Free Ride the Lightning by John Lutz Page A

never really be free.
    “Is Tom a user?” Nudger asked Candy Ann.
    “Sometimes. But my Curtis never touched no dope.”
    “You know I have to tell the police about this conversation, don’t you?”
    Candy Ann nodded. “That’s why we arranged it this way. They won’t be any closer to Tom than before.”
    “They might want to talk to you, Candy Ann.”
    She shrugged her thin shoulders. “It don’t matter. I don’t know where Tom is, nor even his real name nor how to get in touch with him. And he’s got no reason to get in touch with me. He’ll find out all he needs to know about Curtis by reading the papers.”
    “Do you know that Lester Colt followed me when I left here earlier this evening?”
    “Lester? Curtis’ brother?”
    “That’s the Lester.”
    “He’s harmless, but he ain’t quite right in the head. Ain’t been since he was born, I been told. He’s Curtis’ big brother, but he’s always been more like a little brother. What was he doing around here?”
    “My impression is he’s smitten with you and wanted to see you.”
    “Me? Lester has a crush on me?” Her eyes opened so wide, the whites were visible all around the blue irises. She seemed astounded.
    “And he has fierce loyalty for Curtis. He thinks you shouldn’t see any other men while Curtis is alive, or until a respectable time has passed if they do execute Curtis.”
    “Curtis took good care of Lester when they was kids,” Candy Ann said. “Looked out for him. Lester ain’t bright, but he’s smart enough to remember that. Down deep, Curtis is a decent man, Mr. Nudger. The most decent I ever met.”
    Nudger stood up. “I thought you should know about Lester’s feelings, and about the fact that the police might want some of your time.”
    “I can handle both those problems, Mr. Nudger.” There was coy confidence in her little-girl smile. Undoubtedly she’d been the one who’d worked out the details of his conversation with Tom in such a way that Tom remained safe from the law. And her method was effective; there was no way to wring Tom’s whereabouts out of her, or even prove the midnight conversation had taken place.
    “You have a surprisingly devious mind,” Nudger told her, “considering that you look like Barbie Doll’s country kid cousin.”
    Candy Ann smiled wider, surprised and pleased. Looking at her made Nudger think of misty pastures and buttermilk biscuits and fields of bright sunflowers. And even with that she managed to stir a raw carnal yearning. She was one of those rare women with a direct line to the male libido. Possibly it made little difference what she looked like; something in her sent out arousing vibrations.
    “Do you think I’m attractive, Mr. Nudger?” She asked it as if she really didn’t know the answer.
    “Yeah. And painfully young.”
    For just a moment Nudger almost thought of Curtis Colt as a lucky man. Then he looked at his watch, saw that his ten minutes were about up, and said good-bye. He felt old, old. . . .
    If the Barbie Doll had a kid cousin, the Ken Doll probably had one somewhere, too. And time was something you couldn’t deny. Ask Curtis Colt.
    X
    udger was up early the next morning, sitting in the Volkswagen on Page Boulevard with his camera, a cup of lukewarm coffee, and breakfast. The camera was a 35-millimeter Minolta equipped with an 80-200-mil limeter zoom lens. Breakfast was an Egg McMuffin.
    From where he was parked, he could see the run-down neighborhood in the next block, the back and side of Calvin Smith’s small, white-frame subdivision house. Smith was the warehouseman Benedict was sure was perpetrating an insurance fraud. There were some lawn chairs on a makeshift brick patio, a black kettle barbecue pit, and a rusty ’68 Buick up on blocks in the backyard. In the carport sat Smith’s ten-year-old Chevy. The guy looked almost as broke as Nudger; for a moment Nudger considered driving away and letting him collect his insurance settlement for his