Devil Red Page 17

  “Pretty much. But still, you and Leonard, you were worth a lot. You can take some pride in that.”

  “Oh, goodie. But now Devil Red is after you.”

  “The guy that would pay them, he’s not around anymore.”

  “Then why bother with me and Leonard?”

  “That’s personal. You may have already been on their list, and with you talkin’ to Jimson, and him talkin’ to them, that sealed it. You know, he was quite a talker. I think I made him nervous. He told me all about you and wantin’ to know about Devil Red. The whole nine yards … You know why I didn’t take the job to kill Devil Red?”

  “Because you shot the guy who was going to pay you,” I said. She wrinkled her brows. “Well, yeah. There’s that. But also there was this: I didn’t want to kill Devil Red, because I know them.”

  “Them?”

  “You’ve met them. Mr. Kincaid and his former wife, Ms. Clinton.”

  61

  I couldn’t have been more surprised if I had just discovered Jesus had sent me a Christmas present of the Holy Ghost with a personal note signed “Love and kisses.”

  “The old man and his ex-wife?” I said. “They’re Devil Red?”

  “Isn’t that a kick?”

  “Can’t be.”

  “Can and is. Where do you think I learned my craft?”

  “Them?”

  “Oh, Hap, you are so cute when your jaw is on the floor. Yes. Them. Let me tell you something. Mr. Kincaid, he looks like hell, but actually, he’s quite spry and doesn’t need the chair or oxygen. Sometimes, garbed up like that, he uses it to get close to people. Who expects an old-looking man in a wheelchair breathing through a tube to be a killer?”

  “You’re foolin’ with me, aren’t you?”

  “I’d like to fool with you, but no.”

  “And my client’s son? His girlfriend’s mother and stepfather. You know anything about that?”

  She held up her hand and spread her thumb and forefinger. “Teeny bit,” she said. “Mr. Kincaid and Ms. Clinton have a kind of get them all and poison the well attitude. My guess is Mini’s stepfather—”

  “Bert.”

  “Whatever. He made a wild guess they were involved, stirred them up, like you did, and they took him out. The mother, she was probably an accident. They tried to kill Leonard. You’re next. I wouldn’t be surprised if they went after your employer.”

  “Marvin?”

  She nodded. “Maybe your redhead. Anyone associated with you.”

  “Did Jimson know Kincaid and Clinton were Devil Red?”

  “He didn’t really know who I was. Just my reputation. But he knew how to contact the ones you’re calling Devil Red. And he did. And he contacted me. But did he know Mr. Kincaid and Ms. Clinton were in fact Devil Red? … No.”

  “You said Kincaid and Clinton trained you? There’s people who do that? That’s not exactly a college course.”

  Vanilla shifted her long legs seductively and leaned forward a little.

  “Some people find the job naturally. Others have it thrust upon them. I had it thrust upon me and took to it naturally. I developed my own style, my own way. But they were my mentors. I am who I am, and I have come to embrace it. I’m almost the best there is.”

  “Almost?”

  “There are my instructors.”

  I knew how good Vanilla was, and that made me realize even more what I was up against. I said, “Why would anyone want to raise you to kill?”

  “Family business. Though I doubt you could call us a real family. There was never what you would call love, whatever that is. But there was affection of a sort, like you might have for a goldfish, I suppose. I don’t know. Never had a pet. There was also another reason. They were a kind of factory. I wasn’t the only well-trained and well-oiled cog in their machine. There were others.”

  “Jesus,” I said.

  “He didn’t train there,” Vanilla said. “Once we knew the trade, they hired us out. Male and female. Prostitutes of Death they called us. We got a cut of the kill, and they got the bulk. I didn’t know it was unfair for a few years, us making so little. I was fifteen when I made my first hit. I wasn’t even scared.”

  “It didn’t bother you?”

  “I didn’t know the man I killed, so no. I’m not sure it would have bothered me if I had known him. Hell, Hap. He could have been my father. He was the right age. I don’t even know why they wanted him killed. It didn’t matter to me.”

  I let that soak in. I said, “Kincaid had a second wife, right? What did she think about all this?”

  “She was unaware of the business. An airhead. She bore him two children. Ms. Clinton couldn’t have children. There was an arrangement. He cared for his wife, but Mr. Kincaid really cared for Ms. Clinton. Maybe it was love. I don’t know. I’m a little confused on that issue, Hap. They never really stopped being together. There was a house in town for the wife, and an estate in the country where he and Ms. Clinton spent their time. Where I was trained.”

  “You call them Mr. and Ms.?”

  “That’s how I was taught. I can’t think of them any other way. But this isn’t about me. This is about you, Hap. You and Leonard. Though they may have already punched his ticket. They’ll wait and see. Why take an extra chance? It’s my bet he never even saw his shooter. They’re too good for that. But if he doesn’t die, they’ll be back to finish the job. And there’s you.”

  “They leave a devil’s head at the scene of their murders, staged events. Why? Why leave any indication?”

  “Did Picasso sign his work?”

  “They see it as an art?” I asked.

  “You could say that. So do I. But I don’t sign my work. They don’t if time and situation doesn’t permit. But they are proud of their craft. After years of doing something well, on some level, they want to be recognized, not caught. It was also a way they could challenge anyone trying to discover them. Here’s our calling card. Respond if you can.”

  “So you deserted them at some point.”

  “Most do. It’s the way of the job. They always have a few who live on the grounds. People who protect the place and them. They saw us as their retirement. But they haven’t quit. They won’t retire.”

  “No one should be raised to be a killer,” I said.

  “You could say I was exploited. But it has given me a livelihood. And I am an artist.”

  “You’re a killer, Vanilla. That’s all.”

  “For me it beats being a teacher or a nurse. No offense to your redhead.”

  “Plenty taken.”

  I thought I saw her blink when I said that, but it could have been the light.

  “And you?” she said.

  “What exactly are you?”

  “I suppose I’m the same as you.”

  She looked at me for a long moment. Her face seemed so soft, her lips so kissable. She was mesmerizing. I sat farther back from her.

  “You’re not like me at all, Hap. You’re not even close. For me, there’s no passion in the act. It is what it is, and I do it artistically. That’s what makes me second to them. They are still passionate about their work. And you, you’re no artist and you don’t do it for money. You have reasons, views. I don’t get that.”

  “And you’re telling me all this because …?”

  “I don’t know really. I feel we have a connection. Do you feel it?”

  “I do.”

  “What is it exactly?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’m old enough to be your father.”

  “Maybe that’s it,” she said.

  “I hope not. All I know is, I have to get them. They shot my friend.”

  “He means that much to you?” she said, turning her head slightly, as if trying to position herself to believe that idea.

  “He does.”

  “They’ll kill you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “They’re better than you,” she said. “I’m better than you.”

  “The chi
ps aren’t down yet,” I said.

  Vanilla shook her head slowly. “No. It won’t work out for you.”

  “Just tell me where to find them and when.”

  “I don’t know when, and I won’t tell you where.”

  “You think I can’t find out where they live? If I can’t do it myself, I have friends who can. I’ll find them. I’m asking you to speed up matters.”

  “I’m not one to betray.”

  “They betrayed you,” I said. “They took a child and made a killer. You may not think that matters now, but maybe some part of you knows that isn’t the life you had to have. It can’t be that good a life.”

  I watched her face. It revealed nothing.

  “It was you who got snookered, baby,” I said. “The fact you came to me means you feel something other than professionalism. And if you think you’re helping me by not telling me where they are, all you’re doing is giving me a reprieve. They’ll get to me eventually. At some point, it’ll be me and them.”

  “Run.”

  “I’m not into running.”

  “Man’s got to do what a man’s go to do, huh?” Vanilla said.

  “Something like that. If you’re not going to help me, then leave and let me get about my business. And thanks for the warning.”

  Vanilla set the diet soda can on the coffee table, careful to make it fit into one of Brett’s coasters. “Do you have weapons?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “They certainly do. And they probably have at least two bodyguards on the grounds. Maybe more. And dogs.”

  “Dogs.”

  She nodded. “Yep. And a security camera.”

  “Oh, good. And do the Mummy and the Wolf Man work for them too?”

  “There you’re safe.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “And consider this. They may or may not be home. If they were here earlier, it would take them almost two hours to go back to the estate. It’s on this side of Houston. In the woods. A hundred acres or so. They would be there by now if they went home. But you don’t know. It’s a gamble.”

  “What isn’t,” I said. “You gonna help me, or not?”

  “Get a pen and paper,” she said, “and I’ll draw you a map. But when I do, it’s like me signing your death warrant.”

  62

  Not long after that cheery little comment from Vanilla, I had warm clothes on, including a wool cap, the heater turned up, and my foot heavy on the gas pedal. I had a thermos of coffee and a tuna fish sandwich in a plastic bag on the seat beside me. Brett’s revolver was holstered on my hip. In the glove box was my .38 Super. In the trunk, the twelve-gauge pump and ammunition for all three weapons. Also there was a toolbox with a pair of snips in it and some other things I needed. I had my clasp knife in my pocket and a roll of breath mints so as not to offend anyone I might want to stab or shoot. Marvin’s sawed-off I had left at the house, replaced by my own twelve-gauge. Call me sentimental. I preferred my own gun.

  Outside the air was damp with a cold mist, and the highway in the beam of the headlights looked like a ribbon of blue steel. It was late and the road was oddly empty, as if while Vanilla and I talked there had been some kind of apocalypse.

  I was still trying to wrap my mind around what Vanilla had told me, and there were parts of my brain that doubted what I heard. For all I knew she was setting me up. But that didn’t make a lot of sense. If she wanted me dead, she would have done it. I’d have had a bullet up my ass while I was still trying to find my house key. Not to mention that since she suspected a bomb, she could have just let it go off and they would have found my pecker in a tree the next day. And when I came downstairs from fetching my guns, she was gone, and she had taken the bombs with her.

  A tidy cleanup for someone who would want me dead. And if she was using me to take out the competition, so far I wasn’t proving to be that good. Neither was Leonard. A bag of crackers and cookies had got him shot, maybe killed, and Vanilla had snuck up on me while I was on my porch about to unlock a door that would have blown me apart.

  I decided to believe she was on my side. I also thought maybe she had arrived at the house by means of teleportation. Where was her car? And after she had drawn the map, and I had gathered up my weapons and ammunition, how did she get out and gone so quickly, without making a sound?

  That girl was creepy.

  No more slacking. No more being distracted. No more feeling sorry for myself. Tonight, I had to be back on my game, like the old days.

  I called Brett and asked how Leonard was doing.

  “Same ole, same ole,” she said. “You on the road, baby?”

  “Yes.”

  “For reasons discussed?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That was quick.”

  “I had some help.”

  “Help?”

  Brett knew about Vanilla Ride, and what she knew about her she didn’t like, so I decided not to mention her.

  “I’ll tell you about it later,” I said. “At some point I’m going to cut off my phone. Not for a while, but in the next couple of hours.”

  “Be careful,” she said.

  “Always careful,” I said. “Take care of Leonard.”

  “You’ll be back to do it.”

  I hesitated. “You’ll take care of him, right?”

  “You know it,” she said.

  When I finished with Brett, I called Marvin.

  “I need you at the hospital. To watch Brett. To make sure she and Leonard are okay. I know I told you to sleep, but—”

  “Say no more. I’m on my way.”

  “Marvin … I know what happened. I know who did it.”

  “Wait until you’re not so steamed up, Hap. You know who it is tonight, you’ll know who it is tomorrow, and you can put a plan together. Right now you’re acting on anger.”

  “I am at that.”

  “Cool some.”

  “Now’s the time,” I said.

  “Tomorrow we can get Jim Bob. Me. My leg is better. I’m sort of up to it now.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “You’re gonna hurt my feelin’s, Hap.”

  “Right now I don’t have room for that, my friend. I’m tellin’ it like it is. You’re not up to it, and I’m not waiting. And I don’t want to pull you or Jim Bob or anyone else into this. At least not directly. This is goddamn personal. And they don’t expect me to come to them. That’s the only edge I got. That and knowing you’re there with Brett and Leonard.”

  “Who are they?” Marvin asked. “Who are them?”

  “I told a certain someone that if I didn’t come back, they were to let you know what happened.”

  “Who’s that certain someone?”

  “You’ll know if I don’t come back.”

  It was a promise Vanilla had made me before I went upstairs to get the guns. If I didn’t come back, she’d let Marvin and Brett know, warn them that Devil Red would be after them. I hoped they were smarter than me. I hoped they’d take Vanilla’s advice and run. I hoped she would keep her word. I was pretty certain she would.

  Marvin said, “You sound a little dramatic.”

  “I feel a little dramatic,” I said.

  I heard Marvin sigh. “You doing something like whatever the hell you’re doing, and Leonard not being there … Man, that don’t seem right. I can’t think of one of you without the other. It’s like Siamese twins have been halved.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said.

  63

  It had started to snow. Real snow. Highly unusual for East Texas. The flakes were huge, like cotton balls. Normally snow in this area was little more than flakes that barely stuck and lasted about as long as it took to melt one on your tongue. If I hadn’t been on a mission to blow people’s brains out, I might have enjoyed its uniqueness and beauty. Right now, it was nothing more than a hindrance.

  I wasn’t far from where I wanted to go. There was a rest stop nearby and I pulled in there and tried to eat the
sandwich because I thought I was crazy hungry, but it just turned out I was crazy scared. I drank a cup of coffee, slowly, because my hands were trembling. I turned on my overhead light and looked at the map Vanilla had drawn on a piece of paper. I studied it. I was close. I was very close. I turned off the light and sat and thought, and it seemed as if the trees in the roadside park were drawing nearer to me, as if the darkness between them were gathering together into something solid and demonic, trimmed in snow and ice.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, and then opened them. I didn’t look at the trees.

  I poured another cup of coffee and tried to work my courage up as I sipped it.

  My cell phone rang.

  I almost jumped out of my skin.

  It was Brett.

  “He’s slipping,” she said.

  “Oh, shit,” I said. I felt the bit of sandwich I had eaten churn in my stomach and nearly rise up.

  “Hap, I’m so sorry. They don’t think he’ll make it through the night.”

  “Goddamn it! Goddamn it to hell!”

  “They let me in to see him. They said I could come in because I’m all that’s here. I shouldn’t have told you to go. Oh, shit, Hap. I never thought he’d die.”

  “He isn’t dead yet.”

  “I held his hand. I told him you were taking care of things. I told him we loved him. Marvin is here. He’s out in the waiting room.”

  “I told him to watch over you,” I said.

  “He has a gun under his coat. And he gave me one. But really, a shootout in the hospital?”

  “I’m just being cautious … So the doctor said … no hope?”

  “Just said he was slipping away.”

  “Tell Leonard I have his hat.”

  “What?”

  “Whisper in his ear. Tell the big bastard I have his deerstalker, and if he wants it back, he’ll have to take it from me. Tell him, he dies, I’ll shit in it. You tell him that.”

  Brett laughed a little. It was strained, but it was a laugh.

  “I’ll tell him. If he can hear me, he’ll come back just to kick your ass.”

  “Right now I’d let him. You go back in there, and you take Leonard’s hand, and tell him his brother loves him. You hear me? You tell him that again. And you tell him what I said about his hat.”