Backtracker (55 page)

"
Yeah,
"
Billy nodded without hesitation.
"
I
'
ll have a draft.
"

Dave nodded as well.
"
Same for me,
"
he said. Though he
didn
'
t
plan to drink any alcohol before what might turn out to be a rigorous afternoon, he realized that the bartender might prove more helpful to a pair of paying customers.

Lumbering out of the doorway, the guy moved behind the bar, stopped by the upthrust handle of a beer tap.
"
Well,
"
he puffed, hoisting two glasses from under the bar.
"
Who ya
'
lookin
'
for?
"

"
Friend of ours,
"
supplied Billy.
"
Guy who lives upstairs. He isn
'
t there right now, and we were wondering if you had any idea where he is.
"

Sniffing, the bartender glanced at Billy, then plunked one of the glasses onto the bar.
"
You lookin
'
for Mike, huh
?
"
he said dully, placing the other glass beneath the spout of the beer tap.

For a split
-
second, Billy hesitated, met Dave
'
s surprised gaze; then, looking back to the bartender, he nodded.
"
Yeah,
"
he said confidently.
"
That
'
s him. We
'
re lookin
'
for Mike.
"

"
He don
'
t live here anymore,
"
said the bulky guy, tugging the handle of the tap downward, sending an amber stream of beer hissing into the glass.

"
You mean he moved out
?
"
frowned Dave.

"
That
'
s what I said,
"
replied the bartender. Pressing up the handle of the tap to stop the beer, he placed the full glass on the bar before Dave and lifted the empty glass to draw another draft.

"
When did he leave
?
"
Dave asked tentatively, sliding the glass of beer to Billy.
"
Did we just miss him, or what?
"

"
Yesterday,
"
said the guy as the second glass filled with liquid.
"
He pulled outta
'
here yesterday morning. Ain
'
t seen him since.
"

"
Damn,
"
muttered Billy.
"
We were hoping we
'
d be able to catch up to him before he left town. We owe him a couple bucks, y
'
know?
"

"
Guess you lucked out,
"
said the bartender, handing the second beer to Dave.
"
You get to keep your money.
"

"
He didn
'
t say anything about why he was leaving so soon, did he
?
"
asked Dave.
"
I mean, uh, he told us he wasn
'
t going for a couple days yet.
"

"
He didn
'
t say,
"
answered the bartender,
"
and I didn
'
t ask.
"

"
You don
'
t know where he went, then, huh
?
"
pressed Dave.
"
He didn
'
t say where he was headed?
"

"
Nope,
"
said the huge guy, turning away from his questioners to examine the shelves of booze on the wall.

"
You
'
re sure he didn
'
t say anything about where he was going
?
"
asked Billy.

"
Nope,
"
the bartender said listlessly, pulling a bottle of whiskey from one of the shelves.
"
He just told me he was leavin
'
. We had a little disagreement about the rent, and then he took off.
"
Removing the cap of the bottle, the guy drew a shot glass from under the bar and poured some whiskey into it.

Billy locked eyes with Dave, made it clear that
he'd
been intrigued by the bartender
'
s last comment.
"
What kind of disagreement
?
"
he asked casually.

"
I been chargin
'
him weekly,
"
said the guy, pausing to tip the shot of whiskey into his mouth.
"
Every Friday, I
'
d get a week
'
s rent from him. Since he was leavin
'
, he still owed me for this week. I only ever take cash, but he tells me he don
'
t have no cash, so he wants to pay me another way.
"

"
What way is that
?
"
asked Dave.

"
He tries givin
'
me some jewelry...rings an
'
necklaces and shit. I tell
'
im forget it, I want cash, I got no way a
'
knowin
'
if this stuff
'
s the real thing. I don
'
t care it
'
s hot, but I don
'
t wanna
'
get stiffed.
"

"
Hey, I don
'
t blame ya
'
,
"
Billy said agreeably.

Sniffing loudly, the bartender poured another shot of whiskey.
"
He keeps tryin
'
ta
'
push this jewelry on me, but I won
'
t take it. He starts gettin
'
pissed, and we
'
re yellin
'
an
'
goin
'
at it...but after a while, he comes up with somethin
'
I
'
ll take. I figure I
'
m comin
'
out ahead on the deal, so I tell
'
im
'
okay, we
'
re square,
'
and he leaves.
"

"
What did he end up giving you for the rent
?
"
asked Billy.

In the process of lifting the second shot, the bartender paused. Holding the tiny glass before his bulbous chest, he looked at Billy, then slid his half
-
lidded eyes toward Dave. Examining first one stranger, then the other, the guy seemed to be sizing them up, trying to decide if he should go into more detail. Finally, he raised the shot of whiskey to his lips; draining the glass with a backward flick of his head, he gulped and sighed, then swung the glass onto the bar with a decisive clunk.

"
Gave me a watch,
"
said the bartender.
"
Gold Rolex. Worth a hell of a lot more than a week
'
s rent, but he wanted to give it away, so I took it.
"

"
No shit,
"
muttered Billy.
"
He must
'
ve been in a real hurry, dumpin
'
a
Rolex
like that.
"

"
Could be,
"
shrugged the bartender, stuffing a hammy hand into a pocket of his faded jeans.
"
Nice watch, anyway.
"
Withdrawing his hand from his pocket, he produced a glittering timepiece, stared at it musingly.
"
If I didn
'
t need the cash, I
'
d keep the damn thing for myself.
"

"
Wow,
"
Billy said admiringly.
"
I guess you
did
come out ahead on the deal. Mind if I take a look at that a second?
"

With a slight shrug, the bartender extended the watch to Billy, dropped it into the palm of his hand.
"
I can get a couple grand for that, easy,
"
said the guy.
"
More
'
n
a couple, I guess.
"

"
Hell, yeah,
"
nodded Billy.

"
All I gotta
'
do is get that inscription taken off,
"
sniffed the bartender.
"
I know a guy can take care of it for me, though.
"

Turning the watch over, Billy squinted at the back of it.
"
Right. I see what you mean,
"
he said slowly.
"
Shouldn
'
t be much trouble gettin
'
that off there.
"

"
That
'
s what I figured,
"
nodded the guy.

Billy handed the Rolex to Dave, who immediately lifted it to see the inscription. Peering at the gleaming gold underside of the timepiece, he spied the markings; engraved in a delicate, cursive script at the center of the backing was a single word, a name.

"'
Kimmel
'
,
"
Dave said softly, reading the inscription aloud.
"'
Kimmel
'
,
"
he repeated, searching his mind for a connection between the name and Larry Smith.

"
Did he say where he got this little number
?
"
asked Billy.

"
His last name
'
s Hoffman, not Kimmel,
"
replied the guy,
"
so I guess it ain
'
t no family heirloom.
"

"
It was probably handed down on his
mother
'
s
side of the family,
"
Billy said sardonically.

"
Yeah, right,
"
said the bartender.
"
Somebody
'
s
family.
"
With that, he sniffed several times in quick succession, laughing at the quip.

Grinning, Billy shook his head and raised his beer for a drink.
"
Well, anyway,
"
he said, clapping his glass onto the bar.
"
Thanks a lot, man. We really appreciate you takin
'
a couple minutes to talk to us. Too bad we missed ol
'
Mike, but them
'
s the breaks.
"

"
Ah, whatever,
"
said the bartender.
"
He comes
'
round here again sometime, I
'
ll tell
'
im you
'
re huntin
'
'
im.
"

"
Whatta
'
we owe ya
'
?
"
asked Billy, fishing the wallet from a rear pocket of his jeans.