“No. I’m having way too much fun.”
“I can always tell when you’re enjoying yourself.”
“How’s that?”
“Your sense of humor improves.”
“No kidding. Come on. We got places to be.”
“You think that mutt is acting weird?” asked Jake.
The dog was running around in circles and yelping, and running around didn’t look to be an everyday activity for the fat mutt. Jake stared at the dog, waiting for it to calm down, but it gave no sign of slowing. After a couple of minutes he began to wonder if the dog wasn’t going to give itself a heart attack.
He knocked on the door this time and shouted. “Barbara? Is anybody home?” He shrugged at Cramer. “Check the garage.”
“Sure,” muttered Cramer, heading down the steps into the rain. “I jus’ paddle de pirogue over dere.”
Jake paced the length of the front porch, peeking in every window. The dog followed him from the foyer to the dining room, never stopping its whirling dervish imitation or its high-pitched yaps.
Cramer stomped back up onto the porch, shaking off like a wet hound. “Her old clunker’s in the garage.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” said Jake. “Want to break in?”
“With that guard dog?” said Cramer.
“Look for an open window,” said Jake.
Cramer turned, stepped back to the front door, and opened it. The dog ran into the foyer and stood like a statue, waiting.
“You told me no one locks their doors around here,” said Cramer.
“I forgot,” said Jake, sticking his head in the door and shouting for Barbara again as Cramer slipped past him into the house.
Jake followed. The place smelled of lavender, and disinfectant, and maybe garlic. Jake wrinkled his nose, and Cramer laughed. As they followed the dog down the hall, Jake stopped at an antique side table, staring at the gilded oil lamp atop it. He ran his fingers along the ornate base, staring at the bas-relief floral shapes.
“What?” said Cramer.
Jake shook his head. “There was a lamp just like this in our house. Outside my parents’ room.”
“You think the old lady stole it?”
Jake shrugged. “The house has been sitting up there empty a long time.”
“Maybe Pam gave it to her.”
“Maybe.”
“What was that?” said Cramer.
“I didn’t hear anything.”
“I thought I heard somebody whispering,” said Cramer.
Jake listened to the rain on the roof. There did seem to be another sound beneath that one. An undercurrent. A hissing. But as they entered the house the sound seemed to die away.
The dog gave them a haughty look and took off into the next room. Cramer and Jake followed, hurrying through the cluttered parlor. Jake pointed as the dog’s tail disappeared into the dark passageway ahead. When they emerged in a small shed, Cramer immediately sidestepped, grabbing Jake before he could fall head over heels into the hole.
The old woman lay facedown on the sloping floorboards below. Jake noticed a bald spot on the top of her head, and he wondered if Barbara was aware of it.
Cramer sighed. “We have to get down there.”
“How the hell are you gonna do that?” asked Jake, surveying the wreckage. Barbara’s plummet to the lower level had turned the shed floor into a funnel. There was barely enough room on the planking and joists along the perimeter for the dog to work its way around to the far side. The mutt stared down at the old woman as though trying to decide whether to make the leap to the dirt below.
“Slide down, I guess,” said Cramer.
“You’ll break your neck.”
“You see another way?”
Jake reluctantly shook his head. Cramer bared his teeth and locked viselike fingers on a bare stud. Then he eased himself into the hole. When his feet were halfway down he released his grip and crashed to the bottom.
“Careful,” said Jake, grimacing as Cramer caught a jagged-looking splinter in his hand.
“Right,” said Cramer, tugging the sliver out with his teeth, spitting it into the dirt. As he reached for Barbara’s shoulder, she rolled over as though she were a mummy that had suddenly been revived. Cramer jerked.
“Come to save me?” she asked weakly.
“Something like that,” said Cramer. “Did you break anything?”
She glared at him. “My floor.” She stretched, and a wide grimace twisted her face. “Maybe my shoulder.”
“Nothing else hurt? No neck injuries?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You should lie still until the paramedics get here.”
“Like hell,” she said, rising shakily to her feet. “I’m not having those morons tracking mud all over my house and trying to give me CPR. Now get me out of here.”
Cramer steadied her as she wobbled like a porcelain doll in his hands. When she reached up to wrap her arms around his neck and smiled, Cramer looked to Jake for help, but Jake was busy stifling a grin of his own.
“You’re so strong,” said Barbara.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I think if I hold onto the wall here, I can reach down and give you a hand,” said Jake.
“Okay,” said Cramer uncertainly. “Come on in.”
Jake slipped his fingers around the doorjamb. Then he slid carefully down toward Cramer. Cramer placed one hand under Barbara’s arm and reached for Jake with the other. It took two lunges for them to connect. For just an instant the outcome seemed in doubt as Jake’s shoes lost their grip on the slope, but Cramer had enough momentum to gain the top. Jake leaned back and pulled them toward the door.
The three of them huddled on the lip of the hole for a moment, catching their breath. Oswald pattered his way around to greet each of them with a yap and a sniff at their feet.
“We ought to get her to the hospital,” said Jake.
“Took a genius to figure that out,” said Barbara, slipping out of Cramer’s embrace and dusting herself off. But she made a face when she bent to straighten what was left of her skirt, and her eyes glazed when she stood back up. Cramer caught her by the shoulders.
“I heard voices,” she whispered. “I came in here to find out who it was.”
“Voices?” said Cramer and Jake at the same time.
“I thought I heard whispers. Then this old floor just gave out on me. Damn near killed me.”
“No one whispering around here now,” said Cramer, a little too jovially. “Let’s fais-do-do into the house, and everybody can lick their wounds.”
He strode into the dark passageway with his arm wrapped around Barbara’s waist, Jake taking up the rear. As the gloom surrounded Jake he was suddenly certain he was being watched. Goose bumps crawled up the back of his neck, and cold sweat broke out on both palms.
Their passage seemed to take forever. The sense of being watched became one of being probed, as though some unseen presence were testing him in some way, searching through his brain like invisible fingers flipping through a Rolodex. By the time they exited the narrow corridor into the little book-lined parlor, Jake was ready to scream. He shifted past Barbara, edging to one side of the door, staring back down the long tube of darkness.
“What’s up?” whispered Cramer, sliding in beside Jake, instinctively keeping his bulk out of the line of the open doorway.
Jake shook his head. “Just a hunch.”
“I like your hunches. What’s the matter?”
“I felt like something was in there with us.”
Cramer leaned around Jake to peer down the hallway. “No room for anybody else in there.”
“I guess it was nothing.”
“Want to check it out?”
More sweat broke out on Jake’s palms. “No,” he said, nibbling his lip. “It was just nerves.”
Cramer frowned. “We ought to get the old lady to the doctor, then.”
“Right,” said Jake.
But as they
led Barbara down off the front porch and eased her into the backseat of the car, Jake could have sworn he heard the vaguest of whispers. He glanced at Cramer, who was staring into the woods.
“Ready?” said Jake.
Cramer started the car and jerked it into gear without comment. But all the way down the drive Jake had the nasty feeling they were still being watched.
CAN’T BELIEVE IT,” said Smitty, shaking his head as he wove between two trucks flying down the interstate. “The phone at the restaurant was totally vandalized. What kind of people would do something like that?”
Jimmy shook his head, too. “Criminals. Lowlifes. We’ll find you a phone, don’t you worry.”
“I should have stopped in Providence,” said Smitty, craning his neck to stare up into the bean-size drops of rain. The day was thick and gray, the clouds barely holding back the flood that hung threateningly over their heads. “She worries.”
“How many months?” asked Jimmy.
“Five. But she’s really big already, and this is our first. I should stay home, but how am I going to support us if I don’t get out and press the actual flesh? She kind of understands. And she kind of doesn’t.”
“Five months isn’t bad,” said Jimmy. “She’s got plenty of time.”
“You got kids?”
Jimmy laughed. “Not that I know of. But I got lots of cousins. And they’re pregnant all the time.”
Smitty sighed. “I’m sure you’re right. But like I say, it’s our first. I really should be there with her. At least in the same town, I guess.”
“A man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do,” muttered Paco.
“You sound like you’re really scrambling for money,” said Jimmy.
Smitty laughed. “Who isn’t?”
“Me,” said Jimmy.
Smitty gave him a questioning look. “Your companies do really well, then?”
Jimmy nodded. “Extremely.”
Smitty sighed. “Most of the companies we deal with are struggling. I guess I shouldn’t complain. That’s what pays my bills. But I’m glad someone’s making it in today’s economy.”
“What economy?” said Jimmy, laughing.
“You got that right,” said Smitty.
“So, how about I pay you a lot of money to drive us to Maine?”
Smitty frowned. “How much money?”
“How much you want?”
“No, seriously.”
“I am serious.”
Smitty computed. “A thousand dollars.”
“Are you for real?”
“Seven-fifty?”
“Five thousand.”
Smitty choked and Jimmy slapped him on the back.
“One condition,” said Jimmy.
“What?” asked Smitty suspiciously.
“No phone calls until we split up. And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone else you’d seen us.”
“I knew it,” said Smitty. “This is something illegal, isn’t it?”
“No.”
“It has to be.”
“Only mildly,” Jimmy said.
“How mildly?”
“You won’t be involved, and no one is getting hurt, and there are no drugs. How’s that?”
Smitty made a face. “So what kind of crime is it that no one get’s hurt, and doesn’t involve drugs? I really don’t want to be a part of this, guys. I’m sorry.”
“Hey!” said Jimmy, holding up both hands. “I’m telling the truth. But there’s no hard feelings.”
Smitty took a long time considering. When he spoke his voice was resolute.
“I don’t want to be involved in this, whatever this is. I’m sorry. I made a mistake picking you guys up.”
Jimmy spread both hands. “You can drop us off when we stop for gas again, and you’ll have seen the last of us. I really would appreciate it if you wouldn’t mention you’d seen us, though. All right? I mean, have I done you any harm?”
“You aren’t like escaped criminals or something, are you?”
Jimmy laughed again, fingering the lapel on his suit. “Does this speak to you of escaped criminal? I don’t think so.”
Smitty shook his head, jumping a little when a bolt of lightning flashed across the sky followed quickly by thunder. “Corporate crime. That’s what you’re talking about, right?”
“Right,” said Jimmy. “No one gets hurt.”
“What about the investors, the little guys?”
“Well,” admitted Jimmy. “I guess you’re right. Someone always gets hurt a little.”
“When you’re little already it doesn’t take much to hurt you pretty bad.”
“Sounds like you’re talking from experience.”
“I lost some retirement to a company that folded. The accountant had been embezzling.”
“That’s too bad. Guess you could really use that five thousand.”
“Not that bad,” said Smitty, taking the next exit.
A sudden gust of wind pummeled the car as Smitty spotted the lights of a gas station ahead and whipped into the lot. “I have to, fellas. This just isn’t my kinda deal. I’m sorry.”
Jimmy shrugged, waving toward the side of the building. “No hard feelings. But I need to go to the bathroom, and I’m sure Paco does, too.”
Smitty nodded, pulling up to the white metal doors. Rain poured down the white stucco sides of the station, glistening.
“You’re probably going to have to go inside to get a key, anyway,” he said.
“That’s all right,” said Jimmy, shoving a pistol barrel up under Smitty’s arm and pulling the trigger twice. “I don’t have to go anymore.”
Paco raced around to the driver’s side while Jimmy slipped out of the car and into the backseat. Paco shouldered Smitty’s corpse over against the passenger side door.
“Why didn’t we just rent another car?” he asked nervously.
Jimmy frowned. “We already had this one.”
He didn’t like having to explain himself, especially when he wasn’t sure why he’d just murdered Smitty. It had been an impulse, and Jimmy didn’t often act on those. Perhaps it was as simple as him transferring some of his hatred for Jake Crowley and his partner to Smitty. Whatever. They had a car now. They didn’t need another.
“What now, boss?” said Paco.
“We’re here. Fill her up.”
Paco pulled the car under the roofed pump island, as Jimmy leaned across the seat and adjusted Smitty to look as though he were sleeping. When the tank was full Paco hurried inside to pay cash, then slipped behind the wheel again, easing back out into the storm and heading for the highway.
“Now let’s quit fucking around and get to Crowley,” said Jimmy.
“How come you spent all that time telling him we were some kind of corporate criminals, boss? All that stuff about no one getting hurt. Why bother making up a bullshit story? Why all the talking?”
“I wasn’t talking,” said Jimmy, shaking his head and sinking back into the seat. “I was mollifying.”
ULES SLAMMED THE RECEIVER of the phone back into the cradle so hard he had to check to make sure he hadn’t shattered it. The message kept telling him the boss was out of his cell phone carrier area. Jules really needed to know how things were going. But mostly he wanted to have the boss tell him that the job was finished, and now the old woman was expendable. Because she was seriously creeping him out.
She didn’t seem to have anything in her wardrobe but clothes made out of sheets, and she padded around the apartment on rubber flip-flops that sounded like a giant frog smacking its lips. She always seemed to be watching him, and constantly muttering in that indecipherable Cajun bullshit. When he shouted at her to stop, she just laughed.
Now she was mixing up some kind of evil-looking concoction in the kitchen, smashing it together in a stone pot and nodding to herself like some old witch, which was exactly what Jules thought she was. She tossed in herbs from crockery beneath the cupboards and juices stored in murky green bottles
in the fridge and kept mashing with the stone pestle, grinning to herself and muttering.
“What the hell is that?” he finally blurted. “What are you doing?”
She shrugged, leaning the pot so he could see the nasty-looking green goop. “Making de guacamole. You want some?”
He squinted. It might have been guacamole. Or it might be some kind of poisonous paste. He shook his head, and she shrugged again.
“Can’t get you boss?” she said, nodding toward the phone.
“He’s busy.”
She laughed. “Gonna be heap busy. You bet.”
“You are so full of shit, old woman. You don’t scare me.”
“Scare you? Big fella like yourself? Howso little old woman like me gonna scare man like you?”
“You better believe it.”
“You like snakes?”
“What?”
She nodded toward the living room carpet. Jules glanced over his shoulder and froze. The biggest rattlesnake he’d ever seen was winding its way toward him. His breath froze in his lungs, his stomach tightened like a giant rubber band, and his mouth went dry all in that instant. With a quivering hand he reached under his left arm and tried to pull his pistol out of its holster. But it seemed to be stuck. He whispered a curse as the snake wove slowly around the post in the center of the room, never taking its gleaming eyes off Jules. Finally the snap broke free, and he jerked the gun out, trying to get a bead on the snake.
“You gonna shoot dat in here? Make one hell of a noise. Probably sure de cops come.”
He glanced at the old woman, wanting to slap the grin away. Instead he shoved the gun into her face. “Do something!”
Her smile never broke. “Sure. I do something. Big man like you can’t do something. No.”
She walked casually around the counter and right up to the snake, who eyed her curiously but didn’t show any sign of striking. She reached out and, crooning in that damned Cajun lingo again, gently stroked the wide back of the scaly head as though the poisonous reptile were a house cat. Then she took it by the throat, and as it wrapped sinuously around her arm she disappeared into the other room. When she returned the snake was gone.
“Don’t let that thing out again if you know what’s good for you,” said Jules.
In Shadows Page 12
