The Hearse You Came in On by Tim Cockey Read Free Book Online Page B

day and threw most of it in boxes and told me to call the Goodwill truck. I told him to call the damn Goodwill truck himself, what do I look like? The place is for rent right now. Do you know anyone?”
    I was staring at the stairwell, at the darkened corner where the fake Carolyn James had hidden from Guy Fellows. What exactly was the connection between the two women? According to Mr. Castlebaum, Guy Fellows had total access to this apartment, coming andgoing at will, and slapping poor Carolyn James around in the bargain. What would have happened if he had spotted the fake Carolyn James lurking there in the stairway?
    Mr. Castlebaum was waiting for an answer to his question.
    “No,” I said absently. “I don’t know anybody.”

CHAPTER 7
     
    I took the Jones Falls Expressway north to the Falls Road exit, then north again, a right on Seminary Road, and then left on something or other, then northeast, south, west and north again … a curvy country road that took me eventually to the manicured acres of the Baltimore Country Club. I pulled into the large lot next to the club’s mighty Georgian mansion, slipping my Chevy Nothing in amongst the BMW 750s and the Mercedes SLs. It was a lovely spring day. The country club’s gardeners had done a good job. Jonquils and tulips and columbine bloomed everywhere amidst large sculpted ponds of myrtle, which is a ground-hugging ivy that looks as soft as hair.
    I spotted a miniature tractor with a small wiry fellow behind the wheel. He had a baseball cap pushed back on his head and he was giving marching orders to a pair of slouching guys in matching green overalls who were standing there holding rakes. As I headed over, the guys with rakes dispersed. Boss man remained in his saddle. The little white oval on his overalls told me that his name was Rudy. The baseball cap suggested that he favored Pepsi, though he wasclearly of a different generation. His boots were the color of meatloaf.
    I gave him an
Our Town
greeting.
    “Howdy.”
    I got one back. “Howdy.”
    “Rudy is it?” I swung out my hand. Why I was acting so folksy I’m not sure, but I felt like an idiot. Rudy’s hand felt like finely ground glass in a baseball mitt.
    “What can I do ya fer?” he chirped. I was pretty sure he was making fun of me.
    “My name is Hitchcock Sewell.”
    “That’s quite a name.”
    “It’s a family name.”
    “I imagine so.”
    “People call me Hitch.”
    “That would’ve been my guess.” His eyes were twinkling. “People call me Rudy.”
    “So the sign says.”
    “What can I do ya fer, Hitch,” he said again. This time he cracked an obvious smile.
    “I’m looking for Guy Fellows. I understand he’s the tennis pro here.”
    Rudy nodded. “You looking to take lessons?”
    “Well, no. I just wanted to talk to him.”
    Rudy looked me up and down. “Are you married?”
    “Excuse me?”
    “Are you married? Hitched. Hooked up. Got yourself a steady gal? Spoken for? Engaged?”
    I cocked my head at the elfin man. “Are you asking me for a date, Rudy?”
    Rudy laughed at that. “Afraid I’m spoken for. No, it’s just, well, you’re not looking to take lessons and if you’re not here to tell Fellows to steer clear of any ladyfriend of yours, that just about makes you an oddball.” He put a finger to the brim of his cap and nudged it further back on his head.
    “Is he here?”
    Rudy glanced over his shoulder at the tennis courts. They had a green mesh netting running along the fences. I could only make out flashes of white to go along with the irregular
boink
of a ball.
    “Funny thing is, he isn’t. His first lesson is at ten o’clock and it’s already past one, but he hasn’t showed up.” The little guy chuckled. “Some of these ladies haven’t been stood up since they were twelve. You want to see some real fireworks, come around when they catch up to him.”
    Just then a red BMW pulled up in the parking lot and a Grace Kelly look-alike got out. She was