Red Dirt Blues

by David K. Wilson

  But why would she still be there? Could he have the wrong location?

  Dean began to question his investigative work. And as soon as he let doubt creep into his brain, he began second-guessing everything. He began to think about what he would do if he actually did find her. She wasn’t likely to surrender quietly. Dean hadn’t fired a weapon in the line of duty. Ever. She clearly had the upper hand if a confrontation occurred. Plus, there were the civilians to consider. She wouldn’t hesitate to use any one of them as a human shield. Was he putting innocent people in harm’s way just so he could play Lone Ranger?

  On the other hand, he rationalized, he had the element of surprise on his side. She was most likely expecting Viktor Petrov to show up and would even expect the FBI to follow him. But she wouldn’t be looking for a lone agent coming in first. Of course, that’s because it would be a suicide mission.

  Dean had been so caught up in catching Jade that he had never thought about the very real possibility he may not come out of this alive. And now that he did, he was surprised he didn’t really care. It’s not like he had a death wish or was suicidal, but it’s not like he had a lot to lose. He had no one. He had nothing of value. He had nothing really worth living for. And, truth be told, this crazy pursuit of a mysterious and dangerous international thief had woken him up a little bit. In fact, he hadn’t felt this alive in years.

  37

  Randy’s truck screeched to a halt in the empty parking lot of the East Pines Funeral Home. Jade jumped out and hurried toward the door. Randy climbed out of the passenger seat, moving much slower.

  “I should have done this first thing,” Jade said to herself.

  “You shouldn’t have done it at all,” Randy argued. “You still shouldn’t.”

  “It’s just a pile of sticks and meat,” she replied.

  Randy maneuvered himself in front of Jade, blocking the door.

  “That pile of sticks and meat is my brother,” he protested.

  “I promise. He won’t feel a thing.”

  She pushed him aside and jiggled the doorknob. It was locked. Randy sighed, resigning himself to the fact he didn’t really have a choice in the matter, and reached up, feeling along the top rim of the doorsill until he found the key.

  Jade stormed down the hallway, leaving Randy in her tracks. On the ride over, she had pulled her gun from the ankle holster and tucked it into the back waist of her jeans. He noticed the gun as he watched her turn into a room, but when he saw the sign over the door that read EMBALMING, he hesitated. But feeling a family duty to protect the sanctity of his brother, he took a deep breath and pushed the swinging door open.

  The room was small. Bright fluorescent lights reflected off of the white tile floors, causing Randy to squint. His gaze quickly planted on two gurneys sitting side by side in the middle of the room, both were draped in white sheets that were clearly covering bodies.

  “I don’t think we should be in here,” Randy said, turning away only to find a casket sitting on another gurney. He caught his breath and turned back around just as Jade yanked one of the sheets back. It was an elderly woman with gray-white skin and blue lips.

  Randy gasped in recognition.

  “Mrs. Humphrey?” he said. “I didn’t even know she was sick!”

  He studied the dead woman as Jade walked over to the other gurney.

  “I mean, she was like a million years old,” Randy continued. “But I just figured she was never gonna die.”

  He tenderly pulled the sheet back over her head and looked up just as Jade yanked the sheet away from the other body. He walked over in silence, staring at the familiar face.

  “That him?” Jade asked.

  Randy stared at the body, not sure what to think.

  “I don’t know,” Randy muttered.

  “You don’t know?” Jade asked.

  A wave of recognition and relief washed over Randy.

  “Thank God,” he said “That’s Johnny Bemus. I think, anyways. I ain’t seen him in maybe five years and he didn’t have a beard then. Jeez, what coulda happened to him? I didn’t even know he was still around.”

  “But it’s not Clyde?” Jade interrupted.

  “Definitely not Clyde.”

  They both looked at the casket but were interrupted by the sound of someone approaching the door. Before either could react, a portly man with round-rimmed glasses casually pushed open the door, a cup of coffee in one hand and a donut in the other. He had just taken a big bite out of the pastry and froze mid-chew when he saw the two intruders staring back at him in shock.

  38

  Lucas Shaver didn’t move. He did, however, manage to swallow the chunk of donut in his mouth.

  “What the holy hell?” he said.

  Randy noticed Jade instinctively reach around her back and put her hand on her gun. Knowing he needed to quickly diffuse the situation, he turned to Lucas and smiled.

  “Hey, buddy,” Randy said. “Sorry to startle you. I stopped by to see if there’s anything I need to do before the funeral.”

  “How did you… what are you… you can’t be in here.”

  Switching on her Texas personality, Jade grinned ear to ear and walked over to Randy’s side.

  “This is all my fault,” she twanged. “I’m so sorry.”

  Lucas looked at her, confused.

  “And who are…”

  “Oh, I’m Jen Brown. Randy’s girlfriend.”

  Lucas looked at Jade then at Randy, who nodded in agreement. His shocked expression turned to one of surprise and finally relief.

  “Holy hell. You got yourself a new girlfriend, Randy?” he said. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Randy’s been grieving so I thought we should come take a look at his brother in private,” Jade went on. “You know, before everyone else.”

  Lucas looked at Randy who, playing along with Jade’s story, overacted being sad and pretended to cry.

  “It hit me harder than I thought it would,” Randy said through fake tears.

  Randy looked at Jade for approval and was surprised to see her slightly shaking her head in discreet disapproval.

  “You know we offer private viewings before the service, Randy,” Lucas said.

  “Yeah, but his mama is gonna want all of that,” Jade rationalized. “And you know Mama.”

  Lucas nodded. He knew all too well. He had dealt with many grieving mothers in the course of his fifteen-year career, but none of them had micromanaged and even bullied at the level of Randy’s mama. In fact, Lucas was a nervous wreck at the thought of having to deal with her today.

  “I totally understand,” he said. “You need to be able to grieve on your own so you’ll be strong enough to be there for your mother later.”

  Randy nodded, toning down the tears.

  “I shoulda called but I didn’t wanna bother you,” he said.

  Lucas pointed to the wall of what looked like storage lockers.

  “He’s still chilling in there. Almost ready for his big day,” Lucas said. “I got these other bodies out for embalming and then went and grabbed some breakfast.”

  He stopped before opening one of the doors to a refrigerator chamber.

  “I’m not quite done with him. I do the final touches after I dress him.”

  “Is he… disfigured? On account of the way he died?” Randy asked in horror.

  Lucas laughed and shook his head.

  “Oh, Lord no. The accident only messed him up down there,” Lucas answered, pointing to his crotch. “But the prime viewing area was unscathed. I just need to add a little color to his face. Comb his hair. Stuff like that.”

  Randy smiled.

  “I can’t even remember the last time I saw Clyde’s hair combed.”

  “Do you have his shoes?” Lucas asked. “Your mama said you were gonna bring them over this morning.”

  Randy started to ask the mortician why his brother would need shoes in a casket, but Jade stepped in front of him.

  “Change of
plans. No shoes,” she said. “But do you think Randy could have a moment alone with his brother?”

  Lucas seemed worried. “But Mama specifically said…”

  “We convinced her heaven feels better on bare feet and if he goes south they’re just gonna melt to his feet,” Jade explained. “About Randy?”

  Lucas nodded then turned to Randy.

  “Of course,” he said. “Just don’t touch him, please.”

  39

  Lucas opened the refrigerator door and slid the gurney out, pulling back the sheet enough to reveal Clyde’s head and chest. Randy let out a small gasp at the sight of his brother’s body. His skin was the same white gray as the other bodies and his cheeks seemed sunk in. It looked LIKE Clyde, but NOT Clyde. Almost like a wax figure of his brother. Also, his medium length brown hair was poofed up like a troll doll. Randy slowly stepped closer. He had been the one to identify his brother’s body after the accident but, for some reason, this felt more real. And an unexpected wave of grief swept over Randy.

  Lucas stepped back next to Jade.

  “Do you think we could be alone with him?” Jade whispered. “For just a few minutes?”

  Lucas hesitated but, after looking into Jade’s big pleading eyes, he nodded.

  “I’ll be back in a few,” he said. “Just please don’t touch anything.”

  Jade nodded and watched as Lucas walked out the door. As soon as it shut, she shifted back to being all business, completely ignoring Randy’s now-fragile state.

  “Okay. I’m going to need you to help me turn him over.”

  She started to move the body but realized Randy was making no effort to help. She looked up to see him staring down at the body, his eyes filled with tears. Jade sighed and looked nervously toward the door.

  “I’m sorry, Randy,” she offered as gently as her sense of urgency allowed.

  Randy could barely muster a nod.

  “I was never really close with him,” he replied, his voice quivering.

  Jade took a deep breath. She needed to be patient, but Randy’s grieving process was on a tight deadline.

  “But I always looked up to him in a weird way,” Randy went on. “The way he just did what he wanted. I always wanted to be more like that.”

  “Yeah, well you’re alive and he isn’t,” Jade reminded him. “Being a free spirit has a price.”

  “I couldn’t be one. I always had to clean up his mess. And it pissed me off how much Mama loved him anyway,” Randy went on. “All he did was give her grief. Everything he did broke her heart. And she just loved him harder.”

  Jade awkwardly patted Randy on the shoulder, hoping the condolence would help move things along.

  “I want to hate him,” Randy said. “But, gawl-dangit, I just can’t. He’s my brother.”

  Randy wiped real tears from his eyes and tried to collect himself.

  “I like to think that the last thing he felt was the relief of having to finally take a piss, and not the shock that came after,” Randy said. “That relief is such a good feeling.”

  Jade nodded, not sure how to respond.

  “Yes, it is,” she found herself saying. “I’m sure that’s what he felt.”

  Jade put her comforting arms around Randy and pulled him away from Clyde’s body. She realized he was going to be of no use to her and it would probably be better for everyone if she did this alone.

  “Randy, why don’t you go wait in the truck?” she gently suggested.

  Randy nodded, sniffling back his tears.

  “You’re not gonna cut him open or anything or you?” Randy asked.

  Jade found a box of latex gloves near the gurneys.

  “I wish it were that easy,” she said as she snapped one on her right hand.

  40

  The commercial produce truck backed up to the warehouse loading dock where three men were waiting. As soon as the truck pulled to a stop, one of the men lifted its rear door and peered into the darkness. He took a step back as Leo and Peter Koslov emerged from the truck, followed by Viktor Petrov.

  While Leo and Peter spoke to the men in Russian, Viktor headed toward an elderly man who was leaning back against a pallet of boxes.

  “Are you sure we were not followed?” Viktor asked in Russian.

  The elderly man grinned.

  “You can’t ever be sure of nothing,” he said in a Texas accent. “But the FBI is hot on the trail of our decoy and headed far away from here.”

  Anticipating FBI presence upon his arrival, Viktor had contacted a Texas outfit to arrange a diversion. Upon departing the plane, Viktor, Peter and Leo had ducked into a men’s room, fully aware they were being followed. Once in the men’s room, they each went into stalls and waited. After a few minutes, three men dressed identical to Viktor, Leo and Peter emerged from the bathroom and headed out of the airport.

  While the FBI followed the look-alikes, Viktor and the twins were met by a janitor, who escorted them through an employee door down a long corridor that eventually led to the loading docks. The three Russians climbed into the back of a produce truck, where they waited an extra thirty minutes. Finally, the truck left the airport and took a convoluted route to a railyard warehouse located 25 miles west of the airport.

  Meanwhile, the FBI followed the decoy Russians to a black Lincoln town car which headed south to Waco. By the time the FBI would figure out they were following the wrong trio, Viktor Petrov would be well on his way to Red Dirt.

  The grinning man was Jimmy Craddock, an old Texan opportunist whose greed saw no borders. He had been working with the Petrov crime syndicate way before Viktor rose to the top of the ranks. In fact, it was Jimmy that had introduced the Petrovs to Clyde Philpot, a down-on-his-luck gambler who owed Jimmy a lot of money and would be more than willing to help smuggle stolen goods in and out of the country.

  “I got you a truck over here,” Jimmy said, motioning to another loading dock.

  “A truck?” Viktor asked in broken English. “I asked for sedan.”

  “Well, if you wanna stick out like a sore thumb, I can arrange for one,” Jimmy replied. “But if you want to drive out of here without raising any eyebrows, I suggest you take a Texas carriage.”

  The two men walked toward the other loading dock, followed by Leo and Peter, who had been given American currency, burner phones, firearms and ammunition. They all reached the black Ford F-150 pickup truck at the same time. It was spacious, had a rear seat, and sat so tall it had a built-in step to help you climb inside.

  “Yes!” Leo exclaimed, jumping in the back of the truck. “Real Texas truck!”

  Peter walked beside Viktor as both men studied the large vehicle.

  “It seems big,” Peter offered. “I am sure it has comfort.”

  Jimmy handed the keys to Viktor who handed them to Peter without saying a word.

  “Let us hope,” Viktor grumbled, walking around the truck.

  “Shotgun!” an exuberant Leo yelled out as he lept out of the back of the pickup and opened the front passenger door.

  Viktor shot him a glare that immediately reminded him this was not a joyride. Leo wiped the smile off of his face and stood to aside.

  “I will ride in backseat,” Leo said quietly as Viktor climbed into the truck.

  41

  Randy sat behind the wheel of his truck, staring blindly at the funeral home in front of him. He was stunned that seeing his brother’s body affected him as much as it did. Like he had said, they weren’t that close, and, if he was truly honest with himself, life would have been much easier if he wasn’t always having to clean up his brother’s messes.

  He thought about the woman inside the funeral home performing some sort of morbid cavity search on his dead brother.

  What am I doing? he thought. What am I getting myself caught up in?

  He could get away right now. Granted, she still had his truck keys, but he could make it to the sheriff’s station on foot. Or he could even go inside and ask for Lucas’s help. This was his
chance.

  But he knew he wasn’t going to take it. Not because he was afraid, but because he didn’t want to. Truth be told, he was actually enjoying this treasure hunt. And he was enjoying her company. But none of it mattered. If she found what she was looking for on Clyde – or rather, in Clyde – she’d be on her way and out of his life in less than an hour. He’d bury his brother, console his mother and life would return to its same boring, everyday pattern, with its same old set of problems.

  As if on cue, the approaching clatter of an old engine caught his attention and he looked up to see Stonewall’s rusty truck pulling into the parking lot. It came to a stop right behind Randy’s truck, effectively pinning him in.

  “Shit balls,” Randy growled as Stonewall and Toby climbed out of their truck.

  He locked the driver’s side door and quickly reached across to lock the passenger door. Unfortunately, Toby was quicker. He flung the door open, sliding into the seat.

  “Hey, Randy,” Toby said. “Whatcha doing?”

  Stonewall tapped on the driver’s side window and motioned for Randy to step out of the truck. Knowing he was trapped, Randy let out a sigh and opened the door. As he climbed out of the truck, Toby scootched across the seat to get out behind him. Stonewall grabbed Randy by the shirt collar and pinned him against the truck. Randy flinched as Stonewall leaned in close. His rancid breath smelled like cigarettes and old beer stuffed inside a dead possum.

  “You think I’m a total fool?” he snarled.

  When he didn’t answer, Toby answered for him. “I think he does.”

  “I told you I’d get you the money,” Randy said. “It ain’t even been 24 hours.”

  “I know you’re up to something,” Stonewall accused, shaking a pointed finger in Randy’s face.