Elmore Leonard: Freaky Deaky

"What was your cut?"

"I'm not in this deal."

"You mean now you're not." Chris said, "We don't have a gun… but you know what we do have-if you haven't thrown it out."

"What do we have?"

"Five sticks of Austin Powder, in a black bag. In this room, the last time I saw it."

Donnell stared at him. He took a moment to say, "It still is." Another moment to say, "But what good is it to us?"

"There's wire in the bag," Chris said, "and a battery.

The battery's probably shot, but I notice there's a flashlight on the bar. Another one by the TV."

"Has 'em all over the house," Donnell said, "the man's afraid of the dark."

Getting up from the desk Chris said, "Bless his heart." ww oody saw naked mole rats coming at him, no hair or eyes, a sack of bones with teeth so big they couldn't close their mouth. Creatures that never saw light, never supposed to come out of the ground, but they were on his bed, on him, naked mole rats crawling up his body and he couldn't move. All he could do was raise his head and scream,

"Yaaaah!"

And the naked mole rats disappeared.

Woody didn't want to open his eyes. He thought now he was in the hospital and had wet the bed during the night. It must be where he was, the bed was cranked up against his back and under his legs, holding him wedged in. Now he believed he could feel tubes in his nose, his arms and his peter and if he opened his robe would see the incision across his tummy and pink stuff seeping out from the infection. It was where they had cut him open looking for an ulcer and found he had acute gastritis, the lining of his tummy raw. He told the doctor he'd cut down on the rich food. The doctor told him he should go easier on the cocktails, too, saying one before dinner wouldn't hurt him. As if there was such a thing as one drink. He began to realize that was six years ago, it wasn't now and there wasn't a tube down his throat-he coughed-it felt like that from not swallowing all night.

He could hear that noise in his ears, that zing zing zing, and the feeling his head was filled with hot exhaust smoke, in his head and his mouth, so wherever he was it must be morning. He wanted to open his eyes a little and reach for the drink on the silver tray, have that first one and feel the relief, oh, Jesus, that would go through him leaving some pain, nausea, but worth it as the feeling got up into his head and began to cool that hot exhaust. He wanted to hear Donnell telling him to rise and shine, open his eyes a little and see the silver tray, the drink in the morning light. He did hear a voice, but it wasn't Donnell's. It was a girl's voice, close to him, saying, "I think he's awake." Then another voice, not as close. Then the girl's voice saying, "Boy, did I sleep." He heard her again, but not so close now, tell the other person, "Don't. My breath must be awful." The other person was a man.

Woody could hear their voices but not what they were saying. Until the girl's voice rose as she said, "But why?"

The man said something and she said, "I don't believe this." The man spoke to her without raising his voice and Woody didn't hear the girl's voice after that. He must have slept again… Now the voice he heard was Donnell's.

"Time to get up."

It was Donnell, but it didn't sound like him. Woody opened his eyes to a dim room.

"Where am I?"

"You home."

Donnell moved closer and Woody saw the drink he was holding, the crystal dull; there was no morning light shining on it, but that was all right. Woody took the drink in his hands, secure now, able to spare a moment. He said to Donnell, "I saw the mole rats again."

"Is that all, just the rats?" Donnell said.

"Gonna put your other drink in your coffee. Come on to the bathroom now and throw up. They waiting on you."

Oreta, seated, watched Donnell follow Woody out of the library and close the door.

"That poor guy… I'm glad I changed my mind." She pulled herself out of the chair and raised her arms, stretching, looked around to see Chris standing behind Woody's desk, staring at it.

"I wouldn't mind a cup of coffee," Greta said.

"Is it okay if I ask?"

Earlier this morning Chris had told her they were watching the commission of a crime and there was nothing they could do about it or be able to prove later. That Robin and Skip were going to walk off with a lot of money and would be on edge; they had guns, so don't say anything to make them mad. That was all he told her and answered questions after that saying he didn't know.

Chris said, "Let's see if we can get a cup," coming around from behind the desk.

"I'd like to talk to Woody too," Greta said, "if it's okay.

I'm gonna accept his original offer of twenty-five thousand.

If he still wants to give it to me, fine. If he doesn't-well, the hell with it."

Chris stopped close to Greta. He put his arms around her and kissed her and said, "You're fun, you know it?"

Greta said, "I wish I felt like it."

Skip brought Chris and Greta into the kitchen at gunpoint, seated them on a bench with their backs to a wall of cupboards, then with Robin's help shoved the table up against them, tight. Chris watched Skip slip the.38 into his waist, behind him and beneath the black Speedball jacket.

Robin carried the Clock in front, shoved into her jeans. She stood at the sink with a cup of coffee and a cigarette.

Chris said to her, "You're having fun, aren't you?"

Robin said, "Not as much as I'm going to have."

Skip brought cups to the table and poured coffee. Now Donnell, a bottle of cognac in his hand, brought Woody in and got him seated at the end of the table.

Robin said, "Bring the phone over."

Donnell looked at her and said, "You want the phone, you bring it over." He poured cognac into Woody's coffee.

Chris watched Robin, the pistol grip tight against her white sweater, wishing to God he hadn't brought it. She kept staring at Donnell.

After a few moments Robin brought the phone from a counter to the table, placing it in front of Woody. He looked at it, then up at Donnell.

"What about Beaver?"

Chris could smell him; the man looked sick, in a daze.

"You early this morning," Donnell said.

"The Beaver come on after while, when I give you your Alpha-Bits."

Skip said, "Is that what he eats? Does he want some eggs? I'll fix him some."

Donnell shook his head.

"We out of eggs."

"I can fix 'em any way you want," Skip said.

"I was a short-order cook one time in L.A." when I was looking for movie work."

"That's where I saw you," Greta said, "I've been trying to think. It was while they were making that movie, week before last. You were talking to people on the set."

"You watch some of that?"

"I was in it."

Skip said, "Well, I didn't know you were a movie star."

"I was only in one scene, but I had lines. The director said, well, that I did okay."

"He's a good one," Skip said, "Ray Heidtke. I worked for him before.

If he likes you he'll use you again."

"You think so?"

Chris, listening, wanted to ask Greta something, but he was watching Robin with her fidgety little moves: the way she smoked the cigarette, looked at the clock, sucked on that cigarette again looking at Skip-not liking what was going on, left out-and mashed the cigarette in the sink.

She said, "All right, let's do it."

Donnell looked at the clock.

"It's only five till."

"Humor me," Robin said.

And Chris thought, Please.

Donnell picked up the phone and said to the man, "You ready? We gonna transfer the money now." The man looked up at him through the blood in his eyes not knowing shit what it was all about, lost in his head, but nodding, saying oh, yeah, sure he was ready. Donnell dialed and said into the phone, "Doris, how you doing?… Don't have time to chat this morning, here's Mr. Ricks." The man took the phone from him, said, "Hi, Doric, how are you?… Yeah, I guess we are." He said, "Heeeeere's Donnell," doing his routine, and handed the phone back grinning. Donnell, not feeling any grins inside him, told Doris straight Mr. Ricks was moving a million seven from his trust account to the commercial one, gave her the account numbers by heart and listened to her repeat the whole thing.