121240.fb2 Bloodline - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 51

Bloodline - читать онлайн бесплатно полную версию книги . Страница 51

8

Jack had driven by Bolton's townhouse. Lots of lights on but was anyone home? He needed to be sure before he broke in. He'd checked the Tower Diner—brick walls, canopied windows, pillars at the entrance, and a clock tower, for Christ sake. What kind of a diner looked like that? More like a bank.

He'd looked through one of the windows and seen Dawn, but no sign of Bolton.

The next and last stop was Work. If he didn't find Bolton there, he'd have to assume he was home and put off the break-in for another night.

The place was crowded, with someone singing off-key over distorted guitars blasting from the sound system, but what did he expect on a Saturday night?

Jack wove through the crowd and made his way to the bar. He wasn't look-ing for a drink, just a vantage point. He reached the corner and started looking around. He'd brought his camera just in case he found Bolton in a corner with a lip lock on one of the waitresses. A photo of that might pry Dawn out of his bed.

He did a slow scan of the front end—no sign of him here—and was starting toward the pool tables at the rear, when someone grabbed his arm.

Jack looked and found himself in the grip of a short but beefy biker type whose breath reeked of Jack Daniels. He had a balding head and a huge red handlebar mustache. Jack half expected him to shout, Great horny toads! or call him a varmint.

"My girl says you was starin at her, you sonuvabitch!"

Jack could barely hear him over the music, but he knew the drill with these guys. They got to feeling mean after a few shots and looked for any excuse to throw a few punches. If you admit looking at his girl, he punches you. If you deny looking at his girl, he accuses you of calling him a liar and punches you. A no-win situation.

The last thing Jack wanted was to draw attention to himself. He gave him a close look.

"Sam?" he shouted over the music. "Is that you?"

The guy looked confused. "What?"

"You're not Yosemite Sam?"

"Ain't no kinda Sam, and you was starin at my girl."

"You might be right, but truth is, Sam, I don't know who your girl is."

"I ain't Sam, and that's her, right there."

He pointed to a busty babe in a skimpy black leather halter top watching them with glittery eyes and a nasty smile.

"Oh, her. Her name wouldn't happen to be Cindy, would it?"

"Cindy? Hell, no. It's Roxanne."

"Weird, man. She's a dead ringer for a girl I knew in high school. I thought it might be Cindy Patterson but I guess not."

As Sam digested these departures from the usual script, Jack looked around for a way out. That was when he spotted Bolton leaning with his back against the bar, staring off into space.

Thinking about the Key to the future, maybe?

And then a whole scenario leaped to full-blown life.

"But listen, Sam," he said, leaning close.

"I ain't Sam, goddammit."

"Oh, right. There's a guy down there been giving Roxanne the eye all night. And I can't be sure, but I think she's been eyeing him back. You know, like they know each other."

He cocked a hst. "You tryin to tell me—?"

"Hey-hey, I could be wrong. But if you and I get into a fight and get thrown out, that'll leave a certain someone a clear field with Roxanne."

He looked around. "Where is this guy?"

Jack nodded toward Bolton. "Down there—tall guy in the denims and cowboy boots. Watch out. He looks tough."

"He looks like a pussy]" he growled. "You wanna see what tough looks like, you watch!"

He started nosing through the crowd like a rottweiler called to dinner.

Go, Sam. Get that there varmint.

Jack watched him step up to Bolton and say something, saw Bolton shake his head and respond with a condescending smile. Sam's fist flashed out but Bolton dodged it and swung a fist of his own.

After that, things got confusing as women screamed and men shouted, some fleeing the fight, some moving toward it, a pair of bouncers homing in, and an infuriated, red-faced, out-of-control Bolton swinging a pool cue at a bloody and astonished-looking Sam. He checked the bartenders but none of them was calling the cops. Probably hoping their guys could control it.

Jack pulled out his officialdom phone and headed for the door.

Somebody had to be a good citizen and phone in this terrible, frightful melee before someone was seriously hurt.