Relentless

wants to know weird, he should look in a mirror.”
    As Penny followed the driveway toward the state road, I keyed in Vivian Norby’s disposable-cell number on
my
disposable cell and prayed she would pick up.
    Since only I possessed her new number, Vivian answered with, “Cubby?”
    “Viv, I’m so sorry about this, but the bad guys are going to have your Mountaineer soon.”
    “Are
you
all right?” she asked worriedly.
    “I’m bald, but otherwise we’re all fine.”
    “You remember I told you I smelled something funny about all this and that it was a stink I smelled before somewhere, sometime?”
    “Yes, I do. I remember the stink conversation.”
    “Well, like twenty-five years ago, Wilfred worked for this police chief who took this homicide case away from him with a lame excuse.”
    Wilfred Norby was Vivian’s deceased husband, the ex-marine and detective. The name Wilfred comes from two Old English words,
willa
and
frith
, which together mean “desire for peace.”
    “Turned out,” Vivian continued, “the chief and a half dozen of his top staff were corrupt. They were doing business with a drug gangthat committed the homicide Wilfred got pulled from. The stink is corruption in high places, Cubby. This isn’t just some wingnut on your case. This is something bigger.”
    “We’re on the same page, Viv. Listen, as soon as the bad guys have the Mountaineer, they’ll be coming to you, and when they find out you’re Milo’s sitter, they’ll know you gave it to us.”
    “Just let them try to get anything out of me.”
    “I don’t want them to try. Viv, they were on us so fast in Smokeville, all that research you’ve been doing into Henry Casas and other artists must have triggered some alarm built into one website or another.”
    “I don’t like these sonsofbitches,” she said.
    “They’re not on my Christmas list, either. My point is, they might already figure you’re helping us, they might show up there at any time.”
    “This is so invigorating,” Vivian said.
    “Viv, I am very sorry, but I think you better get out of there right away. Take whatever things you’re most sentimental about, you’d hate to lose. Go to your bank, withdraw as much cash as you can, and be ready to make a big change.”
    “I wish Wilfred could be here for this.”
    “Go to the Boom Demolition office in Anaheim. The secretary’s name is Golda Chenetta, she looks like Judi Dench. Tell her you need to talk to Grimbald, tell Grim I said to take you to the stronghold.”
    “What stronghold?”
    “He’ll know. Viv, hear me clear now. Time is of the essence.”
    “It always is. I’m already in motion. Kiss Prince Milo for me,” she said, and terminated the call.
    Penny drove off the paved route, into the lay-by where we had left the Mountaineer, which was still shrouded in mist.
    “What if they’re waiting here for us?” she suddenly worried.
    “Then we’re finished.”

   As if it were a time machine returning from an earlier century, fading from the rational past into the insane present, the Mercury Mountaineer materialized out of the fog. No one from the Bureau of Compassionate Day Care lurked around the vehicle.
    Penny killed the sedan headlights but left the engine running. “What exactly are you intending to do?”
    “Let’s get what we need from the Mountaineer, and then I’ll fill you in.”
    Lassie was ecstatic to see us. She even favored me with a nuzzle equal to that she gave Milo and Penny. I suspected she wanted to lick my bald head.
    Penny intended to put the suitcase in the trunk, but I stopped her. “Everything on the floor in front of the backseat.”
    When we transferred what little we were keeping from the SUV, we stood at the sedan while I sorted onto the hood those items that Penny had taken from Rink and Shucker.
    In their wallets, I found each man had a California driver’s license in his name. But each possessed a second driver’s license, also with his photo, Rink’s in the name Aldous Lipman, Shucker’s in the name Fraser Parson.
    “Nothing suspicious about that,” I said.
    “No, no, nothing. The poor men suffer from multiple-personality syndrome,” said Penny.
    Standing between us, Milo said, “Let me see,” and I passed the four licenses down to him. “When I’m director of the FBI, these are the kind of guys who’re gonna learn what justice means.”
    The two men carried laminated cards that featured only their photos, their names, and a