After a couple days had gone by—because in Mexico nobody gets in a hurry—they began to seriously suspect we might not have done it. The authorities allowed me to send word back to the States in the form of a phone call. I got hold of Charlie. Told him to come see what he could do, and to bring any kind of help he could bring. The Army might be a good idea.
While we sat and waited, Leonard said, “I don’t know how you do it, Hap. You’ve just got the knack.”
“What?”
“Trouble. You step in it the way kids step in mud puddles. You just can’t go around it, and when you try to jump over it, you fall in it. It’s a knack, brother.”
“Poor Beatrice,” I said.
“Yeah,” Leonard said. “Poor Beatrice. And poor Ferdinand. I wonder about him.”
We had warned the Mexican authorities that Ferdinand’s life might be in danger as well, but again they gave us the Easter Island treatment. It was the same when we told them about Billy’s friends. That was about as exciting to them as egg salad.
“If Ferdinand is alive,” I said, “you don’t think he thinks we did it, do you?”
“Naw. Hey, Billy Boy.”
Billy, who was sitting against the wall with his head hung, looked up.
“Go over there and put your goddamn nose in the corner. I’m sick of looking at you”
Billy went, stood with his nose in the corner like a child.
“When I judge fifteen minutes, I’ll let you out of the corner,” Leonard said, “but don’t you fuckin’ look at me, you hear?”
“Yeah,” Billy said.
“Change that to Yes sir, Mr. Pine, sir, or you ain’t even imagined the beating you’ll take, you piece of shit.”
“Yes sir, Mr. Pine, sir.”
“Now you’re cookin’ with gas.”
We were sitting close together on Leonard’s bunk, talking quietly. I said, “You don’t think Billy did it, do you?”
“No. I think he got thrown out the night before, just like he said. He didn’t get the lovin’ he thought he was gonna get, and the next mornin’ he was still mad, and when she didn’t answer the door, he thought you were casting your harpoon, so he got the gun and came to scare you.”
“But you scared him.”
“I did. But, if you had answered the door, you would have scared him. Maybe not as good as me, but good enough.”
Next afternoon Charlie arrived with Jim Bob Luke.
Charlie had gotten rid of the straw boater and had gone back to his porkpie. He was also wearing a Hawaiian shirt as usual.
Jim Bob is a private investigator and hog farmer out of Pasadena, Texas. A friend of Charlie’s. He saved my life once.
He was wearing a blue western shirt with silver snaps, jeans that looked as if they had seen a lifetime of rodeos, and a white hat, creased, the brim turned up sharply on both sides. He had a little feather in the hatband and a toothpick in his mouth. The hatband was made out of rattlesnake hide and it still had the head on it, but he probably could have done without it.
He came and peeked at us through the bars.
“Damned, if this ain’t the Ritz-Carlton, and you boys are uglier than I remember.”
“And you’re just as sweet as I remember,” Leonard said.
“Gettin’ lots of hog pussy, Jim Bob?” I said.
“Just if they get muddy,” Jim Bob said. “That’s the way I like it. They twist them little curly tails and it’s all I can do not to cream my jeans.”
“You’re a sick sumbitch, Jim Bob,” I said.
“I tell you,” Jim Bob said, “you boys got a way of gettin’ your dicks between the ground and a horse hoof, don’t you?”
“Hap does. And I suffer because of it.”
“Leonard, you’re a fuckup that’s got an excuse,” Jim Bob said. “Without Hap, you’d fuck up on your own. It’s just you boys’ nature. I know. I’m the same way. Damn, it smells like a goddamn fart in here.”
“They feed us a lot of beans,” I said.
Charlie hadn’t said a word. He took off his porkpie hat and slapped it on his thigh for some reason. His face wore the look of a very tired man or maybe just one who wished he had a better class of friends.
“I’ve got Veil in the other room talking,” he said.
“No shit,” I said.
“No shit,” he said.
Veil had helped Leonard once after he burned down a crack house. His defense was basically Leonard thought he was exterminating rats by destroying it. It worked. Leonard got away with a warning. If there was anyone who could legally get us out of this thing, it was Veil.
Veil wasn’t a big guy, average height, black hair gone gray, a slightly Mediterranean look, one good eye, the other covered with a black pirate patch. He had the demeanor of someone who could roll strikes in a bowling alley with his nuts.
“What’s Jim Bob doing here?” Leonard asked. “I mean, I’m glad you might have brought him along to hold my dick while I pee, but what else is he good for?”
“My hogs speak highly of me,” Jim Bob said. “Except for the ones I take to the packin’ plant. I reckon their opinion of me lowers dramatically about then.”
“We thought there might be trouble getting you out,” Charlie said, “so I brought Jim Bob. He kind of likes trouble.”
“Don’t say that,” Jim Bob said. “I don’t like trouble. I just know how to deal with it … All right, I sort of like it.”
“Well, I don’t,” I said. “Get us out of here.”
“What about him?” Charlie said, pointing at Billy.
“He’s on his own.”
“Friends he had with him seem to have bailed,” Leonard said.
“He guilty of anything?” Charlie asked.
“Birth,” Leonard said.
Jim Bob, Charlie, and Veil took a room at the hotel, and Veil did his thing. Arguing with the law via translator. I thought with Veil on the case we’d be out that afternoon, but we weren’t.
Billy, who was free to take his nose out of the wall, said, “You know, I didn’t mean to start it off so bad with you guys.”
“Sure you did,” I said.
“All right, but I’m sorry now.”
“I’m sorry I ever met you,” Leonard said.
“Likewise,” Billy said. “I’m sorry I ever came to Mexico.”
Leonard said, “I’m sorry my best friend, my brother, talked me into a fucked-up cruise, got me left in Mexico, stabbed, and then into this shit. That’s what I’m sorry of.”
“Maybe if we’d taken another cruise line,” I said.
“Look,” Billy said. “I just want to get straight with you guys. I didn’t do this to Beatrice. I wanted to fuck her, not kill her.”
“You have such a way with words,” I said.
“Yeah, well, maybe I’m not silver-tongued, but I got a few dollars. I’ll get out of this.”
“You’re so rich, how come your lawyers aren’t all over this?” I said. “I got my lawyer on it, and I’m not rich.”
“Hey, you’re a hero,” Leonard said. “Remember? You got money in the bank.”
“It’s dwindling,” I said.
“It’s my father,” Billy said. “He’s making me suffer a little. He thinks I need to learn a lesson. I know him. I know that’s what he’s doing. I called him, had to leave a message. He could maybe be out of the country, though. So, would you please call him for me if you get out first?”
“Say you’re a chickenshit cocksucker,” Leonard said. “You hear me?”
“All right. I’m a chickenshit—”
“That’s enough,” Leonard said. “I just wanted to know you’d do it. Give me the number.”
“Can we bury the hatchet?” Billy asked. “Well, maybe that’s not what I should have said, considering Beatrice.”
“Maybe not,” Leonard said. “I get your drift. Unless it turns out you had something to do with this—like we’ll ever know—consider it buried. At least as long as we’re in this jail cell.”
“Let me ask you something, Billy,” I said. “If you’re without money now, waiting on your father, what were you going to pay Beatrice with?”
“Well, I would have had to get the money from my father.”
“Would you really have done that?”
“Probably not,” he said. “Will you still call my father?”
“Sure,” I said. “We’ll call once. He’s not there, you’re shit out of luck. I’m not going to make it a career.”
“Thanks. I’ll find a way to write out the phone number for you. You know, that guy in the cowboy hat is right. It does smell like a fart in here.”
“Yeah,” Leonard said, “and I smell it best when you open your mouth.”
20
NEXT DAY we were out. I don’t know what Veil did, but we were out. Basically, I think it was because they didn’t have the evidence to hold us and Veil was one persuasive, smart sonofabitch. But I knew in Mexico, they can hold you anyway, so I figured some money had changed hands.
It didn’t help Billy any. He was there when we left, looking like a friendly dog in the animal shelter, hoping someone would pick him before they came with the needle.
Although Veil and I had known each other for years, in an off and on sort of way, I couldn’t quite figure Jim Bob being in Mexico. We weren’t bosom buddies. Me and Leonard had only met him once before. But he’d apparently taken a liking to us, or maybe he was just bored with hogs, or owed Charlie a favor.
All I knew for certain was once, when the chips were down, and my balls were literally on ice, Jim Bob saved my life. It was a tense situation, punctuated with gunfire and death. But the way Jim Bob acted, you would have thought he had shown up to have a manicure and a massage.
I don’t know I’d vouch for it being true, but Charlie once said Jim Bob was so cool and tough he made Leonard look like a sissy.
One thing for certain, those two ever went at it the sparks would fly so high and hot the moon would catch on fire.
We gathered at a table in the hotel where Jim Bob, Veil, and Charlie were staying. Charlie and Jim Bob were sharing a room. Veil had one of his own. That’s the way Veil is. On his own. Even when he was with you he was on his own.
We bought some food at a café, had it wrapped, brought it up to the hotel. Tamales and fish stewed in some kind of sauce, tortillas and sodas.
We ate while we talked.
“So can we go home?” I said.
“Sooner the better,” Veil said, eyeing me with his good eye. The tan Armani suit he was wearing looked as if it might have been previously worn by one of Jim Bob’s hogs. “Mexican law officials have a way of changing their minds.”
“Or they run out of the money you gave them,” Charlie said.
“So money was paid,” I said. “Jim Bob, was it you?”
“Why the fuck would I do that? I don’t even know you.”
“Oh.”
“It was Charlie,” Veil said.
“Sorry, Charlie,” I said. “It’s just you’re so tight with money I wouldn’t have guessed.”
“Yeah,” Charlie said. “It was my money, and I’m missing it already. I had plans for it. I was gonna do some work on my trailer. Maybe get me a blow-up fuck doll and a refrigerator with an ice maker.”
“They’re nice,” Leonard said. “John’s got one.”
“A doll or a refrigerator with an ice maker?” Charlie asked.
“The refrigerator,” Leonard said. “You got me, you don’t need no blow-up doll … Besides, those male dolls, the dick doesn’t hold air worth a damn. And the balls collapse right away.”
“Don’t suck so hard,” Jim Bob said. “Besides, Charlie gets one, he’ll want a ewe or a heifer. Right, Charlie?”
“Eat shit,” Charlie said.
“Thanks again, Charlie,” I said. “Seriously, we appreciate it.”
“Jim Bob paid for the rooms,” Charlie said. “I only go so far.”
“Thanks,” Leonard said.
“Shit,” Jim Bob said, “I didn’t have nothing to do. Divorce cases lately, and I’m sick of that. I had to sneak around last week and take photos of a fat husband cheating on his fat wife, and he wasn’t even porkin’ some kind of blond bimbo. Had him another porker. It was like I was back at my place, sittin’ in the backyard watchin’ the hogs fuck. Gettin’ that on film, that was ugly. I think there ought to be some kind of law against it.”
“I think there is,” Veil said.
“What the hell were they doin’?” Leonard said. “Fuckin’ out in the open?”
“They had them a picnic spot,” Jim Bob said. “I’d tracked them to it before. It was night. They thought they were safe. But I have an infrared camera. I snuck up on ’em, first I thought two hot air balloons had come down in the park and were bouncing together. But nope, it was just two really fat, ugly people.”
“Your friend, Veil, here,” Charlie said, “you owe him some money too. He put up some of the air flights.”
Veil grinned at me. It was the kind of smile barracudas are famous for. I knew he didn’t want the money, but he sure wanted to make me think he did. It was his idea of a joke. Veil didn’t travel in humor circles much so he kind of laughed at what amused wolves.
“So you all helped us,” Leonard said.
“I brought everygoddamnbody,” Charlie said. “I didn’t have any idea what you two morons might be into. It’s usually pretty deep shit. Actually, I think you got out easy this time. They could have held you until Mexico had a solid economy. In other words, for life.”
“And I want you to know it’s appreciated,” Leonard said. “On the other hand, that appreciation is going to have to go a long goddamn ways. I haven’t got any money to pay you back with. Hap does, though.”
I sighed. “Yep. And it seems to be disappearing faster than sweat on an Eskimo’s lip.”
“I don’t believe they call themselves Eskimos anymore,” Charlie said. “They’re Inuits. Eskimos is not an accepted term anymore.”
“Yeah,” Leonard said, “and the name of the black race isn’t nigger anymore either, but I still hear it.”
“Actually,” Charlie said. “Black is passé. You are now an African-American.”
“Charlie,” Leonard said. “You can kiss my woolly black African-American ass.”
We got transportation to Cancun up the way, flew out of there that afternoon, caught another flight in Mexico City, then headed to Houston Intercontinental. Veil didn’t go with us. Next thing we knew he was gone. We neither saw nor heard him slip out. He was at the airport with us one moment, then he wasn’t.
It didn’t worry me. That’s the way he operated. Showed up when you needed him, disappeared like the Lone Ranger. Or the Patched Ranger in this case.
Veil had his own agenda.
The flight from Cancun made me sick. It was a prop. It was all we could get. It bucked and weaved and threatened to strike the ground. Out of Mexico City it was a jet and a better flight.
Charlie and Leonard sat together, along with a red-faced man in a plaid jacket that liked to talk. I could hear him all the way in the back of the plane where I sat next to Jim Bob. Or almost next. The seat between us was empty. It was occupied by Jim Bob’s hat.
I talked to Jim Bob about the events that led up to Beatrice’s death. I figured I owed him as much of an explanation as possible, considering he’d left his hogs at home with a farmhand and had come all the way down to Mexico to help spring us.
I said, “They let us off easy as they did, I guess they feel certain we didn’t do it? You talked to them. Do they have any idea who did it?”
“No. They sort of like your blond friend for it, but they don’t sound real convinced. I speak damn good Spanish, amigo, and believe me I quizzed them. I’m always curious, even if it isn’t any of my business. Especially if it isn’t any of my business. They just think you guys are gringo assholes down there for Mexican poontang. They think Beatrice was whoring. Did you know she was a call girl?”
“That’s right. An expensive one. Or at least had been.”
“Are you positive?”
“According to them. They say they knew her. But, keep in mind, those boys might lie to an old cowboy.”
“Drugstore cowboy.”
“Hogs may not be cattle, but they got to be tended to.”
“I can’t believe it.”
“Really, hogs are a lot of work.”
“I mean about Beatrice.”
“Oh, well, as I said, that’s what I was told. Said she usually worked pretty high-end, but in the last few years they hadn’t heard from her. Then this. They think she tried to pull a trick, pick up a little extra, got the wrong man, someone who wanted more than a ride in the tunnel, and he did her in.”
“Did they say why?”
“Because he wanted to. Bad hombre.”
“So they don’t really think Billy did it?”
“Being honest, I’m not sure what they think.”
“Yeah, they were fairly inscrutable.”
“I hate to perpetuate a stereotype, but those fellas were about as crooked as a dog’s hind leg. Enough money and they’d think Walt Disney did it.”
“He’s dead.”
“See what I mean.”
“I guess it could have happened that way. But it would have been just what Beatrice feared. This Juan Miguel.”
“Yeah. It could have been revenge against her father.”
“What I’d like to know is where in hell was Ferdinand.”
“The police would like to know too. That way they could pistol-whip him and have him explain a few things. I reckon you guys weren’t Americans, you’d have gotten the bad end of a rubber hose. Irritating the American consulate, though, is not something they like. Pees in the tourist water.”
“Ferdinand took off? That seems odd, considering what happened to his daughter.”
“Maybe he could see the handwriting on the wall, Hap. He knew this Juan Miguel would want him next, and him being killed wasn’t going to bring his daughter back, so he took off in his boat.”
I stewed over these revelations the rest of the way to Houston. At the airport, we caught a shuttle to airport parking. We rode back to LaBorde in Jim Bob’s near-thirty-year-old, blood-red Cadillac, festooned with curb feelers. Inside, fuzzy dice and baby shoes dangled from the mirror, and on the windshield were silhouettes of dogs and people with slash marks through them.
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