Primary Valor, Jack Mars [black female authors .txt] 📗

sittinglow, staring out the passenger side window with a small pair of binoculars. Hewas uncharacteristically quiet, responding to Luke with one-word answers. Lukedidn’t relish the role of the talkative guy trying to carry a conversation, sotheir stakeout kept devolving into total silence.

It was getting to be dusk. The sunwas lowering to their left, dropping behind a flat landscape of parking lotsand low slung buildings. They were in the lot of an abandoned fireworks store. Theshowroom windows were boarded over, but a faded sign loomed over the crumblinglot, with the image of a cartoon cat with its back arched, and the words BlackCat still visible.

Diagonally across a dead-endstreet was the Adventurer Motel, a two-story wreck of a place decades past itsprime, and quietly going to seed. There were thirty-eight rooms and less than adozen cars in the lot. One of the cars had four perfectly flat tires.

The motel’s sign depicted acartoon pirate holding a sword, with his foot up on a chest spilling goldcoins. People around here apparently viewed the world through the lens ofcartoons. A red neon sign advertising VACANCY was on and blinking, but theoffice was closed, and a piece of paper taped to the inside of the window had aphone number scribbled on it.

According to Trudy, Louis Clarelived in room nineteen. It was a first-floor room, on the end closest to whereLuke and Ed were parked. The door was clearly visible from here, maybe fifty yardsaway.

Clare didn’t seem to be home. Therewere no lights on inside his room. There was no vehicle parked in front of hisdoor.

As they watched, an old blue whaleof a car pulled into the spot in front of the door.

“What is it?” Luke said.

“Mercury,” Ed said. “Marquis.”

“Plate?”

“South Carolina. ESB-435.”

Luke glanced at the paper lying onthe dashboard. Swann had gotten Clare’s car registration hours ago, and Trudyhad passed it on to them.

“That’s him.”

The Mercury’s front quarter panelwas a darker shade of blue than the rest. The car itself had rolled off theassembly line in 1992, and had four previous owners. If Clare had gotten a bigpayday recently, he was doing a good job of pretending he hadn’t.

He was alone. He was athick-bodied man, balding with gray around the edges. He was wearing a white T-shirtand workpants. He busied himself getting things out of the car. He pulled out atwelve-pack of beer and some plastic bags filled with various items. It lookedlike he had just gone grocery shopping.

“See you in a minute,” Luke said.

“See you,” Ed said.

Luke got out of their car withoutshutting the door. He was wearing a gray hooded sweatshirt, the hood up, with ablack Oakland Raiders baseball cap protruding from it, and pulled down over hisface.

As Luke crossed the parking lottoward the Adventurer Motel, Ed came around to the driver’s side of the car.

Luke walked fast and light, hisfeet in black sneakers.

He did not look directly at Clare,and angled toward the motel as though he was not headed in that direction.

Behind him, the car pulled slowlyout of the Black Cat parking lot.

Clare was at the door to the room,hands full, finagling with his keys. Luke made a sharp and sudden right turnand moved directly toward him. Clare got the door unlocked, pushed it open withhis foot, and then Luke was running.

He reached into the rear waistbandof his jeans and came out with the gun. Clare was just inside the room and thedoor was closing when Luke arrived. He stuck his foot in the crack just beforeit shut. He shouldered the door open.

Clare was just ahead of him. Theman half turned, the beer still under his arm, still holding the bags with theother hand. Luke absorbed the surroundings in an instant. The room was a tinyefficiency, with a small refrigerator, a microwave, and a hotplate. There wasone king-sized bed, and a TV bolted to the top of a dresser.

Clare’s eyes went wide. His mouthmade a big round O of surprise.

Luke punched that mouth with hisleft hand. He pointed the gun at the man’s head with his right.

“Turn around! Don’t look at me!”

Clare did exactly as he was told. Hisvoice was gravelly from long years of smoking.

“I don’t know what you—”

“Shut up! Drop the food. Hands inthe air, where I can see them.”

The beer hit the floor with athunk. The bags did the same. A can of soup rolled out of one of the bags. Clareraised his hands. He’d played this game before.

“Is anyone else here?” Luke said.

“No.”

“So help me, if you’re lying…”

“There’s no one here.”

Luke pushed him. “Face down on thebed. NOW.”

Clare lay on the bed. Luke pulleda pair of zip-cuffs out of the front pocket of his sweatshirt. He yanked Clare’sarms backwards and cuffed his wrists tightly.

“You a cop?” Clare said.

“You wish,” Luke said.

He reached into the pocket of hissweatshirt a second time. He pulled out a black canvas mask. It zipped in theback. It had air holes that were located roughly where a person’s nostrilswould be. One size fits all. He pulled it down over Clare’s head and zipped itclosed. Clare gasped.

Luke glanced in the grocery bagsand spotted something he might need—a pack of American Indian cigarettes. Hewent to the drawers in the kitchenette, opened a couple, and found Clare’slighter.

“Listen, man,” Clare’s muffledvoice said. “I didn’t…”

The damping effect of the maskmade it sound like so much mumbo jumbo.

“Up,” Luke said.

He pulled Clare to a standingposition, then walked him to the door. He opened it and glanced outside. Ed washere with the car. The trunk was already open, Ed standing beside it. Ed wasalso wearing a hoodie and a baseball cap.

Luke walked Clare outside into thegathering darkness of evening. The room door slammed shut behind them.

Ed grabbed the man by the back ofhis T-shirt and the waistband of his workpants. Ed lifted him like a bag ofrice and dumped him into the trunk of the car. Clare’s legs hit the side as hewent in. He was a poor fit for the trunk, but Ed managed to stuff him in there.Clare rolled over onto his side, groaning in pain and surprise.

Luke slammed the trunk