Rydell got the Brazilian glasses out, put them on, and scrolled for the number Yamazaki had given him in Tokyo. Someone picked up on the third ring, but the glasses didn’t map a location for the answering phone. Probably meant another mobile.
Silence on the line, but it had a texture.
‘Hey,” Rydell said, “Yamazaki?”
‘Rydell? Laney-” Cut off by a burst of coughing and then dead silence as someone hit mute.
When Laney came back on, he sounded strangled. “Sorry. Where are you?”
‘San Francisco,” Rydell said.
“I know that,” Laney said.
‘In a diner on, on. . .” Rydell was scrolling the GPS menu, trying to get in, but he kept getting what looked like Rio transit maps.
“Never mind,” Laney said. Sounded tired. What time would it be in 60 Tokyo? That would be in the phone menu, if he could find it. “What matters is you’re there.”
“Yamazaki said you had something for me to do up here.”
“I do,” said Laney, and Rydell remembered his cousin’s wedding, Clarence having sounded just about as happy, saying that.
“You want to tell me what it is?”
“No,” said Laney, “but I want to put you on retainer. Money up front for as long as you’re up there.”
“Is it legal, Laney, what you want done?”
There was a pause. “I don’t know,” Laney said. “Some of it hasn’t ever been done before probably, so it’s hard to say.”
‘Well, I think I need to know a little more than that before I can take it on,” Rydell said, wondering how the hell he’d ever get back down to Los Angeles if this didn’t pan out. Or indeed if there was any point in his going back.
“You could say it’s a missing person,” Laney said after another pause. “Name?”
– ~- “Doesn’t have one. Probably has a few thousand, more like it. Listen you like cop stuff nght~?
What s that supposed to mean?
No offense, you told me cop stones when I met you remember~ Okay so this person m looking for is very very good at not leaving traces Nothing ever turns up not in the deepest quantitative analysis Laney meant netsearch stuff that was what he did He s just a physi
cal presence
How do you know he s a physical presence if he doesn t leave traces~
Because people die Laney said
And just then there were people taking seats on either side of him ~j and a sharp reek of vodka- Get back to you Rydell said thumbing the pad and pulling the
~ glasses off
Creedmore gnnning on his left Howdy said Creedmore This heresMarjane 61 “Maryalice.” On the stool to Rydell’s right, a big old blonde with most of the top of her strapped up into something black and shiny, the unstrapped part forming a cleavage where Creedmore could easily have wedged one of those pint bottles. Rydell caught something deep in her tired eyes, some combination of fear, resignation, and a kind of blind and automatic hope: she was not having a good morning, year, or life probably, but there was something there that wanted him to like her. Whatever it was, it stopped Rydell from getting up with his bag and walking out, which was really what he knew he should be doing.
“Ain’t you gonna say hi?” Creedmore’s breath was toxic.
“Hey, Maryalice,” Rydell said. “Name’s Rydell. Pleased to meet you.
Maryalice smiled, about a decade’s wear lifting, just for a second, from her eyes. “Buell here tells me you’re from Los Angeles, Mr. Rydell.” –
“Does he?” Rydell looked at Creedmore.
“Are you in the media down there, Mr. Rydell?” she asked.
“No,” Rydell said, fixing Creedmore with the hardest look he could muster, “retail.”
“I’m in the music business myself,” Maryalice said. “My ex and I operated one of the most successful country music venues in Tokyo. But I felt the need to get back to my roots. To God’s country, Mr. Rydell.”
“You talk too much,” said Creedmore, across Rydell, as the waitress brought Rydell’s breakfast.
“Buell,” Rydell said, with something approximating a tone of even good cheer, “shut the fuck up.” Rydell started cutting the hardened edges off his eggs.