Rusty Puppy Read online

  “Really think they believe we’ll buy that line of shit?”

  “No. I think Coldpoint thinks we just can’t see the bigger picture, but I doubt he honestly thinks we’ll toe the line. But if we push it, and someone says, hey, what did you see out there, and we tell them, there isn’t much that nails anyone to the wall for a crime. And they are cops. It’s something’s being done progressive for the neighborhood, and it’s only a little bit illegal. No one is going to give them too much shit for that. They’re showing us how unconnected we are in Camp Rapture, showing us that we have our ass hanging out over here, and if we keep showing it, someone is going to drive a spike up it. They were trying to scare us.”

  “That didn’t work.”

  “Did for me,” I said. “It scared me plenty. I was envisioning us being in that sawmill pond by night’s end, if not sooner.”

  “But you weren’t scared enough to quit, I figure.”

  “Of course not. I was scared, but I’m also stupid.”

  “There you go. That’s the Hap I know and love.”

  I unlocked the car. Leonard tossed his coat in, picked his fedora off the seat, and put it on as he slid inside the car.

  “I want to drive by Barker’s office,” Leonard said.

  “Suits me,” I said. “I find myself a little put out with that bastard. Hey, know what?”

  “What?” Leonard said.

  “You tenderized Sheerfault like a hamburger steak.”

  “Choked him out and threw him away,” Leonard said. “And you, my brother. You knocked Boo-Boo on his ass.”

  “Bobo,” I said.

  “Whatever.”

  32

  I parked us behind Barker’s office. Leonard checked himself in the mirror on the sun visor, adjusted his hat.

  “Yeah, I be looking good,” he said.

  We got out and Leonard put on his coat and adjusted his fedora again, and we tried the outside door. It was locked. Leonard took the key from me and went to the car and got a tire tool out of the trunk, came back and stuck it into the edge of the door and heaved.

  There was a cracking sound and the door came loose and swung open.

  “They call that breaking and entering,” I said.

  “They do indeed,” Leonard said.

  We went down the hallway like before and came to Barker’s office. The door was locked. Leonard, without hesitation, knocked the pebbled glass out with the tire tool, reached in, and flicked the lock. A moment later we were inside.

  Barker, wearing only a T-shirt and boxer shorts, opened his inner office door with something in his hand, but it was too late. We were already standing there. Leonard whacked his hand lightly with the tire tool, and Barker dropped what he was holding. A little silver automatic.

  I picked it up and put it in my coat pocket. Leonard pushed him into the office and turned on the light. Barker said, “Okay. You got me. Cut the light, though. Cut it. We can talk in the dark.”

  “I don’t like what you might have in the dark,” I said. “In more ways than one.”

  “I got nothing. What I had, you got. I got nothing.”

  “All right,” I said, “but don’t try to get cute. As you might expect, we are not in the best of moods.”

  I turned off the light. It might have been a paranoid move, but no use advertising we were all upstairs, not after what had gone on tonight. For all we knew, Coldpoint and his band of merry assholes might decide they wanted to take us out.

  “They let you go,” he said, rubbing the hand Leonard had hit with the tire iron.

  “They did at that.”

  “Why?”

  “Personality,” Leonard said.

  There was light coming in through the window behind the desk. It was from a streetlight. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to see around the room after my eyes adjusted.

  Barker sat on the couch and dipped his head.

  “I had to do it, boys. I had to.”

  “Did you now?” Leonard said.

  “I tell you I had to, had to.”

  “Tell us why? And then tell us why you’re surprised to see us.”

  “Make it good,” Leonard said, “’cause I’m thinking of hitting you with this tire tool so many times they’ll have to build a wing on the hospital just to take care of your ass.”

  “I didn’t know what they were going to do, but they threatened me, and my family. They can have my wife, the coldhearted bitch. But my daughter, that’s different.”

  “They said they’d hurt her?” I said.

  “Indicated it. Sheerfault and Bobo, they’re the muscle, and Coldpoint, he calls the shots, though I get the impression Sheerfault is getting tired of him. Coldpoint’s kind of a politician, crooked as a dog’s leg, but clever. He knows piling up bodies isn’t the best thing to do. He’s piled up a few, I feel certain, but he’s got cautious over time. He gets the police chief job, connections he’s got, he’s got a license to steal. Doesn’t see any reason to rock the boat when they’re giving him the ocean. Those other two would just as soon wear your ass for a hat. I admit I’m surprised to see you here, surprised. But you got to understand, what I did, it wasn’t personal, wasn’t personal.”

  “You said that before,” Leonard said. “Don’t say it again. I don’t like it. And for the record, the muscle got their asses handed to them.”

  Barker smiled a little. “I’m glad that’s how it worked out. I’m glad. Really. I didn’t want you hurt, but I didn’t know what else to do, didn’t know what else.”

  “What you’re going to do now is you’re going to straighten some things out, answer some questions,” I said.

  “Yeah,” Leonard said patting the tire tool against his open palm. “That’s what you’re going to do, and you’re going to be clear about it and it’s going to sound pretty to us. Everything is going to fall right in place.”

  “I know what I know,” Barker said, “but I don’t know it’s all you need to know.”

  “Start with this,” I said. “Timpson Weed. Did he or did he not ask you to tell the police he saw Jamar beat to death by cops?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “And what, pray tell, did he have you say?” Leonard said.

  “Timpson…Well, you need some background. He spent a lot of time in jail, and it got so when they wanted him at the jail, they picked him up on some charge or another, real or otherwise. They took him in when they had someone they wanted to put him with.”

  “What does that mean?” I said.

  “They run fights with the prisoners. Pick some guy up for dope or some misdemeanor, whatever they like to call it, and they set him up to fight. Provided they got someone in there can fight back. Weed, he could fight, could fight good. He made a lot of money and made the gamblers more money until he got so good no one would bet on him losing, not bet on him at all. When he was younger, I think he boxed professionally. Way I heard it anyway, way I heard it.”

  “That’s not quite in focus,” I said.

  “First time he goes in, he gets in a fight with a cell mate, and he cleans his clock, and Bobo, who’s a jailer, sees it and tells Sheerfault.”

  “So that little bastard has gainful employment,” Leonard said.

  “Instead of giving Timpson more time for fighting, they ask him to do it again, say they can drop any charges he’s in on, make it go away like it never happened, never happened at all. Thing is, he’s got to fight, and so does the other guy.”

  “And all this happens at the mill,” I said.

  “That’s right, the mill, at the mill.”

  “But not on Sunday nights,” Leonard said.

  Barker nodded. “That’s the boys’ fight club night. That’s kind of the way they beard themselves. Weed, he was whipping all comers, and there was a lot of money made until no one would bet against him. It’s not just some of the people on the force come there to bet, it’s people around town. The fighter’s black, that’s even more a part of it. They have a thing about black peopl
e, a thing, want to see them hurt.”

  “Just like the good old days,” Leonard said.

  “How long has this been going on?” I asked.

  “Some time now. You see, Jamar, he was a boxer who was fighting at the club, and they seen him, and he was good. He was smoking the Olympic kids, but he didn’t have any interest in that, wouldn’t go to the sawmill for fight training. They pushed at him to do it, but he wouldn’t. That’s why they stopped his sister. They were messing with him. Showing him they could do what they wanted when they wanted to. See, they wanted him to win a few amateur fights, push him into being a pro. They wanted the money he could make them. Even if it was just at the sawmill.”

  “Typical white-man shit,” Leonard said. “No offense, Hap.”

  “None taken.”

  “Only Jamar didn’t play along,” Leonard said. “Started filming them. Didn’t like them bothering sis.”

  “Right. That’s right. Filmed them, had a scanner, followed them around, followed them when he could and made it hard for them to do anything he wasn’t putting on film. They got mad and one night they decided they’d had enough, grabbed him, put him in the ring up there, made him fight. It wasn’t a public fight. They had him fight until he couldn’t, and they beat him to death. See, it was Timpson, it was him. He was brought in to fight because they wanted to teach the kid a lesson, a permanent one. No betting on that fight, they just paid Timpson good, brought him in, and since no one bet on him anymore, he wasn’t making that good fight money. I don’t know Timpson meant to beat him bad as he did, but he did, and then when the kid went down and couldn’t get up, the rest of them, Sheerfault, Bobo, and Coldpoint—though I doubt he got his hands dirty—finished the kid off, finished him off.”

  “And you know all this through Timpson?” I said.

  Barker nodded. “You see, it kind of got to him, doing what he did. But what got to him more was the idea he could have me go in and tell the cops he was going to go to other authorities, they didn’t pay him off not to tell what happened up there. He thought he could work a regular payday out of it.”

  “Blackmail,” Leonard said.

  “That’s right, that’s right.”

  “And you would take a cut,” I said.

  “Yep, you’re right there, right as rain. They didn’t care though, didn’t care. They own the town, everyone in it, or at least they know the people own the town and work for them, that’s more it, more it. That’s when Timpson got mad and started telling his story, putting it out in the projects. He didn’t use common sense, not at all. He got vengeful, way they used him, used him up. And he wanted to make it hard on them, force them to give him some money, and then he’d recant his story if it ever got so he was actually brought in for it, but if they didn’t pay him he’d rant and rave.”

  “So they killed him,” Leonard said.

  “They sort of asked me to have him meet with me, say I had some money for him from the cops, some money.”

  “You set him up like you set us up,” I said.

  “And told them Timpson might have a loose lip?” Leonard said.

  “I needed the money, needed it, real bad.”

  “You sleazy little shit-greased weasel. You gave up Timpson for a buck, and he was your client, and you gave us up. You knew they’d kill him and figured they’d kill us too.”

  “I didn’t really think about it,” Barker said.

  “Oh,” Leonard said, “well, that makes it all right.”

  Leonard moved toward Barker. I put my hand against his chest.

  “Easy,” I said.

  “Come on, let me hit fat boy once?” Leonard said.

  “Maybe come Christmas,” I said.

  “How much was Timpson’s life worth, dick cheese? How much?”

  “Three hundred dollars,” Barker said.

  “Goddamn it,” Leonard said. “Timpson was a bastard, but you’re ten times worse, you money-grubbing asshole. Come on, Hap, just a couple punches to his head. That ain’t nothing compared to what he done.”

  “No,” I said. “We are the good guys.”

  “I don’t know why they didn’t kill you two,” Barker said. “I’m glad they didn’t, I am, glad, really.”

  “I think you’d have spent your money, jacked off, and slept just fine,” Leonard said. “Did I mention I might break your neck?”

  “It came up,” Barker said. “Or something in that range.”

  Leonard took a step toward him. I pressed my hand against his chest again. I could feel him vibrate.

  “And why the fuck do you repeat yourself?” Leonard asked.

  “Childhood habit,” Barker said. “Habit. Insecurity, insecure, that’s it, insecure.”

  “My guess is Jamar and Timpson ain’t the only ones died at the sawmill,” I said.

  “I have heard rumors there are others, others,” Barker said.

  “Rumors,” Leonard said. “I got a little rumor for you. You know too much now, so I was you—and if I was, I’d have someone saw my head off—but I was you, I’d be special careful.”

  “Will you protect me, will you?” Barker said. He seemed small then, and as sad as anyone I had ever seen.

  “Nope,” Leonard said. “You made your bed of nails, now lie down on it. Hap, hold this tire tool while I hit him some.”

  “No, Leonard. That won’t change things.”

  “But it would brighten my night,” Leonard said.

  “Oh, all right. Give me the tire tool.”

  I took it.

  “Stand up,” Leonard said to Barker.

  Barker looked at me. I shrugged.

  “You’re going to let him bully me,” he said.

  “Considering you nearly got us killed,” I said, “just this once. One shot, Leonard.”

  Barker stood up slowly. Leonard stepped close and gave him an uppercut in the stomach. He didn’t really put a lot into it. Barker’s knees bent and he fell back on the couch in a sitting position, dropped his head, gasped for air.

  “That’s to let you know we got a sour streak,” Leonard said. “That’s to let you know you tell them any more shit on us, have anything to do with them making a run at us again, that’s just a sample of what I’m going to do to you. Wasn’t messing with you about them having to build that wing on the hospital, and next time Hap may not be with me, may not be here to hold me back and talk me down. You listening?”

  Barker lifted his head a little and nodded but didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. Didn’t have the breath for it.

  “We’re going to go now,” Leonard said. “Think of something we ought to know, get back to us. Think of something you think they ought to know, keep your mouth shut. Here’s another thing. As soon as you get your breath, arrange for your daughter to leave town. Do not pass go. Do not stop to jerk off or take a piss, do it now. Oh, and you might want to take your own self out of here too. But that’s up to you. Your well-being is not a big thing with me. Good night, and fuck you very much.”

  33

  Sitting in the car, Leonard said, “They came after Timpson, and then us. Who’s next?”

  “Mrs. Elton and Charm.”

  “Could be that way, or fat ass in there, but he’s not my concern.”

  “Ought to be,” I said. “He has the word from Timpson on how things went down.”

  It was late when we arrived at Mrs. Elton’s house. I knocked on the door and pushed the doorbell. To the right of the door a curtain slid back at a window. The curtain closed; a moment later the door opened.

  It was Mrs. Elton.

  “You got news?”

  “We got to move you.”

  “I don’t understand,” she said.

  “We’ll tell you about it,” I said.

  “Come in,” she said.

  She was wearing a heavy robe and house shoes; her hair was under a scarf. She sat on the couch, said, “It’s bad news, isn’t it?”

  “Bad information. You already know the news. We just have more det
ails, but the bottom line is this: We may have stirred the pot a little too much, and they may be more dangerous than we thought. It’s a simple thing, but it’s a bad thing, and it has deep roots.”

  “Tell me,” she said.

  Leonard broke it down for her. When he finished she was trembling and crying.

  “Thing is,” I said, “you got to get some stuff together, wake Charm, have her get her stuff together. We’ll take you someplace safe until we can sort this all out, get those bastards behind bars.”

  “Or somewhere in a ditch,” Leonard said.

  Always a ditch, I thought. Always a ditch.

  “Charm isn’t here,” she said. “She’s out. She went to a party. Said she’d be in late.”

  “How late?” Leonard asked.

  “Late. That’s all.”

  “All right, no big deal. If they don’t know she went to a party, it’s all good. Here’s what we’re going to do, just to be sure you’re safe. Get some things together for you and Charm, go with Leonard. I’ll stay here and wait for her. She have a cell phone?”

  “Of course she does,” Mrs. Elton said.

  “Let’s start there,” I said.

  She went away, came back with her own cell. She called.

  “She’s not answering,” she said.

  “Send her a text,” I said. “Young people answer texts better than phone calls.”

  “I don’t know how,” she said.

  “May I see it,” I said.

  She handed me the phone. I wrote as if I was Mrs. Elton, typed in: Really need for you to come home right now, please. Not an emergency, but important. I won’t be here. Hap Collins, the private investigator, will be here to pick you up. Call me if you have questions.

  I gave her back the phone, said, “Take a phone charger with you. Keep it charged, and keep calling or texting or both. Leonard will help you text. Want to make sure she gets the message.”

  “They call me Mr. Technology,” Leonard said.

  “I know of no one who calls him that,” I said.

  “But why do I have to move from here?”

  “We can explain the why later,” Leonard said. “Get some possibles together.”