“How come he owns two cars and you take the bus?”
He opened his eyes in astonishment. “You trying to suggest he’s got more money than he should? I could own a car if I wanted to—I sure don’t need two—but what do I need it for? Waste of money, the taxes, the gas, the insurance, worrying about parking it, whether hot-rodders’U steal it. You think just because a guy gives his life to the union he can’t afford to own a car?”
I shook my head, abashed. “Of course not. Just grabbing at straws.”
I picked at the iceberg lettuce. “You know, Terry Finchley didn’t try to find Mitch’s son. And Jake didn’t. But someone claiming to be young Kruger did go to Mrs. Poker’s and ransack Mitch’s room only a day after his body was found. Either the guy did come to town unbeknownst to anyone but Mitch, or someone wanted something out of Mitch’s things bad enough to pretend to be him. I mean, either way, the person knew where he lived. Which meant Mitch had to tell them, because you and he—and Jake—were the only ones who knew.”
Mr. Contreras cocked an intelligent eye. “You want me to ask Jake did someone call trying to find Mitch’s new address?”
I hunched a shoulder impatiently. “I suppose. I’d like to come up with some photos, show ‘em on the street. You know, we don’t know whether Mitch’s son stayed in Arizona. Hell, he’d be my age—older. He could be anywhere. You remember his name?”
“Mitch, junior,” Mr. Contreras said promptly. “I always remember resenting the fact that he had a junior and I only had Ruthie. Stupid kind of thing. It doesn’t mean nothing, I can see that now, but at the time… oh, well, you don’t want to hear about that.”
I wiped my fingers on the wet paper towel he had provided. Mounting a search for a person who could be anywhere was way outside my resources—it meant going into state motor-vehicle departments, writing the Pentagon, all kinds of activities I didn’t have time or money to undertake. Still, a picture of Mitch, Jr., would be very helpful.
“You want to bankroll some ads, since you don’t waste your money on a car? We could run some in all the Arizona papers, and ones around here. You know, if Mitch Kruger, once of Chicago, writes a certain address, he’ll hear something to his advantage.”
Mr. Contreras rubbed his hands together. “Just like out of Sherlock Holmes. Good idea, doll. Good idea. Want me to take care of it?”
I graciously gave my consent and stood up. “I’m going downtown and I’d like to go out the back way. In case the boys who took your pal’s car are waiting with another one out front. Can you let me out through your kitchen?”
“Downtown?” His eyes flicked to my left armpit. “What’re you doing downtown?”
I smiled. “A little office work.”
“That why you need the gun? To shoot holes in a letter and hope it’ll go away?”
I laughed. “Cross my heart and hope to die, I am not going off for a violent confrontation. I’m hoping I won’t see a single soul. But you know my methods, Watson: guys start taking shots at me, or my friends, I don’t walk the mean streets without a little protection.”
He wasn’t happy; he wasn’t even sure he believed me. But he undid the dead bolts on his back door and walked me to the alley. “I’m gonna fix you up with one of those things the cops carry, so if you get in trouble you can give me a signal.”
The thought of a twenty-four-hour umbilical cord to the old man made me gulp. I went down the alley as fast as I could, as if to get away from the very air that had carried the suggestion.
Chapter 24 - Bad Girls Stay Out Late
The South Loop is a ghost town at night. Its bars close with the evening rush hour. Although the Auditorium and a movie theater are on its eastern edge and Dearborn Park has sprung up on the south, little night life has spread north of the Congress Expressway. A lot of that is of such dubious quality that you’d rather encounter an actual ghost.
The address for Jonas Carver—the man Lexus showed as Diamond Head’s registered agent—proved to be just north of Van Buren. I parked the Impala a discreet distance away, waited for a drunk—or perhaps dopehead—to drift across the street, and went into the lobby.