Joe Lansdale - Lost Echoes

“But where’s the body? Why would they take him there? Why the shelter?”

“According to you, whoever did the murder knew that shelter. Right?”

“Seemed that way. Still, what about the body? Where is it?”

“Haven’t figured that part. There are a number of things I haven’t figured. You see, Harry, the house my dad lived in, it’s sold, but the garage is still there, locked up. It belongs to me. It was in some kind of will or trust or something. It’s mine. I’ve been there several times, and—”

“You want me to go there?” he said.

Kayla nodded. “You have a unique ability.”

“God, Kayla…It’s not easy. It’s not like watching a movie. I get…sensations, feelings. I’ve just now gotten to where the little stored-up things, accidents and fights and arguments that I hear from some bang or clang trapped in a car, a stone, or whatever…It’s just now that that stuff doesn’t drive me crazy. I’ve been working hard on that. I don’t want to dive right back into it.”

“It’s a lot to ask—”

“More than a lot.”

“—and I don’t want you to think it’s the only reason I’m glad to see you, but…it’s important, Harry. Don’t you think? Solving a murder? My father’s murder?”

“Jesus, Kayla. You don’t know what you’re asking.”

“I know what I’m asking. I’m asking for you to help me know what happened. He was murdered. I’m sure of it.”

Harry sat and thought for a long time. When he looked up, Kayla was watching him intently.

“I don’t think so,” he said.

She looked as if she had just been pushed off a cliff. She nodded. “All right…I’ll give you a ride home.”

45

Lying on his couch in his undershorts, Harry listened to the afternoon wind wrap itself around the apartment. He wondered why wind didn’t carry all manner of messages. Seemed as if all the horrors and terrors and bad things of the world would be on the wind. Was it just too flexible to hold it all?

He wondered why the big, bad sounds hid in rocks and wood and plastic and stone. He wondered why people his age liked rap music. He wondered why cats were popular pets. He wondered why in the middle of the day, even when he felt tired, like now, he couldn’t go to sleep. He wondered if Jimmy was beating someone up right now, or if McGuire might be in on some kind of kill. He thought about all manner of shit to keep from wondering about Kayla.

She didn’t know what she was asking. Not really.

If she did, she wouldn’t ask.

Or maybe she would.

If it were his dad died that way, would he put himself through this business? Would he?

Course he would.

Harry sat up in bed and looked around his room. His prison cell.

Shit. I’m gonna be sick and scared and miserable and keep telling myself how goddamn good I’m doing, I might as well turn it all into something positive.

He got up and found his pants and pulled his wallet out and got Kayla’s number out of it. He called. She answered right away.

“One condition.”

“Name it.”

“I might ask for your body.”

“I might give it to you.”

“What I want is to bring a friend along. Someone I trust and who can sort of help you watch after me, because I may need it.”

“That’s not saying much for my body.”

“Your body is just fine, and, frankly, I wouldn’t mind having designs on it. But not for a favor.”

“Not really offering, Harry.”

“Got to understand, this is some scary shit to me, Kayla, and I don’t want to do it, but I think maybe I should. Think it’s the way I can find my way out of all this, or at least find some kind of goddamn point to it all. Understand?”

“Mostly.”

“About the friend?”

“Bring him.”

Harry called Tad and drove over to Kayla’s place.

When Tad arrived, Kayla opened the door. Tad said, “There’s a goddamn dog standing on my car. That your dog?”

“Nope. That’s Winston. He belongs next door.”

“He’s on my Mercedes.”

“He doesn’t stay long.”

“Damn well better not. Sorry. You must be Kayla.”

“Yep.”

“Nice perfume. Plenty of it, but nice.”

Tad looked back over his shoulder. “Now he’s on the roof,” he said.

“He’ll do that,” Kayla said.

“He’s lucky I like dogs.”

Tad came inside and shook Kayla’s hand. “You are just as pretty as Harry said you were.”

“He said that?”

“If he didn’t, he should have. He also said you smell nice.”

Kayla closed the door and looked at Harry, who stood embarrassed nearby. After more formal introductions were made and more coffee was prepared, Tad wandered nervously about, said, “I see you play darts. Mostly you miss. Your door looks like Swiss cheese.”

“Do you play?”

“With others not so well, but darts, some. My guess is, though, you didn’t bring me here to play darts. Am I right?”

“No,” Harry said. “We didn’t.”

Tad strolled over to the bear with the block of darts between its ears. He pulled the darts out, swiftly tossed them at the target. He rapidly shifted the darts from his left hand to his right. He seemed to merely flex his wrist. The darts crowded the bull’s-eye.

“Good grief,” Kayla said.

“Martial arts,” Harry said. “This guy is good.”

“Thank you,” Tad said.

“He doesn’t just know how to whip your ass, he knows how to throw things at you. Incidental weapons, he calls it. Isn’t that right, Tad? Darts. Rings. Blades.”

“That’s right. And I do a pretty good Jimmy Durante impression.”

“Who?” Kayla asked.

“Well, one thing,” Tad said, “I don’t do a good one, you wouldn’t know…. Before your time, gal. Almost before mine. Forget it.”

“You can have the darts and the board, you want them,” Kayla said. “Me, I’m just sticking them in the door. I’m serious, you leave, take them with you. They just tempt me.”

“Thanks,” Tad said, and dropped the darts into his coat pocket. “So now do we discuss dominoes or tiddlywinks?”

Harry shook his head. “What I need, Tad, is a little favor.”

“Name it, kid.”

46

Darkness was creeping along the edge of the skyline, sliding shadows through the trees, when they arrived at the garage in Tad’s Mercedes.

It wasn’t much. Just a big tin building. There weren’t even any electric wires attached to it. It sagged on one side.

When they got to the door, breathing cold air out in white blasts, Kayla gave Harry her flashlight, used a key to open the padlock, and, with Tad’s help, slid the door back.

It was dark inside and very cold and it smelled like dried grease and dust. The last of the day’s light dropped inside like a dead man falling. Kayla took the flashlight back and flashed it around.

There were long tables with car parts and fan belts and rubber hoses on it, a grease rack to the right, and a pit beneath it. The beam filled with dust motes. She poked it at the grease pit. It was as Harry expected it would be: dark and greasy. Roaches scattered.

“You’re asking a lot, lady,” Tad said. “The kid’s got enough bugs in his head without you helping to put more there.”

“I realize what I’m asking,” Kayla said.

“Yeah,” Tad said. “I’m not so sure.”

“It’s okay, Tad,” Harry said. “Got this problem, ought to do something with it besides be afraid all the time. Turn it into a gift if I can. That’s a good thing, isn’t it? Gives me some kind of meaning.”

“Your call, kid,” Tad said. “Just think Kayla ought to know what she’s asking.”

“I know why I’m asking,” Kayla said.