Andrew Vachss - Two Trains Running

“Luther’s fine.”

“Beau, please.”

“Cyn, you know how long it takes to roll this damn wheelchair out of here?”

“Well, you could go straight out the back, through that little doorway, if you’d only let me-”

“What? Tear the cellar apart, rip out the stairs, build a whole bunch of… We can’t have that kind of work done on this house, honey. We can’t let outsiders down there. And if we just used our own men, it would take months. The garage, that’s our escape hatch, remember? We could leave from there and never go near a main road for miles. So it was worth whatever time and money it took to get that built. But just so you could wheel me straight out to the backyard? No.”

“Well, even if you won’t let me build what it takes to make it easy, that doesn’t mean you can’t go at all,” Cynthia said, walking behind Beaumont and pulling the wheelchair toward her. “Now, come on!”

1959 October 06 Tuesday 08:19

“You know full well I’m meeting Royal Beaumont himself this very afternoon, Sean,” Shalare said to the bulky man seated across from him in his upstairs office.

“I do, Mickey. And your timing is a thing of beauty, as always.”

“So I need to know,” Shalare went on, as if the other man had not spoken, “what it is, exactly, I’ll be offering him.”

“Offering him? Why, this whole town, son. And everything in it. Dioguardi’s been told, and he’ll do as he’s told. Once the election’s over, for all we care, they can go at each other like rats and terriers.”

Shalare templed his fingertips, touched the tip of his nose, then said, “The way Beaumont looks at it, offering him this town, Sean, that’s like offering a man sex with his own wife.”

“Oh? You did say Beaumont’s worried enough about Dioguardi that he’s brought in a specialist.”

“I did.”

“Doesn’t seem to have actually done anything, this man, does he?”

“There’s those two of Dioguardi’s men that-”

“Ah, you’re not telling me that Beaumont had to send for outside help to handle something like that, are you?”

“No. You’re right there,” Shalare admitted. “But, just because you can’t see the miners, it doesn’t mean the coal’s not being dug.”

“Let me tell you something about trains, Mickey Shalare,” the bulky man said, pointing a stubby finger for emphasis. “You can control the conductor, you can control the engineer, but it’s the men who lay the tracks who get to say where it ends up going.”

“That’s all well said,” Shalare replied, unruffled. “But we’ve been watching Locke City a long time, now. Getting the feel of the land before we plant our crops. And this is what I know about Royal Beaumont: he’s one of your hard men. The genuine article. Hear me, the man’s a pit bull, veteran of a hundred fights. You pull his teeth, he’ll still try and gum you to death. A man like him, he may come at you like a locomotive, but it’ll be on tracks he laid himself.”

“That’s the way he negotiates? Or is he-?”

“All in,” Shalare said, as if reluctantly proud of his adversary.

“I should hope it wouldn’t come to that,” Sean said, judiciously. “But there’s too much riding on this for any one man to be allowed to derail our train. Should it come to it, your Mr. Beaumont’s not the only one who can call in a specialist.”

1959 October 06 Tuesday 10:12

“A ringer!” Luther yelled. “Look, Roy! I got one!”

“Go for the six-pack, Luther,” Seth urged him on. “You can do it.”

The slack-mouthed man hesitated, one of the custom-made “turn shoes” the Beaumonts had given him last Christmas steady in his hand.

“Bring it home, Luther,” Beaumont said. “One more and we’ve got forty. That’ll teach these young bucks to mess with old stags like us.”

Luther stood at the edge of the platform, sighted down the length of the pit to the stake, exhaled slowly, and delicately rainbowed the shoe through the air.

“Damn!” Harley said. “You nailed it, Luther. We’re done.”

Luther’s slack mouth flopped into a wide grin. Beaumont rolled over to him, and extended his hand.

“Easiest hundred bucks I ever made,” he said. “A pure slaughter. You and me, Luther, we’re a hell of a team.”

“Well, you got most of the points, Roy. Nobody pitches as good as you.”

“Yeah? Well, it wasn’t me that went back to back and slammed the door on them, Luther.”

The slack-mouthed man pumped Beaumont’s hand, speechless.

Cynthia caught her brother’s eye, and beamed her approval. Their love arced between them, as palpable as an electric current.

1959 October 06 Tuesday 10:28

“Yes?” Dett said, his voice as inanimate as the receiver he was holding.

“He’d like to see you.” Cynthia’s businesslike voice.

“When?”

“That would depend on your… schedule. He knows you’re working on an important project.”

Dett felt the muscles in his neck unclench. If he wants it for lunch today-anytime today-I can’t do it. But if you don’t come when they call, they start thinking you’ve slipped the leash… “How would tomorrow be?” he said.

“If that’s the soonest you can make it, that would be fine.”

Was there something in her voice?

“I’m still collecting some of the information he wanted,” Dett said. “I expect to have a good bit more of it come in sometime today. Tomorrow, my report would be more complete.”

“I understand. Tomorrow then. You have no time preference?”

“No.”

“Sometime in the evening, then. Say, eight?”

“I’ll be there,” Dett said.

1959 October 06 Tuesday 10:33

Tussy stood before her bedroom mirror, studying her face for the tenth time that morning. Oh, what is wrong with you? she thought. I don’t care if you only got a couple of hours sleep, you don’t gop on the war paint in the daytime. Stop stalling and start cooking! She brushed her tousled hair vigorously, then gave herself a sharp crack on the bottom with the hairbrush. All right, now! She nodded briskly at the mirror, grabbed a fresh pair of dungarees and pulled them on, holding her breath to fasten the waist.

“And what are you looking at?” she said to Fireball, who was curled up on her bed, inspecting her.

What would he want for lunch? she mused, as she walked through her kitchen, idly opening and closing the overhead cabinets. Some men like a big steak. I still have time to go out and- No, wait! That’s too much for lunch. Maybe tuna salad and some… Oh, damn! I should have just asked him…

1959 October 06 Tuesday 10:42

“Where does a man take a girl like you?” Rufus said to Rosa Mae.

“Take me? Rufus Hightower, I-”

“I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, Rosa Mae. I was trying to ask, when you go out, a woman like you, where does a man take you? I know you’re not going for some juke joint, but you don’t seem like you’re the nightclub type, either. I… I guess I don’t know much-hell, I don’t know anything-about where a respectable woman would go on a date. The movies, maybe?”

“Are you taking a survey, Rufus? Because, if you are, there’s a whole lot of women at my church you could go and ask. I’m sure they’d be happy to talk to you.”

“Why you want to make this so hard, Rosa Mae?”

“Me?”

“You, girl. You know how I feel about you. I… declared myself, didn’t I?”

“You said some things. But am I supposed to know you… like me just because you talk to me?”

“Because of what I talk to you about,” Rufus said, earnestly. “About what’s important to me. What I hope will be important to you, too.”

“Rufus, if you want to go out on a date with me, why can’t you just ask me, like any regular man?”