Joe Lansdale - Cold in July

When I finished talking and started driving home, I thought about what I had done and I wondered how I was going to explain it to Ann. I wasn’t sure I could explain it to myself. Russel was an ex-con and he wasn’t any saint and he didn’t need a son. He needed a nice warm cell and someone to feed him and tell him when to bathe and when to shit and when to breathe. Why did I want to bother with him anyway? What could possibly come of this? Even if I found out who I killed, how would that change things? A dead Wilbur Smith is no better than a dead John Doe. The earth would not shift on its axis either way.

So how did I explain? What could I tell Ann that would make her understand? Should I say that Russel had hands like my father?

When I came in Ann was fixing toast.

“You want some?”

“No. I had a doughnut in town. I’ll have some coffee with you, though.”

“What was with the note? Where have you been?”

“Where’s Jordan?” I asked.

“Asleep still. I thought I’d let him skip day school today. I called in at work. I’m not going either. What about my question?”

“I went to the police station.”

She considered that a moment. “About getting the door fixed?”

“No. I went to talk to them about Russel.”

“Yeah?”

“I asked them to let him go.”

She was busy putting her toast on the plate and now she turned to look at me. “Letting him go?”

“I found a wallet in Jordan’s bedroom. Russel’s. It had a picture of his son in it. It wasn’t the man I shot.”

“You asked the police to let that bastard go after what he did?”

“There wasn’t any way it was Freddy Russel. This guy didn’t look anything like him. The man I shot wasn’t Freddy Russel. I went and asked them to let him go and they did.”

Her knees went weak and she dropped the plate and the toast. The plate broke and the toast went sliding under the table. She leaned her back against the counter and I went over there to help her.

“Stay where you are,” she said. “Don’t touch me.”

“Listen, I spent all morning with Russel.”

“God, they really let him out?”

“He wants to find out the same things I do. Who it was I shot and why they said it was his son and where his son is. We’re going to hire a private detective out of Houston.”

“Richard, you’ve gone nuts. That man tried to kill Jordan.”

“He couldn’t do it.”

“He tried to kill you. If I hadn’t hit him with that goddamn lamp he would have.”

“Maybe,” I said. “I don’t think so. He was a little crazy is all.”

“And now he’s cured?”

“I spent all morning with him and he didn’t try a thing. He talked sensibly. I think he can be trusted. I put him up in a motel.”

Ann went over to the table and pulled out a chair and sat down. “You did what?”

“I put him up in a motel. I’m supposed to call him later.”

“Why don’t you invite him for supper, you dumb shit? Invite him over. Ask him what he wants to eat, ask him what his favorite is. When he’s finished dinner he can take me in the bedroom and fuck me then kill you and Jordan. Maybe then he might like to set the house on fire. We’ve got plenty of matches and we could always buy some kerosene. Have it on hand.”

“Ann, you’re not being reasonable.”

“I’m not? Godalmighty, Richard. What in the world has gotten into you? You’ve flipped that little pea brain of yours.”

“Don’t talk so loud, you’ll wake Jordan up.”

“I’ll talk any goddamn way I want to… God, Jesus Christ, Richard… They let him out?”

“That’s why I know the police were in on this. Hiding the burglar’s identity. Giving him Freddy Russel’s name. Think about it. They wouldn’t have let him out that easy, they just wouldn’t. They didn’t want me to bring in a lawyer and get the whole thing in court and bring some things out they didn’t want to talk about.”

She hadn’t been looking at me, but now she turned her lovely green eyes on me and stared, didn’t say a word, just stared. I felt like I should start braying.

“I can’t believe you,” she said. “I just can’t.” Then she got up and left the room.

I poured myself a cup of coffee and sat at the table and looked at the coffee, and after a while I got up and poured it in the sink and cleaned up the toast and broken dish. I went into the living room and stretched out on our new couch, and I was more exhausted than I thought. I fell asleep immediately, only to be awakened by a soft movement on my forehead.

I opened my eyes and Ann was on her knees next to the couch leaning over me. Her blond hair was falling down her face and onto mine and I could see the fine crow’s feet that had just begun to form at the edge of her magnificent eyes and they looked just fine to me. She had her hand on my forehead, and she was pushing my hair back. “You’re right,” she said. “They wouldn’t have let him go that easy. There’s something going on. I think what you did was stupid and you should have talked to me first, but you’re right, them letting him go like that doesn’t add up. Tell me all of it. Top to bottom.”

“After I kiss you,” I said.

· · ·

My appetite came back and we had coffee and toast and I told her all of it again only in greater detail. I told her exactly how Russel had acted and what he had said to me, and I told her about this Jim Bob Luke character who might be a detective Russel once knew.

“Baby,” she said, “I don’t want to reopen the wound, but Russel could be crazy as a loon, and even if you didn’t kill his son, he may not believe you. He may be planning to get in your good graces so he can get to Jordan. I just think what you did was… stupid.”

“Maybe. But he had his chance to kill Jordan and I couldn’t have stopped him. He chose not to. He had his chance to kill me today, and I think had he wanted to he would have done it and damned anyone seeing him. I don’t think he would have cared, because he knew the police would know he did it, since I was stupid enough to drive off with him. No, I think the man was literally out of his mind from grief, and when it came down to root hog or die, he couldn’t do it. It took all the wind out of his sails. All he wants now is to find his son. I’m not saying I like the guy, I’m just saying I’m not afraid of him now.”

“Okay, he’s out. But what’s it to you, baby? He can search for his son on his own.”

“He hasn’t got the money.”

“That’s his problem,” I could see the spark coming back into her eyes and I wanted to fan it down before we went through a similar scene like the earlier one. Ann had a temper, and even when she cooled, she could flare up faster than a windblown coal.

“The money isn’t just for him. He finds his son, I can find out who it was I killed.”

“What’s it matter?”

“I can find out why the police are doing this.”

“Again, what’s it matter? Jordan is safe, we’re safe, and now Russel is free. Justice is served, and if there’s any more to it, that’s Russel’s problem. It doesn’t matter what the burglar’s name was. He isn’t anyone we’d want to know. He tried to kill you.”

“It’s the principle of the thing.”

“Principle. Who has principles?”

“I do.”

“Yeah, tough guy. The macho code.”

“It’s more than that. I can’t look myself in the eye if I just drop it.”

“So quit using mirrors.”

“Shit, Ann, I can’t do it. You know me better than that.”

“This honor stuff has been okay up until now and kind of cute, Richard. You’ve railed about it before, and it was always something trivial. You told the truth when you could have lied and bettered yourself. Admirable. You stood by a friend when he was down. Nice. You had scruples. Wonderful. But it’s Sunday school stuff. It’s not for real life. Not when it gets big and nasty, baby.”