Randy shook off Stonewall’s grip.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Randy said.
“That girl you’re hanging around with,” Stonewall said, trying to bait him.
“Good looking girl, too,” Toby added, much to Stonewall’s annoyance.
“She’s got nothing to do with you,” Randy said. “She’s my… girlfriend.”
“Right,” Toby said. “Like you can afford a girlfriend like that.”
“I ain’t buying it either,” Stonewall said. “She’s way out of your league.”
“She so far out of your league, she’s in a completely different league,” Toby sneered.
Stonewall turned to look at his nephew in disgust. Toby, taking the hint, nodded and took a step back.
“I swear to you,” Randy said. “She’s my new girlfriend. I met her online. She’s in town visiting. Yeah, she’s out of my league. And she’s gonna probably figure that out soon enough, so I’m just enjoying it while I can.”
He stopped to think.
“Wait. What do you even think I’m pulling over on you?”
Stonewall just shook his head, refusing to answer. Mainly because he had no answer. He was hoping Randy would call his bluff and confess.
“I think you may not be taking me serious enough,” Stonewall growled.
He nodded to Toby, who grabbed Randy and locked his arms around his back. With Randy’s arms restrained, Toby turned Randy toward Stonewall. Randy struggled but couldn’t break Toby’s lockhold. Stonewell grinned as he bunched his hand into a fist. But before he could throw a punch, he was interrupted by Jade, who had just walked out of the funeral home.
“Randy?” she said in her Texas accent, smiling innocently at Stonewall and Toby. “Are these your friends?”
42
Sheriff McKinley stepped out of his office, looking over the top of his reading glasses to survey the small sheriff station. A small desk was pushed up next to a see-through acrylic window to greet visitors. Two small sheriff deputy’s desks were wedged in behind it with barely enough room to maneuver between the three. It was still early, so all three desks were currently unoccupied, although one of them shouldn’t be. Sheriff McKinley walked toward the back of the office where a hallway led to holding cells but, more importantly, the coffeemaker.
“Jody?” he yelled out as he walked. “Where are you?”
He got his answer when he turned the corner. Sheriff’s Deputy Jody Perry was standing at the counter, blowing on a freshly poured cup of coffee. Even though she was barely five feet tall, she had a stocky gymnast build that gave her an intimidating presence—a presence completely contradicted by the soft brown eyes that were presently peering over the top of her coffee cup.
“Did you run those prints yet?” Sheriff McKinley demanded.
He was clearly in a sour mood. Probably because he hadn’t had much sleep. After his social visit had been cut short the night before, he had returned to the office where he had attempted to find and remove a fingerprint from the figurine goat he had nabbed from the store. It was normally a task that Jody or the other sheriff’s deputy handled, but he didn’t want to wait. However, after a couple of hours of searching for supplies and not sure how to scan and submit it, he decided to call it a night and turn the responsibility over to Jody in the morning.
His inability to complete such a simple task, coupled with his overly active suspicious imagination, had kept him awake the rest of the night. When Jody showed up to open the office at 5 a.m., she was surprised to see the sheriff already sitting at his desk.
“I’m working on it,” Jody answered. “Just grabbing some coffee.”
“Is there something there?” the sheriff asked.
Jody nodded.
“I got a pretty solid print and am fixing to send it over,” she said. “Just wanted to get a little coffee first.”
The sheriff grunted and she immediately sensed his impatience.
“I’ll go do it right this second, sir.”
“How long until you hear anything?” the sheriff asked.
Jody shrugged.
“Depends on their workload,” she said. “But I’m getting it in early enough. We should hear back by noon.”
The sheriff looked at the clock on the office wall. It was barely 8:00 a.m.
“You gonna tell me what this is for?” Jody asked. “The goat has me believing it has something to do with Clyde Philpot.”
“What doesn’t?” the sheriff deadpanned as he walked back into his office. “Let me know as soon as you hear something.”
43
Stonewall and Toby looked at the cute, disarming woman smiling back at them. Toby released his hold on Randy and Stonewall unclenched his fist. A big, shit-eating grin spread over his crinkled face.
“Well, looky who’s here,” he sneered.
Jade ignored him and walked casually over to Randy, kissing him on the cheek and wrapping her arm in his.
“Y’all come to pay respects to Clyde, too?” Jade asked innocently, laying on the accent—and the charm.
“We have a little unfinished business here with Randy,” Stonewall said. “Your…boyfriend.”
He wrapped the word ‘boyfriend’ in heavy quotations, making it clear he didn’t believe the charade for a moment. But Jade kept up her naive facade.
“Oh, you can say anything in front of me,” she said. “Randy and I don’t have any secrets. Ain’t that right, Honey?”
Randy, completely disoriented by the sudden shift in events, nodded blindly.
“This is private business, ma’am,” Stonewall continued. “Man talk.”
“Ohhhhhh. I’m sorry,” Jade teased. “Because y’all are all men?”
She said it in such a non-threatening way it almost sounded like she was asking a sincere question. She released her arm from Randy’s and stepped toward Stonewall, standing inches in front of him and looking him up and down. Then, in a lightning quick move, she grabbed Stonewall’s crotch and squeezed hard. Stonewall yelped in agony, but Jade only tightened her grip.
“Whaddaya know?” she said with a smile. “You are a man. Just barely, though.”
She gave her grip a hard twist before letting go. Stonewall gasped and fell to his knees, unable to even speak. Jade turned to a horrified Toby.
“You’re not a man, are you?” she teased.
Toby shook his head nervously.
“No, ma’am,” he stammered. “I mean, yes, ma’am. I mean… please don’t hurt my balls!”
“Then get your friend and get the hell out of here,” Jade hissed.
Toby nodded and frantically helped Stonewall to his feet, leading him back to their truck.
“You bitch,” Stonewall yelled. “I’ll cut that pretty little face to shreds. You’re dead, Randy. You hear me? You’re both dead!”
Randy stood, his mouth open in shock and fear as the rusty truck sputtered away. As soon as the truck left the parking lot, Jade patted Randy on the back and walked to the truck.
“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go.”
Randy leaned forward, put his hands on his knees and began to hyperventilate.
“Oh, you’ve gone and done it now,” he said.
“You’re welcome,” Jade replied sarcastically.
“Did you not just hear him?” Randy yelled. “He’s going to kill me! I might as well just go inside and lay down in a coffin.”
Jade turned to see the terrified look on Randy’s face.
“Jesus, Randy. Calm down.”
“You don’t know who they are!” he yelled.
“I know exactly who they are,” Jade snapped back. “They are the schoolyard bullies trying to take your lunch money. And they’ll always take as much as you let them and won’t stop until you stop them.”
“But I can’t stop them!” Randy yelled.
Jade let out a sigh and helped Randy to his truck, easing him into the driver’s seat. She walked around to the other side and got in.
“It ain’t that simple,” Randy argued.
“It’s always that simple.”
She handed the keys to Randy.
“No dice here,” she said. “Your brother’s clean.”
She asked Randy if he knew of any other place beside the shop or the house where Clyde would have hid something. Any property. A boat. A cabin in the woods. The question distracted Randy and he was able to calm down. He told Jade the only property Clyde owned was The Lazy Goat and his truck.
How could I be so stupid? she thought.
Of course, she should check the man’s truck. Other than the shop and his home, it was the next logical place. It definitely made more sense than a cavity search of his corpse. She was off her game. She was being reactive instead of active. It was time she took charge again.
“Where’s his truck?” she asked.
44
A weathered old man sat on a crate of motor oil in front of the gas station, taking refuge in some morning shade and spitting black chewing tobacco at a curious squirrel. A black Ford F-150 pulled off the four-lane state highway and up to the single row of gas pumps in front of him.
Peter and Leo emerged from the large truck and the old man smirked at the sight of their business suits. He never understood suits. Especially in Texas. Why would you wear a jacket in the middle of summer? You wore jackets when you were cold. For that matter, why would you wear a noose around your neck? As far as the old man was concerned, it marked you as a fool.
“Well, it’s pretty safe to say you boys ain’t from around here,” the old man said, punctuating it with another spit of tobacco. “Fill ‘er up?”
“Where is Red Dirt?” Peter asked.
The Russian accent immediately caught the old man’s attention. He slowly stood with a loud groan. His light blue coveralls were covered in oil and the name Ed was embroidered on the left chest.
“All you gotta do is look at the ground,” Ed said. “There’s red dirt everywhere.”
He chuckled at his joke. Peter and Leo did not.
“We need to find town of Red Dirt,” explained Leo. “Do you know of it…Ed?”
“I reckon I rightly do,” Ed answered.
Leo and Peter waited for Ed to offer more.
“Then tell us,” Peter said.
Ed laughed again, revealing a mouth of missing teeth.
“I’m just having some fun with you boys,” he said. “Not too many people stop here. Not since that Buc-ee’s went up down the road.”
Realizing the two Russians were in no mood for chit-chat, Ed pointed down the highway.
“You just keep on the way you been going,” he said. “Just stay on this service road and take a left on County Road 272. But it ain’t marked. You just gotta look for the orange oil pump near the side of the road. Once you turn…”
He stopped and looked at Peter.
“You might wanna write this down,” the old man grinned. “Come on inside. I’ll write it down for ya. And you’re gonna need gas.”
“How far?” Peter asked.
The old man shrugged. “Depends on how fast you drive. Probably about six hours.”
“Six hours!” exclaimed Peter. “That cannot be right!”
“Maybe it’s three,” Ed said. “I lost my watch.”
He laughed again at his bad joke. Once again, Peter and Leo did not. Ed shook his head and walked inside.
“Don’t they ever laugh where you’re from?”
45
Willy’s Last Bar sat just outside the city limits of Red Dirt, off of a small, single lane road barely wide enough for Randy’s truck. Patches of grass on either side of the road were worn down from years of traffic moving out of the way for oncoming traffic. Randy had always been surprised there weren’t more accidents on this stretch of asphalt that connected the bar to the main county road.
The building looked one termite short of being totally condemned. In fact, the only hints that it wasn’t already an abandoned building were the neon beer signs in each of the four blackened windows. At night, they would cast a glow that could be seen from the main road.
Randy pulled his truck into the red clay dirt parking lot and chugged slowly past several parked cars that had been left the night before. Either by patrons that went home with someone else or that got too drunk to drive.
“You really think she’ll be here?” Jade asked.
“She won’t,” Randy replied. “But Clyde’s truck’ll be.”
Randy had told Jade that Amy Jo had arrived back in town the day after Clyde’s death and immediately claimed ownership of the truck. Randy had no use for it, so he had just handed her the keys. She had tried to lay claim to The Lazy Goat as well, but it was technically owned by Mama. Plus, what would she do with a shop that sold goats?
Randy drove around to the back of the bar, which was clearly the establishment’s dumping ground. Rather than try and maneuver through the piles of trash, liquor bottles and empty kegs, he parked the truck and suggested they walk. Jade looked beyond the trash to an old white trailer home. Next to the trailer were two trucks, a brown and white GMC and a flashy red Ford with a giant decal of the Texas flag on the rear window.
“There she is,” Randy said, pointing to the red Ford.
As they neared Clyde’s red truck, a throaty groan emerged from the truck bed. Peering into the truck bed, they found Amy Jo, sound asleep under a Texas A&M blanket she had hogged for herself, leaving the pale, lanky man lying beside her fully exposed. There were empty beer cans and scattered clothes all around them, telling the tale that the sleeping couple weren’t likely to remember.
Randy shook his head in disgust. Jade put her finger to her lips and motioned for Randy to go to the passenger side of the truck while she opened the driver’s door. They both quietly looked through the truck’s littered interior, sifting through more beer cans, makeup, fast food bags, a box of condoms and, finally, a purse.
Jade rifled through the purse, freezing when she heard the couple stirring. Motioning for Randy to stay low, she quietly and slowly peered up through the rear window and was relieved to see the couple were still sleeping, but now Amy Jo’s hand lay flat over the man’s face.
Jade and Randy returned to their search. The purse contained nothing of interest. Neither did the glove compartment. They were just about to give up hope, when Randy pulled a small paper bag from under the seat. He smiled and handed it to Jade.
“What the hell tarnation?” Amy Jo yelled from the back of the truck.
46
Amy Jo was on her knees in the bed of the truck, holding a blanket up over her body with one hand and using her other to point a small Smith & Wesson revolver through the rear window. The big Texas flag decal over the window disguised the identities of the truck’s intruders so Amy Jo wasn’t sure where to point the gun.
“Y’all get out of my truck right now,” she yelled.
Randy immediately stepped away from the truck to reveal himself, his hands in the air.
“It’s just me,” he said.
Amy Jo looked at Randy confused as she tried to pull herself out of her still-drunk fog. The skinny man who had been sleeping beside her groaned as he woke up, clattering beer cans.
“What’s going on?” he muttered as he looked for his pants.
“What the hell, Randy?” Amy Jo exclaimed, lowering her gun.
But when Jade stepped back from the driver’s side of the car, the paper bag in hand, Amy Jo immediately raised the gun again. Jade resisted her immediate instinct to grab her own gun. Noticing Amy Jo’s state, she knew she’d have no problem drawing first if she needed to. Luckily, Amy Jo recognized Jade from the restaurant and lowered her gun.
“I remember you,” Amy Jo said.
“I just need to get something out of Clyde’s truck,” Randy exclaimed.
“It’s my truck,” Amy Jo corrected. “He give it to me.”
Not wan
ting to argue, Randy nodded his head. “Fine. But I still need to get something.”
“His brother left him something in the truck,” Jade interrupted impatiently. “For the store. We didn’t want to disturb you.”
The man next to Amy Jo got up on all fours, unaware or uncaring of the fact that Amy Jo had been pointing a gun at two strangers.
“I can’t find my boots,” he muttered.
Amy Jo glanced at him and was immediately overcome with morning-after regret. She looked back at Randy, feeling his judgement.
“I’m just working out my grief,” she said. “We all have our ways.”
“No judgement here. In fact, I’m guessing you probably have some more grieving to do,” Jade replied. “We found what we were looking for, so we’ll be out of your…hair.”
Amy Jo looked at the paper bag in Jade’s hand and casually raised the pistol again—not necessarily to aim it at Jade, but just to make its presence known.
“See, the thing is…if it’s in my truck, then it’s technically mine.”
Randy noticed Jade reaching a hand around to her own gun.
“It’s nothing important,” he said. “Just someone’s order at the shop that I need to ship out.”
Amy Jo’s curiosity grew stronger.
“What is it?” she said, pointing at the bag with her gun.
Jade looked at Randy, her patience clearly running thin. Randy shook his head, pleading with her not to do anything rash. Jade let out a sigh and pulled out a handful of the small pendants.
“Oh, I love those little goats,” Amy Jo squealed in delight. “They’re so precious!”
Jade dropped them back in the bag and looked at Randy, making it clear that she wasn’t going to put up with this any longer.
“I’d love to give them to you, but Clyde already sold ‘em. But what about this?” Randy asked, trying one last appeal. “What if you get the money from the sale? That’s fair, right?”
That seemed to get Amy Jo’s attention.
Red Dirt Blues Page 10
