Read Up in Honey's Room for Free Online Page A

finger at me, pretending it was a gun and cut one.”
    Kevin said, “You mean he’d pass gas in front of you?”
    â€œIn front of me, behind me—”
    But now they were coming to Seward and he had to tell her, “Here’s the street where Jurgen Schrenk and his mom and dad lived in the thirties. The apartment hotel’s in the second block.”
    â€œThe Abington,” Honey said. “I had dinner there a few times—they have a dining room. This guy I knew always stayedthere. He said he’d walk five blocks south to the General Motors Building on the Boulevard, and walk back with a signed contract in his briefcase.”
    â€œWhat kind of contract?”
    â€œI don’t know, he never told me exactly what he did. He was from Argentina and had something to do with Grand Prix auto racing in Europe before the war. He always called cars motorcars. He’d stay at the Abington in a one-bedroom apartment that had a tiny kitchen. If there were twin beds he’d pull down the Murphy bed in the living room. He was a little guy, very slim, but liked big beds.” Honey said, “You know, I remember reading about Jurgen and the SS guy escaping. It was in all the Detroit papers.”
    It brought Kevin back, his image of Honey and a suave type of guy who looked like a tango dancer gone from his mind.
    She said, “Jurgen might be the same boy Walter told me about, or he might not. Walter did write to someone who was in the war. I remember he got a letter postmarked from Poland in 1939, but Walter never said anything about it. By that time we were barely speaking.”
    â€œJurgen Schrenk was in Poland before going to North Africa, according to the marshal in Tulsa. The guy who swears Jurgen’s here, hiding out.”
    â€œYou said he’s famous?”
    â€œA book was written about him, all kinds of magazine articles, a long one in True Detective . The book, Carl Webster: The Hot Kid of the Marshals Service, came out about ten years ago.”
    â€œHave you read it?”
    â€œYeah, I got hold of a copy—it’s good. Carl’s been in some really tight situations. I’ve talked to some agents who know him,they all say he’s the real thing. He’s shot and killed at least a dozen wanted felons, or otherwise known bad guys like Emmett Long and Jack Belmont.” Kevin paused. “No, it was his wife Louly who shot Jack Belmont. She shot another bank robber too, but I forget his name.”
    Honey said, “His wife goes with him, he’s after bad guys?”
    â€œThey were unusual situations. Louly was related to Pretty Boy Floyd’s wife, and for a time everybody thought Louly was Floyd’s girlfriend.”
    â€œBefore she married Carl Webster.”
    â€œThat’s right, and now she’s in the Women Marines, teaching recruits how to fire a machine gun from the backseat of a dive-bomber.” Kevin said, “All the guys Carl Webster shot, he used the same Colt .38 revolver, the front sight filed off. No, one he shot with a Winchester at four hundred yards. At night.” Kevin said, “Something I don’t understand, you see his name in the paper or in the book, it’s Carl Webster. But when he calls me he says, ‘This is Carlos Webster.’”
    â€œThat’s his real name?”
    â€œCarlos Huntington Webster. His dad was in Cuba with Huntington’s Marines at Guantánamo in ’98, during the Spanish-American War. Carl’s mother was Cuban and his dad’s mother was part Northern Cheyenne. But does he go by Carl or Carlos?”
    â€œHow old is he?”
    â€œAll he’s done, you’d think he’d have some years on him, but he isn’t yet forty years old.”
    â€œHave you met him?”
    â€œNot yet. He was ready to come to Detroit on his own, help us look for Jurgen and the SS guy, Otto. But Carl’s boss, the Tulsa marshal, retired and they made