by George Wier
“I had a dream about you last night,” I said.
“Not good?”
“Yeah. Very not good. Do you know what today is?” I asked her.
“No.”
“I didn’t think so. It’s Thursday. I had to ask Lawrence what day it was. I don’t like all this on-the-run, dodging bullets business, Jules. So we have to switch tactics about right now.”
“What do you want to do?”
“Do you still have Carpin’s little black book?”
“Uh. Yeah. I’ve got it in my purse. Who are you gonna call?”
I thought about not telling her, or lying. There was probably too much of that going on in our relationship already. So, I told her.
“Your friend, Archie Carpin, for starters.”
“Bill, no.”
“Oh, I’m going to talk to him, alright. Also to that other fellow… What’s his name? The one who helped you.”
She gasped.
“No. You can’t!”
“Oh. I can, alright. You’d be surprised what I can do. The next time you want to go setting somebody up and cleaning them out, come talk to me first. I know people with money. Money is the one thing you’d never have to worry about with me.”
“Okay,” she said.
“I’m not through. Also, we’re going to need some equipment. For-”
“Getting the money,” she finished for me. Her eyes were downcast. I’ve been dressed down a few times in my life and know how it feels. Julie was looking like I had shot her favorite cat. I didn’t feel so good about being the jerk, but somebody had to do it. Things had gotten way too far out of hand and she’d been shot at and a nice old fellow had been killed in an explosion meant for her. Some people will resist any effort to help them, even while they’re practically screaming for help. Julie was a walking disaster. But, then again, she had warned me about her middle name.
“I’m only hoping Carpin will negotiate,” I said.
“Oh Bill,” she began. Her eyes were red. “He won’t. He’ll kill you. And me. He’s…”
I held up my hand, cutting her off.
“Nobody’s going to kill you,” I said. “Nor me. And certainly not Hank Sterling.”
“You don’t have to do any of this,” she said. “I could- I could disappear.”
My stomach did a little flip-flop. My throat tightened and suddenly felt twice its size.
Dark clouds were coming in over the trees away to the east of us. Rain clouds.
“I told you I’d help you,” I said. “That’s what I do. That’s what I’m doing now. Just stick by me. There may come a time when I’ll want you to cut and run. Go into hiding. But that time’s not now.”
I turned and looked at her face in profile, her beautiful tresses, the warm, natural glow of her skin.
“Okay,” she said.
“Julie.”
“Yeah?”
“I’ll get you through this.”
“I know.”
Silence again. I could feel the electric current between the two of us, an effect of the affinity versus the distance. Like two huge celestial objects attracted together by gravity or magnetism but held apart by some greater force.
But there were more important matters at the moment.
“You and Hank and I are about to leave,” I told her. “But Keesha stays here with Lawrence and his mother.”
She frowned. “She’s a wonderful kid, Bill. But I know we can’t take her with us. She’s why you came here. To Lawrence and his mom. It’s okay.”
“Good,” I said. I slipped one arm around her narrow, perfect waist. “Go get it,” I told her.
“Get what?”
“That little black book.”
Our goodbye was short. Underneath the shade tree in the front yard where the grass had given up the ghost many years before beneath the incessant comings and goings of barbecue customers and family, Ms. Coleeta and Keesha managed to get hugs in on all three of us. Hank and I shook hands with Lawrence.
As I started up the Suburban, Keesha popped around the car to my window. I flicked the button and rolled it down.
“My man Bill,” she said. “You be careful.”
“I will, darlin’.”
“My girl Julie, my man Henry. Y’all both be careful.”
“We will, honey,” Julie said.
She stood back and waved as I backed us out into the street. I patted Julie on the leg. She was actually smiling.
It was the best goodbye I’d ever had.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Within five minutes after we left the sky overhead had become overcast with immense, dark clouds. Lightning played across the sky to the east. We all knew we were in for it.
We crossed Austin from east to west, then got back on the Loop going south. Our destination? My house.
It was sort of interesting being home without my own car. Mine was back at Dock’s house in Killeen.
Then it hit me. Anyone trying to figure out who Dock was or how he’d gotten where we left him would begin by checking into his home on the outskirts of Killeen. Which meant they’d find my car.
It was time to make a couple of phone calls and then get a move on. Well past time.
Before going inside we looked the place over as best we could. Nothing appeared to be tampered with. Hank got Dingo out of the Suburban and let her sniff around, first the front door, then the back. Nothing. I didn’t know whether or not Dingo was specially trained, but Hank seemed to act as if she had given the place her seal of approval.
Just in case, we went in through the back door.
About the time we got inside, the rain began, coming down in sheets. It had been awhile since I’d seen such a hard rain.
It didn’t appear that anything in the house had been tampered with. My fish were about half starved, so I gave them an extra dose of food.
While Julie, Hank and Dingo raided my refrigerator, I picked up the phone.
“Yallo?” The voice sounded like it was talking through a couple of jawfuls of gravel.
“Is this Mr. Neil, or Mr. Mortensson?”
“Who wants to know?”
“Bill.”
“Bill who?”
“Just Bill. This is with regard to Julie Simmons and Archie Carpin.”
Silence.
“Hello?” I said again.
“I’m here,” gravel-voice said.
“Just making sure.”
“Where is she?”
“She’s safe, for now. A couple of jokers named Jake and Freddie, whom I’ve been dying to meet, keep trying to kill her. Know anything about that?”
Silence.
“Is this Mr. Neil?” I asked.
“Neil’s dead.”
“Really? My condolences. When did he die?”
“Last week.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Really.”
“So I guess he can’t talk to me then.”
“Not unless you’ve got a crystal ball or something-connections on the other side. Son, you don’t want to get involved in this shit. It’s not exactly safe.”
“You know what’s not safe? Going around sniping at folks with deer rifles and setting dynamite charges inside of duplexes. That’s not safe at all.”
“Bill, huh? Maybe it’s your real name. Okay, listen up real close, you happy dip wad. You’ve got a woman there who is pure-dee poison. Don’t turn your back on her.”
“Thanks for the advice,” I said. “So how do we go about calling off these dogs?”
“You mean the dipshit twins? Bullets won’t stop ’em. They’re too stupid to know when to quit.”
“That’s what I thought,” I said. I looked up from my couch to see Julie leaning up against the doorway from the kitchen. Her arms were crossed under her breasts and she had a serious look on her face. Behind her I could see a tail wagging. Hank was feeding Dingo something. I wondered what it could be.
“What you think is what she wants you to think.”
I covered up th
e phone with my hand so gravel-voice couldn’t hear.
“Does Jolly Mortensson sound like he gargles with sandpaper?” I asked Julie
“Yeah,” she said.
I took my hand off the phone.
“Okay,” I told him. “Somehow I get the feeling that you two aren’t the best of friends.”
“I don’t have any friends, Mr. Bill. All my friends are dead.”
“I understand your nickname now.”
“What?”
“Goodbye, Jolly,” I said, and hung up.
I made another call.
I had to wade through three different people at the Sheriff’s office until I got who I was looking for: an old friend of mine, Deputy Patrick Kinsey.
“Kinsey,” he said.
“Pat. This is your old friend, Bill Travis. I need a favor.”
“Bill? Bill Travis?”
“Yeah.”
“Damn. It’s been awhile. I thought I saw you one time across the room at one of those lawyer functions my wife’s always trying to get me to go to. By the time I got over to you, you were nowhere to be found. By the way, what happened to us? We used to really knock back the suds.”
“You got married, Pat.”
“Oh,” he said. “Yeah. Guess you’re right. I did. Okay, so that makes sense.”
“Yeah.”
“So what kind of favor?”
“First, I’ll give you something.”
“Shoot,” Pat said.
“That explosion in northwest Austin last night.”
“Okay, you got me. I’m all ears.”
“You recording this?” I asked.
“Not if you say not to.”
“Okay,” I told him. “Don’t.”
“Got it.”
“Write down a name. Got a pen?”
“Sure do. Poised for writing.”
“Good. The name is Carpin, with a ‘C’.”
“Carpin. Got it. Is that a first name or a last name?”
“Last. What I’ve got for a first name is Archie. I don’t know anything else, so I’ll guess it’s maybe an Archibald. Who knows?”
“Okay. This who I’m looking for?”
“Him or a couple of his flunkies. Two names. Flunky number one is Jake Jorgenson, I think. The other is Freddie Sanderberry. You might have to flip-flop those two last names, though. I never did write any of this down, so it might be all backwards.”
“Okay.”
“Jake and Freddie blew up the duplex. They drive a late model Ford F-150 pickup, light blue. Looks like it needs a coat of paint.”
“Coat of paint, got it.”
“Okay, so if you run all this through the National Crime Information Computer, I’ll bet you get diddley-squat. But, I’m willing to bet the FBI has a file on them, especially Carpin. He runs horses and moonshine stills up in North Texas, or rather, he did.”
“Geez Louise. Got it. You’re leaving out a whole lot,” he said.
“Protecting somebody.”
“One of your special clients?”
“As I recall, you were a special client of mine once,” I said.
“Bill, did you know the guy who died. Dock Slocum?”
“Yeah. He was… a friend of a friend. One of the good ones. He’s got people up in Gunnison, Colorado, if I recall correctly. You’ll find my car when you go over to his house.”
“I was just about to head over there and have a look around. Geez, Bill, I really think you ought to come in and talk with me about this one.”
I watched as Julie turned away from me and went up the stairs. Maybe she’d heard enough.
“Can’t do that, Patrick,” I said. “I’ve just told you everything you need to know right now.”
“Somehow, I have trouble believing that.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“All right,” he said. I could hear the resignation in his voice. “Where can I reach you, Bill?”
“If I need to, I’ll be reaching you.”
“You better write down my cell phone number,” he said. He gave it to me and I took it down. I could hear some shuffling over the phone line. Probably Patrick clearing his work space. Maybe I’d lit a fire under him.
“So what’s the favor?” he asked.
“When all this is said and done I may be seriously needing your help. For my client. Possibly for me too.” There was a long silence on the other end.
“Bill. I can do just about anything except break the law. But you know that.”
“I know. Wouldn’t want you to break anything. Might want you to bend a few things, though.”
“Bending. Now that I can do, if I have to. It depends on how far.”
“Good. I don’t know exactly what kind of help we may need, but it never hurts to have a friend in your corner, you know?”
“You got it. I’m plainclothes now anyway. It gives me a little latitude. Anything else?”
“I’ll let you know when, and if, the time comes.”
He was quiet for a bit.
“You sound sorta funny,” he said.
“Yeah, but nobody’s laughing.”
“Okay,” he said. “See ya.”
“See ya,” I said, and hung up.
I placed another call, this time to my office.
Penny answered.
“Penny. It’s Bill.”
“Mr. Travis! Mr. Bierstone has been looking for you. He’s had me leave several messages on your desk.”
“That’s fine, Penny. I may be out for a few days. It’s this Simmons case he wanted me to handle. Listen, Penny, I’ll be checking back in as I’m able. There’s a stack of bills that have to be paid in the second from the top drawer of my filing cabinet. There’s a small stack of blank checks in the safe. Pay those bills for me, would you?”
“Okay, got it,” she said. “Is that it?”
“Sorry, Penny. Just getting started. First thing is there’s this little kid. I’ll need some standard papers for her, assignment of legal guardianship, that sort of thing. You might ask Nat what all we’ll need. He loves doing that sort of thing. The kid’s name on the form will be Keesha White. A Kay, two ee’s, and a shuh. Guardian would be Coleeta White.” I spelled it for her. “She should be in the phone book as far as address and stuff. Tell Nat that it might be a good idea to go over and visit and get her to sign them when the papers are ready.”
“Okay… Got it. Is that it?”
I thought for a moment.
“Hold on a second, Penny,” I said.
“Julie!” I called.
I heard a distant voice say something that sounded like “bathroom.” Good. She was out of earshot.
Hank was standing there in the doorway where Julie had been before, Dingo right beside him. They both looked at me. Dingo barked once, gruffly.
“Okay, Penny,” I said. “One last thing. Have Nat call an old friend of mine. Deputy Sheriff Patrick Kinsey.” I told her the number. “Have Nat tell Kinsey everything he knows about Miss Simmons.”
“Okay. Is that it?”
“Is that it? Hmmm. Penny, does anything ever bother you?”
“I don’t think so, sir.”
“Good. You’re doing a fine job.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“One more thing. Just remind Nat to let Mrs. White know that he’s my partner. That way, nobody will be freaking out when he comes knocking.”
“Got it.”
“Penny, I might have to leave town for a few days. If you don’t hear from me by say-?”
“Monday?” I mouthed to Hank.
He nodded.
“Monday,” I said to Penny. “Can you come to my house and feed my fish? There’s a spare house key in my desk.”
“I’ll do that, sir. Have a good day, sir.”
Have a good day? Me? She didn’t know me very well.
I hung up.
Hank raised his eyebrows.
“What?” I asked.
I wasn’t sure why I’d asked for information
on Julie, or why I’d asked Penny to pass it on to Nat Bierstone to do. That’s not like me. Usually I hit things pretty much head on, and the consequences be damned. But looking at it, I think maybe that it was some reflex action. A nod at self-preservation. I sometimes didn’t take too good of care of myself, I guess, the way I tended to fall into things like I’d just done.
If she’s willing to put you in danger, then somethin’ is not right. That’s what Lawrence White had said.
I had a feeling right then. That feeling of something not right.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
I’d learned a long time ago that the only way to head off trouble was to face it head on. Doing anything else only tends to stack it up deeper further down the road. So, I was hoping that my little call to Pat Kinsey would be worth something later on. Also, I was hoping beyond hope that Julie would get something out of what I was doing. She’d been running for some time, it appeared, probably mostly from herself. Maybe I was just kidding myself, but what I was wishing for most of all was that she’d begin to face up to whatever she had done.
Me, I’m no saint. I’m basically lazy, and I’ve found it far simpler to get along in life by looking, confronting, and stopping the stone before it gets too much inertia going down that long hill. Sometimes, waiting too long before trying to stop it gets you nothing but flattened by it.
Julie sat next to me on the couch while I dialed Archie Carpin’s number.
“Do you want to talk to him first?” I asked her.
She shook her head.
I got a ring.
“Start talking,” the voice said. It was a masculine voice.
“If this is Archie, Julie wants to talk to you,” I said.
There was a long silence. I could almost hear the gears turning.
“I don’t care much for talk,” he said.
“I can understand that,” I said. “But the fact remains that talking is better than shooting.”
“Who says?”
“Marshal Dillon, for one. The word we’re looking for here is negotiation, I think.”
“Well,” he said. “Really, I ought to kiss her. She killed my number one competitor. Nobody else was brave enough to do that.”
“Are you talking about Mr. Neil? Your horse-racing competitor?”
“The one and only.”
