Evil Grows & Other Thrilling Tales by Loren D. Estleman Read Free Book Online

time?"
    She said sure, it's a truck stop, and I ordered scrambled eggs and a ham steak. She gave it to the cook through the pass-through to the kitchen without writing it down and left the counter to freshen the other customers' coffee. When she got back she served me and refilled my cup. She watched me eat.
    "You seem pretty well adjusted for the son of a convict."
    "I was grown when he went in," I said, chewing. "It wasn't his first time, though. He did two bits for manslaughter on plea deals. Cops figured him for at least fifteen, but they only got him good on the last one."
    She hoisted her eyebrows. "He was a serial killer?"
    "Hell, no. Serial killers are loonies who slept with their mothers. He was a pro."
    "A hit man? Like for the mob?"
    "Most of the time. Sometimes he freelanced, but you can get jammed up working for civilians. I wouldn't touch one of those." I realized what I'd said and changed the subject in a hurry. "Got any more hash browns?"
    She put in the order. A trucker came in, one of the sloppy ones with a belly and tobacco stains in the corners of his mouth, and sat down at the other end of the counter. She ordered him a burger and a Coke and came back with the hash browns. "You've got a real line of crap, but it's one I never heard. So how'd the cops trip him up?"
    "Circumstantial evidence. He ran a bar in Jersey, and guys kept going in and never coming out. His lawyer objected, but the judge was a hard case and allowed it in. There was some other stuff, but the past history's what clinched it for the jury." I poured ketchup on the potatoes. "That was his mistake, always operating in the same place. The best way to avoid drawing suspicion is to move around a lot. One hit in Buffalo, the next in Kansas City, another in Seattle. Get yourself a front that involves plenty of travel."
    "Like truck driving."
    I took a long draught of coffee. I was going to have to change my brand of booze. The one I drank talked and talked. "Sure. Or sales. The bigger the territory, the less chance of the cops getting together and comparing notes. Anyway, that's how I'd do it."
    "Trucking's better," she said. "No one looks twice. You all run to the same type."
    I turned my head to look at Big Belly waiting for his hamburger. Then I grinned at her.
    "Okay, two types. One looks like a pro wrestler gone to seed, the other like Randy Travis. The point is, there's a lot of both. Traveling salesmen are about extinct. You notice the ones that are left." She folded her arms and leaned them on the counter. There were circles under her eyes, and she was older than I liked them in general, but she had good cheekbones and a serious expression. I'd had my fill of the playful kind. "How do you work it? Do they call you, or do you check in?"
    Just then the cook set the burger and a plate of slimy fries on the sill. She delivered them without comment and took up the same position at my end, arms folded on the counter.
    I pushed away my plates, unrolled the pack from my sleeve, and held it up. A NO SMOKING sign hung in plain sight on the wall behind her, but she shrugged. I got out two, gave her one, and lit them both. "If I went in for that work," I said, blowing smoke, "I'd have them call that eight-hundred number on the back of my truck. You know the one."
    She nodded. "'How's My Driving?' with the number to call and complain. I can't remember the last time I saw a truck that didn't have it."
    "That's what's beautiful about it. I'd have it forwarded to my cell. If I cut someone off in traffic and he called, I'd tell him I'd look into it, blow him off, like I'm a dispatcher. The other kind, the paying kind, if the cops trace it I can always say it was a wrong number. If there were no complications I'd adjust my route and take care of business."
    "Pretty smart."
    "Smarter than my old man, anyway. Smart enough not to go in for that line of work."
    She straightened up and put out her cigarette in what was left of my eggs. "I thought so. Just