Hoodoo Harry Read online

  The county was called out. We ended up in the back of a deputy sheriff’s car, watching the car hood shimmer in the red-and-blue from the light bar. In time they brought us in for questioning and locked us up in county for a few days. Leonard at least had a conceal carry license, so illegally carrying a firearm wasn’t added to the list.

  Brett came to visit. They let her give us food she brought from outside. I don’t think they’re supposed to do that, but once the county realized what Donnie and Will had been doing, they treated us well. They had discovered photographs of the kids that dated all the way back to the first murder, and the photos had been ugly. The poor kids’ dead and rotting bodies had been stacked in seats in the bookmobile and a timer on a camera had snapped away with Will and Donnie posing beside their wrecked remains like hunting trophies, which, in a way, I guess they were. There were all manner of things found on internet files. There were torture devices in Donnie’s house. It was a pretty slam-door case. I don’t know if they believed Leonard’s story about the shoot-out. But if they didn’t, no one said a word. There was also the fact that Donnie and Will had kept records of who the boys and how long they had kept them, as well as all they had done to them. Their records solved all the murders. The victims, with the exception of Harriet, (a relative’s DNA proved it was her) were unwanted kids, lost and forgotten, tossed out like used condoms.

  I guess Tom Hoodalay still remains an asshole, and Nesbit needs a new owner for the tire and mechanic shop, not to mention some renovation.

  We were back home pretty quick, though there was a bit of talk about us getting into trouble for breaking and entering, maybe a fine, a little jail time. That idea got shuffled and forgotten, thank goodness. No one really wanted to punish us for what happened to those two, not even for the lesser charges.

  I brooded for a few days over Leonard shooting Donnie in cold blood, stayed home and didn’t go visit with him, didn’t even take his calls. Then Brett said, “Get over it. Leonard saved your life. And it isn’t the first time.”

  “I know,” I said, “but I got to get right in the head. Killing doesn’t bother him. Me, I feel different.”

  “You’ve killed, Hap, and if you had to, you’d do it again. Quit feeling sorry for yourself. I’m glad Leonard made sure you came home. Stop being a jackass.”

  She was right. I called Leonard later that day. He answered, said, “You been pouting, haven’t you?”

  “I have.”

  “Yeah, well, I knew you’d get over it.”

  “When it involves you, I always do.”

  “Yep.”

  “One question,” I said. “After all that, after all the things we’ve done, the deaths, how do you sleep?”

  “Deeply.”

  “I don’t.”

  “I know.”

  “But, thanks, Leonard.”

  “You’re welcome. Still sore from all that crap falling on you?”

  “A little. Nothing serious. Thanks for pulling that off of me too.”

  “Welcome again. But you owe me. We working out today?”

  “I need another day to feel bad about who I am.”

  “How about you take this day to know that there won’t be anymore kids abused and murdered by those two, and you don‘t have a hole in your head and about six feet of dirt over you? Want to do that?”

  “That’s exactly what I’ll do,” I said.

  “Alright, then. And Hap?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Go fuck yourself. Talk tomorrow.”

  “Goodnight,” I said.

  All rights reserved, including without limitation the right to reproduce this ebook or any portion thereof in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, businesses, companies, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Copyright © 2016 by Joe R. Lansdale

  Cover design by Amanda Shaffer

  978-1-5040-4570-4

  Published in 2017 by MysteriousPress.com/Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

  180 Maiden Lane

  New York, NY 10038

  www.mysteriouspress.com

  www.openroadmedia.com

  BIBLIOMYSTERIES

  FROM MYSTERIOUSPRESS.COM

  AND OPEN ROAD MEDIA

  Otto Penzler, owner of the Mysterious Bookshop in Manhattan, founded the Mysterious Press in 1975. Penzler quickly became known for his outstanding selection of mystery, crime, and suspense books, both from his imprint and in his store. The imprint was devoted to printing the best books in these genres, using fine paper and top dust-jacket artists, as well as offering many limited, signed editions.

  Now the Mysterious Press has gone digital, publishing ebooks through MysteriousPress.com.

  MysteriousPress.com offers readers essential noir and suspense fiction, hard-boiled crime novels, and the latest thrillers from both debut authors and mystery masters. Discover classics and new voices, all from one legendary source.

  FIND OUT MORE AT

  WWW.MYSTERIOUSPRESS.COM

  FOLLOW US:

  @emysteries and Facebook.com/MysteriousPressCom

  MysteriousPress.com is one of a select group of

  publishing partners of Open Road Integrated Media, Inc.

  The Mysterious Bookshop, founded in 1979, is located in Manhattan’s Tribeca neighborhood. It is the oldest and largest mystery-specialty bookstore in America.

  The shop stocks the finest selection of new mystery hardcovers, paperbacks, and periodicals. It also features a superb collection of signed modern first editions, rare and collectable works, and Sherlock Holmes titles. The bookshop issues a free monthly newsletter highlighting its book clubs, new releases, events, and recently acquired books.

  58 Warren Street

  [email protected]

  (212) 587-1011

  Monday through Saturday

  11:00 a.m. to 7:00 p.m.

  FIND OUT MORE AT

  www.mysteriousbookshop.com

  FOLLOW US:

  @TheMysterious and Facebook.com/MysteriousBookshop

  SUBSCRIBE:

  The Mysterious Newsletter

  Find a full list of our authors and

  titles at www.openroadmedia.com

  FOLLOW US: