“Maureen books the bands. She’ll be in tomorrow morning.”

“It’s important,” I said. “Just point me in the right direction.”

“Mister, I’m the only one behind the bar, and people need beer. Try tomorrow.”

I finished my beer and left as the band cranked up a sluggish version of “Brown-Eyed Girl.”

I found the Ramada Inn, got a room.

I kicked off my clothes and flipped on the TV. I needed something mindless to do, so I emptied the guns out of the duffel and began cleaning them. That didn’t take long. I flipped through the channels. Shit. I flipped again. Still shit.

Okay. Back to work.

I called Burt. He answered halfway through the first ring. He was still awake, full of coffee and worry.

“Give me your number there.”

I gave it to him.

“Give me ten minutes.” He hung up.

When he called back, I heard traffic noises in the background.

“It might not be safe to talk on the home phone,” said Burt.

“You know I’m looking for Stan, Burt. Let’s start with that.”

“Look, I have no idea where he is. I’d tell you. Honest.”

“What can you tell me?”

“They got people watching Jeffers around the clock,” said Burt.

“What for?”

“Easy,” said Burt. “The FBI has been putting a case together against Beggar Johnson for three years. Now, they’re in a position to shut him down hard. Jeffers was supposed to be getting some accounting ledgers that exposed Beggar’s whole operation from Miami to Jacksonville. The Federal boys have Jeffers over a barrel. Either he coughs up the ledgers and testifies against Beggar, or they put him away.”

That didn’t make any sense. I was the one supposed to be bringing the books. Jeffers knew that. I got suspicious. I mean more suspicious. I went to the window and scanned the parking lot through a crack in the drapes. A black Ford Tempo about ten spaces down, maybe some people sitting inside. The darkness made it hard to tell for sure. Could be I had a few Feds on my tail. Maybe they thought I’d lead them to the books.

Or maybe it was Lloyd Mercury, Beggar’s big boy, the killer Jeffers seemed so worried about. I tried to recall what he looked like from the one time I’d seen him. It wasn’t difficult. You don’t forget a guy like that. He looked like a cocked gun ready to go off. Hard, mean, and quick to pounce.

I made a mental note to look over my shoulder once in a while.

“How was Jeffers going to get the ledgers?” I asked.

“Don’t know. The FBI doesn’t tell me anything,” said Burt.

That explained it. They were keeping Burt in the dark on some of the details. Maybe they suspected his loyalty. Maybe he just wasn’t important enough to know everything. If I were the Feds, I’d be careful too. I thought about those men with the badges in Toppers. They’d been Feds too. They almost had the books then except for me. I showed up and shot everyone dead.

“Thanks, Burt,” I said. “Anything else?”

“Yeah. Sorry to tell you this, but the FBI has frozen a bunch of bank accounts, Jeffers’s included.” He cleared his throat apologetically. “Yours too. And I wouldn’t try getting near your safety deposit box.”

That just fucking figured. “Thanks for the heads up.”

“If you and Stan pull this thing out of the fire, just remember who was on your team.”

“I’ll remember.”

The Handlebar was open early the next morning, so the third-shift crowd didn’t have to wait for normal bar hours to get drunk. I was told Maureen wouldn’t be in for an hour, so I retreated to a less dilapidated part of town for coffee. I called Marcie, left her another message. I went back to the Handlebar.

Maureen was a tired, sagging matron who didn’t look like she gave two shits about anything or anybody, least of all me. I asked her questions, and she answered, not out of kindness but because she judged it would be more trouble not to. Smart lady.

“Worst mistake I ever made,” she said. “God damn punk metal bullshit or whatever they call it. I thought maybe we’d attract a younger crowd, you know? Broaden our appeal a little.”

“But the regulars didn’t care for them?”

“The regulars wanted to kick the shit out of them. You know what they did when the crowd started booing? Spit on ’em. On everyone in the audience.”

“So you gave them the boot?”

Her nod started a ripple through the flab sacks on her face. “They wouldn’t have lasted another second, let alone another night.”

“I’m not exactly a fan, but I do need to find them. I thought you might know where they’re staying.”

“I’ll tell you what I told the other guy. Talk to Parker. He tends bar for us, and it was his idea to book the band in the first place. I should’ve fired his scrawny ass too.”

“What other guy?”

“He’s out there now.” Maureen jerked a stubby thumb at the back door. “He came in with the same questions you did, and I told him Parker was in the alley having a smoke.”

“Thanks. I better have a look.” I headed for the back door.

“Mister, I’d take it slow if I were you. This other fella’s about as big as they build ’em.”

“I’ll be careful.”

In the alley, an enormous comic book character was pushing a greasy kid up against a stone wall. He was doing it just right. The kid’s feet dangled about a foot off the ground, and the giant had to keep pushing against his chest with the flat of his meaty hand to keep him up there. The big guy was Lou Morgan.

Holy shit.

“New Guy!”

Lou whipped his head around. “Charlie?”

Lou folded the kid in half and jammed him down deep into one of the big alley trash cans. “You stay put, Parker. I got to talk to this guy.” He gave the can a loud kick for emphasis.

Parker made a cooperative noise, and Lou threw his arms around me in an uncomfortably tight bear hug. “Holy fuck, Charlie, I never thought I’d see you again.”

“Me?” Funny, but I didn’t mind the hug so much. “I thought I heard you die on the phone. How’d you get out in one piece?”

He posed muscle-man style for me. “This is the Lou-man you’re talking about. I fought my way out like a fucking champ, that’s how.”

We traded stories. I told him I was looking for Benny. I told him why.

His face fell, and he shook his head. “Damn. I was hoping to find somebody to tell me what the fuck’s going on. You mean Benny’s working for Beggar?”

“Looks that way,” I said.

“That’s a real bummer,” he said. “I liked that little guy. He was little but mean and tough, you know? I thought he was cool. Kinda gets you mad to think somebody cool like that would sell you out.”

I knew what he meant. I thought about the beers I’d shared with Benny, the times around the Monopoly table in the monkey cage. I started getting hot all up through my face. Sometimes I get so furious about stuff like that my whole body shakes, and I’m doing something harsh without thinking first. My fists tightened, and I started feeling bad for Benny, knowing what I was going to do to him.

Lou threw up his hands. “Then that’s all she wrote, man. Might as well go home.”

“We’ll go home when I say. We find Stan first, and that means we find Benny.”

“You’re not in charge of me anymore, man. O’Malley’s is ashes. The boss has hit the road.”

“You got a choice. You’re either nobody going no place, or you’re one of Stan’s boys, and we’re on the job.”

He put his hands on his hips, exhaled. “Okay, man. You’re the boss. But stop fucking calling me New Guy.”

“Whatever you say, New Guy.”

“The kid in the can’s name is Parker. He’s about to tell us useful things, aren’t you, Parker?”

I stepped around Lou and found Parker in the trash can. “How’s it going?”

“A little cramped.”

“I’m looking for Spanklicious.”

“I know the house,” said Parker. “Just get me out of here, okay? And I’ll tell you where.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Parker. I’m not here to rescue you. You tell me what I want to know.”