Joe Lansdale - Waltz of Shadows

“Come on,” Virgil said. “There’s a cloud on Fat Boy and it’s getting darker. Am I right?”

“There’s been problems,” Price admitted.

“You want to phase him out, don’t you?” Virgil said.

“I guess so,” Price said.

“You’ll do what’s necessary to do that?” Virgil said.

“I always do what’s necessary,” Price said. “What is this? Twenty fucking questions?”

“Just wanted to get it recorded for later, you turn on us,” Virgil said. “This way, we go in the toilet, you go with us.”

“You don’t have a wire,” Price said.

“No,” Virgil said. “But the dog does.”

Price looked at Poot, then back to Virgil. He bent forward and grabbed Poot by the fur on his neck. Price pulled a couple of concealed wires out of Poot’s fur, ran his fingers along the wires till he came to where they connected at Poot’s collar.

“Goddamn hairy shit ball,” Price said.

Price jerked Poot up on his hind feet and unfastened the collar and peeled it off, bringing the wires with it and some of Poot’s fur. Poot yipped, bit Price on the hand; a quick snapping bite that broke the skin. Price jerked up and kicked out. Poot took a shoe under the snout, rolled and yelped.

“Hey,” I said. “That’s enough of that.”

Poot got up and skulked over to sit by the Cadillac. He looked betrayed.

“You fucked me,” Price said. He took out the. 38 again. Price didn’t bother with the drama of cocking back the hammer this time. He pointed the gun at Virgil.

Virgil said, “My partner, in the trees there, has got everything on tape. You can’t get to him before he’s gone. And like I told you, something happens to us, the news goes out.”

“I don’t believe you got a partner,” Price said. “That wire was bullshit.”

“Yeah?” Virgil said. “Watch this.”

Virgil stepped away from the Plymouth and the plane. He waved his arms toward the distance woods. A moment later there was the sound of a revolver popping in the air.

Price slowly put the. 38 away. He said, “You lied to me, Virgil.”

“Whatta you expect?” Virgil said. “I’m a goddamned lawyer.”

We drove away from the airport in a direction opposite the one we needed to go. When we were a couple miles down the road, Virgil pulled over and got out of the car. Poot jumped out after him and peed on a pine tree.

I pulled my. 38 out of the glove box and put it back where it belonged and got out of the car. I was steamed, even though the air was cool.

Virgil’s face was covered in sweat. He spread his feet wide apart and placed both hands high on the pine Poot had pissed on and did a couple of push ups against it. He took a deep breath, turned his back to the tree, and rested against it. He said, “How’d I do?”

“Good,” I said. “I was scared to death. I thought he might call our bluff.”

“Poot would have protected us.”

“Yeah, right,” I said. “You didn’t tell me he was wired.”

“I didn’t know how you’d do,” Virgil said. “I didn’t want you looking nervous, maybe giving us away. I wired him before we left, while you were filling out the papers I brought.”

A man in a brown four wheel drive Dodge pulled over behind the Cadillac. I reached under my shirt and touched the butt of the. 38 as he opened the door of the truck and got out.

“It’s all right,” Virgil said. “That’s my partner. Tim Mayday.”

Tim was a dark wiry guy dressed in tweed pants and jacket. He even had on an Irish style tweed hat.

“Goddamn,” Tim said as he came up, bouncy as a kangaroo with a hot foot. “Man, I could hear that bastard’s asshole puckering from where I was. I bet he’s got some stains in his undies. How’s Poot, man? He all right? Say, Hank, I’m Tim Mayday. You guys did all right. Where’s Poot?”

“He’s off in the woods,” Virgil said. “Probably taking a dump. He’s got a little case of nerves.”

“Hey, for a minute there,” Tim said, “I thought he might pop you guys, you know. I was glad I was recording. Popped you, I’d have it on tape. I was scared as hell about Poot. I don’t know I’ll let him go with you anymore, Virg. Oh yeah, Hank, shake.”

Tim stuck his hand at me and I shook. It was a limp shake and he was letting me pump his arm like it was a rag. He wasn’t looking at me. He was looking at Virgil. “Your wife, she says howdy. She’s at my place.”

“I know,” Virgil said.

“Hey, I just fucked her that one time,” Tim said. “She’s just staying with me. She’s doing some Arab guy runs a convenience store. Over where Fifth meets Main. I don’t let them do it at the house, though. They got to go to his place. Rent a motel. Whatever it is they do. I got some sense of honor.”

“You got the honor of a shitfly,” Virgil said.

Poot came out of the woods, went over to Tim with his tail wagging. Tim bent and gave the dog a pat. “Hey, doggie. Good doggie. Almost got your ass blown off, didn’t you, doggie?”

Virgil said, “Let’s make the next move.”

The next move was we went back to the cabin. The kids were up and playing, dressed in the clothes Virgil had brought. Arnold had changed too. He wore a green Hare a grewaiian shirt with blue pineapples and blue jeans. Beverly had on her offering, a simple blue blouse and blue jeans. The blue jeans fit her a little tight in the ass.

Introductions were made so everyone knew who Tim was. The kids went off to play with Poot out back. They loved his name and kept calling him that. Virg and I told Bev and Arnold how things had gone. Virgil thought for insurance’s sake we should move. Just in case Fat Boy and Snake figured some things out and came calling. He said he and Tim had made arrangements. They helped us pack the groceries and get out. We drove around to the other side of the lake in a kind of caravan, Tim and Poot leading the way in his truck, me following in my truck with Bev and the kids, Virg bringing up the rear, Arnold riding with him.

We came to a massive three story house with about six zillion rooms and a garage big enough for a family of four to live in. The top of the house was made up like an observatory and was mostly glass. Nearby was a satellite dish about the size of a flying saucer.

We got out of our vehicles and gathered out front of the place and took it all in. The kids went down to the dock with a warning from Bev to be careful. Poot followed after, bouncing like a ball.

“Short trip,” I said.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “I found out you was on the lake yesterday, I already started thinking about this place.”

“Yours?” Bev asked.

“Naw,” Virgil said. “Not Tim’s either. We make good money, but we don’t make this kind of money. Not even together. God working full-time don’t make this kind of money.”

“Client of mine owns it,” Tim said. “Runs some drugs now and then. Guns. Whatever’s needed. Does it for one of the bean eatin’ nations. I’ve got him off the hook a few times when the local drug boys practically had his balls in their hands.”

“In other words,” Bev said, “he was guilty.”

“As hell,” Tim said. “Technicalities can do wonders though. I can find a technical fuckup in damn near anything. But my boy’s gone for a few months. Working a deal, I figure. He gives me a key when he leaves. I come out here now and then and noodle with the boats. He doesn’t care. He knows he’s going to have more trouble some time or another. He likes to keep me happy.”

I called the kids over and Poot came running after them. Tim cut off the house’s elaborate security system with a key that fit in a lock behind a movable brick outside the garage. We went into the garage through a side door, past a red Corvette and a Mercedes and on into the house. It was massive.