We chose to walk back on the same side of the street as we had going to the Emporium. As we began to pass The Donut Shop, Rachel stopped, stared in, then pulled on my arm dragging me out of sight from the people inside.
“What’s wrong, Rachel?”
“It’s him, Bobby! The man who talked me into going to Chicago. He’s in the shop, talking to a waitress. I know it’s him. What can we do?”
“Calm down. We don’t want to attract attention and have him come out to see what’s going on.” I took her arm, and led her across the street.
“Are you sure that’s the guy? Did you get a good enough look at him to be sure?”
“Yes I’m sure. I spent almost five hours with him, remember?”
“Okay, I’m sorry. I believe you. Do you recall what kind of a car he drove? Do you see it anywhere around here?”
She looked around, both ways, and on both sides of the street. Minutes passed.
“There it is! The black one, across the street, parked in front the old hotel. That’s it! I’m sure.”
“Do you have a pen or pencil in your bag?”
“I think I do. Why?”
“Because, if you do, would you walk down there and get the license plate number, and the state where the car is registered? Stay on this side until you get to where you can walk up to it and read the number. After you write it down, cross back over to this side, come to this spot and wait for me here.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going into the shop and try to hear what he’s saying to the waitress.”
“Oh, Bobby, be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
“I’ll be fine. You be careful! And, if there is anyone else in the car, or standing near the car, don’t even look at the plate if you think they might see you. Okay?”
As soon as I was comfortable Rachel was clear of where she could be seen, even from across the street, I crossed over and entered the shop. There was an empty stool several positions to the left of where the man was sitting. When I sat down the young girl came to me and asked what I’d like to have. I ordered a chocolate donut and a cup of coffee. When she had served me she returned to talking to the man. I couldn’t hear everything either of them said, but I could tell from the excited way the girl reacted to some of the statements he made, she was interested in keeping the conversation going. I did hear him ask her when she got off. She responded something about having been there since five in the morning, and usually was finished shortly after one. He said he had to make a phone call, but could be out front when she got off, if she wanted to talk further. He stepped to the cashier, paid his bill, came back and laid a dollar bill on the counter, and walked outside. As anxious as I was to follow him, I didn’t want to have him notice me, so I continued sipping my coffee.
“May I have a check, please?”
She was all smiles when she handed me the check. A pretty girl, but no way as pretty as Rachel. Yet, certainly the type that would attract the kind of guy that would go to a strip joint. I wondered how old she really was.
Suddenly I remembered Rachel was going to look at the car. If the man was going to his car, Rachel might still be near it. I hurriedly paid my bill, and rushed out the door. There wasn’t any reason to worry, because the moment I stepped on the sidewalk I saw Rachel waving at me from across the street. When I got to her, I had two questions.
“Are you all right? Were you able to get the number?”
“Yes and yes.”
“He came out. Did he see you?”
“No. I was back here when he came out. I saw him. He went down the street toward the car, but he went into the hotel. He’s probably still in there.”
“My guess is he’s looking for a phone to call his boss. We’ve got to find a phone too, so we can call my Dad. He’ll know what to do. What was the license number, and what state is it from?”
Rachel looked at the paper in her hand. “It’s a Missouri license. The number is 939-601.”