The Ying on Triad Read Online Free PDF Page A

he have a last name?"
    "Yeah. Holloman, Floyd Holloman. He used to live out
east of Austin somewhere around the little town of
Manor."
    Floyd Holloman was easy to contact. Reaching his
place at Box 2964, Star Route 7, Manor, Texas, was much
more complicated. "Take Highway 290, and turn north on the second dirt road east of Wilson's Wrecking Yard," he
explained over the telephone. "Then shoot a left on the
dirt road before you reach the Barnes' place. The Barnes'
place has a gate with steer horns on top. You've gone too
far if you get there. About a mile down the road, there's a
fork. Take the one to the right. My road is the second on
the left after you go pasta tin feeder barn"

    I repeated each step, slowly enough so Janice could jot
it all down.
    As we wound our way along the twisted roads, Janice
looked around at me. "Tony?"
    "Yeah," I kept my eyes on the narrow dirt road.
    "Is this what your job is really like? I mean, driving
around and asking questions?"
    I gave her a lopsided grin, "Pretty much"
    She fell silent, staring thoughtfully out the window.
    "Not much like Nick and Nora Charles in the movies,
huh?"
    "Well, to be honest, it isn't exactly what I thought"
    I suppressed a grin. Like most of her impulses, this one
appeared to be dying its own slow death. I tried to encourage it along its journey by adding, "Most of the time, the
job is pretty dull. It's legwork, questions, digging for
information ... pretty dull"
    With a disappointed shrug, she grinned weakly, "I just
thought it would be more exciting"
    I chuckled, "It's like what a pilot once told me about
flying. `Flying,' he said, `is hours and hours of absolute
boredom, punctuated by moments of sheer terror.'"
    She laughed.
    What neither of us knew was that Floyd Holloman
would put us on a road laden with moments of sheer terror.

     

The driveway to Floyd Holloman's circled a pond the
size of a football field and ended in a graveled parking lot
in front of a double-wide manufactured home sitting in
the shade of a broad canopy of ancient pecan and oak.
    A roly-poly gentleman in bib overalls and a blue cotton
shirt, with a straw hat perched on his head, stood in the
middle of a pumpkin patch, staring at us curiously. He
reminded me of the Pillsbury Doughboy in farmer's garb.
    Even before we stopped, he was walking toward us, his
hand held over his head as a gesture of greeting.
"Howdy," he called out as we climbed out of the pickup.
    I nodded, "Mr. Holloman?"
    He stopped in front of us, an amiable smile on his full
face. "Yes, sir. Floyd Holloman" He spoke with a nasal
twang.
    "I'm Tony Boudreaux and this is Janice CoffmanMorrison," I said, extending my hand. "I talked to you
earlier."
    Despite his advanced age, his grip was firm. "Pleased
to know you folks. What can I do for you?"
    "You retired a few years back from Endicott Video"

    A slight frown wrinkled is forehead. "Six years ago I
started drawing my Social Security."
    "When you worked at Endicott Video, did you happen
to know a man named Red?"
    The frown on his face faded into shocked disbelief.
"Red? Red Tompkins? You mean he finally turned up?"
    A surge of excitement raced through my veins. "So you
knew him?"
    He nodded emphatically, "I should say so. We worked
together four or five years before he just up and disappeared. Went into a Chinese funeral home and never came
out. Where is that worthless hound anyway?"
    I shook my head. "That's what I'm trying to find out"
    "You mean-I'm sorry. I just assume .. " he shifted
his gaze to Janice, then back to me. "He still hasn't shown
up, huh?"
    'No.
    "And you're looking for him."
    "Yes"
    He studied me for several seconds. "Why now? He's
been gone ten or eleven years"
    "There's a man on death row in Huntsville scheduled
for execution next week. The story I heard was that Red
had some video film that would prove the guy's innocence, but he disappeared."
    Holloman digested my explanation, and then suddenly
his face