Two Bits Four Bits (23 page)

After we left the tire
shop, I remembered my eight ball game with the muscle of Jimmy’s
gang, Mad Dog. He’d told me that he worked for a welding company in
Pecos, so I found a phone book and looked the address up. It was
located a few blocks from where we were.

Wild West Welding operated
out of a big pre-fabricated steel building that sat at the front of
a large dirt yard filled with rusted oilfield equipment in varying
stages of construction or repair. A chain-link fence topped by
barbed wire surrounded the yard. I told Ray to stay in the car and
started to get out of the pickup.

“Is there a gun in here?”
Ray asked, opening the glove box.

“What? A gun? What do you
mean?”

“Don’t I need a gun in
case something happens in there? What if you need my help? I can’t
just walk in there and threaten them with my silence can
I?”

“You could always make a
face, with that un-flattened nose of yours. Really, I think I’ll be
okay. I’m not expecting any trouble.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “But,
you need me I’m there for you, dude. I’ll do whatever an unarmed
man with a hangover can do.”

Inside the door there was
a small front area with a waist-high counter made of old wooden
paneling and Formica. A woman sitting at a desk on the other side
of the counter working on a computer looked up when I came
in.

“I’ll be right with you,”
she said. “I just gotta get this invoice entered completely or I’ll
lose track of where I am.”

“No hurry,” I said. “I’m
not a paying customer.”

“Oh, well we’re used to
that,” she laughed, picking up a group of papers and stapling them
together.

“Now,” she said, standing
and moving to the counter. “What can we do you for?”

“Well, I hope I’m in the
right place,” I answered. “I’m looking for somebody and I think he
might work here. A couple of weeks ago my wife was driving home
from El Paso. We live in Midland. And, she had a flat tire just
outside of town here, and a man on a motorcycle stopped and changed
her tire for her. She didn’t get his name, but she remembered the
name of your company—he told her he worked here, and she said he
was a pretty big fella and riding a big black
motorcycle.”

“That would be Myron I
bet,” she said, nodding. “He’s one of our welders.”

“Is he around? I’d sure
like to thank him in person.”

“Sure, let me call
him.”

She stepped to the desk
and picked up her telephone receiver and pressed a button. I could
hear her voice echo through the shop building behind the office and
on the loudspeakers outside as she paged him.

“I think I’ll just wait
outside if you don’t mind. It’s such a beautiful day.”

I stepped outside and gave
Ray the okay sign so he’d stay in the pickup. A minute or two
later, Mad Dog came out the front door of the building wearing
dirty coveralls and a leather apron.

“Hey partner, you come by
to get your ass kicked in eight ball again?” he asked with a grin
as he shook my hand.

“Actually, I need your
help,” I said. “I’m trying to get in touch with Jimmy. I thought
maybe you knew where I might find him.”

“Did you try his
house?”

“Yeah, we went by there
and went by the tire shop too.”

“Huh. I’m not really sure
then. We’re not real tight, Jimmy and I. We ride together sometimes
on the weekends, but he’s a little too wild for me.”

“I thought maybe you and
the other guys you were with were in some kind of gang together,” I
said.

“Gang? Oh, like the
Bandidos or something? No, we just hang together cause we all ride
and we love motorcycles. We’ve all got jobs and families. Remember
Stevie, that short dude with the red hair, he’s a high school
history teacher.”

“What about Jimmy? Is he a
straight arrow too?”

He looked off to the
horizon and scratched his beard.

“Naw, now Jimmy’s
different. There’s no telling what Jimmy might do.”

“Breaking and entering?” I
asked.

He shot me a quick glance
then looked down and started shaking his head.

“Man, I told him he was
out of his mind. Breaking in where there’s just been a murder
committed? How stupid is that?”

“I get the idea Jimmy’s
not a real Mensa candidate.”

“No kidding. He tried to
get me to go with him, just to be a lookout or something. I told
him no way am I going to risk getting caught and going to prison.
He just laughed at me and called me a pussy. So, I decided I’d just
give him some space for a while.”

“Did he say why he wanted
to break into the Chilton’s house?”

“Aw, it was something
about a homemade porno tape or something. Hell, somebody ought to
teach him how to use the internet sometime if that’s what he’s
looking for.”

“Got any other ideas about
where I might find Jimmy?”

He thought for a
moment.

“There’s this biker bar
outside of Monahans that we went to a couple of times called Sugar
Mama’s. And, I mean there are real bikers there, not weekenders
like me. I wasn’t comfortable there at all, and I don’t scare too
easily. Jimmy loves the place though; he’s right in his element.
You might catch him there tonight if you’re lucky.”

“Thanks Myron. I really
appreciate the help.”

“No problem. Come by after
work some time and we’ll grab a beer and shoot some
pool.”

* * * *

CHAPTER
FORTY-SIX

Ray slept most of the way
home, and I got to look Sugar Mama’s over in the daylight when we
passed through Monahans. It was a small building set back from the
highway, and might have been a combination store and gas station at
one time. The outside had been painted with tribal tattoo-style
designs and a small sign posted next to the entrance read ‘Members
Only’. I’d have to plan on bringing my membership card and secret
decoder ring with me later that night.

When we got back to Elmore,
Ray was refreshed and ready to face life as a Certified Public
Accountant once again, so we parted ways at Lita’s where he’d left
his car. I went inside to find The Three Amigos waiting for me
inside my office, which I had left locked earlier that
morning.

“We needed to see you and
they told us it would be okay for us to wait inside,” Sid
explained.

“I think they were trying
to get rid of us,” Louis added.

“What can I do for you
guys?” I asked, glancing around to see what confidential
information they had been perusing in my absence.

“We think we’ve solved
Russell Chilton’s murder,” Sid said, with an air of
certainty.

“Oh, really? Shouldn’t you
go to the police with this information?”

Sid snorted.

“Heck, those detective
guys act like they’re too busy to even talk to us. You know how
City employees are.”

“That young one, the one
who looks like a steroid case, he told Sid to get a life,” Jake
added with a grin.

Sid shot Jake an annoyed
look. “There’s something wrong with that boy. He doesn’t belong on
any police force.”

My cell phone rang and I
recognized the phone number of the Donnelly Law Firm. I expected to
hear John Donnelly’s voice, but it was Angie.

“How was your trip to
Pecos?” she asked.

“Yes sir, I’m so glad you
called,” I answered, then to the Amigos:

“Can we maybe talk about
this tomorrow?” I asked, holding my phone up. “I’ve got an
important call I’ve got to take right now.”

Sid reluctantly nodded and
the three of them shuffled out, closing the door behind
them.

“I really, really am glad
you called,” I said after they were gone.

“Anybody I know?” she
asked.

“My private detective
squad.”

“Awwww, those guys are so
cute. But I am glad they want to be detectives instead of lawyers.
So, how did it go?”

I told Angie that I’d
struck out on finding Jimmy Do-Rag, but planned to drive over to
Monahans that evening to see if I might find him at Sugar
Mama’s.

“Sugar Mama’s, huh? Sounds
like a tittie bar,” she said.

“I sure hope so. Hate to
drive all that way for nothing.”

“You’re a pig. You better
let me go with you. I can wear some leather pants and be your old
lady.”

“I would, but this isn’t a
costume party. I don’t know how rough the people who hang out there
will be. I’m a trained professional, which means I know when to cut
and run.”

“Aw, come on. Just because
I carry a briefcase to work doesn’t mean I can’t handle myself
outside of a law office. I tended bar when I was going to school in
Waco. Even had to use a baseball bat on a guy once.”

“You? I am duly
impressed.”

I could tell she really
wanted to go.

“What color are your
leather pants?” I asked.

“Whaddaya think? Black of
course.”

“And, what if it really is
a tittie-bar?”

“I’m okay with that, as
long as it isn’t amateur night.”

“I’ll pick you up at
eight.”

* * * *

CHAPTER
FORTY-SEVEN

When Angie answered the
door, I thought I might have stopped at the wrong house. She was
just as attractive as she usually was, but in a much different way.
Her makeup, which was usually understated and tasteful, was much
more dramatic and emphasized her big, beautiful eyes. The black
leather pants she’d mentioned fit about as well as any I’ve ever
seen on a woman and her low cut black blouse revealed a tasteful
amount of cleavage.

“You look magnificent,” I
said, a little bit in awe.

She smiled and did a
little twirl.

“Play your cards right and
I’ll wear this for you when you’ve been a good boy.”

“I just hope the guys at
the bar don’t decide to take you away from me.”

“Don’t worry about that
Buddy Griffin. My heart belongs to you,” she said, holding her
right hand up to show me a heart tattoo on the back of it.
“Temporarily, of course. I hope I don’t have to hide it from John
in the partner’s meeting tomorrow morning.”

“Are you sure you haven’t
worked undercover before?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t be very good
if I answered that truthfully, now would I?”

By the time we got to
Sugar Mama’s an assortment of motorcycles, pickups and cars crowded
the dirt parking lot in front of the tiny building. Three men who
were dressed like extras from a bad 1970’s biker movie stood
outside the front of the club smoking and laughing. They watched us
as we walked toward the entrance, but I wasn’t sure whether they
were more interested in Angie or me. I had forgone the white dress
shirt and khaki’s deputy sheriff look for tonight’s occasion and
was instead wearing a black T-shirt from a Harley-Davidson dealer
in Austin, Levi’s and a pair of motorcycle boots. I had considered
wearing a do-rag of my own but sometimes an understated look works
best.

Inside, there were more
bike movie extras crowded at an odd arrangement of tables and
chairs and mismatched booths that must have come from three or four
different restaurants. There was also a roughly-constructed bar
along the back wall, with enough elbow-room for half a dozen
patrons. It was noisy, a jukebox beside the bar competing with the
roar of conversation from the tables.

A few heads turned to look
at us when we came in, and some continued to watch as I surveyed
the room looking for Jimmy. I finally spotted him at the bar with
his back toward the door. I started toward him, but a Mad Dog-sized
biker stood up and raised his hand.

“This is a private club,”
he shouted over the music. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you
and your lady to leave.”

“But I told a buddy of
mine I’d meet him here.”

“Who?”

“My man Jimmy, at the
bar,” I said pointing.

“Jimmy!” he yelled,
glancing around in the direction I pointed. “This dude with
you?”

Jimmy turned around and
squinted in our direction and then nodded. “Yeah, Squeezer, he’s
okay.”

Squeezer stepped aside and
gestured for us to pass, smiling and nodding at Angie as politely
as he could. We stepped up to the bar next to Jimmy and ordered
beers.

“What the hell are you
doing here?” Jimmy asked, glancing over.

“We need to talk about the
videotape.”

He looked at me without
speaking, then at Angie, who was doing her best to act like my
bored old lady.

“Who’s the
chick?”

“My old lady,” I answered.
“Says I never take her anywhere. Let’s talk about the
tape.”

“I don’t know what you’re
talking about.”