He swore he wasn’t, but he kept doing it anyway, and pretty soon I told him to take a hike. Goddamned Phil…Nine times out of ten, you know, talking to him made me feel better, but that tenth time left me wondering why I even bothered. I spent the rest of my break alone at home, sacked out on the couch with a bottle and my post-Ganesh drug stash, watching spy shows on cable.
When I reported back to work, Arlo Dexter was still alive. Eleven a.m. on a weekday morning, Annie and I were watching from the Rose & Cross as he opened up the model-railroad store.
“So is that his shop?”
“He runs it,” Annie said. “But his grandmother holds the lease and pays for the inventory. She covers the rent on his apartment, as well.”
“Generous grandma. Did the organization check her out?”
“Yes. She’s not evil, just lonely.”
“What about employees?”
“He doesn’t have any. Not many customers, either. He’s not what you’d call a people person.”
“So basically the store is just a private playroom for him.”
“That’s about the size of it.”
“And what’s our play? We just hang out while Arlo fools with his trains?”
“That depends,” Annie said. “I spoke with True earlier this morning, and he told me that Cost-Benefits is divided on how to proceed. Some members feel that we should continue to watch and wait. Others, including True, think that this is taking too long. They’d like to provoke Dexter into making a move, if we can come up with some way of doing that.”
“You mean if I can come up with some way of doing it, right? Is this my final exam?”
“Do you have any ideas?”
“Yeah, actually…Did your son like model trains?”
Her expression got all brittle again, but then she said: “Model planes. Billy wanted to be a pilot when he grew up.”
“OK, planes, same difference. The point is, you’ve been to a hobby shop.”
“We went every Saturday.”
“And the geeks who ran the place, you remember how they reacted to having a woman in the store?”
She nodded, seeing where I was going. “Yes.”
“Yeah—and those guys probably liked having customers.”
Annie turned back to the window and looked down at Arlo’s shop. “You want me to go in?”
“No,” I said. “Let me mess with him. I’ve got a mood I feel like sharing.”
A taxi sat just up the block from the model-railroad store, its driver working the Daily Jumble and picking at a carton of chicken vindaloo that had come from Catering’s kitchens. If Arlo made a break for it, the taxi would help track him, or, if necessary, run him down. That was the plan, anyway, but there was a wrinkle. As I crossed the street, this black guy approached the cab and tried to hire it, and when the driver belatedly flipped on his off-duty lamp, the black guy took it personally. They were arguing as I slipped inside Arlo’s shop.
The front of the store was packed with shelves and display cases, but the back was given over to a huge train layout, complete with model scenery and a scale-model town. Arlo stood in front of the layout reading a magazine, while toy passenger and freight trains made an endless circuit of the town.
I gave the door a good slam. Arlo jumped and dropped his magazine.
“Hi there!” I said, in a loud and cheery stupid-chick voice. “Do you sell trains here?”
Instead of answering, Arlo just stared, wide-eyed, as if he expected me to whip out a gun and shoot him on the spot. That should have been a hint, but I was way too pleased by his reaction to pick up on it.
“Sorry,” I said. “Didn’t mean to scare you…But can you help me out? I need to get my brother a birthday present…Oh, neat!” On a shelf to my right was a stack of boxed miniature evergreen trees. I grabbed one off the bottom and brought the entire stack tumbling to the floor. “Whoops!” Bending to pick up the trees, I slammed my butt into the opposing shelf, scattering more boxes.
This broke Arlo’s paralysis. He came dashing up the aisle, but stopped short as I straightened up again.
“Sorry,” I repeated, waving my hands at the mess. “Maybe I’d better leave this for you, huh?”