“Call me,” Forte said.
Rae said, “Marvin Toone. Makes me laugh.”
“They all do that, guys on the run,” Lucas said. “Pick out a name that sounds sorta like their own. If he’d changed his name to Bob, and somebody called his name, he might not react like a normal Bob.”
“No such thing as a normal Bob,” Rae said.
“You got me there,” Bob said.
“But we knew all that anyway,” Rae told Lucas. “I was laughing because of the Toone thing. You know, a guitar maker, picking out a name like Toone.”
“Didn’t see that,” Lucas admitted. “Maybe youaresmarter than me. And we already know Bob’s a genius.”
“Could be on to something,” Rae said.
—
THE TARGET HOUSEwas in the neighborhood called Preston Hollow, homes ranging from nice to jaw-dropping, on quiet leafy streets north of Dallas’s downtown. Bob rode with Lucas in the Jeep, while Rae put the do-rag back on her head and followed them in. When they were a block away, Lucas pulled to the side of the street and watched as Rae cruised the house. She had her telephone set on “speaker,” and told them, “Nice house, but not one of the best. Two-car garage. Got a fence around the backyard, and I think I can see another small building back there. A studio or something. Nothing in the driveway. Nothing moving inside, that I can see. Gonna loop the block.”
They watched as she did a U-turn two blocks away and came back toward them. “Can’t see much... Old guy across the street came out for his mail... he’s going back inside now.”
They watched as she turned into a driveway across from the “Marvin Toone” house. Lucas asked, “What the hell are you doing?”
“Applying for a housekeeping job,” Rae said, on the phone.
“She’s being Rae,” Bob said.
Lucas: “For Christ’s sakes...”
Rae said, “Shut up now, I’m carrying the phone.”
—
THEY HEARDher knocking on the door and then a man’s rusty voice: “Yes? What can I do for you, missy?”
“Sir, I’m a U.S. marshal, and don’t tell me I don’t look like one because I know that. We are doing research on the house across the street, a Mr. Marvin Toone...”
“Don’t know him. Never heard of him,” the man said.
“The man right across the street.” She pointed.
“Name isn’t Marvin anything. It’s William Robb. Will. You got the wrong address.”
“I have a photograph here...” Lucas and Bob couldn’t see it, but envisioned Rae pulling out the most recent mug shot they had, printed on a piece of eight-by-ten paper.
The rusty voice said, “Well, that’s Will, all right. He’s older and he’s been growing out a beard the last few weeks, but yeah, that’s him. I can tell you that he and Lora had a friend come in yesterday, big kind of pickup with double tires on the back, whatever you call those...”
“Dually,” Rae said.
“Yeah, and the friend stayed over, and this morning they were tearing around in their two pickups, and they had some furniture loaded in one, looked to me like they were moving out.”
“Yes? Have they been back?” Rae asked.
“Not that I’ve seen. They have three cars, well, two cars and a pickup, and they left the pickup somewhere, and then they pulled out in two cars and the visitor’s pickup. Exactly what did they do?”
“We’re not sure he did anything... but if you have any way to reach them, don’t do it,” Rae said.
“I don’t, except for walking across the street and knocking on the door. Are you sure you’re a marshal?”
