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Show 53 "Look," said Fogarty, "I don't care if her name is Aurora Borealis. Okay?" "Then why are you sitting here?" "I don't know." "Here," said Malone, "you'd better take this," He handed Fogarty a fat yellow joint. "I think you're going to need it." The sky finally began to fade. Fogarty sat and waited, nursed his iced tea, sat and waited. He did not smoke the joint. Street traffic slowed, but nothing changed across the street. When it was finally dark he went inside, but only to take up his post at the window. Where he sat and waited, waited and sat; until, after an hour, he saw the first sign. The light in Sparkle's kitchen, at the back of the building, went on. Then, after another half hour, there was another sign. An old Chevrolet van, large and square and as battered as the pick-up, pulled up in front of the Newgate. A man of maybe thirty, and a girl with feathers in her hair, went into the building. Fogarty had never seen either of them before, but he knew without question where they were going. They were going to Sparkle's. When the phone rang, he answered it. It was Jackson. "Have you been over there, tried her door?" "There's no one home." "How do you know?" "There aren't any lights on." |
