Rusty Puppy

by Joe R. Lansdale

  “You knew about that?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It took them a while to drum me out, so I was around, and I picked up on what they were doing, heard them talk when they didn’t know I was listening. As for me, they wanted to make my firing about something else so it wouldn’t look suspicious, so it took about a month to get me fired. I kept having to go up for evaluation, this not being right, this being wrong. All bullshit. But I knew Coldpoint was following Charm around, and then when the brother started filming them in return, that damn sure put Jamar on their shit list. Heard the guys gripe about it. They are a sorry bunch, just about all of them. Couple okay fellows, but even they go along to get along. Thing was, Coldpoint wanted me out because I wasn’t a team player. And another thing was, early on, he wanted me to lay down in the back of his cruiser and be initiated, same as some female prisoners, and I wouldn’t do it. And there’s more going on than that. I don’t exactly know what, but there’s something else, maybe a lot of elses. I think for one they resell the drugs they get from the druggies, make sweet deals with dealers. They use a bit of the product themselves from time to time. You been around that stuff for a while, brought in enough users, you recognize the signs.”

  “But that’s speculation?” I said.

  “In court it would be, but I’m more than certain that the sexual favors, drug use, and drug sells are going on. But I couldn’t prove it in a court of law. Thing about Charm, though, seemed to be something else going on there. She wasn’t your usual druggie, or prostitute, or even someone with a reputation as being the local poke. It seemed when they didn’t get their way, they were out to humiliate her, couldn’t stand that she and I wouldn’t play their game. As for Jamar, can’t say they did anything to him. I don’t know. But if you had me guessing, I’d guess they had something to do with it. Quite a coincidence that she is harassed, and then her brother harasses them and is found dead.”

  “Anything more you can tell us?” I said.

  “I may have talked too much, more than my lawyer would want, but I do dislike those guys. I’ll just say this: You dig deep at the Camp Rapture department, you’re going to find a well of rotten shit. And another thing: Be careful while digging. The whole damn town’s high rollers are attached to them. They’re all playing grab-ass with one another, and if you try and get in the middle of that, you might end up a Rusty Puppy.”

  “Rusty Puppy?” Leonard said.

  “You know where the old sawmill used to be?”

  “There are a lot of sawmills,” Leonard said.

  “I mean the really old one, one goes back to the thirties. On the hill at the edge of Camp Rapture. Closed down now.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Leonard said. “Had an older cousin worked there, right before it was shut down in the eighties. Dangerous place to work. Cousin had one finger missing on one hand, two on the other, and the tip of his thumb got sawed off too. Folks called him Lobster. We called him clumsy.”

  “There’s a big pool of brackish water out there now,” Manny said. “It used to be a pit where the sawdust gathered, but over the years it sunk in and got rained on enough to make a deep pond. They have dogfights out there, and dogs that die in the process, or if they fight badly, they shoot them in the head and dump them in the pond. All that old sawmill dust has mucked up in there, and when the dogs floated up, because sometimes they did, they looked like they were covered in rust. Humane society rightfully got up in arms. They told the police, and they went out and looked at the dead dogs, dubbed them Rusty Puppies. Probably half the dogs in there were owned by people on the force. They love dogfighting. Still fight them out there. Cops didn’t do a thing about it because they were the ones doing it.”

  “Now I really do hate them,” Leonard said.

  “Wasn’t just dogs showed up there; there were a few human bodies, which were also called Rusty Puppies. They lie in that sawdust long enough, it composts them. No telling how many were turned into compost. Sawdust, it eats a body up like acid, and it does it pretty quick. The others were found before that happened, but again, how many weren’t? I’m going to bet there were plenty.”

  “Anyone know who the bodies in the sawdust were?”

  “Oh, yeah. Local ne’er-do-wells. Beat to death and dumped there. A few prostitutes and drug dealers who maybe knew too much about how the folks on the force were operating. Sometimes folks fresh out of jail. Mixed bag, really. Now and again another body pops up out there. None of those murders are ever solved, nor will they be. I figure it’s the cops who put them there.”

  “That’s a strong accusation.”

  “I worked in that department, not you. Let me tell you, those boys answer to no one.”

  “Up until now,” Leonard said.

  14

  As we drove away, I said, “Nice-looking woman.”

  “I was waiting for that,” Leonard said.

  “Just noting,” I said.

  “You can’t fail to notice, can you?”

  “Do you fail to notice attractive men?”

  “I note them, but you are at heart a goddamn hound dog. A loyal hound dog, but a hound dog nonetheless.”

  “As long as I don’t go into someone else’s yard and hump their dog or get the water hose turned on me, I think Brett is happy.”

  Leonard grunted. “Know what I was thinking?”

  “Another ice cream cone would be special?”

  “No. We are not having another ice cream cone,” Leonard said. “I was thinking, why was Charm in Camp Rapture in the first place, and what was she doing with a camera, and what was on the camera, and where is that camera?”

  “Whoa,” I said. “You are fucking Charlie Chan.”

  “Yeah,” Leonard said. “I think I may have tripped over a clue.”

  “Oh my God,” I said. “Sounds to me like you are doing some actual detective-type thinking.”

  “What I thought,” Leonard said. He looked pleased enough with himself to be a parade-float captain.

  “This means we got to talk to Charm.”

  “What I was thinking,” Leonard said.

  As we drove over to the house across from our office, Louise’s place, a car drifted along behind us for a while. It was a dark sedan, not a cop car, but I noticed it. Leonard turned the pickup where we didn’t need to turn, and it sailed on by, made a curve around Shawnee Street, and kept going.

  “You saw it too,” Leonard said.

  I nodded.

  We may not be the world’s greatest detectives, but cars following us we generally noticed. Tonight it appeared to be merely paranoia. Leonard turned around in a driveway and headed back to our destination. No dark sedans were seen.

  Not long ago we had dealt with another woman who spied out her window and ended up sending us down a dark rabbit hole with strange killers and stranger circumstances. It also nearly got me killed. Not long before that event, Leonard was almost killed. We liked to argue over who was the most dead for a few moments, but the thing was, I had this uncomfortable feeling that the current rabbit hole we were diving into was deeper and darker than it appeared.

  We parked in our lot, near the bicycle shop, walked across to Louise’s house. There was a dim light in the window. The house was older, and most of the street had upgraded to more modern styles, but her place was still small and made of wood and the roof needed a bit of work. You could tell that when you looked out the second floor of our office. I had stared at that roof a lot but never knew who lived there until she came to the office that day.

  We knocked on the door.

  After a long while, Louise answered. She was wearing a long nightgown. “Oh, you’re the detective.”

  She said this directly to Leonard.

  Then to me: “You’re the white guy I hired, right?”

  “Right.”

  “Wasn’t sure. You people look so much alike.”

  “So you’ve said. Sorry about it being late. But we need to talk.”

  Sh
e invited us inside. I said, “We’re really here to ask Charm a few questions. Is she home?”

  “She is. I’ll wake her.”

  We stood just inside the front door. The house was nice and tidy and there were shelves that had more knickknacks than a flea market. Leonard had his hands in his pockets. He said, “I’m actually, very carefully, fondling my balls.”

  “Oh, shut up.”

  “He studies the shot. Thinks he can make it. If he only had a smaller cue stick. The one he has is really too enormous for the job.”

  “Ha-ha.”

  “Here goes, one black-as-night ball in the side pocket.”

  “Stop it.”

  About that time, Louise came out from a room across from us and Charm came out behind her, dragging her feet, looking sleepy.

  “Missed the shot,” Leonard said so only I could hear.

  “I hate you,” I said.

  Charm was short and petite and so pretty she’d make a monk’s back teeth ache.

  “Hello, Charm,” I said.

  “Hi,” she said.

  Leonard nodded at her and smiled.

  “I guess your mother has explained to you who we are and what we’re doing?”

  She dipped her chin. “Yes.”

  “Good. Louise, would it be okay if we speak to Charm in private?”

  “I don’t know.” Louise was still holding Charm’s elbow.

  I saw something move across Charm’s face, a shadow of teenage lies, perhaps.

  “It’s all right, Mama. I don’t mind.”

  “I mind a little,” Louise said.

  “It’s up to you two,” I said.

  “It’s really all right,” Charm said.

  “Okay,” Louise said. “But I’m going to be down the hall there, and if you need me, call me.”

  “I will,” Charm said.

  “Sometimes it just works better if we talk in private, so no one feels the need to answer in a certain way,” I said.

  “We tell each other everything,” Louise said, and she gave me a look that said she was certain of that statement, and if I didn’t like it, she was up for three rounds and no referee.

  “I’m sure of that,” I said.

  “Damn straight,” Louise said. She started down a short hall, threw back at us, “I’m just right here.”

  “It’s okay, Mama,” Charm said.

  Louise disappeared into a room and closed the door.

  Me and Leonard ended up sitting on the couch, and Charm took a stuffed armchair. It was a kind of replay of our roles in Manny’s house.

  “I want you to know we are very sorry about your brother,” I said.

  “Thank you,” she said, and her chin quivered slightly.

  “We want to get to the bottom of why what happened to him happened,” I said. “That’s why we’re asking you questions. Not to harass you or make you feel uncomfortable.”

  “I understand,” she said.

  “You going to be a journalist, huh?” Leonard said, and showed her his nice teeth.

  “That’s the plan, though right now there’s not a lot of jobs in the field, newspapers disappearing and all. I thought maybe magazine work.”

  “Hap’s daughter, she’s got a job in journalism.”

  “Where does she work?”

  “Right now, local newspaper,” I said. “But only proofreading for the moment. Part-time.”

  I realized I was speaking very proudly of Chance, even though right then she was living in Leonard’s old room in mine and Brett’s house.

  “Here’s a question,” I said. “Why were you in Camp Rapture in the first place? Before you say anything, we’ll keep your answers as private as possible, and remember, this is about your brother. We are trying our best to find out what happened to him. So as straight an answer as you can give us would be appreciated.”

  “Mama said she didn’t have any real money to pay you. Will that make a difference in how much you do?”

  “No,” Leonard said. “Hap here is privately rich and supports me. When this is over we’re opening a coffee bar in Tibet.”

  Charm gave a wan, sleepy smile, one that said, You know, that’s not really that funny, but I’m going to go with it.

  “I was there to take photos before sunset,” she said. “I was told when the sun went down it made the trees and the old mill and the water pit look interesting. It was a photojournalism piece I was doing on the lumber industry in the 1930s. It’s like a high school final.”

  “Were you leaving the mill when you were pulled over?” Leonard asked.

  “I was. I went there after the party.”

  “And you took the photos, I assume?” I said.

  “Correct.”

  Leonard said, “So you were leaving the mill and were back out on the road, and were pulled over, and then what?”

  “A big cop, him and his partner, got out and one of them—”

  “Coldpoint?” I asked.

  “Yes, sir. I didn’t know that was who he was then, but that’s him. He got out and claimed I was weaving, that I was drunk. I proved I wasn’t, but it didn’t make any difference. When he wouldn’t give me a Breathalyzer test, I knew it wouldn’t matter what I said, what test I performed. He said, ‘You want to blow, we can work it out so you blow, but not into a Breathalyzer.’ I didn’t take the bait. I think he was certain I would.”

  “Unfortunately for that asshole,” Leonard said, “he was working from experience. Probably his idea of a date.”

  “What happened to the photographs you took?” I said.

  “They took the memory card out of my camera at the station,” she said.

  “Any idea why?”

  “I just know when I came down the hill from the sawmill they were waiting. They followed me to the edge of town and turned on their lights and pulled me over.”

  “This other cop,” Leonard said. “Know his name?”

  “At the station, I think they called him Seerfault.”

  “Could it have been Sheerfault?” Leonard said.

  “It could.”

  I glanced at Leonard. He looked as if he had just sucked on a shit-stained lemon.

  “You sure he was a cop?” Leonard said. “He wearing a uniform?”

  “I’m sure,” she said. “And he was.”

  “Any idea why they were following you in the first place?” I said.

  “No, sir. Really, I have no idea. They took the card out of my camera and hung it back over my neck and chained me to a radiator. I think you know the rest.”

  I said, “May we have a peek in Jamar’s room?”

  “I suppose that’s okay,” she said.

  She led us to his room, which was down an opposite hall. We went inside, and Charm left us alone. There were photographs and posters of boxers, and there was a shelf near the bed with boxing trophies.

  Leonard picked one up. “First place. A university boxing event.”

  We looked around a bit more, then went out. Charm was waiting on the couch. We sat down across from her.

  “Saw your brother was a boxer,” Leonard said.

  “He was pretty good. One time there was talk of him going to the Olympics, but he didn’t want to. He had other interests. Boxing was more like a hobby, but he was very good.”

  “You think of anything else, our office is across the street,” I said.

  “I know,” she said.

  “You were at the sawmill just for photos?” I said. “Nothing else? I wouldn’t ask, but it could be important.”

  “I was supposed to meet a boy. Kevin Conners. He didn’t show.”

  “But you didn’t want your mother to know that?” Leonard said.

  “I didn’t. Does she have to know?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “You didn’t see him anyway, so no need.”

  “I want ever see him now, at least not on purpose,” she said.

  “Thank you, and tell your mother we thank her for letting us into her home,” I said.
/>   As we stood up: “This Sheerfault,” Leonard said. “Can you describe him?”

  “Yes, sir. Rough white guy, looked like a professional fighter,” she said. “You know, scars around the eyes. I know something about that because Jamar watched fights, was interested in boxers. One of Sheerfault’s eyes sagged slightly. The right one. His nose had been broken. It had a knot on it, and it was a little out of line. He looked like he worked out. Not in a bodybuilder way. But he was in shape.”

  “You will make a fine observant journalist,” Leonard said. “Sheerfault was a professional fighter. I know him.”

  We thanked Charm again and left.

  15

  We walked across the street to the office, and I took Buffy out for another walk. Afterward, I made sure she had fresh water, then I got me and Leonard bottled water out of the fridge.

  “You know Sheerfault, do you? Never heard you mention him.”

  “He’s a sore spot. Back when I was kickboxing he beat me in the ring. On points, I might add.”

  “Counts in sport.”

  “It does.”

  “But you’re bitter about it?”

  “I was beat on points a few times,” Leonard said. “I always fought like it was real. Up to a certain level, anyway. It’s the referee’s job not to let it get too real.”

  “If I remember right, I out-pointed you once, back when we were first starting to know one another. I don’t mean touch points, I mean real points. I got a whole seventy-five dollars, a trophy that I threw away, and a really sore face for about two weeks.”

  “Shit,” Leonard said. “We fought to fight, wasn’t no money in it then. We were testing our skills.”

  “Now they get paid big-time, and some of them get paid more than big-time.”

  “Those were the days,” he said. “Fighting for pretty much nothing in the way of payment and enjoying it. Sheerfault pointed me, quite a bit. He was quick. He hit pretty hard, but he didn’t land much that was solid.”