Scott Pratt - An Innocent Client

“How much did they short us?” Erlene said to Ronnie.

“A little over two ounces.”

Erlene didn’t much like fooling with the candy trade, but Gus had made so much money doing it over the years, she’d have been a fool not to pick up right where he left off. It was an all-cash business, and since Ronnie handled the pick-ups and the deliveries and the inside sales, it wasn’t too much of a bother for Erlene. The problem she was having was that some of the people she bought the candy from were greedy and mean. They were always trying to pull one over on her, as if they thought she wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t do anything about it even if she did. She reckoned because Gus was gone, they thought they could get away with most anything. Confound it, why couldn’t they just play fair?

“Do we have other folks we can use?” Erlene said.

“Four besides these guys. One in Atlanta-”

“Don’t tell me, babydoll. I don’t want to know where they are. I don’t want to know much of anything about them.”

“Sorry,” Ronnie said. He was such a considerate boy.

“I tell you what let’s do, then,” Erlene said. “First off, you go ahead and deal with your people in Atlanta or wherever you said. Can they give us the same price?”

“The price will be the same and the quality will be better,” Ronnie said. “The only reason I was dealing with these fools was because they were so much closer and they were willing to meet me halfway. Saved me a lot of road time.”

“I think it’s worth the inconvenience, don’t you?” Erlene looked up toward the ceiling and pursed her lips. “Now,” she said, “what to do about those others?”

Erlene knew Ronnie had a mean streak in him as wide as the Tennessee River, but underneath all that meanness, he was really a good boy. He’d just hit a few bumps in the road was all, although Erlene had to admit that Ronnie hit the bumps a little harder than most boys. He’d spent several years down at the state penitentiary in Morgan County after he got into some trouble with the law. When he got out, he didn’t have a place to go and couldn’t get a job, so he called his Uncle Gus. Gus had always felt close to the boy and invited him to come up to work in the club. When Ronnie got there, Gus sat him down and told him that if he’d pay attention and be honest, Gus would see to it that his brother’s oldest son made a good living.

Erlene had to give Ronnie credit, he took right to it. The first thing Gus told him was that people who sell candy have to stay out of the candy. One of Ronnie’s biggest problems when he was younger was that he snorted and smoked so much candy he couldn’t think straight, so Gus told him if he got so much as an inkling that Ronnie was using, he’d be gone. The second thing Gus told him was that he who steals pays the price. Ronnie had gone to prison for stealing, among other things, and Gus told him he wouldn’t tolerate his stealing a single dime.

Ronnie went to work in the club, tending bar and selling candy. Gus kept a close eye on him the first year, and he did a wonderful job. Before long, he was pretty much running Gus’s whole candy business. Gus got to where he trusted Ronnie so much that if something went wrong, Gus just stepped back and let Ronnie take care of it. And from what Gus told Erlene, Ronnie was excellent at taking care of problems, especially if it involved Ronnie getting to hurt somebody.

The best part, though, was that Ronnie never stole the first penny. Erlene was proud as punch of the boy, although she suspected his honesty was at least partly due to the fact that he was afraid his Uncle Gus would kill him if he took anything. Gus wasn’t a man to trifle with, especially when it came to money.

After Gus died, Ronnie asked her whether he could keep doing what he’d been doing. Erlene thought about all the money Gus had made and said, “Sure, sugar. I’d be a fool to make you stop.” Ronnie paid Erlene every night, cash, like clockwork. Ronnie had turned out to be a real good boy, and Erlene kind of felt like she was at least partly responsible.

“Tell you what,” Erlene said. “How about you just go ahead and do whatever you think Gus would have told you to do. I don’t even have to know about it.”

“Sounds good to me.”

“That’s wonderful,” Erlene said, “and speaking of dealing with bad people, I have another little problem I’m going to need you to help me with.”

There was a certain girl named Julie needed tending to, and Ronnie was the right man for the job.

July 1

10:10 a.m.

The Tate woman wrote to Maynard Bush out of the blue. Maynard figured killers must get her hot. He didn’t have nothing better to do, so Maynard wrote back. He wasn’t real good at writing, but so what? He knew enough to get by. She wrote again and he wrote again and before Maynard knew it, they were writing to each other every few days.

Maynard laid it on thick as jelly on a biscuit. Played her like an old banjo. At first he was just screwing around, but then he got a bright idea. He didn’t know if it would work, but it was sure worth the try.

First thing Maynard did was talk his lawyer, Joe Dillard, into fixing it so the Tate woman could visit him. Then he started working on her. He shoveled so much manure on her she should have turned brown. He told her he was lonesome and that he needed a friend. It was a lie. Maynard didn’t have friends and didn’t want none. They always just ended up pissing him off, and then they ended up dead. To Maynard, killing a human being wasn’t any different than killing a dog or a rabbit.

When he told Bonnie Tate he needed a friend, Maynard could see it almost broke her heart, so he just kept pouring it on. He told Bonnie how when he was a boy his mama was a drug addict and his daddy got hauled off to prison. It was about the only thing Maynard told Bonnie that was true. He told her he went to bed hungry every night, which was a flat-out lie. He told her he didn’t have no shoes that fit. Another lie, good enough to make her cry. When she cried, it made Maynard think of how he used to make his baby cousin cry. When the girl’s mother turned her back, Maynard would pinch the doughy little pain-in-the-butt up under her arm as hard as he could and she’d wail like an ambulance passing in the night. Maynard never did get caught. He was too smart and too quick.

Four days before Maynard’s trial was supposed to start, he made sure Bonnie came to visit. It was time to take his shot.

“You’re my only visitor, you know,” Maynard said as he gazed across the table at the plump, homely brunette. “You’re the only person I trust.” He watched her close. She was eating it up.

“I want to thank you for everything you’ve done for me, Bonnie,” Maynard said. “You gave me hope when there wasn’t none left.” Maynard had to concentrate as hard as he could to keep from gagging. He’d told a couple of his buddies at the jail that Bonnie Tate was ugly enough to puke a buzzard off a gut wagon.

“I think about you all the time, Bonnie. I dream about you every night. I think maybe I love you.”

She looked at him and he could see tears forming in her eyes. It was working.

“Do you think maybe you love me too, Bonnie?”

She nodded. “I think maybe I do, Maynard.”

“If I was to ever get out of this place, would you stay with me, Bonnie? Please say you’d stay with me. It’d mean so much to me.”

“I reckon I’d stay with you.”

“I need to ask you something. It’s real important, and you can’t breathe a word of it. Can I trust you?”

“You know you can trust me, Maynard.”

“If I was to tell you I know a way out of here, would you help me? Would you, Bonnie? It’s the only chance I’ve got. They’ll kill me if you don’t help me.”