Percival Everett - Damned If I Do

“José didn’t have no deal.”

“All right. What about the devil shit he was into?”

Emilio shook his head nervously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“The guy kept a rat’s heart in a Baggie. He was into something funny. Listen, you were his friend, so tell me what you know.”

“We were friends. We scored some dope together, got high, got drunk, but I don’t know what he was into, man. Honest. He was acting real strange the last few months. I really didn’t see him that much.”

Lem nodded, starting to believe him. “What do you think of your boss?”

“Mr. Fonda? He’s weird as shit, but he’s okay. You don’t have to worry about him. Listen, José’s mother is going to be all right. Don’t sweat it. She’s not … you know what I mean?”

Everything suddenly fell into place. The Marottas were not about to let some state pathologist desecrate the body of their son. “I know what you mean,” Lem said. “Fonda’s weird?”

“The way he acts. I don’t know. He’s cold like he’s dead or something.” Emilio hadn’t touched his coffee. Now, he sat looking down at the cup.

“You don’t drink coffee?”

“Don’t need it.”

“What was José doing up on Plata Ridge?”

“I don’t know.”

“If he wasn’t hanging out with you, then who was he hanging out with? Do you know who they were?”

“I don’t know. I don’t know nothing. I didn’t see him a lot lately, okay?”

“Okay.” Lem looked at Emilio over the rim of his cup as he finished his coffee. “If you think of anything, give me a call.”

Emilio nodded.

Fragua was eating piñon nuts like crazy, cracking and chewing, and brushing the spent shells off his lap onto the floor of Lem’s truck. Lem looked at him and then at the mess.

“You’re going to clean that up, aren’t you?” Lem asked with a raised eyebrow.

“Clean what up?”

“The shells.”

“This is natural waste, bio-stuff. No need to clean these up. They’ll break down naturally and contribute to the ecosystem, which is your car.” Fragua laughed and sucked at some food that had become caught between his teeth. He looked out the window and yawned. “I love the early morning.”

“Does Mary like to get up early, too?”

“Can’t stand it. She’s a night person. Stays up all hours puttering around the house and watching television. She gets up just after me, though. I don’t know how she does it. She must get four hours of sleep, five tops.”

“I need eight,” Lem said.

“Me, too.” Fragua studied Lem for a moment. “You want to talk about yesterday?”

“Not really. I do have something to tell you. I talked to Emilio last night.”

“Yeah?”

“I found out something about José Marotta’s body.”

“Don’t tell me,” Fragua said. “If you know, that’s fine and let’s keep it that way.”

“You knew,” Lem said.

Fragua looked out the passenger-side window.

“How’d you know?”

“I’m not sure. I guess the Marottas didn’t convince me. Mr. Marotta was too upset and Mrs. Marotta wasn’t upset enough. She didn’t really faint. Hell, I don’t know, but I knew they had him.”

“Enough said on the matter.”

Lem pulled off the highway and onto the dirt road that led to Garapata Mesa. His truck bounced wildly along the wagon-rutted lane even though he was driving slowly.

An unusual morning rain had come through and left the ground just barely wet. Austin cantered around the arena and was pleased to not breathe in the familiar dust. He ran along the north rail and practiced rollbacks. His mule was getting the hang of it, but still he was a mule and wanted to think about everything before he did it. Austin considered the fact that he had to be smarter than his animal. Apparently, spending most of the hours of most of his days working his equine friends hadn’t made him that smart. It had made him broke and divorced, but not smart. Sarah said as she left, “You go out on trails all right, but what you really love is riding around in circles.” She said that and drove away in a Chevy with a weak battery to the house of another man.

“Damn if that ain’t the horsiest-looking mule I ever saw,” Dwight Twins said from the gate. He had one of his small, sneakered feet set up on the bottom rail.

Austin turned the mule and let him walk toward the man. “How long have you been there?”

“Couple minutes. Long enough to pronounce that the fastest mule in the county. Does he go where you want him to?”

“On occasion.” Austin leaned forward to rub the animal’s big red neck. “I’m thinking of trying him at steer wrestling in the little rodeo.”

“I thought he was scared of cows.”

“It’s true he doesn’t like them that much, but he’s not afraid of them anymore.”

“Well, good luck.” Dwight spat onto the ground, his way of indicating his own sarcasm.

“I was wondering if you’d come be my hazer.”

“Can’t. Gotta drive up to Pueblo and pick up a horse for Delores Rainey. Get Dougie to do it for you.”

Austin laughed. “Dougie couldn’t haze a steer straight if he ran a cable through his mouth and out his ass.”

“Anyway,” Dwight said, “you should ride up to Colorado with me instead of killing yourself down here. You don’t need no rodeo to prove that mule.”

“Maybe you’re right.”

“Delores wants me to pick up her little brother in Trinidad on the way back.”

“I didn’t know she had a brother.”

“Me neither. I guess he’s a fuckup.”

“There’re a few of those around.” Austin swung his right leg over the mule’s neck and slid off the saddle.

“So, what do you say? Pass up a mouth full of dirt and a broken collar bone for a long boring drive and stale, predictable conversation?”

“When you put it that way.” Austin loosened the girth and scratched the mule’s belly. “Delores must be eighty. How old is this little brother?”

“I don’t know. Seventy? I don’t know. His name is Myron, but she calls him Yeahbutt.”

Austin looked at Dwight.

“She told me he always has to have the last word, so he’s always saying, ‘Yeah, but.’”

“Cute. So, what’s Yeahbutt doing in Trinidad?”

“Don’t know. Delores gave me the address and an extra fifty. That’s all I need.”

“Okay, I’ll go.”

“Pick you up at five.”

“Make it five-fifteen so I can get the animals fed.”

Dwight Twins was famous for being late except for mornings when he was early. He showed up at 4:00 and Austin was just struggling into consciousness.

“Am I early?” Dwight asked.

“Hell yeah, you’re early.” Austin rubbed his eyes. “It’s four o’clock, man. Jesus, what do you do? Drive around waking up roosters?”

“Sorry.”

“Well, make some coffee while I get dressed.”

“It’s going to rain later on,” Dwight said. “Weather Wally predicted it on the radio.”

Austin closed the bathroom door and leaned on the sink, looked at his face in the mirror. “Weather Wally can’t predict daybreak.”

Austin got dressed, sipped from a mug of coffee, then put it down. “I’ll go feed the animals and we can grab a bite on the road.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

“Well, it ain’t.”

“You’re not pretty in the morning, are you?”

Austin climbed into the passenger seat of Dwight’s truck and stopped him before he was out of the yard. “What did you do? Did you take all the stuffing out of this seat?”