by Shelly Frome
20.
Roy parked his granddad’s 1933 Plymouth coupe by the water tower to finish making his calls. As always, he hated taking it out of the shed. There was the worry over the near rusted-out front and rear spring shackles, the worn bushings, almost rotted leather universal joint cover and grease retainer as he bumped along up the rutted dirt road. Even worse was making his way today to the edge of town and the Dixie Dollar following a tip from Sonny Drew. There was the chance of being spotted by somebody other than Sonny and cited for plates that expired long ago. Or running into Strother who’d start some rumor or other that’d spill all over the place.
Ada Mae, of course, was another matter because not many took much store in anything she had to say which were half visions anyhow. But he had to take stock of this Josh, see for himself in case Darryl and Sonny weren’t that far off and there was something to what they were telling him. Something he wished he’d picked up on later and hadn’t let slide.
Outside Ada Mae’s store, however, this fella looked more agitated than agitator. Then again, he spent some time in there and had come by here real early a second time in two days miles out of his way. He’d given it to Darryl but good and, right after, the girl and LuAnn lighted out. Meaning, the way things stood, it was all up in the air.
Clambering up the water tower, using the struts and girders to hoist himself high enough to get a strong enough signal, he got where he wanted and braced himself. Making sure of the other number he’d gotten from Darryl, he pulled out the Palm gizmo and dialed.
But from the very first, Travis the warehouseman went on about what a piece of work Darryl was and all Roy could do was waste time listening to him.
“So,” Travis said, “Darryl gave you this number, huh? Mind if I ask why? I mean, who or what are you, bro?”
“A lookout is all.”
“Right. Gotcha. If you see Darryl coming, you better look out.”
Roy let him have his little chuckle and a few more dumb remarks besides. But then Travis started holding back.
“You sure you’re not from some kinda collection agency or something? What I mean is, your voice is kinda flat and dry. The guy hounding me for alimony has a voice like that. So does the loan shark after my man Bud here. Matter of fact, I shouldn’t be talking to you if there’s the least possibility of any kinda fallout.”
“I hear you.”
“That’s no answer. You got to give me something better than that.”
“Keeping a lid on is all.”
For a few seconds there was nothing but dead air, as if Travis had left his cell on a workbench and walked away. Then there were two voices talking something over. Finally Travis came back on the line. “Okay. Neither the alimony guy or the loan sharks have a southern accent.”
“Uh-huh.”
“So Bud and me are glad to report we haven’t seen or heard from Darryl since.”
“I know that.”
“You mean it’s some other dude on the loose?”
“Fella name of Josh. Come down here again real early.”
“You’re kidding. He had no more business down your way plus no business getting us up at the crack of dawn. Claims he was fixing to get a jump on the rest of his deliveries.”
“What for?”
“Hooking up with some newspaper he says.”
“What kinda newspaper?”
“Look, bro, fact is, since he turned up here again, things have gotten a little weird. Including his taking up with a runaway who ain’t right in the head. Now you catch me on my cell, a number I reserve for a select few.”
“Got it from Darryl.”
“But that was from before, when it was just stupid stuff, like changing his order or when he could expect the next delivery.”
“We’re past that.”
“Not from our end. Not by a long shot.”
Roy didn’t like the way this was going, wasn’t at all used to this kind of dos a dos. He squirmed around until he got a better purchase on the struts and girder and said, “Now about this Josh fella?”
“Hey, back off a little. I mean, just ‘cause ol’ Josh swings by your way again or still doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, doesn’t mean we should divulge anything. Matter of fact, it’s against our nature and I’m sorry I opened my mouth at all. What I’m saying is, let’s hear it, friend. What exactly is your problem?”
Roy broke off the connection, pocketed the gizmo, clambered down and took his time walking back to the old coupe. The overcast pearl sky held tight above the tops of the piney woods. It had brightened but not much, the air still a chilly damp. Roy leaned up against the radiator between the bulging headlamps and stayed that way till he had it fixed in his mind how to handle those two waiting for him below. Sonny might take a bit of a do; Darryl would definitely have to be leaned on some.
With his mind settled, he fired up the sputtering motor and drove easy on the springs down the rutted one-track to set them both straight. From now on he’d have to keep a sharp eye. Let nothing get away from him. It was all on his watch. It was all on his head.
Sonny stayed still by the cruiser, flipping through his notepad the same way Roy had left him as if frozen there. But Darryl followed him all the way in, barely giving him room to get out of the coupe. Trailing on his heels by the side of the cabin while the coonhound leaped and barked on the other side damn near busting out of his run. Then, sticking close by the porch steps, Darryl started in again.
“Talk to me, damnit, Roy. How long that goddamn Josh stay in there? Ada Mae wouldn’t give me a second, wouldn’t give me even the time of day.”
“And why is that, Darryl?”
“Has it in for me. Since the time I played a trick on her. Put kerosene in Coke bottles, stuck in wicks and strung ‘em up in her pecan trees.”
Breaking into that lopsided smirk, Darryl included Sonny at the cruiser as his audience. “Hid in the shadows, lit ‘em, and pushed ‘em with a stick, hootin’ like an owl. Damned if Ada Mae didn’t stumble outta that shack of hers half asleep yelling, ‘Get thee hence, demon!’ Spotted me and called me Lucifer. Called me Lucifer ever since.”
Sonny responded with a put-on nervous smile. “Well you know what they say. Can’t set no store by anything she comes out with.”
With the coonhound still barking and yelping, Darryl looked to getting a rise out of Roy as well, crowding Roy so much he turned his back on him and went up onto the porch.
“Okay, fine,” said Darryl standing directly beneath him. “Never mind Ada Mae. Let’s hear it. What’s your read on this Josh character? Agitator right? After Bubba maybe and got something going with the girl. So tell us, what the hell’s this all mean?”
Roy figured Darryl would dog him for an answer, but didn’t figure he’d push it this far. To keep his distance, taking his own sweet time, Roy went over to the far corner and stared at the water stains where the porch roof met the cabin and noted the boards curling, cracking and rotting. Calling out to the coonhound to quit his barking, he walked back over to the front posts and looked past Darryl over at Sonny.
“Funny thing. I was just thinking about Bubba. Promised to come by early March. Help me jack up the porch roof. Strip away the rot and—”
“Don’t mess with me, Roy,” Darryl yelled up at him. “I got sandbagged from behind and then sucker-punched. I got hauled here by Sonny. I want the word and I want it now.”
Barely raising his voice, Roy said, “You’re gonna wait till I say. You done enough for one day. Make that two.”
“Says who? You got this cockeyed, Mister Holloway.”
Looking back over at Sonny, Roy said, “You added it up?”
Sonny nodded, flipped over a few pages in his notepad and began to read, his voice even shakier than usual. “Chased after the girl same as in Memphis. This time caught up with her, shook her real bad and twisted her arm.”
“‘Cause she knows where Bubba is at. Like Strother said.”
Roy shook his head. “S
onny, read what Strother said.”
Avoiding Darryl’s dirty look as Darryl stepped away from the porch, Sonny flipped a few more pages and said, “‘All I know is, Josh took a shine to LuAnn. LuAnn, I hear, already took a shine to this street kid who was broke and didn’t get on with Ada Mae, plus the school kids teasing her and all. I might’ve seen an old flatbed truck the other day, couldn’t swear to it. Might’ve seen a girl heading out toward it but couldn’t swear to that either. Anyways, Beca the waitress says Darryl’s sweet on LuAnn and jealous of Josh which accounts for Darryl going off half-cocked.’”
Darryl grabbed his ratty Ole Miss cap and flung it on the ground. “That is a total crock. I am lookin’ for my kin Bubba and that girl is key.”
About to nail it down, Roy said, “And what, Sonny, did the girl have to say?”
“Well, in Darryl’s own words, she said she was in no condition.”
Darryl scooped up his hat, wringing it like a dish rag. “Sidesteppin’ the goddamn issue.”
Glancing down at the rot in the framing where the posts rested on the porch floor, Roy said, “What else she say when Darryl started yankin’ the hell outta her?”
“She’d done nothin’ with nobody and Darryl was crazy.”
Wringing his hat even harder, Darryl said, “Oh yeah, crazy as a fox.”
Still eyeing the rot, Roy said, “Thing is, you screwed up, Darryl. You spooked Dewey all over again and now this. Like Sonny told you, you’d best pray the girl don’t press charges. You’d best get on back to your liquor store and lay low.”
Darryl jerked his hat back onto his head. “Oh yeah? In Memphis the girl said Dewey had nothin’ to do with it. What she mean by it, answer me that? And where’s Bubba got off to? Disappeared from the face of this earth? And how many old flatbed trucks you reckon anybody’s seen around here if it ain’t his? You answer me that one too. And now we got this Yankee in on it, pussyfootin’ around twice, changin’ his dang outfit, sucker-punched me and even that don’t cut no ice with you.”
Raising his eyes and looking squarely at him, Roy said, “You see? There you go again. You’d best do better than lay low. You’d best chain yourself to that liquor store and shut your mouth.”
As Sonny stepped clear out of his way, Darryl stalked off muttering under his breath, spotted a piece of bark, flipped open his switchblade and cut the bark to shreds. Traipsing back, his eyes darting every which way, Darryl made a beeline for the steps, spun around, paced off about twelve yards and spun right back. Gripping the open knife by his side, he said, “You know what I think, Roy? I think you’re near blind, deaf, ready for the boneyard and goddamn useless. Like that three-pound Colt .44, cap and ball. By the time you lug it outta the damn holster, pull the hammer back and hope the recoil don’t knock you on your ass, somebody’ll already have split you in two.”
Suddenly, Darryl let the knife fly. The blade bit into the post and twanged not more than six inches from Roy’s left ear. Sonny whipped out his baton, held it with both hands in fear Darryl would turn on him as well.
But Darryl held still, his mouth wide open, his eyes gaping.
Roy worked the blade free, snapped the knife shut and strode down the steps straight over to Darryl. “Sucker-punched you, did he? You mean like this?” Roy slammed the handle into Darryl’s gut so quickly Darryl’s eyes welled up in tears. And Roy did it again for good measure.
As Darryl clutched himself groaning, Roy slipped the switchblade back into the sheath by Darryl’s hip. Catching Sonny’s eye, Roy gave his orders. Instead of citing Darryl for assaults from here to Memphis, Sonny could water it down to one count of disturbing the peace and give himself credit so Sonny himself could simmer down some. That done, Roy led Darryl back to his pickup, helped him into the cab and said, “Now you rest up, stay put and do as I say. Let Sonny keep tabs on you to make sure. That ought to do it.”
Still in a daze, it took a few minutes before Darryl was able to hit the ignition and pull away. It took at least a minute more before Darryl made it past the muddy drive onto Piney Woods heading up toward the paved road.
Walking back to the cruiser, Roy could tell that Sonny was completely thrown by what had just happened. He’d holstered his baton and had his notepad at the ready pointing to certain pages. But his frown turned his eyes into slits and his voice was more tight than shaky.
“Still all these loose ends, Roy. What do I do with Darryl’s statement? And what this Josh Devlin claims happened? How’s that gonna look to the chief?”
“Did Darryl come in and fill out a form?”
“No.”
“Did this Josh fella?”
“No.”
“So what does that leave?”
“The girl. What if she calls in and wants to know what’s happening? What if she does press charges?”
“That little runaway? Talk sense.”
“I don’t know, Roy. I just don’t know.”
“Just write it up and let it ride.”
“I guess . . . maybe.” Sonny paced around a bit and made sure he kept his distance. “And you’ll back me up, put in a good word with Johnny Reb? How I whipped out my baton and did a really good defensive move? And am gonna keep a close eye on Darryl and all? I mean, just in case?”
Roy gave Sonny a withering glance and waited till he scuffed off, slid behind the wheel of the cruiser and began to pull away. He then mounted the steps and went back inside with Darryl’s words about being over the hill still eating away at him. No longer able to hold back, he eyed the boxes of soft lead round ball ammunition, Blackhorn powder, ramrods and the brass powder flask and shoved it all off the oak table.
He sat down on one of the ladder back chairs and ran it all by. Bubba threatening to take it to Johnny Reb, Sonny just now bringing up Johnny Reb’s name. Darryl hunting for Bubba, jostling Dewey, opening up that can of worms and rousting the girl to boot. Bringing this Josh Devlin into it . . . sucker punches . . . girl now on the loose somewheres close by, just askin’ for it and not right in the head . . .
Though he had the best of intentions, though he told himself he’d let nothing get past him, it was getting more and more twisted up in his head. Like it was entangled in the damn rubbery kudzu vines, climbing, spreading and covering the barns, chicken coops, chimneys and treetops till you can’t tell what’s what. Growing a foot a day causing folks to remark you gotta close the windows at night to keep it out of the house and fogging your brain.
Roy sat still for a while, stewing, waiting for the jabbering thoughts to pass.
When that didn’t do the trick, he got up and started pouring over the dispatches and letters from the first Roy. Not the originals, of course. They and the others were kept safe in a dehumidified vault in Oxford. But these parchment copies were kept in an old leather pouch under glass in case Roy ever got stumped.
Judging them just as good, handling them as careful as can be, he moved the Colt and stand, converter and remaining boxes of ammunition to one side, fanned the papers out on the table in front of him and sat down again. Soon enough he found the one he was looking for:
They’ll come a time when you didn’t see it coming. You thought you had a good enough perch but didn’t figure on what was over the next rise. Or it plain got away from you. No matter. Mark what’s been and what’s stirring out there now. Paying no mind to only what you seen with your own eyes or obtained from reliable reports. Then figure how you might cut your losses and get a jump on it all.
Roy replaced the papers, sat back down, slipped the revolver off its wooden stand and began toying with the conversion cylinder.
With his mind steady again, Roy pulled back, way back. Didn’t the security guard at the ER report he found this scrawny girl curled up in a corner first thing this morning? And didn’t she tell him she was on her way back to make a swap and didn’t want no more trouble? And since then, under attack, didn’t she tell Darryl she’d done nothing with Bubba and didn’t know what he was talking about? And didn’t it
figure the only thing driving her was she was starting to remember where she’d hid the goods? Knew where it was buried to finish the deal like Bubba said, and didn’t want no more trouble like the security guard said?
But, then again seeing it from afar, now that Darryl had made his bonehead moves, things could spread to two fronts, maybe even over to the Delta. Which made it more tricky but the aim was still the same: to make sure the deep secret stayed dead and buried. Good chance Dewey would never try anything after what Darryl done to him up in that Memphis Blues Bar. And now that this runaway was spooked and more than willing, she could be spooked and run again so’s she’d be sure to deliver.
As for this Josh, Travis over at the warehouse said he didn’t hardly know what he was doing. And as far as Roy could see, this Travis fella was probably right..
Still and all, you never know for sure. Like what got into Bubba and Rowdy. Like the kudzu, always at it. Fact is, it takes some doing to get a jump on things when the old certainties start playing tricks on you.
Deep in thought, Roy reached inside the new box and chambered six .45 long brass cartridges that for damn certain could drop anything that moves.
21.
If nothing else, Josh had been granted a little time and space. No longer buffeted from all sides, he could reasonably assume everything was on hold for now. He could spend the rest of the morning making as many deliveries as possible before trying again to get back in touch with LuAnn to make sure Alice was safe and was going to be all right.
Crossing over the line, he dropped off the bona fide crates of liquor in tiny places like Galena, Chulahoma and Wyatte and bigger places like Senatobia. Heading south toward Oxford, making drops and skirting around Sardis Lake, he tried the truck’s old AM radio as he continued to regain his composure.
For a few minutes he was able to tune in to “Southern Fried Sounds” and caught lyrics like “The blues ain’t skin deep; you can’t see it, babe, but you can feel it in your soul.” And “Between raising hell and Amazing Grace there is a place for me.” Then it was back to stations fading on and off as he tooled in and around the hill country west of Benton County. A few more twists of the dial gave him Emmylou Harris singing “Too much ain’t enough for old five-and-dimers like me.” Emmylou presently lost out to a jumping Zydeco beat as a vocalist riffed with an accordion singing, “Knocking on the window sill, hey, everybody goin’ where I’ve already been.”
