Down Don't Bother Me (9780062362209) (13 page)

He and the others sat. I sat back down.

I said, “I'm a little nervous myself.”

“I would be, too. You just blew a man's brains out on the streets of my fair city, and that's nothing to be too relaxed about.”

“They shot first,” I pointed out. “And I'm guessing that if you check their histories you might find a story of violent crimes and other nefarious doings.”

Wince grunted and Willard showed his teeth. He said, “That we did. And that they had, but that don't exactly clear
the slate. Dead bodies have a way of complicating matters. You want to tell me your story? I already got a pretty good one from your boy in the other room.”

I shook my head.

Willard said, “No? You don't think I did?”

“Not unless you cut his tongue out and used it to write a story yourselves,” I said. “I don't mean to make a fuss. I know how this looks, and I'll cooperate fully, but this was a case of self-defense, pure and simple. Those bastards shot at my daughter. You worked some kind of miracle, brought them back to life, I'd shoot them again right here. Twice.”

Willard sucked that around for a moment. His eyes lost their hard glint and he traced a shape on the tabletop with a finger.

“Well, there is that,” he said. “The fact that the ladies were there goes a long way to corroborate your story. Plus those guys with the TV.”

“I felt bad about that. It looked like a pretty fancy setup.”

Willard ignored that. “I'm thinking only a stone lunatic would drag his kid into a firefight like that.”

“Thanks.”

“I didn't say you weren't one, though. Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves here.”

“Less thanks.”

He thought some more and finally shrugged. “Again, that isn't going to open any cell doors, but I admit there's a few points here in your favor. Your girlfriend tells it that they just came out of nowhere, and started shooting up the place.”

“That's pretty much it.”

“You ever seen either of them before?”

I said, “I've been trying to place them. One of them might match a description given me by one of Guy Beckett's girlfriends. There was a Knight Hawk parking pass on the car, but I guess the car might belong to someone else. I don't know who the dead guy was, but I don't think he worked at the Hawk.”

“So you're thinking this has something to do with the Beckett disappearance?”

“I'm thinking it's likely. I've fallen behind a bit on some bills lately, but I don't think I'm behind enough for anyone to resort to this kind of thing.”

Willard nodded. “Okay. Let me ask you this then. And I caution you to think carefully before answering.”

“I'll try.”

“Any chance you get tangled up with a guy named Clay Reeves earlier today?”

“Jump Down?”

“I believe that's the name he goes by, yeah. Kinda silly, you ask me.”

“A little.”

“What is it with you guys and those nicknames, anyway?” Willard said. “I go to the hospital, ain't everybody calling someone ‘Trauma Ward' or ‘Crash Cart' or any such foolishness.”

“Crash Cart'd be a pretty good nickname.”

“Now you're just trying my patience.”

I said, “Hell, I don't know what it is. Something in the air down there makes people act like dummies, maybe. I'm not a psychologist or a scientist. All I know is, once a miner gets a nickname, it sticks with him . . .”

“Or her,” Wince said.

Willard looked at him.

“You running for office?”

“As it happens,” Wince said. “Year from now. But this thing, my sister's a miner.”

“Or her,” I said, nodding at Wince, “It sticks with him or her pretty much forever. I've known people who basically stopped responding to their given names in favor of their mine names. A lot of them even have them on their gravestones.”

“Now that's deep.”

“Sure is.”

The state cop said, “This is a waste of time.”

This was a young guy with carefully combed hair and a face like a carnival prize. His shirt was tucked in, and his tie had a knot as tight as a hooker's fist, so I gathered he was a pretty fancy cop. Willard didn't appear to think much of him, either.

He said, “You got somewhere else to be?”

“As a matter of fact . . .”

Willard groaned and rubbed his face and said, “I recall correctly, you're at our disposal for the duration, Dave, so please, dispose.”

Dave disposed. He sat there like an angry bump. Wince chuckled.

Willard said to me, “Jump Down.”

“I saw him earlier today at the Knight Hawk. We had a little chat over beer and coffee. He drank the beer. Surprisingly friendly, he was, actually. He told me the story of the green condom, and I tried to talk him out of killing me and my family.”

“I don't known about any green rubber, but it looks like he didn't really take the rest of it to heart.”

“Looks that way, yes.”

“When'd you leave him?”

“About three this afternoon. Little earlier maybe. We were at Steamy's.”

“Anything come of it? Anything physical, I mean.”

I shook my head. “Not even hard words. I'll tell you, that surprised me a bit. The boy's a buzz saw in a world of forest. I thought it'd go hard, but he seemed eager to let the whole thing slide.”

Willard sighed. He turned to Wince and Wince shrugged. He didn't look at Dave. He didn't care what Dave thought, I guess. Dave noticed it, too, and sulked it up something fierce. Finally, Willard looked at me again.

“Well, that's a problem then. You say you left Reeves this afternoon, and apparently some time between then and around four thirty or five he must have dispatched his boys to pay you a visit.”

“Or later, possibly,” I said. “I didn't see them until tonight.”

“Or possibly later,” he agreed. “Funny thing is, we've spent the last couple of hours trying to run him to ground, but we've come up empty. No one seems to know where he's at. You got any sense of why that might be?”

We sat there for a long moment. If this were a crappy novel, there'd be a line here about a dog barking in the distance.

Finally, I said, “You think something's happened to him?”

“I think that's possible, yes. Maybe he's run off from something. Something threatening, if you follow me. Another possibility is, he's already cold as a crate of Russian hammers.”

“Or maybe he just doesn't keep regular hours. He's in that kind of business.”

“He is,” Willard said. “Problem is, someone torched one of the kid's flops this evening. One of those of those awful places at the trailer park outside Carbondale. Obvious arson job, and now no sign of Reeves, so you can see how this looks to us.”

“I was with Peggy and Anci all night,” I said.

“Your buddy wasn't, though, and he's got something of a reputation for getting into scrapes. Oddly enough, he's refusing to alibi himself right now. Now why you think that is?”

“He couldn't have done it,” I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. In fact, he
could
have done it, and if he thought that Jump was a real threat to me or Anci he probably would have. But I thought he would have asked me first, or told me after. I said, “I need to talk to him.”

“Not right now, you can't.”

“When?”

“When we decide to let you.
If
we decide.”

He stood up. I remembered his lesson and remained seated. Dave smirked at me. The two of them went out. Wince lingered behind just a moment.

“I told you to stay out of this mess, Slim,” he said.

“Wish I'd listened.”

“If you don't wish it yet, you will soon,” he said, and then he was gone, too.

T
hey kept us until morning, then kicked us loose. Neither Jeep nor I had a lawyer, and neither of us had any real money to speak of, so we ended up sharing a public defender. The guy turned out to be a real goober. He showed up late, read slow, talked slower, and was covered more in food stains
than clothes. I hate to sound like that—the public defender system is a good thing—but you got the feeling that, in this guy's hands, you could walk in to donate to the policemen's fund and end up tied to a metal table. Anyway, the sense was that they wanted to charge us, but our self-defense story kept getting in the way. The goober warned us not to enjoy fresh air much, because charges were probably forthcoming.

That was something to ask about, but Willard didn't make an appearance, and no one else really spoke to us except the guy at the properties desk, who just grunted and gave us back our things. I had a few bucks missing, and I think Jeep lost his Timex, but neither of us raised a fuss. Outside, the day was cool and bright. The two of us were underground coal miners, so the physical effect of a few hours in a holding tank was pretty small, but it still felt good to be outside again, and we paused a moment to stretch in the sun. There's nothing like an overnight in jail to convince you of the wisdom of the righteous life.

“I'd rather not spend any more time in there,” I said. “I shared a cell with a drunk who kept time by farting.”

“Not my favorite experience, either,” Jeep said. “Some time around midnight, they tossed in a first-timer who wanted to be King of the Cell, and for some reason he chose me as his target.”

“Sometimes they'll choose the biggest guy, thinking it sends a message. How'd it go?”

“For him? Not well, but after that everyone left me alone. One guy even offered to make my bed.”

“I'm hoping you didn't take him up on it,” I said. “They already think you killed Jump Down.”

Jeep didn't say anything.

“You didn't, did you?” I said.

Jeep didn't say anything.

“Because, the thing is,” I said, “he's missing. One of his places was burned, too, which feels like revenge to me. You were supposed to be at work last night, but instead you showed up to shotgun one bad man a few hours after another bad man mysteriously vanished.”

Jeep said, “You think I did it?”

“I don't know for sure that anything
was
done. Jump Down probably isn't the easiest guy to get in touch with. Maybe the place burned on its own. If that's where he kept his meth kitchen, my understanding is they burn easier than birthday candles. I'm just saying that if anything did happen, now might be a good time to come clean.”

“In front of the police station?” he said. “You really are new at this.”

“Well, maybe you can tell me all about it later,” I said, but instead of answering he trailed off to phone his wife.

Anci and Peggy had left the station house the night before, and I wasn't sure exactly where they'd gone. Back to the hotel, maybe, but more likely to Peggy's place. Wherever they were, I wouldn't feel completely comfortable until we were all together again. Willard had promised me there'd be some kind of police protection, but I got the feeling that was the kind of arrangement that would keep away the honest but not much else. I punched in Peggy's number. Anci picked up. Like I thought, they'd gone to Peggy's.

“She's out, by the way,” Anci said. “As in, like a light. You've never seen a person sleep so hard. I tried waking her a while ago, but it's like trying to rouse a tree stump. I'll try again in a while. Maybe tomorrow morning.”

“She had quite a start,” I said. “We all did. It kinda takes it out of you. How are you holding up?”

Anci shrugged with her voice. “I'm okay. That's never happened to me before, and I hope it never happens again.”

“It won't, I have anything to do with it. To that end, I've got to talk to your Uncle Jeep about a few things. Then I'm going to see about finding us a new hotel. Might be time to move again, given the circumstances.”

“Maybe back to the Pin Oak.”

“Maybe not.”

“Peggy's house is okay, though. She gave me my own room. It's small, but it'll be nice sleeping in a room where the only snoring you have to hear is your own.”

“Sorry.”

“You can make it up to me by making it so we can go home again,” she said.

“Well, that'll be soon, I hope. It's not safe yet, exactly, but most of the people I was worried about have been accounted for. I've got one or two more small things to look after this morning, and then hopefully things will start to fall into place.”

“Sounds like a plan. Pick me up from school today?”

“You got it.”

“On the bike?”

“Right on.”

I hung up and was heading back to meet Jeep when the phone buzzed again. I looked at the screen. There was a text from Anci, which she must have sent as soon as we'd parted: “Don't forget your meeting.” But I was all about that incoming phone call. My heart lifted, and I wished I had a pocketful of confetti to throw. The number was Tony Pelzer's.

“You've been calling me?” a voice said. It was an odd creature, this voice, rough and high at the same time. Also, there was something distantly familiar about it, though maybe that was just my imagination.

I said, “Once or twice. I think it's time we meet.”

“I think so, too. I'm here at the house. You know where it is?”

“I know where it is.”

“Okay. Come out. But, listen, I want you to be cool, okay? I want you to be very cool. Can you remember that?”

“Cool is my middle name.”

“I'm guessing it ain't.”

“I know.”

“But I want you to. Be cool, I mean, because it's not always easy.”

“You sound anxious, Mr. Pelzer.”

“I'm very anxious,” he said. “And it's Tony. And fuck you.”

“I'll be there as soon as I can.”

“Twenty minutes?”

“More like forty.”