“How’d you know I gave up drinking?” Ace asked in a surprised tone.
“It all goes together,” she said. “Lots of men drink when they feel sorry for themselves. My late husband certainly did, and you’re a lot like him.”
“What do you know about your landlord?” he asked her, trying to change the conversation.
“You mean Jack Wells?”
“That’s your landlord, isn’t it?”
“Why should I know anything about my landlord?” she asked him. “The only thing I know is that he has a little brother who hangs around with him. A troublemaker.”
“That ain’t the half of it,” replied Ace as he took out another cigarette. He looked around at the rest us, then put it back. “That brother of Jack’s is hooked up with a psychopath,” he went on. “His name’s Tommy Sykes. His father’s a captain in the Highway Patrol, but it sure didn’t rub off on Tommy.”
Sister Maybelle smoked her cigarette nervously.
“I’ve got a hunch that that kid is connected with those Shanty Town murders,” Ace added, “not to mention being connected with whatever happened to his girlfriend. Jenny Garcia is her name. They say she ran away, only I don’t believe it. You watch out for them two boys, Sister. You watch out for them.” Then Ace shut up as he started to cough again.
“You better watch out, too, Mr. Kelly,” said Sister Maybelle as she stubbed out her cigarette. “Unless you change your ways you’re going to be in for some real bad trouble.”
“A man’s got to have at least one pleasure in life,” replied Ace as he took a puff.
“I’m not talking about your smoking,” she said, “I’m talking about your soul. You’re setting a bad example for these children. I have no objection to you believing whatever you want to believe, but you should at least give them a chance to know the Lord. I’d like to have them in Sunday school day after tomorrow. It will be our first session and I promise you we’ll only discuss the Bible. They’ll enjoy themselves.”
I had different ideas about that, and so did Kelly, but it did give me an opening. “We’ll be glad to go,” I said, “but can we go outside right now so we can throw a baseball? I promise we won’t break any windows.”
Ace studied the proposition for a minute, then waved us out. “Well, go on,” he said, “but I want you back here by ten p.m. Do you understand? Ten p.m.’s your deadline.”
We threw the baseball back and forth until it was too dark to see, talking all the while about the church ladies. After that we went to Kelly’s clubhouse. We gathered up newspapers and garbage and lit little fires, then stamped them out until we heard someone outside. We both went silent, listening. We thought maybe Ace had seen some smoke coming out of the clubhouse and had come over to give us a whipping. Just then someone grabbed off the board that served as a door and stuck his head in.
“Jesus!” yelled Kelly. “You scared the crap out of us, Oaf!”
“I’m sorry,” he replied in a husky voice. “I thought there was a fire or something. I saw the smoke.” He was quiet for a second as he sniffed. “I guess I was right. You two been smoking cigarettes.”
“No,” said Kelly. “I had a couple in my shirt pocket but Ace stole ‘em back from me. You got any?”
“I got one, but it’s for me,” said Oaf. “Hey Will,” he went on, using the alias that Ace had given me. “I heard something funny about you.”
I looked at him blankly. “What was it?”
“Well it’s a bunch of hogwash. That’s what I said.”
“Well what was it?” I asked again.
“You know Jack Wells?”
“Yeah, we know him,” answered Kelly. “He’s a son-of-a-bitch. His brother beat me up once, only Ace beat him up even worse. They got a restraining order on him. He’s not aloud anywhere near me anymore.”
“What’s a ‘restraining order?” asked Oaf.
“It’s a court order that says a person can’t come near another person.”
“Oh. Well anyway, Jack Wells says Will is a girl. I was over at the political rally at the park half an hour ago to get the free pop and ice cream, and suddenly I’m gettin’ the third degree from Jack Wells and Lacy Horne. That son-of-a-bitch Horne put me in juvenile for almost a year.” He stopped talking as he plucked a cigarette from his pocket, then lit it up and puffed.
“What did they ask you?” I inquired.
“They kept asking if I knew anything about a teenage girl living at Ace’s place. I said there wasn’t any teenage girl there, just Ace’s little deaf nice, only she ain’t but six.”
My heart practically leaped out of my chest. I realized that they’d figured out who I was. Or if they hadn’t, they at least suspected it. “Did they ask anything else?”
“Nah. Wells was joking with Horne about Ace thinking he’s all important and stuff. I says to ‘em, ‘yeah, he’s got a bunch a papers stashed in there that could bring down the whole state. He’s pretty nuts, old Ace, but he ain’t a bad guy.”
“Who told you about any papers?” I asked in a nervous voice.
Oaf looked over at Kelly. “I’m sorry, Kelly,” he said, “I know I promised I wouldn’t say nothin’ about ‘em. But it was you that told me it was a bunch of B.S. anyway, and that you hated when Ace started lecturing all about his secret papers.”
Kelly got an angry look on his face. “Damn you, Oaf! Get out of my clubhouse! You aren’t invited anymore!”
Oaf just stood there, shrugging his shoulders. “I said I was sorry. I thought you wouldn’t care.”
I guess I should have played it cool, but instead I decided to be honest. “Listen to me, Oaf,” I began, “I haven’t told you everything about me. But if I’m gonna tell you, you better swear not to blab it. I’m only telling you because we’re friends and I’m gonna need your help.”
Oaf stared at me. “I won’t blab nothing. You’re not gonna tell me you’re a girl, are you?”
“My real name is Billie. Billie Jane, but I go by Billie. And yeah, I am a girl.”
He rolled his eyes. “You’re pullin’ one over on me.”
“Listen, Oaf,” I replied as I narrowed my brows. “The only people who know who I really am are Kelly and Ace, and my little sister. If you tell anyone, they’ll kill me and Sara, too. I swear to God, Oaf!” Then I told him the whole story about what happened at the rest stop and how they’d blamed it on my father.
Oaf turned to Kelly with a confused look on his face. “Is he telling the truth or is he puttin’ me on ‘cause he thinks I’m stupid?” he asked.
“Billie ain’t puttin’ you on,” Kelly said, “and you better not tell anyone either—especially your old man.”
“I won’t, I won’t,” Oaf said earnestly as he looked at me with new respect. “I always thought you looked too pretty to be a boy.” Then he stopped and shook his head. “Jesus,” he added. “You’re in bad trouble, Will—I mean Billie.”
I felt like running back to tell Ace but I didn’t want Oaf to think I was afraid.
“Hey, I got an idea,” said Oaf. “They’re still waitin’ for the governor to speak over at the rally. We could get into Jack Wells’ house and he wouldn’t even know it.”
“What good would that do?” I asked glumly.
“Well, you need to get something on Lenny and Tommy, don’t you?”
I looked at him with my mouth half-open.
“There’s somethin’ in there that can help us,” continued Oaf.
“You mean you’ve broke in there already?” asked Kelly.
“Well, sort of,” Oaf answered, “but I didn’t take nothin’. They always leave their bathroom window open. It was easy. I didn’t stay long, but I found something weird. When I went through Lenny’s drawer, I saw a note. It says he killed Jenny Garcia. Lenny even signed it.”
“Who’s Jenny Garcia?” I asked.
“It’s Tommy’s girl. I mean, she was Tommy’s girl. She disappeared. My father says they killed her. I’d have gone to the cops, but I’d hav
e gotten in trouble for breaking in. My father told me to just shut up about it.”
“I’m in,” said Kelly, “let’s get moving.”
I thought things over for a second, then agreed with him. There was nothing else I could do under the circumstances except for tell Ace. Only Ace couldn’t help us. If Horne already knew where I was, they’d come and take us back to the juvenile detention center. That or else they’d kill us.
12
We ran as hard as we could through vacant lots and between houses so we could reach the Wells place before Jack got back. There was a chain link fence around the place but we climbed it easily. Only the house itself was locked. Even the bathroom window was locked. Oaf scratched his chin and then pulled out the knife he always carried, then walked over to a side door. He inserted the blade into the space where the latch fastened. It was useless. He couldn’t pry it open. Finally, he took out a pocketknife and opened the smallest blade. He inserted it into the keyhole and all at once the door swung open. “There,” he said, “I told you I could do it.”
Oaf and I proceeded into the darkened house, but Kelly held back. “I’ll just stay out here and watch for Wells’ car,” he said. “If I see it comin’, I’ll yell.”
“Good idea,” I told him. I was having second thoughts myself.
“See the notches on this knife?” said Oaf. He laid it flat on his palm and showed it to me. “My old man gave it to me for breakin’ into places. Got a notch on it for every house.”
I counted eleven notches. “You broke into that many houses?” I asked.
Oaf lit up with a smile. “Not me, my dad. Only he took me along a few times.” Then he opened the door and walked inside with me trailing behind him. “Can’t see,” he whispered. He fumbled in his pocket, then pulled out some matches and lit one. We found ourselves in the kitchen, with a big electric range on one side of the room, an icebox on the other, and a table and chairs in between. From there, we went through a door into a short hallway. Oaf switched on a light, closing off the hall except for a crack in the kitchen door. Then we proceeded into a gloomy wood-paneled room with a moose head peering down at us from above a glass case containing a gun collection.
“I think I’ll take one of them rifles,” Oaf said, trying to open the case. Fortunately, it was locked. He rattled it a little, then sighed and gave up. We proceeded into the large bedroom. We saw several framed certificates on the wall and some trophies on the dresser. “My old man says Jack’s a target shooter,” Oaf whispered. “I guess he’s won a lot of contests.” Oaf poked around the room for a couple minutes, then walked back into the hallway where I was standing. “Nothing there,” he said disgustedly. “Let’s move on.”
The next room we entered was smaller. I figured it was Lenny’s. There were some school pennants on the wall and a picture of Jack Dempsey above the headboard. “Over here,” I said, pointing to a dresser drawer.
“It’s gotta be there,” he said as he came over to me. He rifled through all the drawers and came up empty. “Damn it!” he blurted. Then he went over to the closet and opened it, pulling a string that turned on a light. “Nothin’ here either,” he said. “It’s empty.”
“Let’s get out of here,” I said. I could feel myself shaking.
“Not yet,” he said. He got down on his hands and knees to look under the bed. “Bingo!” he shouted. He reached as far as he could, then pulled out a metal box. After he set it on the bed, we tried to open it. It was locked.
“Let’s take it to the clubhouse,” I said as I picked it up in both arms.
Just as we reached the hallway, we heard Kelly yell that someone was coming. No sooner did he shout than we saw headlights turn toward the house. We started out the side door, but the car pulled into the driveway. We’d be in plain sight. Oaf closed the door and turned the latch. Then we raced toward the front door, only to find it locked.
Oaf inserted his pocket blade again, but we didn’t have time for that. The side door opened abruptly and someone switched on the kitchen light. We had no choice but to duck into Jack’s bedroom. Once inside, we closed the door quietly and waited. Oaf went over to the bedroom window and tried to crank it open, only it started squeaking. A chill came over me when I heard voices in the kitchen. One of the voices belonged to Tommy Sykes. There was no mistaking his snarling tone.
“Does your brother always leave the hall light on?” said Tommy. “Jesus,” he went on, “you are so damn stupid, Lenny. That box could get us fried.”
“It’s under the bed,” came another, deeper voice that I assumed was Lenny. “It’ll only take a minute to get it. We’ll be long gone before my brother comes home.”
“Well, hurry it up,” answered Tommy. Then we heard footsteps heading down the hall toward Lenny’s room followed by a loud exclamation.
“Oh, shit! Somebody’s moved it. Somebody’s moved the damn box!”
“You better be kidding me,” I heard Tommy say. Then there was silence, followed by the sound of drawers being opened and slammed shut.
“My brother’s got it, but he won’t know what it is,” Lenny said. “We can wait ‘til he gets home and ask for it. He’ll give it to me. It’s nothin’ to worry about.” His voice sounded shaky.
“Well if he’s on to us, I hope you know what’ll happen to him,” Tommy said coldly. “We won’t have no choice.”
“Oh, God, no, not that,” Lenny whispered. “I swear he wouldn’t talk, Tom, I swear it.”
“You couldn’t swear to nothin’ except your name,” answered Tommy. “Is there beer in your icebox?”
“Naw, he don’t drink no more,” Lenny answered. “He’s startin’ to get religion since he rented the lot across the street to them church ladies. Last time I was here he was talkin’ serious about it. I couldn’t hardly believe it. He’s done worse stuff than we have. He’s been sellin’ land he don’t even own. Somebody at the real estate place is making phony deeds for him.”
There was silence for a minute, then someone turned the radio on. Gene Autry was singing The Last Roundup. Tommy sang along, adding the word “Lenny” every time Gene Autry sang “last roundup.”
Meanwhile Oaf kept fiddling with the window crank. The sound of the music was enough to hide the squeaking. Oaf finally managed to get it fully opened, then he jumped out. I handed him the box and jumped out behind him. Just as we cut back across the yard, another car turned into the driveway.
“It’s Jack Wells,” Oaf said. “We’ll have to go the other way.”
“No,” I answered. “I want to hear what happens when he meets with his brother and Tommy Sykes.”
“Are you out of your head?” Oaf whispered. Then he turned and ran for the fence. I stayed put for a second, then ran after him. He climbed the fence like a cat, then jumped to the other side. After I tossed him the box and climbed over, we sprinted down the alley.
When we finally came huffing to Kelly’s makeshift clubhouse, we stopped to catch our breath. Then we pulled away the board from the entry and crawled in. It was too dark to see anything, so we made a little fire on the floor with some twigs and paper. Fortunately, the huge tin sign over the top of the crate had diverted the worst of the rain, leaving the inside dry.
Oaf pulled a paper clip out of his pocket, then bent it straight. He thrust it into the keyhole and jimmied it around until the lock popped open. Inside the box was a hunting knife, some newspapers, an empty wallet, and a silk handkerchief. Oaf seemed disappointed. I pulled out everything I could see, piece by piece, looking for the note about Jenny Garcia. Underneath the papers was a small object wrapped in cloth. It turned out to be a ring—a ring with the biggest diamond I’d ever seen.
“It can’t be real,” said Oaf.
“I bet it is,” I said. “When they shot Jessie Atkins, they took the ring off her finger. They accused my father of taking it.” I assumed the wallet belonged to Miss Atkins, too, but there was nothing inside it but a folded laundry ticket from the Starlite Cleaners in Needles, California.
“I get the ring,” Oaf said. “I can get a hundred for it easy, if it’s real.”
“Don’t be stupid,” I scolded. “That ring might belong to the governor’s daughter. You try to pawn it or sell it and the police will get you for sure. And besides, that ring is just what Ace needs to prove Tommy and Lenny shot Miss Atkins and my dad.”
Then I picked up the newspaper clippings and scanned them. Some of them were about Miss Atkins, but the others were about the disappearance of Jenny Garcia.
“They musta dumped her body somewhere around here,” said Oaf. Then he reached into the box again and rifled through some of the other clippings. “I thought I saw some green in there,” he said. Suddenly he held up a bill in his hand. “Wooo weee!” he cried. “That’s a hundred dollar bill!” He pressed it flat against the ground and stared at it, then stuffed it in his pocket. “That makes us even,” he said. “You can keep the ring.”
“What about Lenny’s confession note?” I asked. I felt a little guilty inside, knowing that I’d taken the other $100 that Tommy and Lenny had stolen from Jessie Atkins. Only I figured we’d needed it. I didn’t have any other choice.
“Maybe they burned the note,” he answered quietly.
I frowned at him, then glanced back at the box. “Ace told me to be home by ten o’clock,” I said as I took the ring and put in my pocket. “I gotta be getting back.”
“Well I don’t,” answered Oaf. “My daddy don’t give a damn. He won’t be home ‘til morning anyway. I got the whole night to have fun. You better hide that box when you get back to Ace’s place. If someone sees that you’ve got it, you’ll be in a mess.”
“The same goes for you,” I said. “If you go and spend a hundred dollars tonight, someone’s gonna report you to the cops. They’ll think you stole it. Maybe you oughta give it to me. We can just leave it in the box until Ace figures what to do with it.”
Oaf smiled like I’d said something funny. “Not a chance,” he said, “that’s my best haul since my twelfth birthday. My pop and I broke into a place up on Third Street and got three bottles of champagne and a set of silverware. Only the pawn shop guy only gave us a measly eleven bucks.”
Summer of the Guns Page 12
