بخش 05 - فصل 08

8 Hodges thinks that the Birch Hill Mall Discount Electronix looks like an enterprise with about three months to live. Many of the shelves are empty, and the stock that’s left has a

disconsolate, neglected look. Almost all of the browsers are in the Home Entertainment department, where fluorescent pink signs proclaim WOW! DVD BLOWOUT! ALL DISCS 50% OFF! EVEN BLU-RAY! Although there are ten checkout lines, only three are open, staffed by women in blue dusters with the yellow DE logo on them. Two of these

women are looking out the window; the third is reading Twilight. A couple of other employees are wandering the aisles, doing a lot of nothing much. Hodges doesn’t want any of them, but he sees two of the three he does want. Anthony Frobisher, he of the John Lennon specs, is talking to a customer who has a shopping

basket full of discounted DVDs in one hand and a clutch of coupons in the other. Frobisher’s tie suggests that he might be the store manager as well as a Cyber Patrolman. The narrow-faced girl with the dirty-blond hair is at the back of the store, seated at a computer. There’s a cigarette parked behind one ear.

Hodges strolls up the center aisle of the DVD BLOWOUT. Frobisher looks at him and raises a finger to say Be with you soon. Hodges smiles and gives him a little I’m okay wave. Frobisher returns to the customer with the coupons. No recognition there. Hodges walks on to the back of the store.

The dirty blond looks up at him, then back at the screen of the computer she’s using. No recognition from her, either. She’s not wearing a Discount Electronix shirt; hers says WHEN I WANT MY OPINION, I’LL GIVE IT TO YOU. He sees she’s playing an updated version of Pitfall!, a cruder version of which fascinated his daughter Alison

a quarter of a century before. Everything that goes around comes around, Hodges thinks. A Zen concept for sure. “Unless you’ve got a computer question, talk to Tones,” she says. “I only do crunchers.” “Tones would be Anthony Frobisher?” “Yeah. Mr. Spiffy in the tie.”

“You’d be Freddi Linklatter. Of the Cyber Patrol.” “Yeah.” She pauses Pitfall Harry in mid-jump over a coiled snake in order to give him a closer inspection. What she sees is Hodges’s police ID, with his thumb strategically placed to hide its year of expiration.

“Oooh,” she says, and holds out her hands with the twigthin wrists together. “I’m a bad, bad girl and handcuffs are what I deserve. Whip me, beat me, make me write bad checks.” Hodges gives a brief smile and tucks his ID away. “Isn’t Brady Hartsfield the third member of your happy band? I don’t see him.”

“Out with the flu. He says. Want my best guess?” “Hit me.” “I think maybe he finally had to put dear old Mom in rehab. He says she drinks and he has to take care of her most of the time. Which is probably why he’s never had a gee-eff. You know what that is, right?” “I’m pretty sure, yeah.”

She examines him with bright and mordant interest. “Is Brady in trouble? I wouldn’t be surprised. He’s a little on the, you know, peekee-yoolier side.” “I just need to speak to him.” Anthony Frobisher–Tones –joins them. “May I help you, sir?”

“It’s five-oh,” Freddi says. She gives Frobisher a wide smile that exposes small teeth badly in need of cleaning. “He found out about the meth lab in the back.” “Can it, Freddi.” She makes an extravagant lip-zipping gesture, finishing with the twist of an invisible key, but doesn’t go back to her game.

In Hodges’s pocket, his cell

phone rings. He silences it

with his thumb.

“I’m Detective Bill Hodges,

Mr. Frobisher. I have a few

questions

for

Brady

Hartsfield.”

“He’s out with the flu.

What did he do?”

“Tones is a poet and don’t

know it,” Freddi Linklatter

observes. “Although his feet

show it, because they’re Longfel–” “Shut up, Freddi. For the last time.” “Can I have his address, please?” “Of course. I’ll get it for you.” “Can I un-shut for a minute?” Freddi asks. Hodges nods. She punches a key on her computer. Pitfall

Harry is replaced by a spreadsheet headed STORE PERSONNEL. “Presto,” she says. “Fortynine Elm Street. That’s on the –” “North Side, yeah,” Hodges says. “Thank you both. You’ve been very helpful.” As he leaves, Freddi Linklatter calls after him, “It’s something with his mom,

betcha anything. He’s freaky about her.”