Pronto by Elmore Leonard Read Free Book Online

get sixty-seven nine, what we paid, and fell for the real estate salesman who sold the house and didn't even get our price. Let it go for sixty-five five, took his commission and also Winona. Like I'd call her up during that time? "Well, how we doing, hon?" "Oh, okay." She wouldn't say much till finally this one time she goes, "I have some good news," meaning the house was sold, "and some I know you won't like, so I expect you're going to give me a hard time." That was how Winona talked, always a little smart-alecky. If Harry wanted to hear about it... Harry had been divorced and might offer tips on how to accept what you saw coming and not take a baseball bat to that real estate salesman up in Brunswick. The thing was, he didn't especially miss Winona. The two boys, yeah, but not Winona. Raylan put his napkin on the table, got up, and followed Harry's route to the men's room. Pushed open the door and went in.
    Okay, he wasn't here. Nobody was, the doors to the stalls were partway open and no feet showed underneath.
    He's around, though, Raylan told himself. He's having a little fun with you, that's all.
    Boy, did he want to believe it.
    Torres got to Joyce Patton the next afternoon and talked to her in her apartment, Torres looking around the living room as he asked her, "Why don't you tell me where he went? Save us a lot of trouble."
    She said she had no idea.
    Torres said, "You know I'm a friend of his. I don't want to see him become a fugitive. But if he's left town or fails to show up for his arraignment, that's what he is."
    She didn't say anything.
    "At least he can't leave the country. We made him hand over his passport."
    She was composed, standing with her arms folded waiting for him to finish and leave. A good-looking woman, nice figure.
    "They know him at Joe's Stone Crab," Torres said, "he's been going there, what, twenty years? The hostess said he left about ten to six, as they were starting to fill up. A few minutes later the marshal he was having dinner with came looking for him. The valet parking kid told us Mr. Arno came out and got in his car. He didn't drive it there, the marshal who was with him drove. But it was his Eldorado pulled up on the other side of Biscayne the exact moment Harry came out the door. He walked across the street, got in, and the car left. The valet kid didn't notice who was driving."
    "I don't know anything about it," Joyce said.
    She looked right at him, Torres thinking, Like she might have prepared herself for this knowing it was coming. He said, "Wherever Harry went, he didn't drive. So I'm thinking he flew, but didn't want to leave his car at the airport." He waited a moment. "We're checking all the flights that went out yesterday." He paused again. "You understand I think you drove him to the airport and brought his car back to the lot where he keeps it."
    She didn't move or say anything. If she had made up her mind to outwait him she was doing okay.
    "I bet you have his car keys," Torres said, "in your purse."
    Her expression changed slightly, eyebrows raising.
    "That would prove I drove him to the airport?"
    "It would to me."
    She shook her head. "I can't help you."
    "You mean you won't."
    She said, "What's the difference?"
    Raylan Givens was standing by as McCormick and another agent searched Harry Arno's apartment. They were casual about it, Raylan didn't think very thorough, though they didn't make a mess tossing the place. Raylan almost asked if they were looking for anything in particular, but decided to keep quiet. McCormick would sound like he was a nice guy, but underneath it was a snot-nose attitude he couldn't hide. He liked to make fun of people, especially with another agent to show off in front of. One on one, when you had business with him, he wasn't so bad. Then, he hardly paid any attention to you. McCormick was about fifty-five, heavyset, had his suit coat off to work in his shirtsleeves, his blue-and-yellow-striped tie pulled down.
    Looking around the living