Stop Me Page 10

  If Bookwalter walks in now, Laura is here.

  Outside, the flow of pedestrians seemed to increase as the sun burning the urine off the sidewalks began to lose its intensity. Another family walked in: middle-aged father in a bright shirt, shorts and flip-flops, the mother wearing hardly anything when she really should have – her tanned cellulite folded over the top of her denim hot pants as another roll of flab tried to meet it from beneath her knotted midriff T-shirt. Their bored, nearly teenage kids looked as happy to be in the place as they did. They stopped a few feet from the counter and squinted at the menu and then Mom walked forward dragging the kids to make their choices. Dad stayed where he was and then Leo realised that he wasn’t with the woman and children. He had simply walked in behind them. It was Bookwalter.

  At that moment Bookwalter spotted Leo, rolled his eyes and slopped up to the table. ‘Surely you’re not eating here?’ Like watching his onscreen dialogue, his drawl seemed to frustrate the speed at which he wanted to speak and Leo could see the intelligence in his blue-grey eyes flickering like a hard drive.

  Bookwalter put his hands on his hips and looked away to study the menu over the counter again, breathing heavily. Leo felt uneasy as he took his time to survey it.

  Here was a man who clearly enjoyed his food. From the pictures and footage online, Leo had seen little of the area below his shoulders, and was quite surprised at how rotund the man was. Leo estimated his height to be no more than five foot six. His features were undoubtedly fuller as well. The hair that Leo had suspected had been in short supply on his head – because of the beret he wore in the photos – was actually quite abundant. He was definitely thinning but a stubborn and significant jetty of auburn hair extended in a V shape from the back of his head where his longer fronds covered his ears and just touched the collar of his orange Hawaiian shirt. The new addition to his face was a moustache of the same colour that drooped over his top lip, the ends touching the edge of his chin.

  ‘Do you like seafood?’ Bookwalter asked eventually as if it were highly unlikely that he did.

  ‘Uh, yeah—’ Leo didn’t know whether to stand and offer his hand but it seemed the time for a physical greeting was over.

  Relief flooded Bookwalter’s face and he wiped at it with a handkerchief that he had balled in his hand. ‘Let’s go to King Crawdaddy’s then. You have to taste their shrimp etouffee. I’m buying.’ His eyes narrowed earnestly at Leo.

  The offer seemed so casual and Leo almost welcomed the opportunity to be out of the noise. ‘Here’s fine…if you don’t mind.’ Why had he been thinking about shaking the guy’s hand? He should have been over the table with his hands around his throat for posting the picture of Laura on the internet. But their surroundings seemed to preclude anything other than the glib and Leo already felt his apprehension sapping.

  Bookwalter’s eyes shifted sideways; he frowned and then shrugged theatrically. ‘Sure, whatever you say.’ His words trickled slowly as oil but Leo wondered if he’d been favoured with a caricature of simple ‘Awlins to put him at his ease. He sat down opposite him and Leo wondered if the fact that his frame was barely supported by the plastic chair was the real motive for him wanting to leave. As he waggled his buttocks, it was difficult to believe that this was a man capable of anything more than passing the time of the day, let alone the allusive retorts he’d been feeding to Leo.

  It was bizarre but it felt like Leo already knew him. Having seen only jpegs and grainy images, and heard his voice filtered through a speaker and the tenth rate quality of his YouTube clips, it still felt like they met up like this on a regular basis. He seemed somehow smaller in stature than Leo expected, despite the pounds that hung off his frame, but otherwise his presence was unnervingly familiar – as if they’d spent months sat in the same proximity but never looking up from their computers. Even the smell of Bookwalter’s aftershave smelt commonplace.

  Perhaps putting people at ease was his trick and it was only by making a concerted effort to remember what had been trickling down the internet from Bookwalter to Leo that he resisted the sudden temptation to feel utterly unthreatened.

  For a moment the idea flashed through his mind that this was a huge mistake. He hadn’t doubted that from the moment he’d agreed to come but Leo was suddenly seized by the notion that everything was a massive misunderstanding. A frown would converge on Bookwalter’s ingenuous features as soon as he started talking about Laura and, somehow, Leo felt it must transpire they had both been duped by some third party who’d had them talking at cross purposes for all this time.

  ‘Good flight?’ Bookwalter chewed on something invisible.

  Leo nodded quickly.

  ‘Where are you staying?’

  ‘In town.’ Leo tried not to feel uncomfortable about being so terse to the man who had paid for his trip.

  ‘You should go see the Superdome while you’re here. Since the floods it’s become our most spiritual landmark.’ Again, Bookwalter’s eyes were fixed on him earnestly and left only the sound of his straining nostrils between them.

  ‘How’s the desalination protest?’

  ‘Futile.’ Bookwalter looked irked by the question, folded his arms on the table and looked sideways. It looked as if he were about to share something intimate but when he turned it appeared he was waiting for Leo to ask him a more palatable question. Leo tried to think of one but the very fact that he was swapping chitchat with a man who claimed to be holding Laura captive had fused his tongue to the top of his mouth. Bookwalter sniffed and dabbed his face with his handkerchief again. It wasn’t even hot in the restaurant but he looked as if he’d got sunburnt since he’d sat down. Probably high blood pressure. ‘She’s so excited you came.’

  Leo should have been nodding sceptically but felt only an internal hiss of relief. Whatever Bookwalter did to try and mitigate his claim in the future, Leo, momentarily, didn’t care. He had justified his presence in this place, in Bookwalter’s company and, for however brief it was, he had a purpose. It would be over as quickly as everything else he’d done to find Laura, and he knew that this was maybe a shorter dead end than Mutatkar. For now, though, it meant that they were going to talk about Laura and that was something nobody else wanted to do anymore.

  ‘When can I see her?’

  ‘Whenever you want,’ Bookwalter said matter-of-factly. He leant back in his chair and lifted his arms as if expecting to be able to drape them along something behind him, then let them drop back into his lap, slouching forward again. He looked utterly uncomfortable, like a petulant child who hadn’t been allowed to get down from the table. ‘Have you finished here?’ He nodded towards Leo’s full tray.

  ‘I’m not going to be eating, if that’s what you mean.’

  ‘Let’s go then.’

  ‘Go?’ DON’T GO. DON’T GO.

  ‘Well…you said you want to go see her.’

  Leo certainly hadn’t been prepared for this. ‘Where?’ It wasn’t the answer his brain wanted to give.

  ‘I’ll take you there.’ Bookwalter examined the panic on Leo’s face with amusement. ‘Look, we’ll call two cabs. You follow mine. I take you anywhere you feel uncomfortable and you can ask your driver to turn around.’ Bookwalter produced his telephone.

  ‘Why didn’t she come with you?’

  Bookwalter’s smile broadened and Leo didn’t like it. It was just a spasm, a movement of muscles that allowed him to see his stained teeth. ‘She’s waiting.’

  Leo shook his head for effect. LEAVE NOW. ‘And what would you do in my position?’

  ‘I probably wouldn’t come.’ Bookwalter got to his feet. ‘It’s your decision though. I don’t want to pressure you into doing anything you don’t want to but I’m trying to make this as easy as possible. All I can tell you is you’re in no danger whatsoever. Someone know you’re here?’

  ‘Of course.’ THEY DON’T.

  ‘I’m not going to drive you anywhere remote. There’s plenty of people about and we’ll be in two se
parate cars.’ Bookwalter pulled his foot out of one of his flip-flops and picked at a piece of dirt embedded in his sole. While he stood on one foot, he waggled precariously on the spot and a fold of skin appeared under his chin to block his breathing. ‘It’s what you came for, Leo.’ It was the first time he’d heard Bookwalter utter his name but he wasn’t meeting his eye now. ‘You can come now or I can give you some time to think about it.’

  Bookwalter was right. Whatever deception had been prepared, Leo wasn’t going to be able to dismiss it as such until he’d seen it with his own eyes. He’d envisaged all sorts of intricate scenarios; selecting a meeting place that he could monitor from a safe distance to make sure that Bookwalter didn’t have any accomplices, moving him from one venue to the next via telephone calls and meeting him on moving public transport – but it was all a product of having watched too many movies. Bookwalter wanted to show him something and Leo had to go. ‘OK.’ DON’T GO. DON’T GO.

  Bookwalter used the action of dialling his cell to keep his eyes from Leo’s but a suggestion of a smirk folded his moustachioed top lip over his lower one.

  ‘I’ll call the cabs.’ Leo pulled out his own cell.

  Bookwalter looked up and raised one eyebrow. ‘O…K.’ But his expression said it didn’t make any difference.

  ‘I’ll call them now and meet you outside. I have another call to make to another party after that. I’ll be having a running commentary with them throughout and reporting where we go.’

  Bookwalter raised his hands in compliance. ‘However you want to run things…I’ll be outside.’

  CHAPTER 18

  When the cabs arrived Bookwalter walked back into the restaurant and gave Leo another stained smile and the thumbs up. It felt like they were going away on a fishing trip together. Luckily for Leo he was in the middle of leaving a message for Ashley so Bookwalter registered this fact before slopping back out of the restaurant.

  ‘Ashley…pick up if you’re there. Ashley? I know this is weird but I’m in…I’m on holiday. Just need some time on my own at the moment. I’ll call you as soon as I get back.’

  Leo terminated the call but kept his handset open. How could he tell Ashley he’d come to meet Bookwalter? He knew exactly what she’d say and she’d have been right. The last thing he needed was the voice of reason to persuade him to take his cab straight back to the airport. He kept the phone pressed to his ear and walked to the exit.

  Outside Bookwalter was sitting in the back of a car wiping his face and Leo walked up to his window and gestured for him to open it. The glass dropped and Bookwalter raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Where are we headed?’

  ‘Just follow me to Crescent City. Your cab driver will tell you exactly where you’re going.’

  Leo got into the back of the cab behind Bookwalter’s. ‘Could you follow the car in front?’ His black driver looked at him in the rear-view mirror and nodded almost indiscernibly. He was bald and Leo couldn’t tell how old he was. Bookwalter’s car eased out of its parking space and Leo’s did the same, entering the sluggish traffic and rolling only a few yards before it stopped behind the tailback of Chevys and Outlanders heading for home. Leo could see the back of Bookwalter’s head but kept the phone to his ear. Nobody knew where he was going. Nobody knew he was even in the States.

  They crawled along Route 90 and eventually crossed the Mississippi into Bookwalter’s neck of the woods. Leo tried to take in the scenery while he listened to the dead phone rub against his ear.

  The name Romain Street seemed familiar to Leo but both cars already started to slow down before he realised that he recognised it from the details Bookwalter had emailed him. This was their destination and he was surprised to find himself in front of a block of white-fronted, modern houses with a stretch of green separating them from the sidewalk, the individual gardens delineated only by low rows of ornamental bricks angled out of the grass. A handful of children were playing noisily out front and Leo waited as Bookwalter got out of the car and paid his cab driver. The car pulled away and Bookwalter gestured with both hands for Leo to follow him up the drive to the end house.

  Leo opened his door still with the phone to his ear and put his finger in his other as if the noise of the kids was drowning out the conversation he was having. He nodded and mumbled into the phone while Bookwalter beckoned him again as if he were directing a reversing lorry. Leo’s cab driver rolled down his side window and frowned at the phone conversation that had only begun since his passenger had got out of the car.

  ‘Do you mind waiting? I’ll be three minutes. If I’m not back in that time I’ll pay you an extra hundred dollars to come in and get me.’

  The cab driver’s frown deepened and Leo turned to where Bookwalter had stopped halfway up the drive, turning his hands upwards in a gesture of ‘what’s the delay?’ He turned back to the cab driver and looked into his eyes. He was younger than he thought. ‘It’s nothing illegal. I just need you as a witness. Two hundred dollars?’

  The cab driver nodded and reluctantly turned off his engine. Leo walked to where Bookwalter was, cutting the corner of the lawn and stepping over the barrier of bricks. He snapped the phone shut and Bookwalter showed him his teeth again.

  ‘Come on, Leo. There’s somebody who can’t wait to see you.’

  Bookwalter’s house smelt of baking. It hit Leo as soon as he walked in through the glass front door and he again wondered if it was another of his host’s devices for putting him at his ease.

  ‘Mind if I leave this front door open?’

  Bookwalter kicked off his flip-flops and turned, a look of bemusement on his face. ‘Whatever makes you comfortable, Leo.’

  He’d had the same smirk on his face when Leo had reluctantly agreed to accompany him. Leo was beginning to think it was because Bookwalter recognised the fear in him – and that, he had long surmised, was what his host thrived on. The expression also seemed to suggest that Leo was in no danger and that it was comically entertaining for Bookwalter to witness Leo being so hyper cautious. DON’T EVEN BEGIN TO THINK THAT.

  He took in the interior of Bookwalter’s home. Not only was its populated location unexpected – the sounds of children playing and suburban bustle following them through the door – but it seemed genuinely warm and welcoming. Leo had envisaged him living in a trailer or a single apartment, but the hallway that stretched in front of him had terracotta walls and immaculate yellow Aztec design carpets indicating an owner who was fiercely house proud.

  Bookwalter padded down the hallway and walked into the first door on his left. Leo looked back out of the front door and could still see the cab driver glancing at his watch.

  If I’m not back to the car in three minutes it means Laura is here.

  He dismissed the thought and followed; he could make out the sound of an oven door opening.

  Leo found himself in an equally spotless, spacious and modern kitchen, all washed out blue cupboards and chrome and the baking smell twice as inviting. A slim woman was standing at the central breakfast bar with her back to him: long dark hair, black T-shirt, denim shorts and bare feet. Her hands were slipped inside two huge oven gloves which she was using to rest a baking tray on the black marble-effect counter.

  It couldn’t be Laura. She was the right build, the right height but her legs were too tanned, her hair too different.

  ‘Pumpkin, say hello.’

  The woman turned with a slitted smile at the ready. She was barely a woman, probably only in her late teens. Her features were Hispanic, her nose hooky but her young face still quite beautiful. Large hooped earrings looked as if they counter-balanced her head. ‘Hi,’ she said shyly and it appeared to be more than she was used to saying. She turned back to the counter.

  ‘She’s a little busy. Her name’s Perfecta. I don’t know how I’d survive without her.’ Bookwalter snaked a finger into the crook of her neck and her shoulder lifted and crushed it there.

  She giggled. Unlikely as it was, she appeared to be Book
walter’s girlfriend. Or perhaps he had a very intimate arrangement with his housekeeper. What was she, eighteen…nineteen?

  ‘Looks like she’s baked some bizcochitos in your honour. We didn’t eat out so we might be needing some of your pot roast.’ Bookwalter leant against her back so he could take one from the tray, his hefty body weight crushing her against the counter. Bookwalter turned, tossing the biscuit into his mouth before gesturing for Leo to follow him out. ‘You’ll stay for dinner, right? Come on, there’s somebody else you should meet.’

  Bookwalter led Leo through the hallway and up a flight of stairs carpeted in the same yellow. Bookwalter puffed and panted in front of him and Leo briefly glanced back down the hallway to the waiting cab at the end of the drive before he followed.

  His host waited for him at the top of the stairs and then stepped to one side as he reached the last stair. Leo found himself on a similarly carpeted landing and Bookwalter cautiously used his knuckles to knock one of the bedroom doors open.

  ‘Permission to enter,’ said a voice from within. Bookwalter cringed and squinted his eyes as if expecting his presence to be unwelcome and then relaxed his features as he pushed it wider. ‘Got a visitor for you.’

  Bookwalter’s frame blocked Leo’s view through the doorway. From the angle of his head, Leo could see that whoever was being addressed seemed to be somewhere immediately inside the room. Bookwalter shuffled and shimmied his body forward and around the edge of the door to allow Leo to enter behind him. Inside the small room sat a man in front of a computer.

  Man? Perhaps not quite. He had the same moustache as Bookwalter that curled down to the edge of his chin, but his was black. However, even though his facial hair suggested otherwise, he looked no older than sixteen. Dark hairs sprouted from his neck and threw a shadow over the bottom half of his face and only a small area around his eyes seemed without follicles. The hair on his head had been raked and braided into a black ponytail but that failed to rein in all the stray wiry hairs around it. Other than that he was the spitting image of Bookwalter although his paunch was even broader than his father’s. A large bag of tortilla chips lay beside his keyboard and beside that a bottle of Sprite that had been sucked inward. The room smelt of bubblegum and BO. ‘This is Toby, in-house designer of my website.’