Mr. X

‘What was his last name?’

She sipped air and met my eyes with a glance that nearly lifted me off the floor. ‘Rnnn. T!’

‘Rinnt?’

Star jerked herself up from the pillow. ‘Rhine.’ A machine clamored. ‘Hrrrt.’

A name came to me from the furthest reaches of my childhood. ‘Rinehart?’

The night nurse erupted through the curtain and threw me out, but not before I saw her nod.

Ten feet up the aisle, the aunts were poised at the counter like bird dogs.

Clark issued a thunderclap snore that jerked him to his feet. He staggered, recovered himself, and joined us. ‘What’re you gawping at?’

Nettie said, ‘The Clyde Prentiss gang is over there. The ones that got away when he almost met his Maker.’

A scrawny little weasel with a goatee and a black leather jacket twitched out through the curtain, followed by a sturdy blonde wearing a lot of mascara, a brief black leather skirt, and a denim jacket buttoned to her bra. Clark chuckled.

The blonde looked across the station and said, ‘Hey, Clark.’

‘You’re lookin’ mighty fine, Cassie,’ Clark said. ‘Sorry about your friend.’ The weasel glanced at him and pulled the blonde through the doors.

The aunts turned to Clark in astonishment. ‘How do you know trash like that?’

‘Cassie Little isn’t trash. She tends bar down at the Speedway. The shrimpy fellow, Frenchy, I don’t know him but to greet. Seems to me Cassie ought to be able to find a better man than that.’

I went back inside and said goodbye to Star. Her hands lay at her sides, and her chest rose and fell. I told her I would see her in the morning, said that I loved her, and kissed her cheek.

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