Chapters (46)
- COVER PAGE
- PRAISE
- DEDICATION
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- SNEAK PEEK: EXIT .45
He said, ‘I can’t give you another SUV. Honestly, it breaks my heart seeing them come back again, having to go under the flame. I just can’t do it. There’s an Impala out there, you can take her, but I can’t put you in another truck. It breaks my heart.’
Delroy said, ‘Tuckie, I understand. You’re a good man. I appreciate it.’
‘Yeah, tell me about it. When am I getting this product? I keep hearing about it, I’m yet to see anything.’
Delroy took his time. He said, ‘We have an issue with the truck.’
Tuckie came forward a little more, grinning. ‘Well, if you need a tyre changed, I can send some guys over.’ Laughing, pretty happy with that one. ‘But if it’s more serious, maybe you better tell me. It gets to the point, if you’re not going to give me something, I gotta go with someone else. Simple as that, isn’t it?’
Delroy waited until they were back on Ventura, westbound in the new Impala, before he said, ‘We need to find that fucking soup truck.’
Andre said, ‘You had a good poke around the security guy’s house? Forsyth? Make sure it’s not stashed in his garage?’
Delroy watched the road. He had some kind of scheme he was building. Andre left him to it.
The hospital was a special oncology clinic over in Encino. This was where Mrs Sly was getting her cancer treatment, apparently. Based on the landscaping, they seemed to know what they were doing. Tidy length of hedge along the road, and they’d done a good job with the lawn. Delroy drove in and found a spot and parked.
Andre said, ‘Why don’t I take the car, have a look at the Forsyth place? If he’s taken the truck, he’s left some kind of trace. I guarantee it.’
Delroy clucked his tongue. ‘Come up and see her first. Pay your respects.’
‘Huh?’
Delroy looked over. He seemed on the cusp of telling him something long and pointed. But then he just said, ‘Only take a minute. Come up and see her. She’s probably cruising on Vicodin, but even so. Pay your respects.’
Pay your respects. Jesus. But he needed the keys.
They had her on level three. A line-up of padded armchairs faced a wall of windows looking out at that nice landscaping. The chairs held people in varying states of health and alertness. It looked like a waiting room for the afterlife, all these folks needing admission. Mrs Sly was down the far end, eyes shut and chin on her chest. An IV stand beside the visitor’s chair held a bag of clear fluid, and there was a tube going into her hand. Sixty-five years old at the most, but she looked ninety, withered down to bone by illness.