In the photo, he had a fiberglass sousaphone on his shoulders. Maybe, since he didn’t have the shiny brass one, that accounted for his expression.
He was the banda buyer from Saturday night. The dude with the humongous pistol he called the Judge.
He was Carlos.
9. A Weak Embouchure
I was still looking at the photo of Garrett and Carlos when I heard the double doors in the band room open.
I glanced to my right. The office door was closed and locked, and the blinds over the window were drawn. Whoever was out there couldn’t see inside. They might not even be able to see that the light was on. So I just stayed quiet and listened.
“Make it quick, Donny.” It was Marisa. “I don’t want to be too late. I can get away with six or seven minutes, but not ten.”
“So why’d you drag me down here?” Donny asked. “And where’s Mr. Marx? You said he subbed. But we didn’t pass him in the hall.”
“I guess he went to the back lot to smoke a cigarette,” Marisa said. “Or whatever. He’s gone, and so is everyone else. There’s no class in the annex this period, which makes this the safest place to talk. So what do you want? And why couldn’t you just text me?”
To the back lot to smoke a cigarette? That struck me as presumptuous. I didn’t smoke. Not cigarettes, anyway, and not at school.
“What’s my problem?” Donny’s voice cracked. “Are you kidding? You stole Mr. Anthony’s van, you brought back the tuba, and you left the van in a ditch. So I had to drive those dudes back to town. Now Kaylee claims she doesn’t have the money from the Conn. And you haven’t answered my texts since you took off.”
Marisa’s response was cool and steady. “First of all, it isn’t Mr. Anthony’s van. He stole it, and stealing something from someone who stole it himself isn’t really stealing. Second of all, Kaylee warned you guys not to show the buyers anything but the sousaphones. She and I both could have told you they’d lowball the tuba before you even stole it if you’d let us know you were going to do it.”
“I couldn’t say anything before we did it!” Donny said. “Besides, Mr. Anthony didn’t tell us not to get the tuba. But at least the tuba didn’t make Carlos mad. That was a sousaphone. And then running off with the van made Mr. Anthony mad. That was you!”
Marisa muttered something in Spanish that I couldn’t make out, and then she said, “I don’t understand these fiberglass snobs. But as for what I did—well, I couldn’t let them buy a Gronitz so cheap. It wasn’t right.”
“But Kaylee nodded!”
“That wasn’t a signal to take the deal. Mr. Anthony is Kaylee’s second cousin or third uncle or something, and she says he’s worked the shady side of Kingman County since before our mamas were born. She could tell from the way he acted that they had offered the best deal they were going to offer. That’s all she meant.”
This time, when Donny spoke, his voice was lower and darker. “Well, she was wrong. Tyler got a text from Mr. Anthony before first period. Turns out Carlos will give us a good price for the tuba after all, if we bring it back tonight. Twenty-five hundred.”
There was a pause before Marisa spoke again. “No me digas!”
“I’m serious,” Donny said. “And listen, Kaylee has to bring the fourteen hundred and hand it over to Tyler. Then when we get the twenty-five hundred to add to it, we’ll give you guys a share. But we can’t trust Kaylee to hold it anymore. Tyler says if she doesn’t show up with it, he’s gonna beat the shit out of Jared. Like a serious beatdown, broken bones and teeth. He wants to make Kaylee watch. Then he says he’ll e-mail her dad and tell him she and Jared have been hooking up, so the old man will cut off her college fund. We heard he’s sending her to Baylor, but only if she’s a virgin. Is that his rule or Baylor’s, do you think?”
“I’m sure I don’t know,” Marisa said. “But I know somebody broke into the house and took the money while Kaylee and Jared were asleep. They didn’t even know it was gone until Kaylee’s mom called and woke them up. And they found Kaylee’s phone on the back porch.”
Donny wasn’t buying it. “How do we know they didn’t make up that story so they could keep the money?”
Marisa was indignant. “How do we know it wasn’t you and Tyler who came back and took it?”
This part of the situation was my doing, and it had the potential to become ugly. But it wouldn’t have happened if the kids hadn’t been larcenous little punks. So I didn’t feel too bad about it.
“You’ll have to take my word for it,” Donny said. His tone shifted to a ridiculous coo that he probably thought sounded seductive. “I wouldn’t shit you, Marisa. I like you too much. That’s why I wanted to bring you in on this. But Kaylee and Jared were your idea, so if they ripped us off, it’s your fault.”
Marisa gave a sharp laugh. “You didn’t bring me in because you like me. You brought me in because you and Tyler didn’t know how much the horns were worth. But Kaylee’s the one who knew how to read Mr. Anthony. And Jared is a package deal with Kaylee. So if you don’t want band geeks around next time, then next time don’t steal band instruments.”
I pictured Donny giving a shrug. “We thought it’d be easy. And honest to God, Marisa, I wanted you to have a share. I knew you’d have to play that twenty-year-old junk sousaphone after we took the good ones, so I felt bad. I really like you …”
A moment later, I heard the sound of flesh being smacked, just as I had on Saturday night.
“You know what?” Marisa said. “We’re not going out anymore. You have a weak embouchure. And I should know. I play brass.”
Donny grunted. “Okay, so you’re good for something. You get to take that tuba home to practice, right?”
“No. When I practice with the Gronitz, I do it here. And Mr. Garrett is usually around.”
“But not today,” Donny said. “So no one would stop you from taking it. Not even that deputy out front. And Ms. Owens must have given you the cabinet key. So take the tuba home this afternoon, and we’ll sell it tonight.”
Marisa was not on board. “Then I’ll be the first one they interrogate.”
“No problem,” Donny said. “You’ll be catching a ride with Kaylee in that stupid little PT Cruiser, right? Just say it was stolen from her car when you guys stopped for a Coke or something. I’ll even bust out one of her windows for you.”
“You’re so sweet, Donny.”
“Let me prove it.”
“Like you said, I’ll have to take your word for it.”
Donny grunted again. “Okay, whatever. Meet us at Jared’s ranch tonight at 11:30. If you have to sneak out past your mom, do it. Kaylee and Jared need to bring the fourteen hundred—”
“They don’t have it.”
“—and you need to bring the tuba. Don’t be late.”
“This is a mistake,” Marisa said. “Don’t you remember how cheap that Carlos guy was? What makes you think he’ll pay twenty-five hundred for a horn he didn’t even want a day and a half ago?”
“All I know,” Donny said, “is what Mr. Anthony told Tyler. He said if we mess up again, Carlos will hunt us down and use that giant pistol to blast us some extra assholes.”
This time when Marisa spoke, her voice was quiet. “Quizás sí, quizás no,” she said. “But I guess we don’t want to find out.” She took a quick, audible breath, and then her voice was normal again. “All right, I’ll figure something out. Now we’d better get to class. You go first.”
“Huh? Why?”
“So no one sees us coming out of the annex together. If the tuba’s going to disappear again, we don’t want anyone saying they saw us together near the band room. You’re not in the band. I play the tuba. See the problem?”
“Oh. Okay.” One of the double doors to the hallway creaked. “Don’t forget—11:30. Get there early if you can.”
The door clunked shut, and then I listened for Marisa to go out too.
Instead, I heard her fumbling with her backpack. And then I heard her speak
again.
“I’m leaving voice mail so you know nobody else is texting with my phone,” she said. “You were right. They want the Gronitz. So I’ll bring it. Tonight, 11:30. Jared’s country place. But they want the money, too, and we don’t have it. So don’t leave us hanging, or it’ll all go to mierda.”
There was a soft snap, and then one of the double doors opened again. After that, silence.
I took one last look at the photo of the teenage Garrett and Carlos. Except for the fact that they had divergent skin tones and were holding different instruments, they sure looked a lot alike.
Then I replaced the photo in its envelope, tucked both envelopes back into the notebook, and put everything back the way I’d found it. I made sure to lock the drawer.
I had some time now, but I wasn’t going to get a nap after all. Instead, I would think about how I was going to spend my evening.
It might be worth twenty-five hundred bucks to me. I had a lavish lifestyle over the hardware store to maintain.
10. The Fluffy Bunny Land Solution
By 10:00 P.M., I was in the woods northwest of the crooked house again, once more wearing my dark clothes and full-face eye black. I was aware of the extra lump in my back pocket and feeling stupid for having it.
The house was dark, and there were no vehicles parked along the driveway. So I decided to begin my vigil at the same vantage point where I’d started on Saturday. I was early. But I had the complete recorded works of Otis Rush on a thumb-sized mp3 player. So I was good.
Or I would have been, if I hadn’t fallen asleep. That was what I got for skipping a nap at school.
I awoke to “Crosscut Saw” in my earbuds, with the right side of my face mashed against a live-oak trunk and the itch of ants crawling up my shins. I yanked out the earbuds, jammed them into my jeans pocket with the mp3 player, then slapped at my legs until I couldn’t feel anything crawling anymore. My watch said 11:15.
Across the driveway, illuminated by the weak moonlight and a dull lemon glow from the crooked house, sat Donny’s pickup, Jared’s Honda, and Kaylee’s PT Cruiser. The sounds of their arrivals had been masked by Otis in my ears. I wondered how they were all getting along since the missing fourteen hundred couldn’t have rematerialized—unless the band geeks had raided their parents’ cookie jars.
Then a set of headlights stabbed into the driveway. At least, I thought, I had awakened in time for the arrival of Bobby Anthony and Carlos.
But the almost-new Maxima that cruised past my position wasn’t bringing Bobby Tone and Carlos although it did have two occupants. I couldn’t get a good look at the driver, but I knew the car belonged to David Garrett, Kingman High band director and amateur purple-bikini photographer. So it was a reasonable bet that he was driving. And the passenger, whose face was just illuminated enough for me to see, was Principal Elizabeth Owens, dedicated educator and amateur purple-bikini model.
Whatever this meant, and whatever the result might be, there was almost no chance it would make me happy. But at least I was wide-awake now.
The Maxima pulled off the driveway between the PT Cruiser and the house. Garrett and Elizabeth got out. They were both wearing jeans and T-shirts, as if on a weekend painting project. They stepped onto the front porch and went inside without pausing. I couldn’t tell whether the door was unlocked or whether one of the kids let them in. But there was no Hank Williams III playing in there tonight.
It looked as if the crooked house’s windows had been opened to let in a little of the muggy April air. And since there was no one on the porch, I didn’t have to be as stealthy as I had been on Saturday night. So less than two minutes after Garrett and Elizabeth walked into the house, I was crouched under a front-room window on the north wall.
I had caught a glimpse inside as I had scuttled up from the woods, so I knew that Donny, Tyler, Kaylee, Jared, and Marisa were all in there with Garrett and Elizabeth. The band kids had looked relaxed and were staying quiet, so I had the impression that they were fine with the new arrivals. But Donny and Tyler were upset. They were doing a lot of cussing and whining. And it was easy to understand why. The principal and her boyfriend were ruining the whole operation.
“This is the way it’s going to be, boys,” Elizabeth said. “If the two missing instruments are returned, we won’t press charges.”
It sounded odd to me. Letting punks off the hook was not the Texas way. Elizabeth was from Austin, which is the Fluffy Bunny Land of the Lone Star State—but even she wouldn’t just say “Oh, well, kids will be kids” in the face of grand larceny.
“Somebody ratted!” Tyler said. He was trying to sound like a gangster, just as he had tried to sound like a salesman two days earlier. He wasn’t any better at it. “Donny, it was your goddamn girlfriend!”
I heard the scrape of a chair on floorboards, and then David Garrett spoke. His voice was deep, strong, and commanding. I liked him less than ever.
“Sit down, Tyler,” Garrett said. “Back in the day, I had to make a choice, and I chose band over football. But I still know how to hit.”
The chair scraped again, but with less volume.
“That’s better. First of all,” Garrett continued, “there were no rats. Rats would have told the sheriff instead of coming to me. But I would have known what was going on anyway because I saw Donny’s pickup driving through town at 3:00 A.M. Sunday with you and a sousaphone case in the back. And when I spoke with my musicians and they described your buyer, I knew who he was. So I asked some friends to let that person know that a Corpus Christi banda with a recording contract was in the market for an actual tuba. And sure enough, you got the word. So here we are.”
My guess was that Garrett really had seen Donny’s pickup hauling the sousaphone … while he’d been driving back to his place after spending most of Saturday night at Elizabeth’s. It wouldn’t do to drive to church from the principal’s house on Sunday morning, now, would it? Even if everyone already knew you were sleeping with her.
But the part about rats not being rats if they tell the teacher instead of the cops was a little dicey. On the other hand, maybe ratting on the gang wasn’t really ratting if you were never really a member of the gang in the first place.
Besides, I knew something that Tyler and Donny, team players, couldn’t grasp:
The only way to guarantee a “No Leaks” policy is to work alone.
“Here’s what needs to happen.” Elizabeth again. “Before the buyers arrive, Donny and Tyler will take the tuba out to the porch. We want the buyers to see it when they pull up, with people they recognize. We want them out of their vehicle and on the porch. Then the two of you can come back inside. At which point Mr. Garrett will deal with them.”
“Like how?” Tyler asked. “Make a citizen’s arrest or something?”
“Nobody’s getting arrested,” Garrett said. “There’s no need, because we’re going to put everything right. I just need to talk with the buyers to make that happen. One of them in particular.”
Now Marisa spoke up. “The Gronitz doesn’t have to come out of its case, does it? These guys won’t be careful with it.”
“The boys can just open the lid,” Garrett said. “The buyers might get nervous and take off if they don’t see it. And if that happens, we really will have to get the sheriff involved to recover the Conn sousaphone. Which won’t work out well for anyone. It’s bad enough that the King is damaged. But it’s just the bell, and we’ll see about having that replaced.”
There was silence for a few seconds. Then Donny said, “Uh, the guy named Carlos shot the King just because he was surprised by the fiberglass. So if he gets surprised again, he might start shooting again.”
Garrett made a noise between a grunt and a groan. “Don’t worry. He won’t hurt anyone. He probably borrowed the gun to look tough.”
I heard a rumble and rattle from the county road, and I looked back to see another pair of headlights turning into the long driveway.
It was tuba-time again.
<
br /> 11. You Will Not Take My Tuba
I scrambled to the north and got between the PT Cruiser and the Honda. Then I watched as a battered, dirt-smeared Plymouth minivan rattled past. It pulled onto the apron at the end of the driveway, then backed up to the porch just as the white van had done two days earlier. No doubt this decrepit old rust bucket had been stolen just for tonight’s purpose, too.
I still had a scrap of hope that I might find a chance to steal more dirty money although it was looking problematic. Garrett had set up a false sale, and no money was going to change hands. On the other hand, Bobby Tone and Carlos were supposed to be arriving with twenty-five hundred in cash on them. So as long as I was here, it was worth sticking around to see how this played out. Based on the photo I’d found in Garrett’s desk, he and Carlos had a possibly contentious history. So maybe the shock of their reunion would make Carlos drop his wallet. Or at least his guard.
Besides, like Lester, I wasn’t able to watch soap operas. My hardware-store apartment didn’t have cable.
I tucked in beside the PT Cruiser’s rear bumper and watched as Tyler and Donny came out of the crooked house’s front door and closed it behind them. Donny had the tuba case, and he set it on the porch as the minivan’s engine fell silent and Bobby Tone and Carlos emerged from the vehicle. I noticed that everyone was dressed almost exactly as they had been dressed on Saturday night. It was as if they had specific uniforms for the exchange of hot brass. Carlos was even wearing his cowboy hat.
Donny bent down, opened the tuba case, and began to lift the instrument from it. Bobby Tone and Carlos stepped up to the porch, and Bobby Tone opened the minivan’s hatchback.
Then the front door opened again, and Marisa burst out in apparent violation of Garrett’s and Elizabeth’s plan. She shoved Donny away from the case and closed it over the Gronitz.
“This instrument,” she said, “is no longer for sale.”
At that, Carlos darted in front of Marisa, grabbed the case, and flung it into the minivan. Then Bobby Tone slammed down the hatchback as Carlos reached behind his back and brought out the Judge. I tensed.
Rogues Page 35
