Joe Lansdale - Waltz of Shadows

I paused in my reading and thought that one over. A bell was ringing somewhere in the back of my mind, and I had the disconcerting sensation that there was something very obvious in all this, and I ought to pick up on it right away. But whatever it was, the sensation of it about to tumble to the forefront departed, and a moment later I sat there feeling empty and stupid. I read the a="lp›

I put the empty coffee cup in the trash bag hanging from the radio knob, and drove home.

When I unlocked the back door, Wylie came rushing at me, the hair on his neck bristling. I was glad as hell when he recognized me. He was one scary looking dog when he was like that. If you weren’t a family member, Wylie hated you on general principle and would go for your throat. We had company over, the kid’s friends, he had to be put away in his travel kennel in the washroom.

Wylie looked embarrassed about not recognizing me immediately, hung his head and whined and finally tried to jump up on me. I kneed him. He laid down and I gave him a pat on the head. Poor guy. Couldn’t seem to do anything right. I knew how he felt.

I listened to see if Bev would show up, arms crossed, a look on her face that would make me weak in the stomach.

Nope. No Bev.

Good. I loved the little darling, but I wasn’t up to arguing with her tonight, and I felt guilty that for the first time in our marriage, I hadn’t told her the truth about something. Well, the first important time.

I spied a note on the table.

If you ain’t dead, buster, boy are you in trouble. Love, Bev

Shit.

I looked in the refrigerator and found a banana, got the crunchy peanut butter down and got a fork out of the utensil drawer and poured myself a glass of milk.

I sat at the table and ate a bite of banana and followed it with a fork full of peanut butter and a swig of milk. I did this until the banana was gone, then I turned to forking peanut butter from the jar and eating that, drinking milk.

The phone rang. I leaped for it and banged my knee on the table. I got it before the second ring, hoping it hadn’t awakened Bev.

“Yeah,” I said, but it sounded more like “Yeg.” I was nursing a mouthful of peanut butter.

There was a pause. Then: “Hank, that you?”

It was Arnold.

“Yeah. I was eating peanut butter.”

“Out of the jar?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s fattening.”

I looked to see if Beverly was coming down the stairs. So far, my luck was holding.

“I get nervous, I eat peanut butter.”

“Me too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You eat it around the chewing tobacco?”

“Sometimes.”

“Dad did that.”

“Where do you think I got it?”

“Did you call before?”

“No. Why?”

“I figured if you woke up Beverly, I’m a dead man.”

“I been thinking about Billy. I don’t really know the little shit, but he is blood, and I can’t leave him for the wolves. I watched the news tonight and Imperial City has tried and hung the kid already. I went out and got a local paper.”

“Me too.” I said.

“There’s stuff there don’t add up. You told me Billy saw the Doc running around with a gal worked at a Chinese restaurant. Well, the gal the Doc was with. Think it’s her?”

“Could be.”

“Convenient, ain’t it? Doc goes off with this gal who can provide an alibi, sees other people who can provide an alibi, then his wife is murdered? That tally up to anything?”

“Doc was passing money along to Fat Boy, not because of blackmail, but because of a job he wanted Fat Boy to do. Like murder his wife.”

“Now you’re cooking with gas. The Satanism stuff. What’d you think of that?”

“There’s nothing in any of this that smacks of Satanism.”

“Right. Crime scene indicates Doc’s wife was raped and killed when burglars broke into the place and discovered her. Then the newspapers decide, for no real reason at all, that the murderers were a bunch of folks on the other side of town who were all done in by one average size guy. Then, all of a goddamned sudden, those folks are Satanist and Satanism is at the bottom of Mrs. Parker’s murder and all the murders.

“I think the whole goddamn kitandkaboodle stinks like a week old sack of wormy dog shit. I think the Doc wanted to get rid of the Mrs. without having to pay her bills for the rest of his life, and he wanted to move some fresh meat into the house. Only turns out the night he’s got it all planned, the Shit Head Club shows up. You tracking?”

“I think so,” I said. “Fat Boy and Cobra Man get rid of the surprise visitors by finding out where Billy lives. Not something that would be hard if they were determined to know and weren’t shy about torturing their interviewees. So they go to Bill’s joint, get rid of the witnesses, set Bill up to take a rap for all the murders.”

“There you are.”

“But how in the hell could the police buy that story after they’d looked at the facts with a clear eye?”

“Yeah, there’s an aroma there. Let’s not second guess. Let’s take some action.”

“Like what?”

“Go over to this Dave’s apartment. Tonight. Break in, get the video tape with the fat guy on it. Get the one where the Fuck Off Club is putting Billy on the railroad track.”

“That’s right. The fat guy’s on tape. I forgot.”

“So is the Doc,” Arnold said. “That gives Billy Boy some ammunition the fat guy and the tattooed guy and the cops wouldn’t know about. We get the tape, make a copy, then turn it over to the cops through your lawyer.”

“We get caught breaking into Dave’s place, we might be giving each other tattoos in prison.”

“When you’re right you’re right. You were right that night I talked you into hitting the liquor store. I should have listened. But this is different. It’s family. You don’t want to do it, get me in contact with Billy so I can find out where to go, and I’ll do it. Better yet, I’ll take Billy with me.”

“Of course,” I said. “What a great idea. Bill can certainly use breaking and entering and theft to go along with the charges pending. He might as well go the whole hog, don’t you think?”

“What’s it gonna be, Hank?”

I considered for a moment.

“I’ll call Bill and get him up,” I said. “You meet us at the Sleepy Time Tourist Court in half an hour.”

It was extremely late and extremely cold by the time I met Arnold at Sleepy Time Tourist Courts and we went up and knocked on Bill’s door. I had brought a sweater and a heavy coat for Bill, and I handed them to him and moved into the room and Arnold followed.

Bill and Arnold looked at each other for a moment. Arnold said, “You know, I don’t know I know you at all. Last time I seen you you were crapping in diapers… Well, maybe I’ve seen you since the diaper days.”

“Mom’s funeral,” Billy said. “Or were you there?”

“I was there. They kept me in the back, so I wouldn’t spoil things. And I even had on clean underwear.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not thought of all that highly either,” Bill said.

“Any of that story you told Hank true?” Arnold asked.

Billy put a hurt look on his face. “Yeah, all of it, Uncle Arnold.”

“I’m not trying to hurt your feelings,” Arnold said. “But I get me and Hank into what I’m about to get us into, there better not be any bullshit. Hank explained what we want to do?”

“Yeah,” Bill said. “The video tapes are there. I hadn’t thought of that angle. It’s a good idea.”

“Unless we get caught,” Arnold said.

“Let’s don’t think on that too long,” I said, “or I’ll talk myself out of this.”