Ray’s Diner wouldn’t be crowded this time of day. The lunch rush was over, and dinner wasn’t for a few more hours. I stopped to get a quick burger on my way back from Buford’s. Bunny took my order without saying anything extra. That was okay with me.
I said, “The usual.”
She said, “And that would be...”
“A burger like always.”
“And how would you like it cooked?”
“Oh, knock it off, Bunny, and bring the fucking burger.”
“My, my. Testy, aren’t we?” She left to put in my order.
I sat while I waited for the burger and went over my notes, try-ing to figure out what the next step would be.
Perhaps Rodney’s search for other witness protection clients would provide a lead. I could only imagine how my visits to them would be received.
“Hi,” I’d say. “I understand you’re in the witness protection program.”
I’d be about as welcome as Charles Manson and his bevy of blade-slinging bitches.
Bunny brought my burger and sat down across from me, interrupting my deep thoughts. She just sat and looked at me. Then she said, “Aren’t you even going to talk to me?”
I wanted to, but Willa’s and Sammy’s advice had taken hold. This was not the time to cave in and set myself up for yet another letdown.
I took a big bite of burger, chewed it up, and swallowed. Then I took a gulp of coffee. Then I wiped my face with my napkin. Then I answered.
“I thought we already understood that you weren’t to talk to me.” I said.
“We can’t go on like this, Stan.”
“Why not?”
“We are friends, aren’t we?”
“No,” I said. “We are not. We are former lovers, one of which dumped the other for the last time. Now go away, and leave me alone.”
She sat and fiddled with a napkin, folding it and unfolding it as if the small task gave her a reason to stay.
“I didn’t keep the date,” she said.
“What date?”
“With Barry.”
“Poor Barry, how did he take it?”
“I don’t know. I haven’t talked to him.”
“You stood him up?”
“Yes.”
“Maybe Barry and I can form a club. Bunny Rejects Anonymous. BRA. Has a ring to it.”
“Oh, stop it.”
“We can have monthly meetings here. Can’t wait for the T-shirts. When one of us has an overwhelming urge to call you, he calls his BRA sponsor, who rushes over no matter the time of day or night, and the two of them get drunk together.”
“Very funny,” she said. “You don’t have to be mean.” She got up and stomped away. According to Willa, she’d be back. I was counting on that.
I finished lunch and counted the money out. Rodney came in. “Uncle Stanley, I hoped you’d be here. Can you stay while I have lunch?”
“Sure.”
Rodney ran up to the counter and gave Bunny his order. He came back and sat across from me.
“No candy bar and Coke?” I said.
“No. The dental hygienist at my dentist’s said I needed to take better care of my teeth.”
“You go to the dentist?” That was new.
“I do now.”
Apparently Rodney was serious about a professional career.
“What are you going to do with all those low-crotch shorts you used to wear?”
“Mom had a yard sale.”
“Heaven help the neighbors.”
“Okay, Uncle Stanley, I did some of the research you asked for.”
I sat forward. Anything he could get would be better than nothing.
“Did we get anything?”
“Did we ever? You aren’t going to believe it.”
He sat and looked smug. Bunny brought his lunch, a burger just like I had, and plopped it down without speaking.
“Well,” I asked Rodney, “how long do I have to wait to hear it?”
“Brace yourself.” He took a bite of the burger and talked through his food. “I found only one person in this area in witness protection.”
“Who?”
“Grab your jock strap. It’s William Sproles.”
“Holy shit! That is something.”
Rodney was excited and proud about his find. “That’s why I couldn’t find anything about them before they moved here. I wasn’t looking in the right place.”
“Was Vitole blackmailing him?”
“I didn’t find any record of it.”
“Sproles has a crappy job and house and car payments. He couldn’t pay Vitole squat.”
“I checked OnlinePay. There’s no record of Sproles sending any money to Vitole.”
“Well, they were neighbors. Maybe he paid in person.”
Rodney shook his head. “I got into their financials pretty deep, Uncle Stanley. I found no record of Sproles paying anyone anything out of the ordinary.”
If Sproles wasn’t paying money to keep Vitole’s mouth shut, how was he doing it? I had a hunch. But it wasn’t much more that that.
“Well, that’s good to know. Good work, Rodney. See what a haircut and a bath can do for a guy?”
“Now can I go on the next interrogation?”
“No. But you get a bonus.”
“I do?”
“Yeah. I’ll buy your lunch.”
“Thanks a lot.”
“Who did Sproles testify against before he went underground?”
“He was an accountant. Used to do the books for a syndicate of drug dealers in Baltimore. He rolled on them when the IRS found shaky bookkeeping in his own personal finances.”
I put money on the table for Rodney’s burger. Rodney gulped down his meal, chug-a-lugged his coffee, and we left.
Bunny watched us go but didn’t say anything.