AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Football player? Helped catch Sirhan Sirhan?” Ally prompted.
“I don’t follow American football. I know no Sirhan Sirhan. Is he a football player too?”
“No, he assassinated Bobby Kennedy,” Ally explained.
“Oh my gracious! I certainly don’t know of him!” the counter man exclaimed, horrified.
I decided to cut into the history lesson. “Our Rosie doesn’t live around here, but his friend does, down and across the street about four houses. His name is Tim Shubert.”
“I know Tim. He buys lots of cheese puffs and frozen pizzas.”
If Tim was a stoner the caliber of Rosie, I had no doubt he bought a lot of cheese puffs and pizzas.
“Rosie’s thin, about five foot six, dirty blond hair. Looks a bit like Kurt Cobain but his face isn’t as pointy,” Ally put in.
“I know no Kurt Cobain, but I have seen a man of this description with Tim. Is his name really Rosie?”
“Nickname,” I said. “His name is Ambrose.”
“Ambrose is a perfectly fine name. Why does he not call himself Ambrose?”
Ally looked at me.
I decided to ignore that one. Any answer would have to span a generationanda culture gap. I didn’t have it in me today. In less than twenty-four hours I’d been shot at, physically dragged out of bed and kissed by Lee Nightingale three and a half times (yes, I was counting, and the half was the kiss he planted on my neck). I was a woman on a mission and I didn’t have time to explain a dud name like Ambrose.
“Have you seen him lately, like say, today?” I asked as I paid for my purchase.
“No, not today.”
“Tim?” Ally asked.
“Not Tim either.”
He handed me the bag and I took it at a loss for what to do next.
“Jeez, Indy. Don’t you read detective novels? You own a bookstore for God’s sake,” Ally hissed and then turned to the store owner.
The counter man smiled huge. “You own a bookstore? I love books. What bookstore do you own?”
“Fortnum’s, on the corner of Bayaud and Broadway,” I answered.
“I know that. My wife goes there. Books are cheap there and then you can sell them back and get cash money.”
“Yep, that’s it.” I nodded and smiled, happy to meet a customer by proxy.
Ally was busy scribbling my name and numbers on a piece a paper she found in her purse, and when she was done she handed him the paper. “Maybe you could give us a call if you see Rosie or Tim. Would you do that?”
“Of course. I’m an employer. Only my wife works for me, but I understand how important it is to trust your hired help. I will call you.”
“Thanks.”
We went out and sat in my car and stared at Tim’s house while we thought about what to do next. We both were new at this. Neither of us had tracked down a stoner on the run before. We’d stalked plenty of guys, but we’d known where to find them.
We both ate a cupcake to get the brain juices flowing.
“That was a nice guy,” I said through yellow cake and cream.
“Yep,” Ally replied, her mouth equally full.
