Bad To The Bone (29 page)

My determination to
immediately track Tawny cooled once I'd retrieved my car
from
The Green Iguana
and driven all the way back to my motel. I had not slept in
days, it seemed, though I'd spent plenty of time in bed. There was
no way I could go any further without a break. At least the dark
sedan was gone. Just to be safe, I parked my rental car in back of
the motel, then returned to my room to sleep. I'd head for I-95 in
the morning.

That night, I dreamed of Bill Butler, and
the images lasted until morning. It was a bonus rerun of torrid sex
with no strings attached. Unfortunately, we were just about to get
down to brass tacks in my last dream of the night when Bill gazed
into my eyes and said, "You forgot to turn on the iguana." I looked
over the edge of the bed, and there was a big lizard staring up at
me, flicking its tongue, wondering when it was going to be his
turn.

That was weird enough to wake me up.
Especially since someone was pounding on my door louder than a
beginning bass drum player. I scrambled into some clothes, grabbed
Bill's gun and peeped out through the curtains.

I could not believe what I saw.

Bobby D. stood on my doorstep, holding a box
of Krispy Kreme doughnuts. His girlfriend Fanny waited behind him.
Fanny was, quite possibly, the only human being on the planet who
could even be seen when standing behind Bobby D. Her girth was as
big as her heart. Together, the two of them were a pair of very
plump sitting ducks for the men in the dark sedan.

"Get in here," I said, opening the door and
dragging Bobby inside. Fanny followed him happily, waddling in on
her high heels, chirping about how nice it was to see me again.

God bless Fanny. She was the happiest human
I had ever met. She'd long since decided what she liked in
life—eating and Bobby D., in that order—and had enough money to
ignore what anyone else said or felt about her.

I slammed the door shut and double-locked
it. "What in god's name are you doing here? I thought you guys
would be in a boat off Fort Lauderdale by now."

Bobby sat on the bed. The mattress collapsed
and he slid to the floor. "These cheap motel mattresses," he
grumbled.

"I'll sit on the other side," Fanny offered
cheerfully. "That'll balance it out." The two of them sat on the
bed, opened the doughnut box and began to munch.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded
again.

Bobby looked up, annoyed I was distracting
him. "Well, Butler couldn't get anyone else to cover for him, so I
thought I was better than nothing. But I didn't want to leave Fanny
behind. This is our week together. So we both drove up from
Lauderdale."

"Bill called you to back me up?" I asked
incredulously.

"Not exactly," Bobby explained, his mouth
crammed with a doughnut. "He just said that he had to go back to
work and there was no one else to cover you. He was worried. Said
the guys following you were still around."

"Yeah," I agreed, staring pointedly at
Fanny. "They are still around. And, frankly, I'm surprised you
would drag her into this."

"Me?" Fanny asked. "Don't worry about me,
dear. I'll enjoy the excitement."

"Bobby." My voice was low.

"Stop worrying," Bobby advised me. "I've
been at this game longer than you. I cruised the joint. There's no
one watching. I'd never expose Fanny to harm." He patted her pink
hand kindly and they beamed at each other. God, someone give me an
insulin shot.

"How do you propose to help if we don't
expose Fanny to danger?" I asked.

"Bill figures you're heading back to South
Carolina next," Bobby said.

"Oh, he does, does he?" I was annoyed. Smug
bastard.

"He said if your ex was there, that was
where you would head. So we're going to drive you. We can drive you
straight through. You'll make up lost time."

I sat down on the chair that the motel had
paired with a cheap desk and put the Strayer-Voigt on the tabletop.
Bobby saw the gun and his eyes widened. He reached to touch it and
I slapped his hand away.

"Nice piece," he murmured.

I ignored him. "Okay, so maybe it just so
happens that I am heading for South Carolina," I said. "Because
that's where Tawny's gone." I filled them in on all of her
activities since hitting Tampa. "How in the hell could you help me
out?"

Bobby dug two globs of sugar from the
corners of his mouth and carefully sucked his fingers. "Number one,
the kid. Number two, electronics."

"Explain."

“Tawny still has the kid with her, right?"
Bobby asked.

I nodded.

"Seems to me, our number one priority ought
to be getting the kid away from her before she blows a gasket and
goes bonzo on us. I figure she's menopausal and when that hormonal
shit kicks in, there'll be real trouble."

"Jesus Christ," I said. "Menopausal? Send in
a SWAT team. No one is safe."

"You see, dear," Fanny chimed in, ignoring
Bobby's Neanderthal theory. "Robert and I have discussed it in
length. It's none of my business, of course, but as a mother
myself, I do not believe we should take any chances. The first
thing any of us should do is to make sure the child is safe. Once
you find them, we could take custody of her while you deal with the
mother."

A silence fell on the room. They were
tactful enough to pretend that selecting new doughnuts required all
of their attention, but it didn't lessen my shame any. Of course,
they were right. What had I been thinking? I had been so focused on
bringing Tawny down, I had lost sight of the danger to her
daughter. Tawny's behavior was growing more and more unpredictable.
I needed to get Tiffany out of there fast. If I hoped to separate
the two of them without losing Tawny's trail, I would need help.
But could Bobby and Fanny do it?

"What was that part about electronics?" I
asked.

"Suppose something happens to you?" Bobby
asked. "You're the only one with proof against that dame."

"So?"

"So I have a long-range microphone and
recorder with me," Bobby said. "And a cellular phone. I never leave
home without them. You never know."

You never know what? When you might be able
to eavesdrop on someone getting it on in the boat next to you
during an overnight harbor stay? I could think of no other reason
why Bobby would need a long-range microphone while cruising on
vacation with Fanny. The old perv.

I tuned him out while he extolled the
virtues of modern technology. Bobby D. and his gizmos. If they'd
invent an electronic butt wiper, he'd be first in line to buy it.
I, on the other hand, hate anything with batteries. Well, almost
anything. The exceptions are no one's business but my own.

"Okay," I conceded. "It might be wise to
record any future encounters I have with Tawny."

"Wise?" Bobby repeated. "It's essential. You
got no real evidence on her, babe. You're going to have to push her
buttons and make her spill."

"If we can find her," I said glumly.

"We'll find her," Bobby predicted. He looked
at his watch. "It's nine o'clock. The morning's half gone. Get your
ass in gear. Let's take this show on the road."

None of us really choose our fates—or even
get much of a chance to shape it. And so it was that I, tough chick
detective, found myself wedged in the backseat of an opalescent
pink Cadillac, feeling like a kid who's been dragged kicking and
screaming from the front gates of Disney World because the family
vacation was over. Mom and Dad, as in Bobby and Fanny, sat in the
front seat and spent much of their time discussing when and where
we would stop to eat next. I considered kicking my feet against the
front seat and asking repeatedly "Are we there yet?" but soon
realized the wisdom of using the ten hours of driving time to plan
out what to do if and when I came face-to-face with Tawny
again.

Traffic was light once we reached
Jacksonville and turned north on I-95. We sped up the superhighway
on cruise control, and I had to admit that the incredibly
conspicuous pink Cadillac nonetheless had a hell of a suspension
system. It was like traveling inside a giant womb.

Some people may have grown tired of manning
the wheel, but not Bobby D. It was another activity that required
little more than sitting on your butt, and so he was happy to man
the helm for the long haul. I fell asleep in mid-afternoon, mostly
in defense against Bobby D.'s singing along to the radio. I woke up
only long enough to eat the corned beef sandwich Fanny offered me
somewhere north of Savannah. When I woke again, Fanny was poking a
cup of black coffee at me.

"Wake up, dear," she advised. "We're almost
there."

I was clear-headed in an
instant, a jolt of adrenaline surging through me. Driving long
distances always puts me in a near-dream state, but the prospect of
meeting
Tawny again swept all cobwebs from
my mind. I could tell she was close. I could almost smell her. Her
and her four thousand boyfriends.

"You're the boss," Bobby said from the front
seat. "What's next? It's five miles to South of the Border."

I checked the clock on the dashboard. It was
just after ten o'clock at night. Bobby had really pushed it. I-95
was almost deserted. Only a few pairs of headlights bobbed in the
darkness behind us. "We're going to cruise the parking lots once we
get there," I decided. "I'm looking for one of two cars." I
described the car Tawny had stolen from her Tampa hosts, plus
Jeff's red Mustang. "If we see any of them, don't get near. Don't
panic. Just pull over to some discreet spot nearby and I'll take it
from there."

"You don't even know the name of your ex's
motel?" Bobby complained.

"Bill wouldn't tell me," I admitted. "He
didn't want me to come here."

Bobby snorted. "Like that really stopped
you."

"What about the daughter?" Fanny interjected
bravely.

"I'll try to separate them," I said. "If I
pull it off, you both have to promise me that you'll take her
immediately to her aunt in Rocky Mount." I would keep my promise to
Robert Price. The last thing I wanted was for the kid to enter the
social services system.

"You want us to leave you here alone?" Bobby
asked, locking eyes with me in the rearview mirror. He knew I was
trying to get rid of him.

"I won't do it any other way."

He nodded, but he wasn't happy about it.
He'd traded the kid's safety for my own, but both of us were
willing to make that bargain.

"What will we do if they've already left
South of the Border?" Fanny asked.

"We'll check every Waffle House, every
fast-food joint, every diner in all four directions. We'll find out
which way they went and we'll go after them. I'm not giving up
now."

South of the Border is the world's most
garish rest stop, a sort of Las Vegas for toddlers located on the
North and South Carolina border. It started out twenty-five years
ago as a single souvenir shop with two hundred decidedly
politically incorrect billboards marking the way for seventy-five
miles on either side ("Si Signor! Take the Leap! Pedro Sells His
Trinkets Cheep!")

Over the past two decades, it had grown in
neon-and-plastic spurts, and was now a ten-acre multicolored
extravaganza of restaurants, motels, mini-casinos, playgrounds,
bars and souvenir stands. Giant plaster statues of gorillas,
flamingos and other ghastly figments of someone's fevered
imagination dotted the complex in haphazard fashion. I was
surprised the Mexican Consulate didn't demand the place be shut
down on general principle. Instead, it was a thriving monument to
tackiness and, of course, a must-stop on the long trip from North
to South. Ironically, you couldn't get more American than South of
the Border.

It was also possibly the only place on the
planet where a bright pink Cadillac would not look out of place. We
cruised the parking lots slowly. I knew at least one of my quarry
had to be here. Jeff had called his mother from a motel here
several days before, and Tawny had headed this way.

I spotted Jeff's Mustang first. It was
parked at the far end of a long row of cars fronting the Cactus
Flower, a ground-hugging motel that was painted a virulent shade of
green. Bobby slowed down and I crouched in the backseat, confirming
that it was, indeed, Jeff's car.

"Yup," I said. "That's him. The front end is
dented where the bastard ran into my Porsche."

"Isn't that just like an ex-husband?" Fanny
chirped. "To hit and run like that?" She could afford to be chipper
about the topic. Her ex had given her eighty million dollars as a
good-bye present, while mine had given me the clap.

"There are no lights on in his room. He may
be with her," I told them.

"Let's find out," Bobby said. He turned into
the next lot and we passed the parked cars slowly. No signs of
Tawny. It was slow going because I had to check nearly all the
license plates. Naturally, her former hosts had owned a Saturn and
every other car in the lot could have been theirs.

We cruised three more restaurants and two
more motels before I spotted it. She was staying at a place along
the southernmost edge of the complex.

"Shit!" I stared at the car. I couldn't
believe it. We had done it. “That's it. That's her." I gripped the
back of the front seat and tried to keep from bouncing up and down.
I felt like a dog that has finally cornered the nasty neighborhood
cat and discovered it has arthritis. "I wonder why she's not
staying with Jeff?"

"Down, girl," Bobby warned me.

I took a deep breath. "You're right. I
wonder which room she's in?"

"My money's on one of the first five," Bobby
said. "And you're luckier than you deserve to be that every motel
in this place is one-or two-story."

"Thank god for cheap land," I muttered.
"Pull over behind the motel office."