No Quit

Chapter 6

Ted flopped on his bed and spread the printouts he'd made alongside, reading each one carefully. Gabriel Vincent Tucker was 32, 5 foot ten, 168 pounds, brown-eyed, with dark scraggly hair and a shadow moustache. The driver's license listed his address in the Province of Quebec. Ted studied the face and flashed back on how it looked when the gun had roared and Nadine collapsed, dying. Excited. Ted felt that it had been a first and the adrenaline pump Gabe had received was like a pure coke high. He could imagine him seeking that feeling again, hungering for the rush of power.

He lay back and stared at the pressed tin ceiling, following the seams along to where hints of rust appeared, brought about by years of humid days and no air conditioning. Unless his quarry was a total dumbbell he would be looking to dump the car and find another. A cash purchase would be the smartest. Some dinky lot with a selection of worn but presentable vehicles would be his choice and he had to assume, Gabe's as well.

Unless of course, he stole one. He rolled over and dragged the phone directory from under the night table onto his lap and in the yellow pages, looked up used cars. There were four listed on the highway leading west from the diner and he put two of them within the range he'd guessed at after a quick calculation of driving distance.

He looked at the time and decided to try calls to both; chances were they'd be closed but he had nothing to lose and much to gain. A mechanic who informed him they were just closing answered the first one, Dave's Deals, and there was nobody in the office to help him.

"All I want know is if you guys took a faded blue Chevy in on a trade today. The paint on the roof was peeling."

"That pig. I'm looking out the window at it right now. Dave musta had his head up his ass when he made that deal."

Eureka! "What did he give up... and oh, where exactly are you located?"

The mechanic described the car Gabe had traded for, told him where the lot was and Ted thanked the man and hung up. "Twice lucky in one night," he said to the room. He wrote the information down and then took out his map of the area and studied the roads heading west. If they stayed on the main highway, fine, there was little to choose from among the several subordinate roads between Paris Flats and the next major town of Hammond.

They all rejoined the main road before then anyway. He cleared the stuff off the bed and stripped down to his shorts. A wash, tooth brushing and he crawled back onto the sheet and flipped on the TV.

******

The morning paper provided in the hotel diningroom confirmed the TV news bite he'd picked up the previous night and as he chewed his breakfast toast he read the article with concentrated interest. The small rest stop diner had been the scene of a vicious robbery murder by a man and a woman who fled in a, several year old beige Honda or Corolla, according to stunned witnesses.

The descriptions matched what Ted remembered from his own confrontation and he hauled out his map and found the area mentioned in the article. They had taken a subordinate road and he traced the path with his finger, finding that it intersected with another back road before finally connecting up to the main highway right where he saw it on the map last night. They were just cruising for places to knock over, nothing more.

He checked the time and then beckoned the waitress over.

"Is there a regular bus to aah, Hammond?"

"Uh huh, leaves every two hours from the station down at the corner."

He looked at his watch. "On the hour, half hour...?"

"I think it's on the hour." She shrugged. "Never take it myself, have my own car."

"What about car rentals, any in this town?" He consulted his watch again.

"Well sure." She stiffened up. "We aren't just some backwater."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to suggest anything like that. Uh... where might one be?"

"Right beside the bus station. You want anything else?" She was totaling his bill as she asked and before he could answer she'd plopped it on his plate and strutted off.

"A tad thin in the skin," he murmured, checking the amount and digging out some money.

He'd missed the bus by twenty-five minutes so he walked on further to the car rental. Karl's Kars. By the hour, the day or the week, the sign read. Alliteration in advertising was big in this section of the country, he thought, remembering his call to, Dave's Deals. Karl, or a representative, greeted him with an unctuous smile and two hands flat on the counter in front of him.

"Hi there. Great day to be alive, eh? Lookin' for an auto-mo-bile to see the country?"

"Considering it," Ted said, dropping his pack and picking up a rate card from the pile.

"Ten dollars an hour by the hour including insurance and a full tank... which you replace on return. Thirty five a day—same deal, and one fifty by the week... plus twenty for the insurance." The smile hung like a weary quarter moon.

"Can I drop it off elsewhere?"

"Depends. Can't leave the State for sure."

"Don't plan to."

"We'll bring 'em back from as far as Sable Falls if you're headin' west and Keaton goin' east. There's a fifty dollar drop-off charge though."

"So a week is two hundred and twenty including everything. And what kinda car?"

"Well we have mostly Civics and Corollas but you didn't add in the tax."

"That's right." Ted stared at the rental agent.

"Well I hafta collect tax."

"No... you have to pay tax." Ted shrugged and picked up his pack.

"Hold on, hold on." The smile was replaced with the same shape but inverted. "I guess I could see clear to make a little deal..."

"Two twenty—including everything."

Fifteen minutes later Ted adjusted the mirror on the Toyota, fastened his seat belt and waved a cheery goodbye to the rental agent who barely lifted his chin in response.

**********************

Gabe finished going through the wallets and purses they'd snatched and tossed them aside. Several credit cards and driver's licenses were fanned out on the bed beside him and he studied each one with care.

"This broad could be you with a little work... on you I mean." He tossed the item across the where Sandra sat in the room's only chair.

"Screw you, Gabe."

"When I'm done here."

She made a face and glanced at the license. He was right actually. Arlene Maxwell did resemble her somewhat. Same hair in colour and rough style. She was a bit older but Sandra could look older too. Probably already did after being with Gabe, she complained silently. Why did he have to kill those people? Robbery is bad enough but armed? And then to use the damned gun? Jesus, what had she gotten herself into?

"What is your next great plan now that you have all this stuff?"

He looked at her and sneered. "You go right into the bank in the morning and draw out some cash on this card. As much as they'll give you." He flipped the credit card over to her and she had to get it from the floor when it missed. It was Arlene Maxwell's card.

"I can't go to the bank in this outfit. I need some decent clothes. And I need to make myself look a little more like the picture. That means makeup and stuff."

Gabe swore and dug into his jeans pocket. "Here." He tossed a shower of bills on the bed. "Keep it cheap, you ain't going on no fashion runway."

"Hey! Half of this is mine, pal; I'll spend it how I want." She walked over and scooped up the money and began sorting it.

Gabe came off the bed like a missile and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her around and flinging her on the bed. Sandra yelped and dropped the cash as she bounced painfully on the thin mattress then began to shout as he knelt astride her and tore at her top. The slap sounded like wet leather on a flat rock and her face went numb along with her resistance.