Backtracker (53 page)

Dave stubbornly shook his head...but he found that he
couldn
'
t
readily refute what Billy had said. It was possible that Billy was right, that Larry
'
s convincing confession had been merely a skilled performance. Still, if Larry had misled him, if his story
hadn
'
t
been accurate to some degree, what other explanation could there be for the events of the past weeks?

"
Go get that phone number,
"
said Billy Bristol, clapping his hands.
"
Let
'
s get it in gear, okay, man?
"

Dave snorted disgustedly and charged out of the kitchen. Without a word to Billy, he marched through the living room and down the short hall to his bedroom.

Jerking open the drawer of his desk, Dave snatched up a scrap of paper. He heaved the drawer shut and hastened back to the kitchen, slapped the scrap onto the counter in front of Billy Bristol.

"
There,
"
Dave said unenthusiastically.
"
There
'
s the number, the one from Larry
'
s file.
"

Gingerly lifting the beaten rectangle between a thumb and forefinger, Billy gazed at it appraisingly...then smirked.
"
Hey, cool,
"
he said, flicking the scrap to examine both sides.
"
It
'
s a Wild West order slip! Hmm...a medium porterhouse and a medium
-
well filet mignon. Y
'
know, I think I may
'
ve
cooked
these dinners!
"

"
Yeah, whatever,
"
Dave muttered without amusement.

"
Well, here you go,
"
Billy said then, extending the note to Dave.
"
Start dialing, man.
"

"
You want me to call him
?
"
frowned Dave, staring at the crinkled slip without accepting it.

"
Yup,
"
nodded Billy.
"
You
'
re the one he told everything to. You
'
re the one whose folks he was checking out.
"

"
Yeah, but what if he won
'
t talk to me?
"

"
You think he
'
ll talk to
me
?
"
Billy said pointedly.
"
I
'
m not even supposed to know he
'
s psychic, right? You think he
'
ll tell
me
anything important?
"
Billy shook his head, flapped the paper at Dave.

With a heavy sigh, Dave yanked the note from his friend
'
s grip and moved to the phone on the kitchen wall. Tucking the receiver between his ear and shoulder, he nervously punched the buttons corresponding to the number on his note.

Agitated, uncertain of what he would say to Larry, Dave fidgeted with the phone cord as he waited, drew and released a succession of deep breaths. Through the earpiece, he heard a click, then the first warbling ring.

After two more rings, Dave heard another click; there was the rustling of a receiver being handled on the other end of the line, and someone spoke.

"
Hello, Youth Center,
"
said a man with a high
-
pitched, nasal voice.

"
Excuse me
?
"
Dave said haltingly, surprised at the response to his call.

"
Saint Mark
'
s Youth Center,
"
replied the man, sounding as if he were out of breath.
"
Who
'
s calling, please?
"

"
Uh, sorry,
"
fumbled Dave.
"
Wrong number.
"
Irritated at his inability to dial the phone correctly, he quickly swept the receiver back onto its cradle.

"
What
'
s the matter
?
"
inquired Billy.

"
Aw, I must
'
ve hit a wrong number,
"
groused Dave.
"
I got some kind of youth center or something.
"

"
So try again,
"
said Billy, his active hands beating an irregular rhythm on the edge of the counter.

Again wedging the receiver between his ear and shoulder, Dave carefully reentered the number. There was another click, then a sequence of five rings before the line was opened.

"
Saint Mark
'
s Youth Center,
"
said the same voice that
he'd
heard before, differing only in that it sounded more winded.

Puzzled and annoyed, Dave grimaced at the paper in his hand.
"
Uh, I
'
m really sorry,
"
he stammered.
"
I guess I dialed the wrong number again. I, uh...I
'
m trying to get five
-
nine
-
five
eight
-
one
-
one
-
zero.
"

"
Well, you
'
ve got it,
"
the man replied, a touch of aggravation in his tone.
"
This
is
five
-
nine
-
five eight
-
one
-
one
-
zero.
"

"
Uh, I see,
"
said Dave, still staring at his note.

"
Maybe you oughtta
'
check the phone book again,
"
the man suggested.
"
Unless you
'
re trying to reach the youth center at Saint Mark
'
s in Doddsville, you
'
ve got the wrong number.
"

"
Well, sorry,
"
Dave said apologetically.
"
Thanks.
"
There was an immediate click as the man on the other end of the line hung up; slowly, Dave pulled the receiver from his shoulder and hung up as well.

"
You got the same place
?
"
asked Billy.

"
Uh
-
huh,
"
nodded Dave.
"
It was Saint Mark
'
s Youth Center in Doddsville. I got the same guy and everything.
"

"
And you
'
re absolutely sure you used the number from Larry
'
s file?
"

"
Oh yeah,
"
confirmed Dave.

"
And Larry told you it was the number of that bar, right?

"
Uh
-
huh.
"

"
Well well well,
"
clucked Billy Bristol, raising his eyebrows and wagging his head.
"
Guess what, buddy
-
boy. Ol
'
Larry fed you a line of horse
-
shit.
"

"
He told me it was for the bar,
"
said Dave, looking dazed and baffled.
"
I mean, why would he lie about it?
"

"
Maybe he wasn
'
t
completely
lying,
"
Billy said slyly.
"
That number was in his file, right? He said it was so Tom could call him if he needed to, right?
"

Staring at the phone number, Dave nodded slowly.

"
Wellll,
"
said Billy, pointing at the scrap in Dave
'
s hand.
"
Maybe that
isn
'
t
the wrong number, man. Maybe that
is
how to get in touch with Larry.
"

"
You mean Larry
'
s at this youth center
?
"
frowned Dave.

"
Maybe,
"
answered Billy, rising from the stool on which he
'
d been perched.

"
Buy why would he be
there
?
"
wondered Dave.
"
If he
'
s there, why wouldn
'
t he just
tell
me the number
'
s for that place?
"

"
Don
'
t ask me,
"
shrugged Billy, moving toward the phone.
"
There
'
s just one way to find out, man.
"
Reaching past Dave, Billy snagged the receiver, then removed the note from Dave
'
s grasp.
"
Okay,
"
he said distractedly, checking the number once and punching buttons on the phone.
"
Let
'
s see if our boy
'
s hangin
'
out with the youth, man.
"

Billy finished pressing buttons, then waited for a moment.
"
Hello
?
"
he said finally.
"
Is this Saint Mark
'
s?
"

There was a brief pause. Dave wished that
he'd
thought to use the phone in his parents
'
bedroom to listen in on the call.

"
Well, how
'
re you doing today
?
"
Billy asked in his most charming manner.
"
Busy, huh? Aren
'
t we all?

"
Well, I won
'
t keep you, then. My name
'
s Barry...Barry Wilson, and I
'
m trying to get hold of a buddy of mine. I
'
m not exactly sure what he does at the center, but he did mention that he spends some time there. No no...he
'
s an older guy. His name
'
s Larry.
"

As the moment of truth approached, Dave tensed. He was hanging on every word of the half of the conversation to which he was privy.

"
Uh
-
uh,
"
said Billy, shaking his head.
"
Not him. The guy I
'
m talking about
'
s in his forties, and he
'
s got a goatee. Yeah yeah...that
'
s him.
"
Billy nodded, cast an expectant grin at Dave...and then, the grin melted into a confused frown.
"
What
'
s that? His name
'
s what?
"

At the look on his friend
'
s face, the apparent twist in the conversation, Dave held his breath.

"
No sh...I mean, really
?
"
said Billy, absently placing a hand atop his head.
"
No no...that
'
s definitely him. Well, guess it is.
Right...uh
-
huh.
"
Abruptly, Billy
'
s expression reverted to a grin; he seemed to regain his composure in the space of an instant.
"
Y
'
know, he can be a real joker sometimes,
"
he said laughingly.
"
Wouldn
'
t surprise me if he
'
s been pulling my leg all this time. Honest to God
--
'
Larry
,
'"
he said sardonically, and then he chuckled.
"
He sure put one over on me.
"