by George Wier
“That means that we’ve got him. One way or the other.”
“I wished you had explained all this before you got me in an armlock and made me pass out. There’s still a warrant out for Shelby Knight.”
“Shelby didn’t know any of this,” Strongbow said. “If he hadn’t escaped, he would have known none of it. He’d be in lockup at the county, pending trial, and the real killer wouldn’t have just resigned from the police force. Besides, you can do something about the warrant.” Billy took a sip of scotch and sat slowly back in his chair.
“I suppose I could.”
“Would you?” Shelby asked.
“All right. But I may need your help in catching Roberts.”
Shelby nodded. “Okay. But right now we need to get back to Rachel. Someone tried to kill her yesterday.”
“Really? Why?”
“I don’t know. But all this shit is one big damn pot,” Shelby said. “And I mean to stir it.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“You’re Skillet, right?” the older man asked from underneath the burned-out light outside the office. The only light here was the moon high overhead and a high street lamp across the roadway.
Skillet leaned against the driver’s door of Gil’s Lincoln Navigator, and for the first time in his life his mind was on the future. Skillet had never considered himself to be a thinker. When he wanted something, it had a way of coming to him. There never seemed to be a rhyme or reason to it, it just happened. Some of his best times had come when he was dead broke and with no prospects; such as when Gil had come into his life. He was thinking about Gil and how it was a tough break for him, losing a hand like that. Skillet had known when he put Gil into the Navigator in the cop’s back yard and returned to fetch his hand that the man’s career was over forever. Even if a doctor was able to somehow re-attach the thing, there were probably ten thousand little nerves that went down to the hand. Were they going to be able to re-attach those? He didn’t think so. For the line of work they were in, a man’s hand was everything.
The big boss man had a cigarette in his mouth when he came over to Skillet, and when the smell of it hit him, he knew he had to have one.
“Yes sir,” Skillet said. “Do you got an extra smoke?”
“Sure thing,” the man said, and fished his pack out of his coat pocket with his left hand. He stepped down from the concrete landing and offered his right to shake Skillet’s hand, and Skillet took it. “My name is Lionel. I’m an associate of...what do you call him?”
“Gil. I think it’s short for Guillermo, which is Mexican for ‘William.’ Only Gil ain’t no Mexican. Nobody names a kid Gil anymore.”
Lionel handed Skillet the cigarette, then thumbed his lighter and lit the cigarette for him.
“Thanks,” Skillet said, and took in a sharp inhale of smoke. He held it in until his lungs ached with it, then let it go upward to the stars.
“That was a good bit of driving you did. Gil told me you ran through a fence and rescued him, then brought him straight to us.”
“It wasn’t nothing. Just doing the job, ya know.”
Lionel nodded.
The gravel parking lot was empty. They were up on a high hill, affording an unobstructed view of downtown Austin with all of its multicolored lights. It was a hot night, and bats fluttered around the one working street lamp across the boulevard, wolfing down moths as they were drawn to the light.
“A bat, that’s what I am,” Skillet said.
“How’s that?”
“I’m like those bats over there. A light’s on, drawing moths, and I’m running around eatin’ ‘em all up.”
“I’d say you have a definite skill set, Mr. Skillet,” Lionel said. “Your friend, Guillermo, has had a tough break. I tend to think he’s going to be out of commission for awhile. According to my medical tech, the hand is pretty much lost.”
“Yeah. Thought so.”
“Tell you what. If you want the job yourself, it’s yours. You’d take your orders from me, and I’ll pay you well enough that you’d only have to work a few times a year. How does that sound?”
Skillet dragged hard on the cigarette, striving for the feeling that followed that first hit, but couldn’t get it. You could never get a first hit on a second one. “That sounds just right.”
“Good. The car is yours.”
“I sure do like this vehicle, although I’m gonna have to replace the mirror and the back window. That suits me fine. Much appreciated.”
“I know a shop where I can have that fixed for you. Won’t cost you a dime. Also,” Lionel pulled an envelope from an inside jacket pocket, “this is final payment on the job. I’m giving it to you in advance. Don’t spend it if you’re not going to get the job done. If you don’t or can’t, let me know.”
Skillet took the envelope and put it in his pants pocket without bothering to look inside. He could count the amount by its weight alone. It felt like ten thousand dollars.
Lionel fished out a pen and piece of paper and wrote on it in the dark. He handed it to Skillet.
“Here’s my number. You got Gil’s phone?” Lionel handed the card to him.
“It’s in the car.”
“Good. Keep it. Call me when the job’s done.”
Skillet nodded. “I suppose I ought to get going. It don’t feel right, leaving Gil behind.”
“Gil’s in good hands.” After a moment, Lionel chuckled.
Skillet thought about it for a second, then laughed. “Good hands. You mean, one good hand.”
“Right.”
“I’ll call you, Mr. Lionel. You can count on me.”
“I know I can, Skillet.”
Skillet stood there, looking up at the night sky.
“What’re you looking at?” Lionel asked.
“Them stars. Points of light. Sometimes they make me wonder.”
“Mm-hmm. I would say that your star is on the rise, Mr. Skillet. Just pick one and watch it as it brightens.”
“I’ll do that.” Skillet turned and got back into the Navigator. He watched as Lionel returned to the door of the building, dropped his cigarette and snuffed it out with the toe of his shoe. The man went inside, leaving Skillet alone in the night.
The interior of the Navigator smelled like blood. The stuff was everywhere, and it was already drying.
“Shit,” he said. “I’m gonna have to clean you up, Bessie. Yes ma’am.”
Skillet tapped the start button and felt the gentle hum of the well-tuned motor. He drove away without giving Gil or the events of the night a second thought.
Gil swam in a disorienting fog. There was pain in the dark mist, however, and he latched onto the pain with his mind and tried to ride it upward. After awhile he could hear voices, but couldn’t make any sense from the words.
“This is no good. I will instead cauterize the wound and leave a stump.”
“What about the nerve endings? Are you sure you want to do that? Maybe later he could have some kind of prosthesis.”
“Yes. Maybe. I could use something like this thing and place a cap on it, but first we would need to re-attached the muscles to...something.”
“Do your best. Make sure you give him something better than a hook. He’s done good work for me in the past.”
“There are so many tendons here. Even with...I’ll do what I can.”
The voices faded and Gil continued his long journey through the dark.
The sun was coming up when Billy and Shelby returned to Sheppard Payne’s storage lot a few blocks from Interstate 35 in East Austin. The FBI agent who was supposed to be outside held the door open for them. There was a chessboard on Sheppard’s desk near the front door, and it was mid-game. However, from all appearances, Rachel, seated in Sheppard’s rolling chair, was winning.
“You stayed up?” Shelby said.
“I couldn’t sleep, knowing that you two were out there.” Rachel stood and Squire jumped down from her lap onto the floor.
Shelby nodded a
nd shed the black cloak. He began pulling his chainmail off over his head.
“Looks like Ms. Ward is winning,” Billy said to the other agent.
“Shelby,” Rachel said, “this is Lemond Person. He went to Tulane.”
“Thanks for watching over her,” Shelby said. “Where’s Sheppard?”
“He stopped by, but since there was nothing going on here except a late-night chess match, he went back home again.”
“Sheppard is mercenary,” Shelby said. “According to him, used to be it took drugs and alcohol to keep him around. Nowadays it’s money.”
“Wise man,” Billy said.
“Why are you moving like that, Mr. Strongbow? Are you hurt?” Rachel asked.
“It’s nothing. Cracked rib.”
“He got shot,” Shelby said.
“Oh my God. Why aren’t you in the hospital? I don’t see any blood.”
“His badge stopped the bullet. Lucky son of a bitch, is what he is.”
“If it makes you feel better,” Billy told Rachel, “your ex-husband has a knot on the back of his head the size of a orange.”
Rachel moved around behind Shelby, and ran her fingers through his hair. Shelby winced. “Ow! Watch it.”
“Sorry. So, it was dangerous. I was justified in my worrying.”
“No you weren’t,” Shelby said. “I’m fine. He’s fine. We’re all...fine. Even Quinn.”
“I never could stand that man,” Rachel said.
“I know. He’s hard to be friends with, but then again, so am I.”
Rachel seemed to choose her words carefully, “You’re a good man, Shelby.”
Shelby looked at her and for a moment there was the hint at a smile at the corner of his mouth. He nodded.
“Thanks for the game, Ms. Ward,” Agent Person stated. He had the door halfway open.
“Oh. Thank you for keeping me company.”
Agent Person nodded and ducked out. The door closed slowly behind him.
“My mother is coming,” Rachel said. Silence followed this pronouncement. “Sully’s coming with her. He was wounded yesterday, so I suspect he’ll be hobbling.”
“Great,” Shelby and Billy echoed each other.
“My mom and Sully are an item now. She won’t shut up about it.”
“I thought they were married.”
“Never. She always treated him like dirt. He must have loved it. Now, since he got shot while he was going after the guys that trashed my house, she’s all over him. It’s pretty sickening. Just letting you know what to expect.”
“Are you going in to the dress shop today?” Shelby asked.
“The shop! Oh shit! I forgot. I have to call Leslie. I can’t go down there. One of those guys may show up there to try and kill me. Also, I have to warn Leslie anyway.” Rachel reached for her cell phone, then cursed. “It’s dead. I didn’t charge it.”
“Use the office phone,” Billy said.
“Wait a minute, Rach,” Shelby said. “That’s twice you said ‘guys’. There were two guys at Quinn’s. One of them had a gun with a silencer and was about to break in and try and kill him. He’s...uh...out of commission for awhile, I think. The other one drove through a fence and rescued him while Billy and I were...down. I want to talk to Sully, see if it’s the same guys who trashed your house.”
Rachel nodded. “Okay. Let me make this call.”
The two men waited and listened as Rachel gave her hired help very explicit instructions. When she was done, she hung and said, “So, what’s next?” she asked.
“Quinn went to the police station,” Shelby said. “He’s going to have a little talk with the Chief. After that, things will happen either quickly or slowly.”
“So, we wait?”
“No,” Billy said. “Shelby has to show me something, then we have to go interview someone.”
“We do?”
“Yeah. While all this has been going on, I haven’t been idle. I made some calls and we tracked down one of the kids.”
“What kids?” Rachel asked.
“One of the kids who was there that night ten years ago.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Lily arose from her bed with the sun above the trees in the east. Sully continued to snore until she shook him awake.
“What? What?”
“Get up. We have to go see Rachel and Shelby.”
“Oh. For awhile there I thought it was all a dream. I mean, Shelby coming back into the picture after all these years. And getting shot in the foot and...you and me.”
“I don’t know that he’s back in the picture quite yet, but we’ll see, won’t we. Yes, your foot has been shot. We’re going to see if you can stand and walk on it. As for you and me, let’s take it one day at a time. I’ll go fix some coffee. See if you can stand and put some clothes on while I’m doing it.”
Sully nodded.
They were running late, but it was to be expected. She hadn’t had a man in her bed since Ben had died when Rachel was ten years old, so long ago now that it was nearly pathetic.
Lily fussed about in the kitchen, got the coffee started, washed the few remaining dishes from last night and wiped down the counter. When she reached the end of the counter, there was her mother’s little powder blue Hummel figurine of a girl with a bow and an apron, bowing. On a whim, Lily pushed it off into space and it struck the stone tile of her kitchen and shattered.
“Something breaking out there?” Sully called from the distant bedroom. The man was lousy with good hearing.
“Never you mind. Hurry it up!”
Lily turned and regarded the kitchen table. There, in the center, was the crystal cake stand with its cut glass enclosure on top. There was a piece of carrot cake in there left over from two weeks ago. She walked over to the table and shoved this off into space. The sound of shattering glass reverberated throughout the house. Lily began laughing.
She turned to see Sully standing in the hall doorway, watching her, his brows framing a question he knew well enough not to ask.
“Sully!” Lily was suddenly beaming. “I have an idea. We’re leaving to go see Rachel. Why don’t we go and never come back here?”
“What about the home place? What about all your things?”
“Who cares about my things? Do you care about them?”
“Now that you mention it, I never really did,” he said.
“All of the important papers are in the safe deposit box down at the bank. What I mean is, there’s nothing here...”
“Really important?”
“Right! There’s nothing here that doesn’t have a tie to the past, and I want to wipe out the past. I want to clean the slate! Start all over!”
Sully laughed. “That’s nothing that a can of gasoline and a book of matches won’t fix.”
Lily stood for a moment as if she were thunderstruck. It began as a slow chuckle, then it grew to become something far more sinister.
“Oh shit,” he said. “What are you thinking?”
She stopped laughing and came over to him, the coy little seductress of their youths together. She looked up at him and tilted her head to the side. “Oh Sully,” she said. “My dear, sweet Sully. If you were going to destroy a house and make it look like an accident, what would you do?”
The feline gleam in her eye, her stance, the tilt of her head, and where she placed her hand told him that she was intent on this thing, and if that were so, there was no stopping her.
“I would light one of those big candles in the den, then I would turn on one of the gas jets on the kitchen stove and leave it on full blast. It would take...about an hour for enough gas to build in here and start flowing to the back of the house. Natural gas is heavier than air, so it would rise slowly from the floor, so you would have to put it up on the table or something. With that much gas, it would be a huge explosion and a total loss.”
“What about the neighbors?” Lily asked, her voice no less seductive. Her hand began to rub him slowly. “Would they be safe?
”
“They would be protected from the concussion by the wall outside. They’ll hear it, though, and call the fire department.”
“Good for them. What about all your things out in the apartment?”
“The apartment would weather it,” Sully said, and then let out a low moan.
“Why don’t you wait in the car. I’ll be a few minutes.”
“I love you, Lily.”
She smiled at him. “I think I’m falling in love with you all over again.”
“This is the place.” Shelby stood on the tarmac between two long industrial buildings. “It hasn’t changed much.”
“It was dark, wasn’t it? That night?” Billy asked, but he already knew the answer.
Shelby nodded. “The kids had knocked out all the lights, probably so they could run around shooting each other with paintballs in the dark. That’s my theory, anyway.” Perhaps thirty feet away was where Aiden Holloway breathed his last. The wooden pallets were gone, along with the stacks of engine parts. The entire tarmac was clear.
“So long ago,” Shelby whispered to himself. “And it was just yesterday.”
“What’s that?”
“Nothing.”
Shelby walked closer to the spot, then walked on past. Billy came up beside him.
“What was going on that night?”
“I got a tip from an informant that guns were being sold out of this warehouse. You know how it is with tips. Most of them are bullshit, but every once in awhile you know it’s right.”
“Yeah. I read your statement in the official report and I watched the your video interview later. So you’re still convinced. I mean, you knew the tip was right that night, didn’t you?” Billy asked.
Shelby nodded. “Yeah. The informant was a friend of mine who used to own a pawn shop. He was retired. He said there were a lot of illegal guns moving around Austin, and he had been given the chance to get in on the action. This place here was one of four different dispersal points, each used at different times. That night this was supposed to be the one.”
“What happened?” Billy asked. “I mean, before you got here?”
“Oh. I called it in, like always, but there was a bad wreck over on Mopac and the traffic was stacked up for miles. It was me or nothing. Besides, I was just going to take a look. I parked three blocks north and walked back. There was no fence around this place then like there is now. It was wide open. All I had to do was hop a drainage ditch. Once I was here and moving in the shadows, I got the feeling someone was stalking me. Hell, it was more than someone. There were four of them, altogether. Just kids, but I didn’t know it at the time. I came upon a kid with a gun. I told him to drop it. He made a move and I fired. End of story.”
