The Necklace

Chapter 6

A shave, a shower, a change of clothes and a two hour solid nap and Rick Hart, P.I. was back in harness. I wasn't thrilled about the Druid connection or that the path to the necklace might lead right to their door. I crossed my fingers and hoped that Desmond had it and was holding it for future opportunities.

His centre of operation was a bowling alley in the west end of the city, an entertainment about as popular in the area as the area itself. I parked and entered Pin City Bowl with an air of considerable doubt.

"Carlos Desmond?" I said to a lean, emaciated looking counter man whom I doubted could lift one of the establishment's ten pin balls.

"Who wants him?" Phlegmy voice.

"I do, that's why I asked."

"He ain't here, smart ass." Stringbean wiped the counter sans enthusiasm.

"Not even for a big sale?"

The wiping stopped and he stared at me a moment. "Wait here."

Two elderly ladies were having a small argument over the score sheet. Outside of them there was no other business; Pin City Bowl was still in the days of paper score sheets, crayons and pin boys. I even heard Dean Martin on the scratchy speakers.

"You said somethin' about a big sale?"

I turned back to see who owned the soprano voice and looked up at a living tattoo with hands and feet. He looked like Queequeg in Moby Dick.

"Uh- yeah, I heard Carlos was the man to see here."

"You can talk to me."

Actually I couldn't. The incongruously high voice coming out of this inked mountain was threatening to start me blubbering with laughter.

"Somethin' funny?"

"Mmmn, nope." I coughed and backed away from the counter. "Sorry- frog . . ." I gathered myself and asked again for Carlos Desmond.

"If you wanna talk big sales you talk with me."

"I just said that because your friend here said he wasn't in and I want to talk to him about something else."

Tattoo looked at Stringbean and the latter scurried away, returning shortly with the person I presumed to be Carlos. Tattoo gave Carlos a dull stare then drifted back behind the counter to the other room. I beckoned Carlos to a vacant bowling lane and we sat on the bench.

"I know you?"

"Nope but you know the guy who iced Luther."

If Carlos had worn a shell he would have disappeared inside. His eyes darted around the alley and his face was the definition of panic.

"Who are you? What do you want?" A hissed whisper.

"Same thing Semple wanted . . . the necklace you guys were holding as collateral."

Pale didn't describe Carlos as his eyes rolled up into his head and he gripped the edge of the bench for support.

"Jesus, man. Quiet! If those guys hear you I'll be road kill!"

"Let me guess. Luther got it because his clients couldn't pay and you got it because he couldn't pay you and you didn't tell anyone here."

"I'm tellin' you, man. If they knew . . ." His expression changed as he saw my eyebrows rise. "You wouldn't . . ."

I added a false smile. "The necklace for my silence, Carlos?"

His groan had the two elderly ladies take a break in their argument to look over at us with an air of disgust.