Elmore Leonard - Raylan

“Not too much,” Cuba said. “I been thinking, I go see Mr. Harry and apologize for leavin, this poor, uneducated Negro not knowin shit how to act. But that darky skit depressed me. I tell him I got a new gig we can try.”

“What is it?”

“I make up something-bring te sngiv›ars to his motherfuckin racist eyes laughing. I say I got a tape he can listen to. Bring him here and you pop him with the needle.”

“How does he pay us, say, two hundred and fifty thousand?”

“I’m workin on it.”

Layla said, “We’re not doing Harry just yet. I’ve been thinking, we could be gathering a few more organs. Gregg Allman just had a liver transplant, he can drink again- yeaaah! We’ll extract kidneys, liver, lungs, pancreas. Hearts are too tricky. You have to keep it pumping.”

Cuba thinking, Like sellin used auto parts, a transmission, a manifold. She made it sound easy, reminding him that time, “You don’t do the Crowes they’ll tell on us.” Her bein cool about it’s what scared him. Like telling him to close the window so it don’t rain in.

“This might blow your mind,” Layla said, “but I’m thinking the one to do next is the marshal. We wouldn’t even have to lure him. Raylan has more questions for me.”

Cuba’s mind saw Dickie holding a gun while Raylan good as dared him to raise it. He said to Layla, “Where you want to do it, here?”

“I was thinking right in the tub, instead of lugging him around, then add water. I don’t see why we’d need ice.”

“How we get him out of here?”

“In the wee small hours of the morning,” Layla said, not quite singing it, “we drop him out the window, put him in the car… Or we wait till he’s coming to and walk him out to the car.”

“You haven’t figured it out yet,” Cuba said.

“I’m thinking,” Layla said. “We have until I decide to answer the phone.”

Raylan didn’t want to be seen hanging around the fourth floor of Chandler, risk Layla spotting him and duck out. He stood outside, away from the entrance and watched nurses coming out till almost five. No sign of Layla. He went up to the transplant floor and found out she was off today. He called Nichols.

“You know it’s Saturday?” Raylan said.

“It wasn’t, I wouldn’t be mowin the lawn.”

“Layla’s off till Monday.”

“You call her home?”

“Her voice said leave a message and hung up.”

“You called last night you’d of had her in cuffs.”

“I wanted to give her time to get jumpy before I make my appearance.”

“I can stop mowin this minute,” Nichols said, “you want me along.”

“I got to locate her first. I’ll call her again or go over there, 156 Virginia Avenue, push her buzzer till she answers.”

“If she’s home,” Nichols said. “I’ll call you tomorrow, see how you’re doin. Come on over, we’ll grill steaks, have a few beers.”

“I was gonna tell you,” Raylan said, “I checked out of the Hilton, didn’t work with my per diem. I took a cab to the office and got a Chevy assigned to me-it’s okay-I’m not goin anywhere, but I’m now stayin at the Two Keys Tavern on South Limestone. I got an apartment upstairs, no charge.”

“You’re kiddin me,” Nichols said.

“So UK students don’t walk out skunked and get arrested or hit by a car. I spoke to management, I said if you have a spare room up there you can let me use while I’m in Lexington… I told him he’d have a U.S. marshal keeping the peace. The fella said he didn’t want to shut the students down, especially on Crazy Night. I told him goin crazy’s okay with me.”

Nichols said, “You’re a bouncer in a dive bar?”

“When I’m there. I don’t think this’ll take long.”

“You’re younger’n I am,” Nichols said. “You might come out of there alive.”

“Martinis,” Raylan said, “are only three bucks.”

S aturday evening he talked to the manager, a cautious but pleasant guy running a saloon on the edge of the University of Kentucky campus. Why wouldn’t he be pleasant? He had droves of patrons, boys and girls coming in for rum or vodka in different flavors; for the three-dollar martinis; five dollars for a pitcher of beer, and for ten bucks you could drink all the beer you wanted. “But just for yourself,” the manager told Raylan, “or everybody in here’d get sloshed on the ten bucks.”

Raylan had on the s {haighuit and tie he’d worn to the transplant center yesterday. Hanging around in the Two Keys Tavern, there wasn’t any doubt, this guy with the star on a chain was a lawman. He expected to get some remarks. They were all twenty-one going on thirty. A guy stared and Raylan would nod with his nice-guy look. He saw a lot of zip-neck sweaters over all kinds of shirts. He saw girls talking loud, girls making faces. They had a goldfish race in a plastic trough, hit the fish with water pistols to quit swimming in a circle and race, goddamnit. Not many beer drinkers seem to care about it. A celebrity deejay Raylan had never heard of came on and the crowd went crazy for about a minute.

He saw some good-looking girls here. One of them came up to him and said, “My friends think you’re a rent-a-cop and I bet them you’re for real. Are you?”

Raylan opened his coat to show his star hanging on the silver chain. He said, “I’m a United States marshal, miss. Tell me what your friends call you?”

A guy with some size standing there said, “Anybody ever rip your badge off you, hangin there?”

“Not yet,” Raylan said. “One tried but didn’t make it. What do you do, play football? I’d take you to be an offensive lineman.”

This guy with shoulders on him said, “I play defense.”

“What I meant,” Raylan said, “I see you as a lineman becoming offensive to me. Twenty years ago I ever tried out for football here I’d be cut by the third day.” Raylan said, “I’m gonna move the badge down to my belt, not get anymore remarks about it.” Raylan told him, “In case you didn’t know it, I’m one of the good guys. I’ve shot seven men in the line of duty, wanted fugitives, no women or students, and they all died.” Raylan smiled at the defensive lineman. “You gonna have me telling marshal stories next.”

At 2:30 A.M. he put on his cowboy hat and went to visit Miss Layla.

R aylan used his burglar picks to open the front door without disturbing the manager. He went up the stairs to Layla’s apartment and knocked on the door. He stood before the peephole in his hat-no way she wouldn’t know him, and knocked again, giving the door three firm raps.

He waited.

She’d be looking at him by now, wondering how to play it.

“I’m not here to make an arrest,” Raylan said, his face close to the door. “I want to talk to you about something.”

Finally he heard her voice.

“At three in the {thth="1em" a morning?”

“I been trying to get hold of you,” Raylan said. “You told the hospital you took leave to nurse your mom back to health, but you never went near her. You know the time I mean?”

There was a silence.

Her voice said, “I met my boyfriend. I actually was in New Orleans.”

“Let’s get him to vouch for you,” Raylan said, “and I’ll quit worryin about it.”

“He’s married,” Layla’s voice said.

“I could have a word with him,” Raylan said. “What’s his name?”

“I don’t want to get him in trouble.”

“I start arrestin people for committin adultery I’d never get home for supper and see my wife and kids. We have three boys and a girl.”

Layla’s voice said, “Wait till I put something on.”

Raylan imagined Layla standing on the other side of the door bare-naked and wanted to come back with a cool line, but couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t stupid and said, “Okay,” and waited.