Page 40 of Sam to the Rescue
I shrug, my tone caustic. “Not my circus, not my monkeys and not my damn bananas. I can’t return like an eager beaver and have my nuts handed to me on a plate. I prefer them where they are, fuck you very much.”
I use him to help get back into character. Having just kissed my baby goodbye and made sweet love to my wife, I don’t feel like an asshole and I need to be one in order to survive.
“Listen-” He stops when my phone pings, allowing me time to read the text.
“Was that them?”
“Yeah. If I take off ten percent, I’m good to go.”
“We’re on.” Whistling through his teeth, he disappears into an idling black Ford.
When he’s gone, I meander to theKing’s Keg House, and sit on a stool. Recalling the pudding-textured coffee, I order a beer.
Before long, Fangs, the skinnier of the cult clowns walks in. Bald, he’s got prison tats and a Wooly Willy beard. In my mind, I move iron filings to his head with an imaginary toy wand and try not to smile.
It’s even harder not to laugh when his feet turn out and Bluto-like, he strides across the room. In front of the bar, we eye each other, two dogs in a pissing contest. Because I’m supposed to be working for him, I look down first but glance up real fast so he understands I’m not easily intimidated.
He growls, cartoon like, and speaks out of the side of his mouth. “You’d better be worth the money.”
“Guess you’ll find out.” I lift an eyebrow, mentally laughing like Popeye.Guh-gu-gu-gu-gu-gu.
His grin starts slowly and spreads until his sharpened eye-teeth show. Damn. Should one of those teeth bite a lower lip, he’ll need stitches.
“Don’t fuck up.” He strolls out stage left as Edge enters and sits on a stool.
“You need to pack or somethin’?”
I kick the knapsack at my feet. “Nope. I’m good to go.”
“Let’s do it, then.” The fat man eases off the three-legged seat, throws a few bills on the table, then waddles across the floor.
Outside, the ex-con sits at the wheel of a vintage Cadillac with tinted windows. I’d bet a hundred bucks the plates are stolen.
Hopefully, Halpern alerted his Fed buddies and they’re out there somewhere, watching.
Chapter 26
Sam
Once Suds and Halpern disappear between the buildings, I open the artificial intelligence application and send it my accident report. With his added intel, maybe we can find the asshole who ran me off the road.
Mikey and I play for almost an hour while the unit combs the web. Antsy, I call Dr. Jones, Colin’s wife and Jason’s creator. Like I’ve done in the past, I ask permission to break some privacy laws. She agrees as long as I don’t expect to use anything in court. With that caveat, I finally catch a break.
Today, the young meme looks an awful lot like the Grateful Dead’s Gerry Garcia. With full beard, long sideburns, and a tie-dyed shirt, it stares out of the screen through pink wire-rimmed sunglasses. “Do you like my new look?”
“Sorry. It’s a bit hippy-dippy for me.”
“Okay.” He disappears and returns back to normal; sporting a nerdy t-shirt, geeky glasses and a spikey modern haircut. “I believe I have found the person you have been looking for.”
The Afghan woman’s sketch and a driver’s license pop onto my screen, side-by-side. While not great, there is some similarity.
“Is this the man who ran you off the road?” The meme opens and closes his eyes while I study the images.
“I was certain I would know but now, I’m not so sure. It could be.”Huh. Who are you, Frank Riley?
Unlike a person, the app waits patiently as I try to place the face with a name. Then, it dawns on me. “Isn’t he the guy from those commercials? Don’t get taken, get real, get Riley?”
“Correct. Like you, he is a private detective.”