Devil Red cap-8

by Joe R. Lansdale

  “I come here ’cause my man there called,” Jimson said, “and I come here to show you guys I’m not afraid of you, that you ain’t got no mojo on me. You dig on that?”

  “I think ‘dig’ went out with the beatniks,” Leonard said.

  Jimson sighed. “You don’t even try to work with a man when he’s trying to work with you. I wanted, I could rub you guys out. I still owe you a shitstorm that didn’t never come down.”

  “Actually,” I said, “you threw a lot of shit our way, but we sort of threw it back.”

  “I’m talkin’ about what I could have done.”

  “Woulda, coulda, shoulda,” Leonard said. “That was then, and this is now.”

  “You fellas don’t want this,” Jimson said. “You don’t want me mad.”

  “Do we look nervous?” Leonard said. Leonard didn’t. Me, I wasn’t so sure about. “We made you mad before, and we’re still standing,” Leonard said.

  “I thought you made a deal to stay out of my business if I stayed out of yours,” Jimson said.

  I nodded. “It’s a deal we like, stayin’ out of each other’s business, but we’re thinkin’, considerin’ what we know lately, maybe your business is in our business again. And if it is, well, we got to come say howdy.”

  “And what in the hell business could that be?” Jimson said.

  Leonard said, “You know, I’m gonna pause and eat this hamburger. It’s better when it’s warm. Hey, Shit Fingers. Come over here.”

  Shit Fingers was behind the counter. He looked at Jimson. Jimson nodded.

  Shit Fingers came out from behind the counter, over to Leonard.

  “Let me see those hands,” Leonard said.

  Shit Fingers showed them to him. They had been washed.

  “All right, go on about your business,” Leonard said.

  I looked at Jimson. He was starting to fume. That’s the way Leonard wanted him. He liked people he was dealing with mad, especially when he was trying to find something out. Me too. They were more likely to mess up, reveal something they shouldn’t. They were easier to read when they were angry. It’s the way we worked. Either that or kicking their ass. Subtlety was not our long suit.

  Muscles said, “You want me to fuck ’em up, boss?”

  Jimson shook his head. “I don’t know you can.”

  Muscles looked hurt, the way a kid might if you told him his drawing of the sky and a moon looked like a boat on the ocean.

  “Here’s the thing,” Leonard said. “We got this client, and our client has a problem. Someone she knows, family, was murdered, and there were other murders, and they’re all connected by a little symbol. A devil’s head. Red. Left at the scene of the murders. You know anything about that?”

  “No.”

  Leonard said, “Oh, Shit Fingers. I’ll have a slice of pie. Hap?”

  “Oh yeah,” I said. “Big slice.”

  “I don’t see how this has anything to do with me,” Jimson said. “Got that whole Kincaid-does-your-taxes thing going,” Leonard said.

  “Yeah, and I got a grocer, this filling station where I buy my gas and do my business, and I got a mechanic and a plumber, and a girl on Fridays comes over and pulls my dick so I don’t have to.”

  “So you got nothin’ for us?” I said.

  “If I had, why would I give it to you? You come in here, you insult Shit Fingers… I mean Toad-”

  “Toad?” I said.

  “We called him that in high school. I’ve known him a long time. Same for these two. We grew up together.”

  “I used to beat him up on the playground,” Muscles said.

  Jimson turned and looked at him. “You could have saved that.”

  “Sorry, Cletus. I just thought it was funny… as a memory. Not that I would do it now-”

  “That’s all right,” Jimson said. “Just be quiet.”

  Muscles went quiet.

  “Here’s what I got to say,” Jimson said. “I’ve got nothing to do with the devil head murders. Nothing. What I can say is this: I’ve heard of a hit person who uses that mark. The only person more deadly than this person, so they say, is this Vanilla Ride, and you’ve had experience with her. They’re both a lot more deadly than you are. Say I wanted somethin’ done, I used to go to Vanilla. She got the job done, but now me and her got this disagreement on account of you two.”

  “I call bullshit on that,” I said. “You decided to kill her. That’s the disagreement.”

  “Whatever. I wanted someone killed in a bad way, I might go to this devil head killer. I might go through Kincaid. I might know he can arrange it. But me, I don’t want anyone killed, so I’m not doin’ that. I didn’t do it in the past. I got to tell you now, you boys are startin’ to annoy me. You’re not keepin’ your side of the bargain about stayin’ out of my business.”

  “As long as it’s out of our business,” I said. “That was the bargain.”

  “And I’m tellin’ you, if my accountant is hirin’ someone to knock fuckers off, it ain’t through me. That’s what I’m tellin’ you, and that’s my word.”

  Shit Fingers, aka Toad, brought the pie.

  “Get me one too,” Jimson said.

  “Yeah,” Muscles said. “Pie all around. And some milk. What we got here, five milks?”

  Toad looked at Jimson. Jimson sighed. “Why not? More pie. Bring milk. We might as well see if anyone wants coffee.”

  “I’ll top it off with coffee,” Muscles said.

  Jimson shook his head a little.

  Leonard took a big bite of pie, worked it around in his mouth, and swallowed. “Any chance you might hook us up with this Devil Red killer, like maybe we act like we got a job we want that bad boy to do?”

  “No.”

  “Come on, man,” Leonard said. “Here we are sharin’ pie, and you won’t hook a brother up.”

  “I belonged to the Aryan Nations in prison, so I don’t hook brothers up.”

  “Unless it’s to fasten ’em to a chain to get dragged by a car,” Muscles said.

  This time the tall thin man who hadn’t said a word yet grinned. It was like seeing the Grim Reaper get a chuckle.

  “Oh, that’s funny,” Leonard said.

  “Look here. I ain’t into all that nigger hatin’ anymore,” Jimson said.

  “That’s big of you,” Leonard said.

  “Only way you might see this Devil Red dude, as you call him, is if he comes to shoot your black ass, and your white pal too.”

  “That’s so sweet,” I said. “Both of us, and in the ass.”

  “Look here,” Jimson said. “We’ve had a talk. I’ve bought some pie.”

  “We’re not asking you to buy our pie,” Leonard said. “The milk maybe, as your man ordered that.”

  Jimson snapped both hands in the air, making a crosscutting motion.

  “Forget it. I’ve got the whole goddamn bill. I just want you two to go away and stay away, and let’s go back to where we were before. I’m out of your business, and you’re out of mine. You jackasses are like having seed ticks imbedded in the balls.”

  “All right,” Leonard said. “But before we go, and before I say thanks for lunch, let me confirm some things. There is a killer who works for money who uses a red devil head as a symbol to sign his work?”

  “That’s what I’m told,” Jimson said.

  “And you’re sayin’, and I know you might lie to a brother, you’re sayin’ you’ve got nothin’ to do with these hits?”

  “If I did,” Jimson said, “them crossin’ your path would just be a coincidence.”

  “So you’re sayin’ you did have somethin’ to do with it?” Leonard said.

  “No,” Jimson said. “For Christsakes, no. That was one of those hypotheticals.”

  “You learn that word in prison?” I asked.

  “I just added an s to it, that’s all. I have nothing to do with Devil Red. I have never had anything to do with Devil Red. I might consider havin’ something to do with Devil Red in the f
uture. Maybe the very goddamn near future.”

  “That a threat?” I asked.

  “Hell yeah,” Jimson said.

  “Don’t forget,” Leonard said. “Vanilla Ride is a personal friend of ours.”

  “No need to bring that bitch into this.”

  “You are such a misogynist,” I said. “If you can’t be sweet, don’t have anything to say at all.”

  “Yeah,” Leonard said, tossin’ his napkin on the table. “You’re gonna talk like that, then we’ll just have to leave.”

  He got up. I got up. I went to the fire door and pushed it. The alarm went off. I backed slowly out of it, and Leonard backed out after me. We went around by the side glass on our way to the car. Jimson, Muscles, and the Grim Reaper were watching us from the table. Well, Muscles was actually eating pie and drinking milk. Jimson and the Reaper were watching.

  Toad wasn’t in sight.

  Nobody pulled a gun.

  49

  On the way home, Leonard said, “Did Jimson seem a bit grumpy to you?”

  “He did.”

  “The guy with the big arms, he didn’t worry me none. Neither did Jimson, but the quiet one.”

  “I call him the Grim Reaper,” I said.

  “Yeah, him. He’s someone could be trouble.”

  “We’ll file him away for any future associations.”

  “That part of the file, people that don’t like us, might kill us, and just ought to be watched, is getting sizable.”

  “It is,” I said.

  “Hap?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You feelin’ better?”

  “Sure.”

  Actually, I had no idea how I felt.

  50

  When I got home, Leonard took his car and went away somewhere to do Leonard things, which probably meant he was giving Brett and me time together.

  Inside, Brett was sitting on the couch with her suitcase parked by her.

  I closed the door and said, “Problem?”

  “It’s Tillie.”

  “You just got back from there. You said yourself you can’t change her.”

  “I can’t. She got beat up. Her pimp did it.”

  “Shit. How bad?”

  “Bad. She’ll be all right, but she’s bad.”

  “Damn, Brett, I’m sorry.”

  “I got to go. I was just waiting on you.”

  “Why didn’t you call?”

  “Your phone was off.”

  “Oh.”

  “And I wouldn’t have called anyway. I wanted to see you before I left.”

  “How’d the hospital take it?”

  “They took it,” she said, and stood up. “I get there, I’ll give you a call.”

  When she stood up and came close, I could see there were tears on her cheeks.

  “Long as you need, of course,” I said.

  We kissed and I picked up her suitcase and carried it out to her car. She kissed me again and got behind the wheel and started the engine and rolled down the window.

  “You didn’t offer to settle the pimp’s hash for me,” she said.

  “No. I didn’t.”

  “It’s all right. It won’t change him and it won’t change her.” She smiled at me and drove away.

  I went upstairs and took off my clothes and closed the blinds and put on my pajamas and got in bed. It was early afternoon and still bright out. But not with the blinds drawn. I lay back on my pillow and pulled her pillow to me. It smelled like she smelled and I liked it.

  51

  When my cell phone rang, I woke up and didn’t know where I was for a moment. I rolled out of bed and pulled it out of my coat pocket and flipped it open.

  It was Cason.

  “You and Leonard ought to get together with me and Mercury,” he said.

  “Got somethin’?”

  “Yeah. Leonard with you?”

  “No. But I can hustle him up.”

  “When can we get together?” Cason said.

  “I don’t know. I’ll call him, we’ll call you, and we’ll get together.”

  “Tell Leonard not to wear the hat.”

  We showed up at Cason’s apartment, way he said. Mercury was there with him. Leonard didn’t wear the hat.

  As we went inside I gave the place a once-over. It was sort of thrown together with home-made bookshelves and an old couch and a coffee table that looked as if it had been salvaged from the dump. It had so many glass and cup stains on it, it almost looked designed.

  I could see the kitchen from the middle of the room, and the sink was full of dishes. Through an open doorway I could see an unmade bed and clothes on the floor. It reminded me of every place either I or Leonard had lived until Brett and I got the house. As much as was possible, she had civilized me.

  Mercury had a laptop with him and he placed it on the coffee table, and we all found a place to sit. Cason asked if we wanted beer. Leonard took one; so did Mercury and Cason himself. I passed.

  Mercury turned on the laptop, said, “You don’t need to see this ’less you want to. I can read off my notes and tell you what I got.” We agreed this was fine.

  “Kincaid’s daughter died of an overdose,” Mercury said. “That much you know. But she died in Oregon. Did you know that?”

  “No,” I said.

  “Guys that got killed and had the devil head painted at the site were all drug dealers. You startin’ to see a pattern here?”

  “Kincaid’s daughter died of a drug overdose, and the drug dealers she dealt with are the ones found dead with the devil heads,” I said.

  Mercury nodded. “And his son is killed by crazies, and the crazies die. I think the one in jail, Gonzello a.k.a. Godzilla, was the subject of a hit, but she was tougher than the hit. But when she gave the knife back, thinking she was immortal, well, she messed up. And the train accident. Who knows? Maybe that was some kind of rig too. The Christopher boy… Wrong place, wrong time. Probably caught and killed him and Mini somewhere else, tried to make it look like rape and robbery. However, they just couldn’t resist leaving their mark. Right there in the open, thinking no one would see the connection. But they would know, and it would please them. That’s what conspiracy theorists like myself call a pattern. A pattern of deaths, a pattern of markings-a signature, if you will.”

  “So it all does go back to Kincaid?” I said. “He wanted revenge, so he hired Devil Red to do the deed, but Devil Red couldn’t resist leaving his mark. I guess someone killed my son and daughter, I’d feel pretty vengeful.”

  “Thing is,” Cason said, “Devil Red seems to put a lot of people to sleep, all over the country. They can’t all be people who’ve done something to the Kincaids. What Mrs. Christopher wants is whoever killed her son. She wants Devil Red, and I’m sure, if possible, she wants whoever arranged it, so the Kincaids aren’t off the hook, no matter what.”

  52

  When we arrived at my place, we were hungry. I decided on chili.

  I got a wide and deep cast-iron frying pan out from under the cabinet and put hamburger meat in it. As it fried, I black peppered it.

  Leonard cut up half an onion and a jalapeno, scraped that off the cutting board into the meat. I stirred it while he got the chili powder out of the cabinet and shook some of that in.

  I let it cook for a while, and we got soft drinks and sat at the table and smelled the chili cooking.

  “So, what do you think?” Leonard said.

  “I think Mercury is probably right,” I said. “It’s all connected, and the thing now is, how do we get enough evidence to nail Devil Red, and find a way not to nail Kincaid and Ms. Clinton.”

  “I’m not sure I care as much about them as you do,” Leonard said. “There’s something about this whole thing still bothers me. It’s like an animal called Not Quite Right crawled up my ass and is wiggling around.”

  “I thought you enjoyed that kind of thing.”

  “Wrong kind of animal.”

  “All right. How about we try to find ev
idence to nail Devil Red, not make an effort to stick our vengeful couple, but if things shake out that way, and we can’t keep it from happening, we let it. Him in that chair, and she his former wife, they might get off with something light.”

  “She might not have anything to do with it,” Leonard said.

  “Oh, she did somethin’, all right. She’s still in love with him. That much was easy to tell. And if anyone knows his business, it’s her.”

  “He dumped her, and she’s still moonin’ over him like a preteen,” Leonard said. “I don’t get it.”

  “I think love is hard to explain, brother.”

  “Yeah. Well, I think it’s made up.”

  “You do? What about John?”

  “I think I was attracted to him, and him to me, and we had certain things in common, both being queer was right up there, and-”

  “He made you laugh, right? That’s what everyone always says.”

  “You and Brett make each other laugh. Me and John, not so much. But I think our basic attraction created love. I think love is real, but I think it’s created, kind of like a smoothie.”

  “You are such a romantic.”

  “No. No I’m not,” Leonard said.

  The chili cooked for a long time, and we were starved when it was ready. We ate quickly, devouring huge bowls of it with crackers, and then we did seconds. Between it all, we made some general plans about going back to Houston to shake Kincaid’s and Clinton’s tree some, see we could get them to make a mistake, wiggle something out of the woodwork. It wasn’t a plan up there with Patton, but it was a plan. We had plenty of clues now, plenty of circumstantial evidence. Thing to do was to see if our knowing what we knew made them nervous.

  And then the worm turned.

  53

  Leonard had a lot of his stuff at my place, so we decided he could easily pack and go from there. Some of his clothes were dirty, though, so we put them in the washer, and while it churned, we sat and talked.

  Sometime later, Leonard moved his clothes to the dryer and put on a fresh shirt and pants. He came back from changing, said, “I’m cravin’ more of that chili.”