusing but the falseness of her reaction didn't stop him continuing to like her. The tension in her blouse caused a gap between the top buttons to emerge and revealed a bright yellow bra beneath the light blue material of her uniform.
He mopped up the juices from his burger with a slice of bread Norma had brought over.
“Is there anything else I can get you?”
“Something sweet would be neat.”
She giggled once more and touched his shoulder.
“I got a mighty fine piece of pie to offer you.”
“I'm sure your pie is mighty fine, Norma.”
He winked and could not believe he’d said what he did. Norma giggled again and slapped his shoulder in jest.
“Now Frank, talk like that is liable to get you in trouble.”
Frank glanced at her left hand and saw no wedding ring.
“You got a fella then?”
“Why Frank, no I ain’t. Whatever are you thinking of?”
Frank knew she knew and this was part of the game they were playing.
“Just wondering when you're off your shift.”
Norma leaned down so he could get a good look at the space between her tits and whispered.
“About five minutes time if you play your cards right.”
Frank threw down a bunch of notes to pay for his meal and waited for Norma to return with his change. He was still on a budget.
“Meet you out back.”
Norma then walked up to her boss and Frank heard her spin some story about women’s trouble. The guy shrugged and she hung up her apron and trundled through the kitchen. Frank took his cue and scuttled round to the rear of the building in time to see her walk out and light a cigarette until he stood next to her.
“You near here?”
“Frank, you are so forward.”
A giggle and she led him down three blocks and left onto another until they arrived at a shabby condo. Nothing a lick of paint and replacing all the pipe work wouldn't fix.
Up to the second floor and into Norma’s one-bedroom apartment. She dumped her clutch bag on the kitchen table and Frank placed his black holdall next to it.
“You always carry something that large with you?”
“Don't get fresh, Norma Richardson. A man has to look after the tools of his trade.”
With that, he cupped her cheek in his hand and they kissed. Within five minutes a trail of clothing formed from the kitchen where a yellow bra lay on top of a woman’s blouse and a man’s shirt covered them both. At the door a skirt nestled in the folds of a pair of jeans and at the foot of the bed: yellow panties, shorts and socks. Two pairs of feet stuck out from the end of the bed - Norma’s pointing upwards, Frank’s down. Both were deep-breathing and she had wrapped her legs around his hips, preventing him from getting inside her. This momentary pause caused Frank to think and realize what he was doing. His lust had overpowered him and he was about to make a mistake.
“Where’ve you gone?”
Norma let the disappointment ooze out her voice. They were having fun and this breeze-through man had all the right moves for her. Then he curled up and vanished.
“What gives?”
She repeated her question wanting to know why Frank had just turned off to her. He remained silent.
“Was it something I did?”
“What? No? No. Sorry. Look, I should never have put us in this situation.”
“Is there another woman?”
“That obvious?”
“'Fraid so mister.”
“While you are mighty attractive, I should leave before things go any further. And they nearly did.”
Frank rolled off Norma and sat on the edge of the bed. She wrapped herself around him so tightly he could feel her hairs against his buttocks.
“It was fun while it lasted. Shame it didn't last a minute or two longer.”
She nibbled his ear and he inhaled her vanilla perfume. Then Norma maneuvered to sit on his lap and he fingered her - because he felt he owed her for messing her about.
Afterwards, she made him a coffee while wearing her yellow underwear and they sat together at the kitchen table while he put on his socks.
“Frank, if you’re ever passing through...”
“... I know. Keep on going.”
She giggled and kissed him on the forehead before he popped on his shoes and left the apartment. A short hustle back to his car and he hit the road - but always five miles an hour below the limit. Even with this layover, he would arrive in Cincinnati six hours before Mary Lou.
16
GLENDA’S SHIFT AT the Joppa diner ended at five. She sat in the staff room smoking a cigarette and sipping at a coffee to give herself the energy to leave the place and head home. A small portable TV was on and the news anchor showed an artist’s impression of three men from the Lansdowne robbery. While not a great likeness, Glenda thought she recognized Pete and placed a call through to the cops.
Four hours later and a knock erupted from the front door of Glenda’s apartment. She shared it with her girlfriend, Annie Price but she was out working shift in a local shoe factory. Glenda put on a housecoat and sauntered to the door. Two men stood on the doormat, backs straight. One in a black suit, the other in uniform. The suit spoke first.
“Inspector Philip McNamara from the FBI and this is my colleague, Detective Edward Goodwin of the Baltimore Police Department.”
“Come on in. We’ve got enough for a party if you don’t tell my super.”
The two men eyed each other and entered the premises. Glenda pointed at some seating and the gentlemen made themselves comfortable.
“Coffee?”
“We’re good thanks.”
The suit crossed his legs and the uniform took out a notepad.
“When you called, you told my colleague you recognized one of the deceased from the Lansdowne bank robbery.”
“Yes.”
“How did you know him?”
“I didn't so much know him, officer. I'd seen him before.”
“Call me, Phil.”
“Okay, Phil.”
Glenda eased back in her chair and worried less whether the two front pieces of her house coat met in the middle.
“Where had you seen him?”
“In the diner. The Joppa-de-Doopah Diner - where I work.”
The uniform scratched away with his pencil and pad, saying nothing but staring right at her.
“Was he a regular?”
“No, I wouldn't say that but he had been twice over the past few months.”
“If he only turned up once or twice, how can you be sure it was him?”
“He was the kind of guy you’d never forget. A harsh tongue and never left a tip. I always remember the ones who don't show any gratitude.”
“Harsh words?”
“He just thought he was better than everyone else and didn't pretend to hide it. A thin long streak of piss if you’ll pardon my language. Can I rustle up a coffee for you fellas?”
“No thanks. We're fine.”
“You sure are, Phil.”
Ted laughed and covered his mouth to generate a cough while Phil’s cheeks turned a shade of red.
“When did you see him?”
“Last week I think. He came in looking for Lucy.”
“Another customer?”
“No, we work together. When I told him she wasn’t around, he finished up and left. Didn't even order any food.”
“Any idea what business he had with this Lucy?”
“Business? No. He was Lucy’s latest ride.”
Phil rarely experienced such directness from waitresses.
“Did she often have gentleman callers?”
“Don't get me wrong - she’s no whore. Like me,
she enjoys the company of men during the dark lonely nights, right?”
He noticed Glenda’s knees had separated a few inches. What did they put in the water round here to make these middle-aged women so horny?
“And had this guy been around much?”
“Only a couple of times. From what Lucy told me, he was quite a cold fish to her too. Hardly spoke a word before or after any... intimacy they might have had. But he had smokes and was a warm body; none of us are getting any younger.”
She stretched her arms out across a neighboring chair and Ted saw her look down to check she had revealed the curve of one of her tits.
Goodwin took down a description of Pete and then they left Glenda's apartment.
“What you think?”
“Horny old vixen.”
“About what she said.”
“Sounds like Pete the Wheels liked to dip his dick in the local service industry.”
“Smart move.”
“Not if Lucy looks anything like Glenda.”
“Smart move to set yourself up to hide away in this backwater from nowhere.”
“Ah yes.”
“Sometimes Ted, the trick is to look at their faces and not their tits.”
“Sometimes Phil, but not always.”
LUCY GAVE UP waiting for Pete a day before. She wasn’t sure when she figured he wasn't coming back. Perhaps when she heard about the bank robbery on the news or that night when he failed to show up. Men were unreliable at the best of times and after the previous night’s tequilas, today was not the best of times.
She woke up in her trailer not clear what day it was or quite where she was. Only after ten minutes was she able to open her eyes and let reality seep into her consciousness. Before the morning took hold, she reached out and grabbed a cigarette and a lighter, combining the two deftly.
In a moment of paranoia mixed with amnesia, Lucy flitted her head sideways to make sure she hadn’t brought anybody home with her. The bed was empty. She inhaled, leaving the filter to hang from the corner of her mouth. Lucy’s next challenge was to remember when her shift started at the Joppa-de-Doopah Diner. The good news was that her trailer was nearby: a six minute walk. Her blurred memory held onto the idea she had the late shift which ran from five until they shut the place up for the night at midnight.
The Lagotti Family Series Page 32
