Cold Cotton: A Hap and Leonard Novella (Hap and Leonard Series)

by Joe R. Lansdale

  “Yeah. I know. Been around Hap too long.”

  “Five minutes around him or Leonard is too long,” he said.

  “All right,” Brett said. “Good enough. We’re out of here.”

  (10)

  So, we got it going, the three of us taking turns for the first few days, and then we got Leonard’s boyfriend, Officer Curt Carroll, known to us as Pookie, to come in now and again on his day off.

  Me and Leonard and Brett had the one pistol between us, as we felt that was sufficient fire power. We traded out each time we had the changing of the guard. Pookie, he had his own gun and always brought snacks, even though anything he could have wanted was provided by Doctor Cotton.

  After a couple weeks, we hadn’t seen a thing, and Doctor Cotton hadn’t received another message. Each time it was my turn, I spent at least an hour a day fighting off Katherine, a.k.a. Sugar Muffin, who would have screwed a doorknob and called it sweet baby.

  Brett said she even tried it on her, but Brett said she told her, “I’m on duty, and the only thing you’re going to get off me is a black eye for taking my mind off the job.”

  Brett also assured her that she was batting for a standard team.

  Harsh, but effective. Sweet Baby decided she was through bothering Brett.

  Leonard said she tried it on him, but he was on a different team too. He said, “Hey, I only suck dicks,” and it was over for him. He said Pookie had a similar experience, and he had to explain his position being similar to Leonard’s, though I suspect his comments were kindlier. Pookie is a nice person.

  That left me. She knew my affiliation.

  It was a big house, and when on duty we wandered throughout, not really expecting anybody, but it was part of the job, checking the place for ninja assassins in the sock drawer or the shower stall.

  What I figured, due to the nature of the threats, was whoever was doing this would hope to scare his target for a while, then maybe come in by means of subterfuge, claiming to be someone they weren’t, or catching Doctor Cotton out doing errands. We put an end to the errands, took them over for her.

  One late morning, Sweet Muffin made the usual play for my Johnson. We were both sitting on the couch. Suddenly she was sitting very close. I could smell her perfume and something more primal drifting off of her.

  She put her hand on my thigh.

  I turned and looked at her. Her eyelids were heavy and her lips seemed fat and desirable. I like to think it wasn’t just my erection problem that cause me to make the choice I did.

  I gently lifted her hand off my leg and placed it on the couch, said, “My gal doesn’t let me date.”

  “She wouldn’t need to know.”

  “But I’d know.”

  Katherine turned to pout mode and moved away from me and sat on the far end of the couch. She said, “I’m not being threatened. I should be able to go out.”

  “They might use you to get to your aunt,” I said. “Sorry, we got to wait until they make a play or the threat seems to be gone.”

  “Haven’t heard from them in a week,” she said.

  “That’s not very long.”

  “It is when you’re horny.”

  “Don’t you have any toys?”

  “Plenty, but I’ve never found it to be the same.”

  “We can agree on that,” I said. “But really, Katherine, you have to go somewhere else and play.”

  “I don’t think I like you, Hap.”

  “There’s a club you can join,” I said.

  She got huffy then and left the room.

  Doctor Cotton was entering the room as Katherine was going out.

  “I heard her,” she said, “and I’m sorry.”

  “Not a problem. I figure she’s doing the best she can about the whole business. I think she’s tired of being cooped up in here.”

  “I know I am,” she said, “and I’m sure you are.”

  I shrugged. “It’s the job. Beats working at the chicken plant.”

  “I’m about to make myself lunch. Would you like a sandwich?”

  “I would,” I said.

  We went into the kitchen and I sat on one of the stools at the long bar there.

  Doctor Cotton opened the refrigerator and pulled out some cheese and lunch meat, slices of tomato, mustard and mayonnaise, a few odds and ends, put those on the bar. Then she got bread from the shelf by the refrigerator and put that with the other goods, grabbed us both Diet Cokes.

  We had done this routine before with me and her.

  She placed silverware on the table with plates, and we made ourselves sandwiches.

  “Katherine really can’t help it. It’s the same as if she were an alcoholic.”

  “I understand,” I said.

  “But you played it right. I’m sure that’s not the first time you’ve had to with her.”

  “We’ve all had to,” I said. “But it’s fine.”

  “So, Leonard and Curt?”

  “She’s hit on both of them, even though they’re gay.”

  “I think she likes the challenge, Hap. And she can’t help herself. So, Leonard and Curt, they are a serious item?”

  “We call Curt Pookie. And yes. They are an item. Pookie really seems to make Leonard Happy.”

  “And you and Leonard are good friends?”

  “We are closer than good friends. We’re like brothers.”

  “Yeah. Well, it’s obvious Leonard is crazy about Curt. Sometimes he stays a second shift when Pookie is here.”

  “It won’t keep them from doing their job,” I said.

  “Oh, I know that. I didn’t mean that. I like it. It’s sweet.”

  “This is a red-letter day. Someone has called Leonard sweet.”

  “I was wondering. Why no more messages? They came like clockwork before.”

  “I was wondering the same thing. Whoever has been threatening you knows we’re here, and they haven’t bothered. I think whoever is doing it needs to scare you, and with us here, I don’t think you getting a note or some such is going to be the same to them. They know you have us to fall back on. They want you on your own and afraid.”

  “Do you think it’s one of the servants? I can’t imagine that, they’re so nice, and I like to think well paid and appreciated, but I won’t lie. I wondered.”

  “That was considered, of course, and Brett looked into it. Nothing seemed to point in that direction. They appear to be hardworking people, end of story. No. This is someone who knows you, or knows of you, and they want you scared, distracted.”

  “You’re still thinking Katherine?”

  “I don’t really know what I’m thinking,” I said. “But there’s something screwy about the whole thing. Who could be that mad at you, and why?”

  “I don’t know. I really don’t. I’ve been taking care of Katherine ever since my sister died. She had her problems, but I have a hard time believing it has to do with her. Still, the notes and threats have stopped since you’ve been here, and she’s been under closer surveillance, not allowed to leave.”

  “We really can’t tell her she can’t leave, but we don’t mind giving her that impression. Maybe…well, let’s say we consider her. Why would she do such a thing?”

  Doctor Cotton shook her head.

  “Could she be mad at you for monitoring her sex life? Mad at you because she’s obviously immature for her age and doesn’t like being told no? Another thing is there’s no one on your cameras from past events, no recordings of anyone that shouldn’t be there, I mean. Whoever is doing this, knows how to avoid the cameras. Have to so they can put notes in your mailbox.”

  “Meaning my niece again.”

  “She has to be considered.”

  Doctor Cotton nodded. “I suppose so.”

  We ate lunch and went on about our day, and things continued like that for another two weeks, and no note.

  But the next week, on Wednesday, a note was found in the drive when Leonard drove in to trade places with Brett. I got a call, and
joined them.

  The message was not sealed, but was inside a loose flapped manila envelope. Leonard gave it to Brett and Brett looked at what was inside. Then I showed up where they were waiting for me in the driveway outside the gate. Brett showed me and Leonard what was inside the envelope. It was certainly a surprise. I got back in my car and drove inside and parked near their cars.

  We went and got Doctor Cotton, who was dressed in a white tennis outfit, and we all went out to the gazebo. Brett placed the envelope on the table.

  “Would you check your cameras from last night until now before you look at the envelope?” Brett said.

  Doctor Cotton got up and went inside to look at her monitors.

  We sat there a while and I tried to tell a joke, but neither Leonard or Brett would listen. After quite a while, Doctor Cotton came back.

  “The cameras were turned off last night,” she said.

  “Do they switch off inside or outside, or more than one place?” Brett asked.

  “No.”

  “Okay,” Brett said, and tapped the enveloped.

  Doctor Cotton pulled the envelope to her and opened it, looked at what was inside. The tan drained out of her face, her lips trembled and she let out a little gasp, one hand going to her chest as if to hold her heart in place.

  “Oh, my god,” she said.

  (11)

  It happened kind of quick. Doctor Cotton was on her feet, stomping across the concrete, and then the grass, toward her house. After a moment, Brett said, “I think Sugar Muffin is about to get the shit stomped out of her.”

  “We better stop it,” I said.

  “Let’s give her a moment.”

  When we heard the screeching inside the house, we sauntered over, went through the sliding back doors. Katherine was in the living room and Doctor Cotton had her by the hair and had pulled her head to the side, and with her other hand she was knocking knots on Sugar Muffin’s head faster than a cobra can strike.

  Brett went over and caught Doctor Cotton’s arm with her own, and then she twisted and threw Doctor Cotton over the back of the couch and onto it. The good doctor rolled off the couch and onto the floor.

  Sugar Muffin went for Brett, as if to claw her. Brett stuck a finger in Sugar Muffin’s jugular notch, causing her to gag and go to one knee.

  “Uh-uh, sister,” Brett said. “You might find yourself in need of a nose job and a wig.”

  Katherine sat on the floor and started crying. By this time, Doctor Cotton had gotten up, brushed herself off, straightened her tennis dress and fluffed her hair. She was once again a professional.

  “I apologize for that,” Doctor Cotton said.

  “Nah, that’s all right,” Leonard said. “Brett can handle herself, and Sugar Muffin had it coming.”

  (12)

  I suppose you could call it puppy love, sweet, sweet, puppy love, but not exactly the kind you might be thinking. They were photos of a woman, obviously, photos of Doctor Cotton in her teens, nude, lying partly across a bed with a Rottweiler mounting her. I shit you not.

  There were several shots that showed Doctor Cotton’s good angles, and the Rottweiler’s as well. I think the dog looked best from the left side. He looked happy in his work. His tongue was hanging out.

  There was also a note inside the envelope requesting five hundred thousand dollars or the photos would hit the internet with explanations of who was in them. Something like that could be devastating. At least the dog wasn’t around for the humiliation, though my guess is he could have gotten over it.

  Within minutes the lady servants appeared, drawn by the racket. Linda and her daughter stood close enough together they were almost Siamese twins.

  Doctor Cotton looked at them and smiled. “It’s quite all right,” she said. “A bit of a misunderstanding.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Linda said, took her daughter’s elbow, and walked her out of the room.

  Doctor Cotton didn’t look directly at us when she said, “I can’t tell you how embarrassed I am. About those old photos, and doing what I did.”

  “Like I said,” Leonard said. “She had it coming.”

  Doctor Cotton went out of the house and we followed her to the gazebo. We all sat in chairs. She picked up the envelope, said, “I was young and stoned, and my boyfriend had a dog. Katherine is not the only one who had problems with exhibition and what you might call kinky sex. I was pleasing someone important to me, doing what I thought I was supposed to do. He took some of the photos. The rest were taken by my sister, Katherine’s mother. She did it for the same someone. My god, a Rottweiler.”

  I wondered if she would have felt better had it been a German Shepard. Somehow, I couldn’t imagine a chihuahua that could do the work without a foot stool.

  “I didn’t know those pictures still existed. They must have been in my sisters stuff. After she died. She died of a drug overdose. I had her stuff brought here. Her personal items. Katherine has been looking through those. I encouraged her do that. To get in touch with her mother that way, to deal with her death. But those photos, I thought I had destroyed all the copies. They were taken before the internet was the big thing and there were only a few copies, or so I thought, and I was sure I had destroyed them.”

  “Could it be the person who you made these photos for?” Brett said.

  “No. It can’t be him. He died years ago. Car wreck.”

  “Why would your sister keep them?” Brett said.

  “To hold them over my head at some point. She was always jealous of me, my becoming a doctor, changing my life. Taking control of my sexual problems. It had a lot to do with how we were raised. Part of a commune that lasted up into the nineties. Way past the expiration date. It was started in the early seventies by a preacher, a hippie preacher. Only he was more of a pervert. Cult leader. He thought all the females were his, like we were cows and he was the bull. I was very young when he started having sex with me. Eleven. My sister was a year older. It messed us up, and in turn, my sister messed up Katherine. It’s complex, but those are the roots, an explanation in a peanut hull.”

  “The preacher was for the dog business?” Leonard said.

  “Yes,” she said. “He took some of the photographs.”

  “Bless the beasts and the children,” Leonard said.

  I elbowed him.

  “One thing, though,” Brett said. “It looks as if it’s been your niece all along.”

  “It does,” Doctor Cotton said. “She could only have gotten those photos out of my sister’s things. What an idiot. Like I wouldn’t know where they came from, wouldn’t figure she was behind all this. Oh, hell, sure she knew I’d know. Goddamnit. She wanted me to know. She constantly torments me. I don’t know why I put up with her. I should put her out. I really should, but I don’t know where she’d go, what she’d do. She’s pretty helpless, really. I’m all she’s got.”

  “That’s one way of looking at it,” Leonard said.

  “What do you mean?” Doctor Cotton said.

  “I think she’s an ungrateful shit,” he said. “She gets out there and has to asshole and elbow it a bit, she might get over a lot of things.”

  “It’s not that simple, Leonard,” Doctor Cotton said. “It’s like telling you to stop being gay.”

  “No,” Leonard said. “It ain’t a damn thing like that.”

  Doctor Cotton sat with her head hung. I think she was beyond argument now, beyond believing she knew shit from wild honey or piss from lemonade.

  After a while, she picked up the envelope from the table and put it in her lap. “I suppose I won’t be needing your services anymore.”

  “Listen,” Brett said. “I know it seems obvious your niece has been behind this, but maybe she isn’t.”

  “No one else would have the photos,” Doctor Cotton said. “They had to be in my sister’s stuff. It’s her.”

  “Still, there might be more to it.”

  “No. It’s Katherine. My sister reaching out through her beyond the grave.
I would like to ask that you never mention this. I’m going to destroy the photos, look through my sister’s stuff, see if there’s anything else of this sort. I hate to admit it, but there might be. This gets out, my career is over. Not to mention my life. I won’t be needing you anymore. Please leave, and send me your final bill.”

  “All right,” Brett said. “But if you think there’s more to it, need us back, you have our number.”

  “I do,” Doctor Cotton said. “But I won’t be calling.”

  (13)

  We thought it was over.

  It wasn’t.

  We’ll come back to that.

  That night Brett and I lay in bed in the dark. She lay with her hand across my chest. She said, “Why would you fuck a dog? Is that some kind of neurosis? You didn’t get a puppy when you were little? Dog was the only one that seemed to love you? What is that all about?”

  “Like I’d know. I think it has to be about pleasing whoever asked her to do that, the preacher. Probably did as she was told, thought it was god’s will because it was coming from a man of the god. Hell, she had been groomed to be a plaything, like her sisters. Others I presume.”

  “I can see nymphomania being a mental or emotional condition, but dog fucking. How do you get there?”

  “Again, not about the dog,” I said.

  “When you’re getting off, you look a little like that dog,” Brett said.

  “Do I?”

  “Oh yeah.”

  “Grrrrrrr.”

  “Down, Rex, or I’ll get the rolled-up newspaper.”

  “The problem is I haven’t been able to get it up, let alone, off.”

  “I thought the growl was a sign of things to come, so to speak.”

  “Dogs growl to fool people into thinking they are fierce. And you know what else, I lost my therapist to be. So now I don’t get to find out why losing my teddy bear at three is keeping me from laying pipe.”

  “Poor baby.”

  “Don’t worry. We’ll get there. The other day when you bent over at the stove, I thought I felt it rustle in my jeans.”

  “This is where I say things are looking up.”