Waltz of Shadows (23 page)

“They’ve done everything but hang us,” I said.

“We’ve been in this town, this community, for years,” Bev said. “People know us. Know we’re not like that.”

“Many do,” Virgil said. “I’m sure some are saying, ‘No way.’ But you want the sad truth? I think most, hell, maybe all, are saying, ‘You just never know, do you?’ Think about it. The TV and papers are full of this kind of shit all the time. About the next door neighbor who was well liked and very quiet, and what do they find but a bunch of babies buried under his porch with their buttholes stretched.”

“Don’t talk like that,” Bev said.

“Sorry,” Virgil said. “I’m trying to make a point, Mrs. Small. I’ll tell you flat, you’re ruined in Imperial City. You get Fat Boy to say he set it all up, and you’ll still be ruined. It won’t be remembered you were proved innocent. It’ll be remembered you were associated with child pornography. You might even have trouble going somewhere else, but you won’t be able to stay in Imperial City. I promise you that.”

“Nice of you to try and cheer us up,” I said.

“I don’t want to feed you any bullshit,” Virgil said. “The thing we’ve got to consider now is Fat Boy, and I think the way to go is to discredit him.”

“How?” Bev asked.

“Well, I’m working on that,” Virgil said.

   Virgil stuck with us that day. We mostly ate, drank coffee and soda pop and talked. The kids did all right until late afternoon, then they became bored and whiny and argumentative.

We decided on a cookout. We gathered dry limbs and set them up so a fire could be made. We took some of the paper sacks the groceries had come in, and tore them in strips and poked them through the gaps in our woodpile. I lit the fire and got some thin limbs from an oak tree, and Virgil sharpened the tips with his pocket knife. We got some weenies and hot dog buns, and cooked the weenies on them and made hot dogs without any fixings. By the time we’d eaten, it was solid dark.

Bev said: “Thanks, Virgil. You brought enough food for an army.”

“I eat like an army,” Virgil said.

The kids were wired, but Bev and I maneuvered them into the bathroom to wash their dirty feet, and got them off to bed with a minimum of fuss. When they were tucked in good, Bev and I joined Virgil at the kitchen table.

“Always wanted some kids I could fuss at and a wife I could yell at, and she could yell at me back, and we wouldn’t stay mad,” Virgil said. “You know, only kind of fights I ever had with wives were serious and led to divorce. We never argued about little things. My Dad always said, you can’t fight about piss on a goddamn toilet lid or a messed up toothpaste tube, you haven’t got a marriage. I think he was right.”

“Virgil,” Bev said. “Do we have a chance?”

“I’m involved, you’ve always got a chance. And on that note, I need to head back. Tomorrow, I’ll hit this problem running. You’re only safe here for little while. Someone will get to checking, discover Hank’s brother owns this place, and the cops will be here to investigate… Hank, why don’t we make sure that fire’s out before I go.”

I got a pan for splashing water onto the fire and we went out back to the weenie roast site. I used a stick to spread the coals while Virgil carried the pan down to the dock to dip water.

A moment later I heard him yell.

I looked up. A big man was wrestling him to the ground in front of the dock. Virgil was banging away with the pan, hitting the man on the side of the head, and having about as much effect as a mosquito dive bombing a mannequin.

I bolted down there and kicked the big man in the face and drove him back. He rolled and came up fast and hit me below the knees even as I remembered the .38 in my waistband and failed to draw it.

Suddenly the big man was on top of me and his fist was in my face. Virgil arrived with his pan and hit him on the side of the head. The big man twisted off of me and swarmed Virgil with a series of punches that laid Virgil on the ground, unconscious, still clutching his pan.

I scrambled up and the two of us came together swinging. Then a chunk of shiny metal came out of the dark and punched against the side of the big man’s head, and Bev said: “You’re dead, motherfucker.”

“Hold it, hold it,” the big man said.

I hit her arm, drove the .32 up. The shot barked at the sky. I got hold of her wrist and twisted the gun out of her hand. “Don’t,” I said.

The big man carefully turned his moonlit face toward me. I hadn’t recognized him in the dark, but when he spoke, I knew who he was.

“Bev,” I said. “I’d like you to meet my brother, Arnold.”

   I pried the pan out of Virgil’s grasp, which was only a little easier than amputating his hand at the wrist, took it down to the dock and dipped some water. I came back and poured it on Virgil’s face. His eyes fluttered. He said, “Goddamn.” Arnold and I got him under the arms and pulled him to his feet. We half-carried, half-dragged him to the cabin. Bev tagged along beside us with her .32.

By the time we reached the kitchen, Virgil was completely conscious, though I didn’t get the impression he wanted to show us any dance steps. We sat him in a chair, and me and Arnold found chairs for ourselves. Bev, the only currently uninjured party, leaned against the kitchen sink, the .32 on the counter beside her. I couldn’t tell from her face if she was relieved she hadn’t shot Arnold, or if she was disappointed it hadn’t been Snake or Fat Boy. Maybe it was a little of both.

Introductions were made without handshakes and we checked the damages and dabbed up with wet paper towels Bev provided. The pan had given Arnold some sizable knots on the forehead, and I had bloodied his nose. When he turned just right, the light on those knots made him look like one of those weird aliens on
Star Trek.

Virgil had a headache and a swollen jaw. My sides and stomach were hurting from the punches Arnold had thrown. I’d had more damage done to me in the last few days than I’d experienced in a lifetime.

“Bubba,” Arnold said. “We gotta quit hittin’ on one another.”

“How in the hell did you get here?” I asked.

“You got anything to eat?” Arnold asked. “I’m so hungry I could suck the guts out of a gopher.”

We fixed Arnold a sandwich and poured him a soft drink. Bev said, “I almost killed you. I thought you were one of them.”

“And I thought you folks were them,” Arnold said. “I was pretty certain you and Hank were dead, and hell, I didn’t know Virgil here.”

“No real harm done,” Virgil said. “I can take it. I’ve been married four times.”

“I thought I’d finally reached some sanctuary,” Arnold said, “then you showed up, and I didn’t know you, and I didn’t recognize Bubba, and after what I been through, I lost it. I’m just so goddamn tired and weak I can’t think.”

“Been any less tired, you’d have killed me,” Virgil said. “You’re a strong sonofabitch.”

Arnold said to me, “I went by your house. You know what happened there, I guess?”

“Yeah,” I said. “We were home when the fire started.”

“The kids?”

“They’re okay,” I said. “They’re in there sleeping. Fat Boy and Snake gave us a visit. I know they gave you one. I went to your place before they came to mine. I saw what was done to Bill.”

“They were pros,” Arnold said. “I was taking a dump when they came up. Never even heard them, and the way I was stinking up the place, I didn’t smell that scummy bastard with the snake on his head till it was too late. I’d just finished wiping my ass, when Snake opened the bathroom door.

“I tried to take him, but he was fast, and there I was, literally caught with my pants down and my ass hanging out. He hit me with the butt end of a knife he was carrying.”

“I got a taste of that too,” I said.

Arnold chewed and swallowed the last of his food, said, “I got hold of one of his legs and tried to bring him down, and he whopped me some more with that knife hilt. Caught me just right. When I came to, I was in my living room lying on the floor with my ankles and wrists tied and my pants still down. Fat Boy was there. He had a .45 pointed at me.”

“It’s a sweet little instrument,” I said. “He’s showed it to me too.”

“Snake was doing some work on Billy. Had him bent over a chair with his britches down. They liked you with your britches down. Snake was using the hilt of his knife to do some business on Billy’s asshole. Sometimes he’d use his thumb under the base of his balls. I’ve never heard anyone scream like Billy screamed. Fat Boy said, anyone looked at Billy’s asshole later, they’d just think I’d been fucking him… I’m sorry, Beverly. I’m just trying to tell it straight.”

“It’s all right,” Bev said.

“You can bet pretty pronto quick Billy was ready to do what they wanted. They had him write a note. Then they took his belt, used my hammer and a nail they found somewhere, nailed the belt up, noosed it around his neck, made him stand on a chair while they asked him questions. They didn’t get what they wanted fast enough, Snake jerked the chair out from under him and let him dangle. I kept thinking that goddamn belt would tear leather, but it didn’t. It held. After Billy thrashed a bit, Snake would put the chair under him and Billy’d talk. He talked about you and me and himself and what we knew. I don’t blame him.”

“Me either,” I said.

“He held some things back. He did the best he could. I sat there on the floor with Fat Boy’s .45 in my ear trying to loosen the ties on my wrist without looking obvious while they hanged little Billy. I got strong hands and wrists. I figured I’d eventually get loose, but I didn’t know if I’d do it in time, and if I did do it, I didn’t know it would matter. Certainly didn’t matter for Billy. Snake pulled on Billy’s legs and rushed things along at the end. Not out of mercy. They were in a hurry.”

“
Mothra,
” Bev said.

“What?” Arnold said.

“We’ll explain later,” I said.

“Wasn’t a goddamn thing I could do,” Arnold said. “I felt like a piece of shit. The biggest coward ever walked the earth. I’ve always considered myself brave, but I didn’t do anything.”

“Join the club,” I said.

Arnold looked at me and nodded slowly. He could see by my face that I had indeed been there.

“Fat Boy had him a box of photographs and he took the pictures out and showed them to me while Billy was tortured. Like I’d be interested. Stuff with little kids having sex with adults or dogs. Lot of it had devil worship crap in it. You know, masks and knives and goofy outfits. Where does a man get stuff like that, and why would he want it?”

“I don’t know,” I said.

“You know what the photographs were about?” Virgil asked.

“I got an idea,” Arnold said.

Virgil got the newspapers and gave them to Arnold. Arnold read while we waited. He cussed throughout the reading. When he finished, he slammed the newspaper down.

“That’s kinda what I had figured,” Arnold said. “They’ve got us sewed up tight, don’t they?”

“Any tighter and we’d have our balls in our mouth,” I said.

“I figured it was all over,” Arnold said. “But they got too confident. They wanted me to go into my bedroom. I realized that wasn’t going to be a lot of fun. I mean, I didn’t think they were just gonna tuck me in and read me a story. I figure they were planning on killing me in there, make it look like Billy done it before he killed himself. You know, snuck up on me in my sleep and stabbed me about forty-lebbin times.

“They told me it was Billy they wanted, and if I’d cooperate, they’d tie me up in the bedroom and leave me. I acted like I believed that horseshit, made a big deal about how that was okay with me, but I couldn’t go anywhere with my pants down and my ankles tied. They said they’d pull me up and I could hop, or they could drag me, and I said that was okay, but it’d be easier if I had my pants up and I could walk.

“Fat Boy thought he was gonna get a free ride out of me, no difficulty. He told Snake to cut my ankles free, then they yanked me up and Fat Boy pulled my pants up and fastened them. Just as he was finishing, I brought my knee up and hit him inside his thigh, and he went down. I jumped Snake. Did one of those wrestler kicks Daddy used to like to see them boys do on TV, you know, with both feet. I hit Snake in the chest and knocked him against the wall, rolled to my feet. The door wasn’t closed up tight, so I kicked it open and ran outside. Went through the carport and fell over the body of my dog. I was starting to get up when Snake showed.

“All this time I’d been tugging at getting my hands free, and they came loose. I grabbed one of my rod and reels off the wall and slapped it at him. He brought his hands up and blocked the rod, but dropped the knife. I made a run for it out the back of the carport and Snake came after me. Fat Boy had appeared on the scene, because I heard Snake yell at him not to shoot me cause I was his and he was gonna skin me.

“I heard Snake coming after me. I still had the rod. I turned and cast the line and hit Snake in the face with a hook and jerked back on the line hard enough to pull his feet out from under him. I let go of the rod and ran and Fat Boy decided he didn’t care what Snake wanted. He fired a couple of shots at me. I don’t think they were even close. I looked back once and seen Snake coming again, Fat Boy waddling behind him, blowing like a bull, and finally giving it up to put his hands on his knees and breathe. Then I wasn’t looking anymore and was over the creek and Snake never did catch up with me. I bellied down in the grass on the far side of the pond and gradually drifted back into the woods. I heard Snake stomping around out there, and I thought about trying to take him, but I wasn’t sure Fat Boy wouldn’t show up. I can wrestle a nut, but a .45 I prefer not to tangle with.

“After a little while I quit hearing Snake, and a couple hours later I eased out of my hiding place and went back toward my trailer. I stopped by the barn and found they’d slashed the wrecker’s tires. I couldn’t make myself go back up to the trailer because I figured they might be waiting.

“I walked back through the woods and worked my way over a couple miles to old man Crater’s place and hot wired and stole his truck. I felt bad taking it, but I was in a tough position and had to do something. I didn’t want to ask him for it, because I didn’t want to pull him into things. So I crept around in his yard like a common thief and stole it.”