Free Ron Goulart - John Easy 03 - The Same Lie Twice by Ron Goulart Page A

peacock feathers and sat on an orange crate across the room from the witch. “It’s important that I find Joanna soon.”
    “Viewing the puny events of man from cosmic heights eliminates much of the urgency we tend to feel, Mr. Easy.” She shifted her weight and the couch thwanged. “How much is it worth to you to locate this particular girl?”
    Easy said, “Fifty bucks.”
    Gladys Waugh laughed. Smoke popped out of her wide nostrils in tiny puffs. Her little mouth disappeared while she rocked on her seat. “Joanna is an exceptionally lovely young woman, Mr. Easy. Surely, surely she is worth more than fifty dollars.”
    “The cops can maybe get the information out of you for nothing.”
    “Bullshit,” replied the enormous witch. “It would be religious persecution if they tried to roust me.” Her mouth emerged to suck the end of the thin little cigar. “By Belphegor, Mr. Easy, I must have at least one hundred.”
    “Seventy-five.”
    Gladys Waugh’s gigantic head jiggled negatively from left to right. “One hundred.”
    Easy fingered five $20 bills out of his wallet. “Okay, where is she?”
    Beckoning the money, the witch answered, “Mexico.”
    “So I’ve heard. Where in Mexico?”
    “Let’s have the cash in front.”
    Easy dealt the bills into her wide puffy palm, Gladys Waugh’s fingers closed, hiding the cash completely. “Joanna took off from here Saturday afternoon with a young kid, an artist so he says. Joanna’s been playing around with him since she started attending an occasional black mass here.” She laughed, snorting out smoke. “Great Baal has no objection to a little grab-ass during his services.”
    “What’s the guy’s name and where did he and Joanna head?”
    “His name is Santos,” said the witch. “Gerry Santos. I have the impression Joanna has a few hundred bucks and that was enough to convince Santos they could shack up down Mexico way for a while.”
    “Where?”
    “Santos has a buddy who rents a place down there. They figured to stay there awhile before getting a little adobe love nest of their own.”
    “Where?”
    “In a little town called Choza,” said Gladys Waugh. “Know where that is?”
    “I can look it up.”
    “I’ll save you the trouble. I was doing some painting in Mexico before I got plugged into the black arts. Choza’s something like ten miles inland from Guaymas, in from the Gulf of California. You can cross at Mexicali and get over on Route 15. You should be able to drive it in less than a day. You’ve probably got a nice tough sports car and can do it in less.”
    “It’s the toughest Volkswagen money can buy.”
    “How in the name of Belial can you fit that frame of yours in a VW?”
    “You have to hunker some.”
    “Great Baal, it doesn’t look like I’m going to go touring with you. We’d capsize the little bugger,” said Gladys. “This friend of Santos’ is named Gabe Hickey. His place is on the Calle Descenso.”
    Nodding, Easy said, “Did Joanna tell you why she was running?”
    “No, but I didn’t have to consult my mandragore root to know,” replied the enormous witch. “When somebody got rid of the guy she was bedding down with Joanna made the logical assumption San Ignacio was no longer a safe vicinity for her.”
    “Is she afraid of getting killed herself?”
    “She’s just plain flat-out afraid,” said Gladys Waugh.
    Easy made his way to the doorless doorway. “Has anyone else asked you where Joanna went?”
    “Net Mowatt.”
    “Besides him.”
    “No one,” she assured him.
    “It might be better for Joanna if you didn’t tell anyone else about Mexico.”
    “Another hundred will assure that.”
    “The other guys who’re looking for her probably want to kill her.”
    Gladys Waugh dropped her cigar butt to the bare floor and crushed it with a gigantic foot. “Oh, this is a humanitarian good work sort of thing, is it? That’s different. Fifty dollars.”
    After watching the warped window make rainbow