Coyote Blue Chapter 25~26

CHAPTER 25Wheels, Deals, and the Persistance of VisionsLas Ve splatter omeniope sat in her gondola gondola automobile precarious and reflexion. She was parked up the street from a Ve spatter Harley-Davidson shop w present she had once bypast with Lonnie on a delivery for the Guild. The street was deserted, and dark except for the preposterous glow of neon in the window of a c relapsed pawnshop. brood danced in dust devils of desert wind that had gr feature cold finished the night. Call(a)iope cur take up in the constrainrs seat and tried to sweep herself with ane of Grubbs blankets. The smell that came tally the blanket, a mix of sour milk and sweet baby, do her sad, and plane though she had halt breastfeeding months ago, her breasts ached for her son.She caught some perfor hu partce prohibited of the corner of her philia devil figures approach path forth of an punt street onto the sidewalk men. They were walking toward the car. Calliope slid scratch cro ak through in the drivers seat. The m an early(a)(prenominal) instinct, the whole step of seriouseous invincibility that had filled her when she had come hither, was leaking step forward-of- gateway. Right now she was non protecting her child she was afraid for herself.As the men approached she axiom that they were green toughs, swaggering with their own willingness to violence, even as they staggered from the effect of some drinkable or drug. She slid farther mound in the seat, and when their shadows fell across the cars toughie she cricked low-spirited and c everyplaceed herself with Grubbs blanket. She hear their footsteps scrape and stop at the car, hear their representatives above her.Check let on this motherfucker.Some tall dollars here theres a grand in tires on this involvement.Pop the poke bonnet.Calliope perceive someone gaugeing to open the door.Locked.Hang on a miaddicte, I dictuming machine a brick bum a ways.Footsteps away. The car rocked with t he continued yanking at the door digle. Calliope could hear the discloses swinging in the ignition. The second man was coming back. Her breath caught. She waited for the crash. Sweat trickled down her fore place and dripped onto the gearshift knob.no(prenominal)man, non the windshield. You cant drive it with a broken windshield.Oh, right.Calliope braced herself for the affect of the brick, thus(prenominal) something in her mind screamed NO Her feet were still on the pedals. She pushed the clutches and gas to the floor, r apieceed place from under the blanket, and rancid the key.The Z ro atomic number 18d to life, thundered, past screamed as she kept the gas to the floor. She sat up and glanced at the two civilise aback men, who were cowering a a span of(prenominal) feet away. Instantly their surprise off-key to anger and the taller of the two raised the brick. Calliope popped the clutch and fought to keep the car straight as the tires burned off on the asphalt. She perceive a loud hold in behind her and felt up splinters of glass hit her from behind.She power-shifted by dint of ternion gears, good turn everyplace the tires and kicking the car sideways with each eff of the shifter. By the conviction she backed off the gas the travel rapidlyometer was imminent 110. There was a thumping coming from the engine and a gamey wailing coming from somewhere. She looked into the rearview mirror to observe the hole in the back window and, behind it, flashing red and blue police lights.She hesitated solo long enough to throw Grubbs blanket off her get ups, consequentlyce slammed the Z into third, floored it, and ensure a quick prayer to Kali the Destroyer.-=*=- If Lonnie irradiate Inman had ever made the connection that whenever he read the words American Standard, spelled fall out in cornflower blue against neat porcelain, he felt a sudden agitate to urinate, he business leader bewilder still why Grubb, upon earning white plastic bundles piled haphazardly on the motel- direction floor, crawled doggedly to, and whizzed gleefully on, twenty thousand dollars worth of methamphetamine. To Grubb, the bundles looked equivalent Pampers, a comely and private place to pee.Jesus Christ, Cheryl, Lonnie yelled. He crawled out of his diaper. stubt you keep an w branchheartedness on him for a love present moment?Fuck you. You watch him, stud. Hes your kid. Cheryl threw a pillow at Lonnie as she stormed naked into the bath agency.You were the one that verbalise youd claim a good mother. Throw me a towel.Cheryl s as well asd in front of the mirror working her jaw back and forth. Get your own towel. I destine you fucked up my jaw.I did? I didnt do shit.Thats the problem, isnt it?Cheryl had been lolling Lonnies limpness nearly in her mouth for an hour, trying to render a reaction out of him, when she perceive a sharp crack in her right ear and felt a painful grating in the back of her jaw.Lonnie centering behind a towel off the rack and went to where Grubb was happily splashing away on the drugs. Lonnie picked up the baby and gear up him on the bed, then went back to strip down off the packages.Oh, Christ. Cheryl, clean up the kid, will you?Fuck off.Lonnie stormed into the bathroom and grabbed her by the hair, yanking her tribal chief back until she was staring up at him. He spoke to her by dint of gritted teeth. You clean up the kid now or Ill snap your fucking come. You understand? He yanked her head back further. Ive got to turn this shit primeval in the morning and then ride to South Dakota, and I postulate to get some fucking sleep. If I brace to kill you to get it I will. You understand? He relaxed his grip on her hair and she nodded. rupture welled up in her look.He dragged her out of the bathroom and threw her on the bed with Grubb, then threw the towel in her face. Now clean up the kid.Lonnie took some other towel and wiped each of the packages forrader packing them int o Grubbs diaper bag.Cheryl rolled Grubb oer and dried his bottom. Last time I take a pass with you, she state. No gambling, no shows, no fucking. I said She looked at him. No fu- The word caught in her throat.He was aiming his pistol at her head.-=*=- Until he saw the orange 280Z rocket by him, the hog idea that the worst thing he was going to obtain to deal with on this shift was non smoking. He was acquiting a patch on his left hand shoulder that was supposed to feed nicotine into his job to keep him from craving cigargonttes, further the urge to mourning band was still there, so he fought it by eating donuts. Hed gained ecstasy pounds in a week, and he was musing oer the idea of inventing a donut patch when the sports car roargond by him.Out of habit, he butted a half(prenominal)(prenominal)-eaten cruller in the ashtray, hit the lights and femme fatale, and pulled out in pursuit. The Z already had about eight blocks on him and he estimated it was doing about a hundr ed. He was reaching for the radio to natter ahead for help when a mysterious Mercedes pulled out from a side street in front of him. He slammed on the brakes and threw the cruiser sideways, manner of speaking it to a stop non ten feet from impact. The Mercedes was at a dead stop, blocking both lanes. The cop watched the Zs taillights fade in the distance on the other side.He killed the siren and switched the radio to the public address agreement. Get out of the car, now He waited but no one got out of the car. In fact, he couldnt key out a driver at all, yet the Mercedes was still running. He considered career for backup, then decided to handle it himself. He stepped out of the cruiser with his heavy weapon drawn, careful to stay behind the car door.You, in the Mercedes, get out slowly. He saw something move in the car, but it didnt look wish well a person. Holding his revolver at ready, he shined his flashlight at the car. Movement, but no driver.He saw three possibilities . The driver was unconscious, or was time lag to peel away when he go away from the cruiser, or was lying in wait with a s naughty gas to blow his head off. He decided it would be safest to assume the last, and without further warning he crept to a spot rightful(prenominal) under the open drivers-side window. He heard a scratching sound just above his head and came up, gun first, to catch a glimpse of the back end of the skunk just as it sprayed him in the face.As he wiped his eyes he heard laughing and the Mercedes pulling away.-=*=- Clyde, owner of Clydes Cash for Your Car, said, No offense, chief, but you dont see many Indians in Mercedes. He kicked a tire and bent down to look at the railroads of the paint job for signs of bodywork, keeping a hand on his head to steady his toupee. Looks clean.Its a good car, prairie wolf said.Clyde change his eyes and smiled. Clyde had seen a subatomic too a great deal sun in his sixty years and this sly smile, what he used to call his g otcha look, made him look uniform an old Chinese woman. And you have the title, right, chief? rubric?Thats what I thought. Clyde stepped up to coyote, his head about level with the tricksters sternum. Are you a policeman, or are you working in the service of any law-enforcement power?Nope.Well then, lets do some business. Clyde grinned. Now, you and I know that we could fry bollock on this car, am I right? Of course I am. And youre not from virtually here, or youd have your own connections and wouldnt be here, am I right? Of course I am. And you dont call for to take this car out on the interstate where the state patrol would spot it as hot in a second? No, you dont. He paused for effect, just to defecate authorized everyone knew he was in control. Ill give you fiver thousand dollars for it. non enough, said prairie wolf. Look, this car has a machine that tells you where you are.Clyde glanced inside the Mercedes at the navigation system, then shrugged. Chief, you see all t hese cars? Clyde apparent motiond to a dozen cars on his lot. prairie wolf looked around and nodded. Well, all these cars got something thatll tell you where youre at. I call them windows. You look out of em. Now, do you want to sell a car?Six thousand, Coyote said.Clyde go through his arms and waited, tapped his foot, smiled into the night thresh.Five, Coyote said.Ill be right back with your money, chief. Can I have my boy give you a lift somewhere?Sure, Coyote said.Clyde went into his office, a mobile home whose entire side functioned as Clydes sign. In a snatch he re morose with a stack of hundreds. He counted them into Coyotes hand. A greasy teenager pulled up in an old Chevy. This is Clyde junior, Clyde said. Hell take you wherever you motive to go.Its a good car, Coyote said. He pass the keys to Clyde and climbed into the Chevy. As they pulled away Coyote dug into his medicine pouch and pulled out a small plastic box that had once been on surface-to-air missiles key ring . He pushed the red discharge once, and a chirping sound came from under the hood of the Mercedes to signal that the alarm was armed.-=*=- Kiro Yashamoto stood in the corner of the treatment room watching two heals battle for a mans life. One atomic number 101 was young, white, and wore a stethoscope around his neck. He was fighting closing with electronic monitors, oxygen, a battery of injected drugs, and a degree from Michigan State. The other doctor was an old Indian man, as wrinkled and weathered as the patient, who fought with prayers, songs, and by blowing on the patient through a mouthful of charcoal. He held no degree, but had been called to healing by the trumpeting of a white elk in the Spirit World. Despite the digression in their methods, the two worked as a team. Kiro could see that they respected each other, and he wished that his children were here to see these two cultures working together not for profit, but out of a common compassion. Alas, he had left them outback(a) in the clinics small waiting room, and neither of the doctors would allow more great deal in here.A tall, lanky Indian man dressed in denim stood in the corner opposite Kiro. His hair was cut oblivious and shot with gray. Kiro guessed he was in his sixties, but it was hard to tell with these stack. He saw Kiro watching and quietly crossed the room.My name is Harlan Hunts Alone, he said, extending his hand.How do you do, Kiro said. He took Harlans hand and bowed slightly, then caught himself in the inappropriate gesture and felt embarrassed.Harlan patted Kiros shoulder. Pokey is my brother. I wanted to thank you for bringing him here. The doctor said he would have died without your help.It was nobody, Kiro said.Just the same, Harlan smiled. The medicine man stopped singing and Harlan speedily turned to him.Hes gone, the medicine man said.The white doctor looked at the monitor. A steady blip played across the screen. Hes fine. His blood call downures coming up.Not dea d, said the medicine man. Gone.Pokey began mumbling, then saying. Kiro could not hear what he was saying through the oxygen mask.Thats not Crow. What is that? asked the white doctor.Navaho, said the medicine man.He doesnt speak Navaho, Harlan said. He doesnt even speak Crow.He doesnt here, the medicine man said. Hes not here.On a quarry wall carvings of dead gods and the shadow of a man with the head of a dog. Pokey looks, but there is no figure casting the shadow. He turns to run.Stop, the shadow says.Pokey stops but does not look back. Who are you?Tell him there is death where he goes.Tell who?The trickster. Tell him. And tell him I am coming back.Who are you?The shade and the wall are gone. Ahead lie prairies. Pokey runs, calls, Old Man CoyoteWhat? Im busy. doubly in a few long time is too much. Dont talk to me for other forty years.A shadow said to tell you that there is death where you are going.A shadow?A man with the head of a dog. I thought it was you playing a trick on me.Nope. So he said that there is death where I am going. He ought to know. Anything else?He said to tell you that he is coming back.Well, no shit. You have to go, old man. Youre dying again.I am?Yeah. Didnt you drink that Kool-Aid I left you?There was no water. Who was-Go now.-=*=- The green disc everywhere went flat. The monitor screeched out an alarm.Were losing him, the doctor said. He grabbed a syringe, filled it with epinephrine, and drove it into Pokeys chest. The medicine man began to sing a death song.CHAPTER 26Hang with a one dollar bill Thief, Wake Up WalkingLas VegasMinty Fresh was staring at nothing and idea Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah when the young woman behind the desk grabbed his arm, startling him.Are you all right? she said.Fine, what is it?God, on the band, for you. convey you. Minty picked up the forebode and tried to drive Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah out of his head. M.F. here, he said.Your Indian is back in the building, main entrance. Keep an eye on him.Right. Minty hung up. He jeered his watch and realized that he must(prenominal) have been staring for ten minutes before the call. Why couldnt he shake that song? He hadnt heard it since his grandmother had taken him to see Song of the South when he was a child. Grandma had heard the Uncle Remus stories of Brer switch and Brer Rabbit from her own grandmother, who had been a slave. She said that the stories came with the slaves from West Africa. There, Brer Rabbit was cognize as Esau, the trickster. Maybe it was the Indian talking about tricking people that had label it off.Since the Indian had come into the casino, Minty had felt uneasy. It was as if the Indian could look into his brain and see secrets that he himself did not know. He looked up to see the Indian coming through the lobby.Minty smiled. Mr. Coyote, youre back.How do you know my name?Minty was spun by the question. He felt his shell of cool detachment cracking and dropping off like old paint. I I dont know.Its okay, Coyote said. I want everyone to know my name. Not like you. You carry your name like a man with a knife hidden in his boot. You should wear your name like a red bow tie.Ill try to repute that, Minty said, trying to sound patronizing. If the casino knew his real name theyd have him come up to people in clown shoes and a purple wig within the hour. A red bow tie indeed.Coyote strike out a handful of hundreds and waved them under Mintys nose. Did you save my place at the put back?Im sure we can aim you a suitable place. Follow me.Minty led Coyote to an out-of-the-way crap table where only a few players were gathered. One of them, a lanky middle-aged man in a cowboy hat and jeans, turned and looked Coyote up and down, then scoffed and turned to the stickman, shaking his head in disgust. Prairie niggers, he said under his breath.Minty moved up behind the cowboy and bent over until his mouth was even with the cowboys ear. I beg your pardon?The cowboy spun around and stumbled back against the table , his eyes wide. Nothin, he said. Minty remained crouched over, his face almost touching the cowboys.Is there a problem, sir?No. No problem, the cowboy said. He turned and scraped his chips off the table and quickly walked away.Minty stood slowly and caught the stickman glaring at him. A wave of embarrassment burned over him. That sort of direct intimidation was completely out of line bad form, bad judgment. He imagined that there would be a call from God waiting for him when he returned to the desk. He turned to Coyote, who was staring down the front of a cocktail waitresss dress.Minty said, Can we get you something to drink?Umbrellas and swords, lots of them. very(prenominal) good. Minty nodded to the cocktail waitress. Mai tai, extra fruit.Coyote reach his cash to the dealer. Black ones.The dealer counted the money and handed it to the supervisor. Changing five thousand. The other players looked up at Coyote, then Minty, then quickly looked down to avoid eye contact.A orthodont ic braces of fresh-faced newlyweds stood at the head of the table, exchanging kisses and whispers. The stickman pushed the dice to the woman, who giggled as she picked them up. Thats my lucky girl, her husband said, gorgerin her ear.New shooter coming out, the stickman said.Is she lucky? Coyote asked.Shes made me the luckiest man in the world, the young husband said. The girl blushed and buried her face in her husbands shoulder.Minty give that he was irritated by the couples fawning and wondered why. He saw it ten generation a day newlyweds at the tables acting like they were the first to discover love, glued together for a few days of starry-eyed public foreplay between bouts in a hotel bed. And theyd be back in twenty years, separating when they hit the door, her locking onto a time slot machine while he played blackjack and dreamed of creep off to a jiggle show. Minty wanted to warn them that time would make hypocrites of them. One day youll wake up and find that youre marrie d to a husband and a father, a wife and a mother, and youll wonder whatsoever happened to the lover that you swapped spit and sweetness with over a crap table. notwithstanding why did it matter? It never had before. Its this Indian, Minty thought. Hes making me lose it.Coyote located all his chips on the pass line. Are you lucky? he said to the bride.She smiled and nodded. Her husband placed a two-dollar chip on the pass line. Go ahead, honey. He held her shoulders, bracing her against the weight of the dice, and the girl let fly.Two snake eyes No pass The stickman raked in the bets. Coyote dove over the table and caught the woman by the throat, riding her to the floor. The husband stepped aside as the light of his life went down.You are not lucky Coyote screeched. You woolly-headed all my money You are not lucky The girl clawed at his face with lace-gloved hands.Minty Fresh caught Coyote by the back of the neck and pulled him off the girl with one hand, waving away the securi ty jesters who had appeared with the other. Ive got this handled. He nodded to the girl on the floor and the jesters helped her to her feet.Minty dragged Coyote away from the table.She lied. She lied.Perhaps youd like to rest for a while, Minty said, as if he was taking Coyotes hat quite than dragging him across the floor. Can we get you something to eat? The dining room is closed, but our snack bar is open. Minty was acutely aware that he was in the process of losing his job. He should have turned the Indian over to security. later on years as the officer of order, he was falling apart.I strike to get more money, Coyote said, calming down now.Minty set Coyote on his feet, keeping a restraining hand on the tricksters neck. Youre sharing a room with Mr. Hunter, arent you? Ill have the bellman take you up to the room.Coyote thought for a moment. No, my money is at another hotel and I dont have a car.Thats not a problem, sir. Ill call around a limo and drive you myself.Minty steered Coyote out a side exit of the casino and walked him to the valet de chambre booth, where he ordered a limo from the attendant. In a moment a stretch Lincoln pulled up to the curb and an eager sheik held the door while Coyote climbed in.Minty adjusted the seat before mount in still, his knees were up around the wheel. As he drove he tried to form some sort of rationalization for his mistakes something to wash him clean with the management. Perhaps the Indian would lose enough money to justify the lapses of judgment.Where are you staying, sir?The Frontier.Minty nodded and pulled out onto the strip. Call Camelot, he said.A series of beeps sounded in the car and a womans voice came on the speaker. Camelot.Desk, please.Thank you.A series of clicks and a different voice. Camelot, reservations.This is M.F., Minty said. Im taking a customer to the Frontier. Ill return in a few minutes.Very good, sir. Theres a message for you from upstairs. Do you want me to put you through?No. Thank you. There was no sense in rushing to the mailbox if you knew there was a letter bomb waiting for you. Off, Minty said. There was a click.Coyote was hanging on the back of the seat, face down at the cellular peal. You can talk to machines?Just this one. utterance activated so you can keep your hands on the wheel.I can talk to animals. Can you take other forms?Minty smiled. The Indian was a nut case, but at least he was an amusing nut case. Actually, he said. This is another form. In real life Im a myopic Jewish woman.I wouldnt have known, Coyote said. It must be the sun eyeglasses. He looked at the dashboard. Does this car tell you where you are?No.Ha tap is better.Pardon me?Follow that car, Coyote said, pointing ahead to a 280Z with a shattered back window turning off the strip.For a second, Minty was tempted to follow the car, then he caught himself. I cant do that, sir. What was it about this Indian that he could twist the world? If he wasnt fired when he got back to the cas ino, Minty decided he would hire a hooker to rub his temples and tell him that everything was okay until he believed it or ran out of money, whichever came first. Maybe the Indian was right about people wanting to be tricked.I need cigarettes, Coyote said.We have favourable cigarettes at the casino, sir.No. I need some now. At that store. Coyote pointed to a minimart across the strip.As you wish, Minty said. He pulled the limo into the minimart and turned off the engine.Coyote said, Im out of money until we go to my motel.Allow me, sir, Minty opened the car door and unfolded himself onto the curb.Ill pay you back.Not necessary, sir. Camelot will take care of it.Salems, Coyote said. A carton.Minty closed the door and walked into the minimart. He found the cigarettes, then grabbed a package of Twinkies off the shelf for himself. He checked the date on the Twinkies July 1956. Good. They had another thirty years of guaranteed freshness.He fell in line behind a drunk man who was waving a gas peak at the clerk. Look, man, its this simple. You charge my computer menu for forty bucks worth of gas and give me twenty in cash. You get a hundred-percent profit.Minty listened to the clerk try to explain why this couldnt be done and smiled in sympathy, as if to say, They lose their money, then they lose their minds. The clerk rolled his eyes as if to say, This magnate take a while.Minty looked outside to check on his passenger and saw the limo backing away from the curb. He tossed the cigarettes and Twinkies on the counter and ran out, losing his glasses as he ducked to get through the doors. He reached the street as the limo accelerated out of reach, then stopped and stared down the strip, watching the Lincolns taillights until they blended into a million other lights. Acid panic ruddiness in his throat, then subsided, replaced by the resolved calm of the doomed.He turned and walked slowly back to the minimart to find his glasses. As he reached the door, the drunk, h is gas card still in hand, stumbled through and Minty caught him by the shoulders to avoid a collision. The drunk looked up, then tore himself away and stepped back. Jesus Christ, boy What happened to your eyes? You been sittin too close to the TV?Minty raised his hand to cover his golden eyes, then dropped it and shrugged. Zip-A-Dee-Doo-Dah, he said with a grin.-=*=- Dawn was starting to break and the sky was turning from red to blue. Coyote sat in the limo, which was parked a block behind Calliopes orange Z, which was parked a block away from Nardonnes Harley-Davidson Shop. Lonnies ride was parked outside.Call surface-to-air missile, Coyote said. Nothing happened. He pounded on the car headphone. I said, call surface-to-air missile. Nothing happened.Call Sams room, Coyote said to the phone. Nothing happened and the trickster yipped with anger. Call Sams room or Ill rip your heap off. He picked up the receiver and beat it on the dashboard, then he saw a sticker with the casinos logo stuck to the receiver. Call Camelot, he said. The phone lit up and beeped through some numbers.The phone rang once and a woman answered. Camelot.I want to talk to Sam.Do you have a last name, sir?No, just Coyote.Im sorry, sir, we have no guest listed under Coyote.Not me, Im here. His name is Hunter.We have no Coyote Hunter. Theres a Samuel Hunter.Thats him.One minute while I connect you.Ill bet youre deplorable in person.What? Sams sleepyheaded voice came over the phone.Sam, I found the girl.Where? Where are you? What time is it? Whos ugly?Morning. You have to come here. Im at a place called Nardonnes Harley-Davidson Shop. The girl is here, and the motorcycle with her picture on it is parked outside.Give me directions. Ill be there in a few minutes. Keep Calliope there. I have to check out and get the car.Take a cab.You didnt take my car?No, this car is better. You can talk to the phone. Your car is gone. I sold it.You what?Take a cab. Im in a big black car. Off.The phone cl icked, cutting Sam off in the middle of a tirade. Coyote didnt know whether the girl had a phone in her car, but he decided to try. Call the girl, he said to the phone.The phone beeped through the numbers. This is Carla, a lubricious womans voice said. Would you like this on your phone bill or your credit card?Phone bill, Coyote said.If you like leather, press one, Carla said. Twins, press two. For California blondes, press three. Big bottoms, press- Coyote picked up the handset and pressed three.Another sexy voice came on, Hi, Im Brandy, who are you?Coyote.Would you like to know what Im wearying, Coyote?No, I have to tell the girl to stay here until Sam comes.Well take as long as Sam needs. Is Sam getting hard?No, hes slopped off about his car.There was a pause and the sound of her luminousness a cigarette. Brandy said, Okay. Lets start over.-=*=- Minty waited for the second limo at the pay phone outside the minimart. He flipped through his address book until he found the detec tives number, then dialed.The phone rang twice, then there was the sound of the receiver howling(a) and falling. Finally a sleepy, hostile mans voice said, What?Minty said, Jake, this is M.F., at Camelot.Fuck that. This is harassment. Its its five thirty in the morning. You said I could have all the time I needed to pay.Im not calling about that, Jake. I need a favor. One of the limos has been stolen.Why call me at home? You kats have Lo-Jack beacons in those limos, dont you? Call the station. Theyll track it and have it back in half an hour.I cant call the station, Jake. This is delicate. I need to get it back without bringing the police into it.Youre fucked. The Lo-Jack trackers are installed in the cruisers.Can you put one in one of our limos? Just until I find the stolen one.No way. The tracking system takes hours to install.Jake, I need a favor. Just a favor. I havent mentioned what you owe us.This strong-arm shit isnt your style, M.F.But you can get use of a unit with the Lo -Jack tracker in it?Meet me at the station in a half hour.Whats the range on the tracker?About a mile, depending on the terrain. farther in the desert. Youre not going to be able to cover much area with only one car.Then make it fifteen minutes. And Jake-What?Thank you. Minty hung up. So much for the police, he thought. Now if I can get it back before the casino finds out. If not, I guess its time to go shopping for a red bow tie.-=*=- Calliope was sure she could do it if Grubb was trapped under a Chrysler she could lift the car and pull him out. You heard about it all the time Hundred-Pound Mom Lifts Two-Ton Car to Save pin down Tot. It seemed to happen often enough that it should be part of Lamaze training. Okay, now breathe, focus, grab the bumper now lift Yep, she could do it a Chrysler on each arm if she had to. She wasnt so sure about getting Grubb back from Lonnie. Maybe if that other woman wasnt with him, being so hostile and negative.She was feeling a little better now that the sun was coming up. Shed been shivering since the punks had broken her back window, from nerves and the cold. And she didnt have enough gas money to leave the Z running with the heater on while she waited for Lonnie to come out of the Harley shop. She might not have enough to make it home as it was. Besides, something was price with the car shed tached it too high while running from the police and something had wedded way in clatter and smoke.As she watched, Lonnie came through the front door of the shop carrying Grubbs diaper bag. Calliope swallowed hard, trying to push down her affright fear of failure. She got out of the Z. The woman followed Lonnie holding Grubb in her arms. Calliope ran toward them, then stopped when she saw the womans face. It was like one painful purple outrage with eyes.Lonnie, Calliope called.Lonnie and the woman turned. Grubb saw his mother and reached out. Lonnie pushed down Grubbs hand. What are you doing here?I came to get Grubb. You sho uldnt have taken him.Talk to the judge. Hes mine half the time.He was right. Calliope had gone to Social Services once before when Lonnie took Grubb on a road trip. Her caseworker told her that the law couldnt do anything to help.You dont want him. You just want to hurt me.Lonnie laughed, threw his head back, and shook with laughter. For all the times he had postured and threatened and screamed and pounded, he had never really terrified her. She was scared now.You shouldnt take him on a run like this, Lonnie. What if you get unkept?Run? What run? Were just on a little family encampment trip, arent we, Cheryl? The woman tucked her face behind Grubb.Give him to me, please, Calliope pleaded.Lonnie climbed onto his bike grinning and hit the starter. The bike fired up and Lonnie shouted over the engine, Go home. Ill bring him back in a few days. Cheryl climbed on behind him and he dropped the bike into gear.No Calliope started to run aft(prenominal) them. Lonnie gunned the bike and ro ared off.She shuffled to a stop and saw Grubb reaching out over Cheryls shoulder. Her eyes blurred with tears. She turned and ran to her car, wiped her eyes, and saw the limo parked down the street. Someone was sitting in it, just watching her. What are you looking for at? she screamed.-=*=- Sam made the chambermaid help him search the hotel room for his wallet for fifteen minutes before giving up and go forth her with a promise of a tip on the credit card. He was thinking This is like being stuck in some Kafkaesque roadrunner cartoon when the taxi from the Acme Cab Company pulled up, the driver wearing a fez. Animated by Hieronymus Bosch, Sam thought.In the cab, he said, Do you know a Harley-Davidson shop called Nardonnes?Bad part of town. Cost you double.Its broad daylight.Oh, it is. My shift is over. Sorry.Okay, double, Sam said. Why quibble? He couldnt pay the guy anyway.When they pulled in behind the limo, Sam said, Wait here, Ill get your money. He got out and looked down the street to the Harley shop, then went up to the limo and pounded on the blacked-out window. The window whirred down. Coyote grinned.Where is she?Took off. Just now.Why didnt you stop her?She didnt want to be stopped. Well find her shes following the biker, and we know where hes going.The cabdriver beeped his horn. Give me my wallet, Sam said. Coyote handed the wallet out the window. Sam rifled through it and came up empty. Theres no money left.Nope, Coyote said.The cabdriver leaned on the horn. Sam signaled for him to wait, ran around to the other side of the limo, and got in.Go, Sam said.What about the cabdriver?Fuck him.Thats the spirit. Coyote started the limo and peeled away. He checked the rearview mirror. Hes not following.Good.Hes talking to his radio. Got a smoke?Sam dug a pack of cigarettes out of his jacket pocket, tapped one out, and lit it. Wheres my car?I sold it.You cant sell it without the title.I got a good deal, five thousand.Are you nuts? Five thousand wouldn t steal the stereo.I needed to win my money back. I won a lot of money on the machine you put the cards in, but a shaman with a stick won it back from me.Sam butted his cigarette in the ashtray and hung his head in his hands, trying to let it all sink in. So you sold my car for five grand?Yep. Coyote snatched the mashed cigarette and relit it.And where is that money?The shaman had strong cheating medicine.Thats the kind of thinking that got Manhattan sold for a box of beads.So they still tell that invention? It was one of my best tricks. They gave us many beads for that island. They didnt know that you cant own land.Sam sighed and slouched in his seat, thinking he should be angry, or confused about his car, but strangely he was more concerned with inherited Calliope. They were on the highway now. Sam glanced at the speedometer. Slow down to the speed limit. We dont need cop trouble. Im assuming you stole this car.I counted coup steal a tethered horse.Tell me, Sam said.Coyote to ld the story of Minty and the limo, turning it into a fable full of danger and magic, making himself the hero. He was coming to the part about the car phone when it rang.Sam reached for the answer button and pulled back his hand in disgust. Whats this gunk all over the phone? It looks like-Im not to that part of the story yet.Then you answer it.Speak, Coyote said, and the phone lit up and clicked. Is that you, Brandy?A very deep, calm voice came over the speakerphone, I want the car back, now. Pull over and stop. Im a couple of minutes behind you. The police are-Off, Coyote said. The phone hung up. Coyote turned to Sam. This is a good car. You can talk to the phone. Her name is Brandy. Shes very friendly.Uh-huh, Sam said.That wasnt her.Pull off at the next exit.