When the Women Come Out to Dance

by Elmore Leonard

  "I had a crush on you," Ava said, "from the time I was twelve years old. I knew you liked me, but you didn't want t o show it."

  "You were too young." "I was sixteen when you left. I heard you got married. Ar e you still?"

  Raylan shook his head. "Turned out to be a mistake."

  "You want to talk about mistakes . . . I told Bowman I w anted a divorce? He goes, 'You file, you'll never be see n again.' Said I'd disappear from the face of the earth."

  "I hear he used to beat you up."

  "That last time--I've still got a knot where I fell and hit my head on the stove. You want to feel it?" She was touchin g her scalp, fingers probing into her wild-looking hair, and he r expression changed. She said, "Oh my God, don't look at me," p ulling the T-shirt over her head, the hem of the housedres s rising to show her legs hurrying away from him. "Close you r eyes, I don't want you to see me like this." But then sh e stopped before going in the bedroom and looked back at him.

  "Raylan, the minute you walked in I knew everything would be all right."

  The bedroom door closed and he wanted to go knock on it before she started assuming too much. Show her he was a federal marshal and tell her why he was here. But then had to ask himself, Why are you? Art had said she didn't want protection. He'd offer it anyway. No, he was here to get a lead on Boyd. Kissing her had confused his purpose there for a minute.

  Raylan walked over to the table where they said Bowman was sitting. He looked in the kitchen at a pile of dishes in th e sink--Ava letting her housework go, letting herself go, no t knowing what was to become of her. But she had all of a sudden pulled herself together, ashamed of the way she looked, W a nd it sounded like she was expecting him to see her throug h this. And if she was, what was he supposed to do? For on e thing they'd better quit kissing.

  It wasn't a minute later the front door banged open and a guy wearing alligator teeth walked in the house.

  Gator teeth, spiked hair dyed blond and a tattoo on his chest, part of it showing the way his shirt hun g open. He stood there looking Raylan over before saying , "Who in the hell are you, the undertaker?"

  Raylan got his hat from the sofa and set it on his head the way he wore it. He said, "I might be undertaking a situatio n here. Lemme see what you have on your chest," wanting thi s skinhead with hair to open his shirt.

  He did, held it apart to show Raylan his HEIL HITLER tattoo, no weapon stuck in his belt. Raylan decided not to mess with Adolf Hitler, saying now, "You buy that necklace o r poach the gator and yank her teeth out?"

  It got the skin to squint at him but still wanting to tell, because he said, "I shot her and ate her tail."

  Now Raylan squinted to show he was thinking. "That would put you in Florida, around Lake Okeechobee."

  It got the skin to tell him, "Belle Glade."

  "Is that right?" Raylan reached into his inside pocket for his ID case. "I sent a boy to Starke was from Belle Glade, fell a name Dale Crowe Junior." He flipped open the case to sho w his star. "I'm Raylan Givens, deputy United States marshal."

  He flipped the case closed. "You mind telling me who you are?"

  The skin was staring now like he did mind and had to decide whether or not to tell. Raylan said, "You know your name, don't you?" "It's Dewey Crowe," the skin said, putting some defianc e into the sound of it. "Dale Junior's my kin."

  Raylan said, "Man, that's some family you belong to. I k now of four Crowes either shot dead or sent to prison. Tel l me what you're doing here."

  Dewey said, "I come to take Ava someplace," and started toward the bedroom.

  Raylan held up his hand and it stopped him.

  "Lemme tell you something, Mr. Crowe. You don't walk in a person's house 'less you're invited. What you better do, g o on outside and knock on the door. If Ava wants to see you I'l l let you in. She doesn't, you can be on your way."

  Raylan watched him, curious as to how this boy wearing alligator teeth would take it--big, ugly teeth but no apparen t weapon on him.

  What he said was, "All right." Keeping it simple to show he was cool. He said, "I'm gonna go out.'' Paused to set up th e rest of it and said, "Then I'm coming back in." He turned an d went out the door, leaving it open.

  Raylan came over to stand in the doorway. He watched young Mr. Crowe hurrying toward his car standing in th e road, an old rusting-out Cadillac, and watched him raise th e trunk lid.

  Raylan took off his suitcoat and hooked it on the doorknob. He wore a blue shirt with a mostly dark-blue striped tie. He reset his hat on his head. Now his hand wen t to the grip of the revolver on his right hip, the .45-calibe r Smith & Wesson, but did not clear it from the worn leathe r holster.

  He watched Dewey Crowe bring a pump shotgun out of the trunk and start back this way, all business now, his min d made up, his dumb pride taking him to a place it would b e hard to back out of.

  Though he hadn't racked the pump to put a shell in the breech.

  Still hadn't as he slowed up seeing Raylan in his shirtsleeves, Dewey Crowe taking careful steps now, holding the shotgun out in front of him.

  Raylan said, "Mr. Crowe? Listen, you better hold on there while I tell you something."

  It stopped him about fifty feet away, his shoulders hunched.

  "I want you to understand," Raylan said, "I don't pull my sidearm 'less I'm gonna shoot to kill. That's its purpose, huh , to kill. So it's how I use it."

  Speaking hard words in a quiet tone of voice.

  "I want you to think about what I'm saying before you act and it's too late."

  "Jesus Christ," Dewey said. "I got a fuckin' scatter gun pointed right at you."

  "But can you rack in a load," Raylan said, "before I put a hole through you?"

  Raylan stepped out to the yard. He said, "Come on," pushing the barrel of the shotgun aside to tak e Dewey by the arm and walk him out to the car, a piece of jun k but still a Cadillac.

  "Where'd you want to take Ava?" Dewey said, "Man, I don't understand you."

  "Boyd want to see her?"

  "It's none of your business."

  "You know Boyd and I were buddies? We dug coal and drank beer together." Raylan opened the car door. "You se e him, tell him I'm in Harlan."

  Dewey didn't say anything getting in the car. He had to turn the key a few times before it caught. Raylan reache d through the open window and put his hand on his shoulder. "I w as you, boy, I'd drop this Nazi bullshit and get back t o poaching gators, it's safer."

  Dewey looked up at him. As he said, "The next time I see you . . ." only got that far before Raylan took a handful of hi s spiked hair and brought his head down hard on the windowsill. Raylan hunched over now to look into the face tightened with pain.

  "Listen to me. Tell Boyd his old buddy wants to see him, Raylan Givens."

  VI.

  He went back in the house to find Ava in the kitchen pouring Jim Beam, Ava in a tank top and shorts, he r hair wrapped in a towel that was like a white turban aroun d her head. She said, "Who was that?" not sounding too interested. He told her and she said, "Oh, the one with Heil Hitler on his chest, he was one of Bowman's buddies."

  "He came to take you someplace."

  "Most likely to see Boyd. You want something with yours?

  I've got Diet Co'Cola, RC Cola, Dr Pepper . . ."

  "Just ice, if you have some."

  "I ever forget to fill the trays Bowman'd start slapping me.

  'What's wrong with you? Don't you know how to keep house?' "

  The towel covering her hair made the rest of her seem more exposed, white and kind of puffy, more to her, like she ha d gained a good twenty pounds since taking off the housedres s that hung on her. He saw now it was that wild hair that ha d made her face appear drawn. He noticed bruises on her pal e skin, on her arms and legs, that made her appear soiled, and , oh man, her behind filled out those shorts--Raylan watchin g her carrying their drinks to the table where she had shot he r husband.

  "I cleaned it up good. Had to scrub the wall there w
ith Lysol to get, you know, the stains off it. I think Lysol's th e best cleaning product you can buy."

  Raylan sat down at the table with her. "You haven't seen Boyd, have you? I mean since?"

  "No, but he'll be after me, I know. He's been after me."

  "That's why we want to keep an eye on you," Raylan said.

  "You know I'm with the Marshals Service."

  "I believe was your mother told me, before she passed."

  Ava lit a cigarette from a pack lying on the table and blew a stream of smoke by him. "I made the mistake of telling Bowman about his brother coming around and he whipped me with his belt. Didn't want to believe it." She drew on the cigarette again. Smoke came out as she said, "Here's a man was so jealous he'd stop by Betty's to check on me."

  "Betty's?" "Hair Salon, where I work, or did. I trained under Betty washing hair, giving perms. I do hair now for special occasions, weddings, graduations I do a bunch of the girls. Yeah, Bowman'd stop by and look in. . . . He'd get on me for th e least thing. Like if he found a hair in his baked possum? Or I d idn't get out all the scent glands? He'd have a fit, throw hi s supper at me, the plate, the whole mess."

  Raylan listened, sipping his drink, wanting to get back to Boyd.

  "I wish I could move, go someplace and open my own hair salon. Where do you live?"

  "West Palm Beach."

  "Is it nice?"

  "Palm trees and traffic, if you're going anywhere."

  Ava drew on her cigarette and started to grin. She turned it off exhaling the smoke and said, "I think Bowman's problem , besides being stupid, he wasn't raised properly. He had th e worst table manners. Like he'd be sitting here, he'd lean ove r to one side and get a look like he was concentrating on som e deep thought? Furrow his brow and let a fart. It didn't matter he was having his supper. But the worst, oh my Lord, were the beer farts, the next morning when he was hungover? I'd have to leave the house."

  Raylan managed to smile, nodding his head.

  "That's the way he always was, either drunk or hungover, or gone. Off playing soldier with his brother."

  "You have any idea where he is?"

  Ava looked at him funny. "I imagine he's in Hell. Where else would he be?"

  "I mean Boyd."

  "Boyd's on his way there. You gonna arrest him?"

  "We have to catch him in the act first. Robbing a bank, blowing up a church . . . making an attempt on your life . . ."

  "Mine?"

  "You said yourself he'll be coming after you."

  " 'Cause he likes me. Boyd don't want to shoot me, Raylan, he wants to"--she shrugged in a cute way--"go to bed wit h me." Ava stubbed out her cigarette, her eyes warm as sh e looked at him and put her hand on his. "You want me to hel p you catch him?"

  Raylan sipped his drink. "How about if you get him to talk to me?"

  "I could do that."

  Ava got up and Raylan's gaze followed her into the kitchen. He said, "I hear he has a place up by Sukey Ridge."

  Then had to wait for Ava to come back to the table with the Jim Beam and a bowl of ice.

  "It's his church," Ava said, freshening their drinks. "He's only there when he gets his skinheads together. There's a fun bunch. They sit around drinking beer and listening t o black-hater bands, different ones like the Midtown Boot Boys , Dying Breed, all bopping their bald heads. They are s o creepy."

  "Boyd doesn't stay there?"

  "Bowman said he has places around nobody knows about, not even all the skins." Ava took a drink and said, " 'Cept I k now of one," giving Raylan a sly look with those brown eye s he remembered. "Was Boyd, not Bowman, told me where h e stays most of the time."

  Raylan took a drink. "You want to tell me where it is?" Ava said, "What do I get if I do?"

  VII.

  It was Devil Ellis saw the car headlights out the window, moving up the grade, and told Boyd somebody wa s coming. Boyd folded the map full of arrows and circles the y were looking at and shoved it into the table drawer.

  Devil, at the window now, peering out from under his black hat, said, "Who do you know drives a Town Car?"

  Walking to the door Boyd said, "Why don't we find out," e ach being cool in front of the other.

  Devil said, "Ain't anyone I've seen before."

  Boyd opened the door and watched the man in the cocked Stetson approach out of the dark. Boyd, grinning now becaus e he was glad to see him, said, "It's my old buddy, Rayla n Givens."

  Raylan had to smile seeing the way Boyd was waiting for him, holding out his arms now, Boyd saying , "God damn, look at you, a suit and necktie, all dressed up t o look like a lawman." He gave Raylan a hug, patting his back , Raylan letting him for old times' sake. As they stepped apar t Boyd looked over at Devil. "Here's how you wear a hat, casual , not down on your goddamn ears."

  Raylan looked him over, recalling a Devil Ellis on Art Mullen's skinhead list. This one was giving Raylan a deadeyed look, showing he wasn't impressed, as Boyd was saying, "I hear you called on Ava. Boy name Dewey Crowe said he ra n you off."

  "You believe that?"

  "Not if you say it ain't so. Ava's the one told you I was here?"

  "I talked her into it. Told her I wouldn't tell anybody."

  "How do you know she didn't send you to me?" Boyd winked. "So I could decide what to do with you."

  "I'll take care of him," Devil said, wanting in on what was going on.

  Raylan didn't bother with him. He said to Boyd, "I doubt she even knows this is the house was foreclosed on. Prett y slick, move back in figuring nobody would look for you here."

  Raylan saying it as he began to look around at the front room of this farmhouse that was spare of furnishing--a table and a few straight chairs on the linoleum floor--but looked like a gallery with all the white supremacy symbols framed on th e wall. There were emblems representing the KKK, Aryan Nations, the Hammerskins, SS thunderbolts, RAHOWA with a death's head that stood for Racial Holy War, swastikas on a n Iron Cross, over an eagle, Nazi Party flag with swastika . . .

  Raylan said, "You all sure like swastikas," and looked over at Boyd. "What's the spiderweb?"

  "You get it tattooed on your elbow if you done time or killed some minority, Jew or a jigaboo."

  "Boyd, you know any Jews?"

  "A few. I also know they run the economy, control the Federal Reserve and the IRS. I recruit skins don't know any more'n you, have to show 'em why we have a moral obligatio n to get rid of minorities. Read your Bible."

  "It's in there?" "Part of Creation. Back at the beginning of time you go t your mud people, referred to as beasts 'cause they don't hav e souls. Okay, Adam jumped Eve and she begat Abel, the beginning of the white race as God intended. But then Satan in the form of a snake jumped Eve. She begat Cain and thing s got out of hand. Cain began fucking mud people, the women , and out of these fornications came the Edomites. And yo u know who the Edomites are?"

  "Tell me."

  "The Jews."

  "You're serious."

  "Read your Bible as interpreted by experts."

  "Are you born again?"

  "Again and again."

  "I think you're putting me on," Raylan said, noticing silver chains now hanging from deer antlers, on the wall with photos taken of Boyd in Vietnam. Raylan walked over an d Boyd followed him.

  "They look like dog turds now, but they's ears I took offa dead gooks I killed. After I got back I use to offer a pair to different women I was seeing."

  "No takers, huh?"

  "It was like a test. A woman that won't accept a pair and wear 'em proudly ain't the one I'm looking for. We invit e these little Nazigirls up to the church? Chelsea girls they'r e called--shitkickers, hair under their armpits--any one of 'e m would wear a pair of the ears, fight over 'em, but they're no t my type. I like a woman ain't afraid of nothing but more feminine in her ways, more womanly."

  "Like Ava," Raylan said.

  "Listen, I called her up--" Boyd stopped and looked over at Devil. "Go on get us a jar and a couple gl
asses." He raise d his voice, "Clean ones," as Devil went out to the kitchen.

  Boyd turned to Raylan. "He just got his release, so he's looking for action."

  "I can tell," Raylan said.

  "Was down three years on a marijuana conviction--you know it's grown all around here. Devil couldn't convince th e court what he had was for personal use. Four hundred pound s in two refrigerators."

  Raylan sensed a connection between Devil and the marijuana church in Cincinnati and said, "We were thinking to sell this house to a black man, see if it might bring you out i n the open."

  Boyd said, "Your nigger would never've known what hit him."

  Devil came with a jar of shine no meaner-looking than water, a few specks of charcoal in it, his fingers in the three glasses he placed on the table.

  Boyd shoved one of the glasses back to him. "This is me and Raylan's party. You aren't invited." Devil seemed to want to argue, give a reason to stay. Boyd told him go on, get outta here.

  Now he poured their drinks, a few inches of pure corn into each glass. "I don't like him hearing things he's liable to tak e the wrong way."

  Raylan said, "How you feel about Ava?" He took a sip. It was smooth, but caused saliva to rise in his mouth and mad e him swallow a couple of times.

  "I called her up," Boyd said. "I told her the only reason I d idn't take her out and shoot her, I saw she had no choice in what she done. I told her she showed spunk for a woman, no t knowing what I'd do about it. I told her another reason wa s the Bible saying a man should see to the needs of his brother's widow, and that I intended to take care of her."

  "Bless your heart," Raylan said.

  "Don't get smart with me. I meant it."

  "Boyd, you use the Bible to get what you want, same as you use all this white supremacy bullshit to rob banks an d raise hell, blow up a church in Cincinnati for the fun of it. See , I'm giving you the benefit you aren't mental. I know yo u aren't stupid enough to believe that mud people story."

  They stood facing each other across the table, the quart mason jar of moonshine between them, Boyd showing his siz e in a khaki shirt pulled taut across his chest. He appeare d calm, his eyes showing interest.