Michael killed the engine. “How do I know? I don’t know ’em from Adam. They’ll be there when we need ’em. Relax.”
Smoke drifted to the rag ceiling overhead, crawled to the open windows, and escaped.
They waited.
Chapter Forty-five
Tony finally figured out what to do with Griffin.
He was going to shoot him.
It should have been simple. He dialed the phone. An energetic female voice answered. “Sheriff’s office.”
“I need to speak to Sheriff Griffin.”
“He’s busy. Can I take a message?”
“No. I need to speak to him. Tell him it’s important.”
“Just a minute.” She came back on the line a minute later. “Who’s calling?”
“A business associate from Vegas.”
“Hold please.” A click told him she was transferring the call. It took so long for Griffin to answer, that Tony almost hung up and called back.
“Sheriff Griffin here. Who is this?”
“Agrioli.”
He could hear the caution in the man’s voice. “What do you want?”
“I’ve thought about your offer. I’ll take you up on it. I’ll take care of the Parkers and Washington, but you have to pay me in cash. I need it tonight.”
“I thought we’d already agreed on that.”
Tony frowned at the comment. “Huh?”
“Never mind. Fine.”
Tony sensed relief in the answer. “I’ll meet you west of Center Springs. I saw a dirt road beside a barn that’s about to fall down. There are pine trees around it, the only ones I’ve seen around here. Drive on past, and I’ll be waiting under a copse of trees around the bend.”
“What’s a copse?”
Frustrated, Agrioli rubbed his throbbing forehead. “A grove.”
“You mean a bunch of trees. Okay, I know that barn. It’s past Reid’s Store.”
“Yeah. I’ll be waiting. Half an hour, and don’t forget the money. I get paid up front, and then I disappear. I suggest you do the same.”
“See you there.”
Tony hung up and settled back in the overstuffed chair in Griffin’s living room. Sweltering in the stifling room, Tony placed his .22 on the round end table beside him. When Griffin came home to get the money, one shot would solve all his problems.
The plan fell apart when Tony was still waiting as sundown approached. He wondered if Griffin had money stashed somewhere else and went directly to the meeting place. Frustrated that he hadn’t considered such a possibility, he picked up the .22, slipped out the back door, and walked the two blocks to his car parked on the street. Minutes later, he steered toward Center Springs and home. He could always shoot Griffin first thing in the morning while the neighbors were at church, or having a quiet Sunday breakfast.
Halfway to Center Springs, he was caught in a massive traffic jam. What should have been peaceful twilight on northbound Highway 271was destroyed by a catastrophic wreck. Grinding his teeth in frustration, and not paying much attention, Tony crept almost too close to the car ahead.
There was almost no room between their bumpers when he jerked to a stop. His headlights illuminated three men in the sedan who appeared agitated at the brightness. Tony slapped the knob with his palm and they winked out. The brake lights in front blinked, and then went dark as the driver killed the engine a few moments later.
The smell of cigarette smoke wafted back from the car’s open windows. A toonie sounded like a good idea. Tony snapped his Zippo alight and lit his own, enjoying both smells of lighter fluid and smoke. He killed his engine and leaned back to enjoy the smoke.
He hoped Sam had something good for…supper. He smiled. He was getting the hang of this country lingo. Despite his frustration at being stuck on the highway, he was pleasantly surprised to find that his forehead wasn’t throbbing.
“That’s what life in the country does for you,” he said aloud, barely paying attention to the thunderheads crowding the dark horizon.
Chapter Forty-six
In the fading light, people up and down the traffic jam finally gave up and killed their engines. Little clusters of men left their cars and gathered to exchange information or speculation. All four doors of a late model Plymouth opened to discharge seven men in suits who stretched their legs.
“We shoulda took two cars.”
“It’s a short trip.”
“It was a short trip.”
They stood off to the side, away from the activity surrounding the accident.
“That backseat is crowded. Somebody change with me.”
“Shut up.”
“Turn off the headlights.”
One of the men waved behind them. “Half of the cars stretching over this damn hill have their lights on.”
“I wish that guy would kill his lights. We’re lit up out here.”
The headlights of the sedan behind them winked out. Seconds later, the car behind that one also went dark. But before it did, the man complaining of being cramped waved an arm. “Those guys have plenty of room. I oughta go take that car away from ’em, or make ’em follow you. Then I can ride with them.”
“You idiot. What do you think, they’ll just let you in? These country people are tough.”
“There’s only three of them in there.”
“Well, take it one more step. Go on back to the next car and get it. I saw only see one guy in there when he lit his cigarette. That’ll be easy for you, tough guy.”
Ray Marco finally had enough. “You guys shut up. We have a job to do, and then we’re back to Dallas. It ain’t much farther.”
“If I live through this aggravation.”
Marco thought of what Best and Michael had told him when they discussed the hit. “Just focus. This guy we’re after is tough.”
“How tough can he be against seven of us?”
Marco wondered about that himself. After all, he was only one guy.
Chapter Forty-seven
Miss Rachel had control of herself faster than I would have if someone had beaten me. She was sitting on the porch step, holding her side. Her lips were puffy, one eye was almost swelled shut, and a cut over the other eyebrow still seeped blood.
Pepper had the baby in her lap. He’d finally quit crying and didn’t seem to be hurt none. The other kids were huddled up like a bunch of puppies. We were all shaking like them little Mexican Chihuahua dogs.
Miss Rachel wiped her eyes with a wet rag and put it on the back of her neck. “The rest of y’all all right?” She rubbed on the kids nearest her and settled back when she was satisfied no one else was hurt. “Y’all did good, scaring them off, but you mighta got hurt.”
“Not if I’da got here in time with this.” Bubba was keeping watch with the double-bit ax over his shoulder away at the corner of the house. “Who were them people, Mama?”
Miss Rachel shook her head. “I don’t know, but we need to get gone for now. I sure wish there was a telephone closer than five miles away. Bubba, you run down the road to Mr. Thurman’s house and ask if he’ll come pick us up.”
Daisy looked startled. “Where we going?”
“To Mr. Thurman’s, I reckon. We’ll be safe there.”
Bubba shook his head. “Mama, he’s old as dirt, and I doubt we’ll all fit in that little ol’ shack of his.”
“We ain’t stayin’ there. He’s the only one around here with a truck.”
Pepper unconsciously bounced the little Bass in her lap. He was over his scare and drooled down his bare chest while he chewed on a spoon. “We can go to my house.”
I spoke up. “Uncle James went fishing up on Muddy Boggy with Mr. Scott, remember. He won’t be back until tomorrow. I didn’t think Aunt Ida Belle would be much help if more bad folks came around.”
“Oh, yeah.
”
“I don’t know what this is all about, but we need to go to Grandpa’s house.” To me, that little farmhouse was the safest place in the world. “He’ll know what to do.”
Bubba stood still as a statue, watching the road. Jere dug in the sand with her toes. “Won’t Mr. John be back in a minute?”
Miss Rachel shook her head. “We don’t never know when to expect him. Top’s right, we can get word to him from Mr. Ned’s house.”
“Mama, Mr. Ned’s white.”
Her eyes looked sad. “He is, Jere, but John speaks well of him and Miss Becky both. At least we can wait outside in the yard until John shows up.”
Pepper looked horrified. “Y’all don’t have to wait outside. Coloreds been in Miss Becky’s house before.” Her jaw snapped shut with a pop when she realized how that sounded.
Miss Rachel reached out a hand and patted Pepper’s knee. “I know what you mean, hon. Bubba, hand me that ax and run on down to Mr. Thurman’s like I said.”
“I might need to stay here with it.”
“Give it here and do what I done tol’ you.”
He leaned the handle against Miss Rachel’s thigh and took off at a jog down the road.
I couldn’t stand it any longer. “Miss Rachel, I’m sorry.”
She frowned and squinted at me with one eye. “What for, hon?”
“I believe I broke all them eggs in my bucket when I saw that man grab you.”
She started laughing, but I couldn’t figure out why.
Chapter Forty-eight
The norther rolled overhead like a wave when Mr. Thurman turned his old truck into our drive. It was full dark and I was glad, because I’d already noticed that both of Mr. Thurman’s headlights were broke.
Miss Becky knew something was bad wrong the minute she saw me and Pepper riding in the back with the other kids. She came boiling out of the house with Norma Faye and Miss Sam right behind, carrying on like we all had bloody noses.
Hootie forgot he was feeling bad and set up a racket. Miss Becky hollered at him to shut up and he quieted down when we climbed over the sides and dropped to the ground.
Miss Rachel opened her door, but she couldn’t get right out. She’d stiffened up from the beating and I could tell she was hurting. The others stayed put like they were waiting for an invitation, and I reckon they were.
“Lands, honey!” Miss Becky didn’t ask what was wrong, probably because Miss Rachel’s swole face told a pretty good story. She reached for Miss Rachel’s arm.
“My babies.”
“I have them.” Miss Sam squeezed in to lift baby Bass out of her lap. He was almost asleep and laid his head on her shoulder. She held her hand out to Floryence, the least girl. “Come on, honey.”
Miss Becky held onto Miss Rachel as she slid out of the seat. Norma Faye slipped an arm around her from the other side and they slowly walked into the house, leaving the rest of us outside.
Mr. Thurman stayed behind the wheel and we milled around the truck until Miss Sam came rushing back out the door. “Children! Everyone inside. Now.”
The terror in her voice was enough to run the rest of the kids inside like a herd of calves.
Mr. Thurman sighed and spoke through his open window. “I believe I might oughta stay outside.”
“Miss Becky asked that you come in.” Miss Sam watched him with her soft eyes.
Nothing more than wrinkled skin and bones, the old black man wore overalls that were mostly patches, and his faded blue work shirt wasn’t much more than threads. He didn’t have much to do with bathing, neither.
“I’ll set on the porch, if that’s all right.”
“All right.” Miss Sam waited until he climbed the porch and settled gratefully onto a wooden straight chair. We were all still in shock, but I had to grin when she latched the screen. That little hook and eye wouldn’t stop a mad five-year-old.
But the guns that appeared on the other side of the screen were enough to start a small army.
And all four of those women looked like they could use them.
Chapter Forty-nine
Taking a back route to Center Springs, Sheriff Griffin stopped his personal car at the intersection of two country roads when radio traffic told him about the massive backup from the wreck on Highway 271. With a sigh, he picked up the microphone. “Martha, this is Griffin. What happened out on two seventy-one?”
“This is Harriet, Donald.”
“It don’t make any difference. What do you know?”
“That Cody and John Washington are working a bad wreck at Gate Five with a couple of other deputies. I hear it’s a mess. They asked for a more units.” She gave him a brief report. “You going out there?”
“Washington’s there?”
“Yep. Cody called him in for help since he was out that way.”
Griffin felt his face redden. Wouldn’t anything go right?
Washington was supposed to be at Rachel’s house when Griffin’s bank-robbing couple out of Dallas, Myrna Wren and Ralph Hatchlett, came by. He rubbed the stubble on his cheek. With so much on his mind, he’d forgotten to shave for two days in a row. “No. Send White and have him check back with me after a while.”
Instead of answering, she clicked the talk button a couple of times in acknowledgement and called White. “Deputy White, please proceed…”
An idea occurred to Griffin as he sat at the intersection and drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. Why hadn’t he thought of it before? He’d drive to Agrioli’s house while the gangster was waiting out in the woods like an idiot, kill the woman, and when the gangster arrived at home, he’d simply shoot him when he came through the door.
Washington and the Parkers would be another matter, though, and so would another loose end he had to tie up. He had to do something about his bank robbers flailing around without finishing their job. Despite their performance on the day of the bank robbery, Myrna and Ralph needed to be eliminated.
His plan had worked perfectly up to that point. Avoiding the local constabulary’s best efforts, the couple simply drove to Griffin’s house and parked in his garage. They stayed inside until he took them to Dallas late one night when things cooled down. Then they were supposed to come back and shoot Washington and Agrioli.
He wiped nervous sweat from his forehead and thumped the steering wheel, counting off other issues.
The Mexicans screwed it all up from the beginning. He should have known better than to trust those greasers down there. The whole thing started when they paid him a butt-load of hush money to look the other way while they funneled dope into his county, except half the cash was counterfeit.
Changing the funny money in Vegas should have worked, in theory. Best’s plan was sound, but Griffin couldn’t resist the temptation to work the casinos at night. After giving the real cash to Best in a good-faith exchange, Griffin spent two days visiting casinos and converting his leftover paper.
He got the idea by watching the dealers at the tables. When someone handed them cash, they simply stuck it down a slot in the table and exchanged it for chips. How could that idea go wrong? He knew he was smarter than the dealers, and it was impossible to recognize the counterfeit bills with such a quick glance. But they somehow figured it out and sent Agrioli.
I could turn around right now, catch a plane at Love Field in two hours and be in Tahiti day after tomorrow.
He had enough money to live like a king in the South Pacific, despite the double cross from the Mexicans. He would have a million dollars squirreled away if it weren’t for them and the Parkers, who had torn his playhouse down bit by bit.
He took a deep, satisfying breath. He’d leave for his trip to Tahiti first thing in the morning, after he was finished with the Parkers.
“By God, I’ll kill them myself.”
The coming thunderstorm was almost overhead.
A Chevrolet sedan approached at a high rate of speed and slowed as it neared the four-way stop. It waited, idling.
In the failing light, Griffin squinted through his bug-splattered windshield at the occupants in a car so dusty it almost blended with the overgrown fencerows. They were extremely animated, and he realized the arguing couple was Myrna and Ralph.
“What the hell?” Knowing they wouldn’t recognize his personal car, Griffin shifted into park and opened the door. Sensing they were ready to bolt, he stepped out and waved. “Hey, you idiots.”
Recognizing him, Myrna pointed. Ralph pulled forward and stopped, headlights raking the pasture and trees. “Sheriff. How’d you know we’d be here? You following us somehow?”
“Not hardly.” He noticed a long scuff mark down the side of their car. “It was you two who caused that wreck on highway two-seventy-one?” Griffin stepped away from his car and moved to the driver’s window. He glanced around at the empty asphalt road. “What are y’all doing out here? Did you do it? Agrioli and Washington are dead?”
Myrna jerked her thumb toward the driver. “Ralph the tough guy here got scared.”
“I’m confused.”
Ralph shrugged. “We’re lost.”
She hit him on the shoulder with her fist. “We’ve been lost since we left that nigger’s house. Yeah, Stupid here ran smack-dab into a truck full of field hands on our way out to kill Washington and Agrioli.”
“So it was y’all that caused that wreck?” Griffin wanted to laugh. “What are y’all doing here?”
Griffin noticed Ralph kept plucking at a dirty towel on the seat between them with nervous fingers. He asked again, more forcefully. “You didn’t kill Washington and Agrioli like I told you to?”
“No, Myrna and I tried. We really did.” Ralph wouldn’t meet his eyes. “We were pretty rattled after we hit that truck, and things fell apart when we got to that nigger gal’s house. I was getting ready to tie her up when people started coming at us from all directions with guns. The only thing we could do was leave.”
Vengeance is Mine Page 23
