She smiled nervously. “Oh, believe me.”
I checked for traffic and pulled out. At first I didn’t dare go much above forty-five, but it was a Sunday noon, and we had the road pretty much to ourselves. I began to relax.
“Clear your mind, Jake. Don’t try to remember anything, just let it happen.”
“I wish I had my Sunliner,” I said.
“Make believe itisyour Sunliner, then, and just let it go where it wants to go.”
“Okay, but…”
“No buts. It’s a beautiful day. You’re coming into a new place, and you don’t have to worry about Kennedy being assassinated, because that’s a long time from now. Years.”
Yes, it was a nice day. And no, I didn’t fall asleep, although I was plenty tired—I hadn’t been out for this long since the beating. My mind kept returning to the little side-o’-the-road church. Very likely a black church. They probably sung the hymns in a way the white folks never would, and read THE WORD OF AL IGHTY GOD with lots of hallelujah and praise Jesus.
We were coming into Dallas now. I made lefts and rights—probably more rights, because my left arm was still weak and turning that way hurt, even with the power steering. Soon I was lost in the side streets.
I’m lost, all right,I thought.I need someone to give me directions the way that kid did in New Orleans. To the Hotel Moonstone.
Only it hadn’t been the Moonstone; it had been the Monteleone. And the hotel where I’d stayed when I came to Dallas was… it was…
For a moment I thought it was going to waft away, as even Sadie’s name sometimes still did. But then I saw the doorman, and all those glittering windows looking down on Commerce Street, and it clicked home.
I had stayed at the Adolphus Hotel. Yes. Because it was close to…
It wouldn’t come. That part was still blocked off.
“Honey? All right?”
“Yes,” I said. “Why?”
“You kind of jumped.”
“It’s my leg. Cramping up a little.”
“None of this looks familiar?”
“No,” I said. “None of it.”
She sighed. “Another idea bites the dust. I guess we better go back. Want me to drive?”
“Maybe you better.” I limped around to the passenger seat, thinkingAdolphus Hotel. Write that down when you get back to Eden Fallows. So you won’t forget.
When we were back in the little three-room efficiency with the ramps, the hospital bed, and the grab-handles on either side of the toilet, Sadie told me I ought to lie down for a little while. “And take one of your pills.”
I went into the bedroom, took off my shoes—a slow process—and lay down. I didn’t take a pill, though. I wanted to keep my mind clear. I had to keep it clear from now on. Kennedy and Dallas were just five days apart.
You stayed in the Adolphus Hotel because it was close to something. What?
Well, it was close to the motorcade route that had been published in the paper, which narrowed things down to… gee, no more than two thousand buildings. Not to mention all the statues, monuments, and walls a putative sniper could hide behind. How many alleys along the route? Dozens. How many overpasses with clear fire lines down to passby-points on West Mockingbird Lane, Lemmon Avenue, Turtle Creek Boulevard? The motorcade was going to travel all of those. How many more on Main Street and Houston Street?
You need to remember either who he is or where he’s going to shoot from.
If I got one of those things, I’d get the other. I knew this. But what my mind kept returning to was that church on Route 20 where we’d turned around. Blood of the Redeemer on the Honeybee Highway. Many people saw Kennedy as a redeemer. Certainly Al Templeton had. He—
My eyes widened and I stopped breathing.
In the other room the telephone rang and I heard Sadie answer, keeping her voice pitched low because she thought I was asleep.
