'That's the boy,' Cantuck said. 'He called up the office. Said to tell you boys to come on home. Said to say a fella you know, a colored cop named Marvin Hanson was in a coma.' <
'A coma?'
'Got drunk, wrecked his car on the way here last night. Got caught in the rainstorm, run off the road and didn't have on a seat belt. Hit a tree. Jolt shot him through the windshield, bounced his coconut off a limb after he went through a barbed wire fence.'
'Oh shit,' Leonard said.
'This Charlie, he said you'd want to know, and to tell you to come home. I told him I'd pack your bags for you. And I have.'
'We went by the trailer and got your stuff,' Tim said. He stood with his hands in his pockets, as if he might reach down far enough to find a crawl space into which to pull himself. 'Leonard's car, the window's busted out of it.'
'I saw,' I said.
'Goddammit,' Leonard said.
'Don't know who did it,' Tim said. 'They cut up the upholstery too, broke the tape player and all the tapes.'
'Hank Williams too?' Leonard asked.
'I don't know,' Tim said, looking toward the bedroom. 'I reckon. They put all the pieces in the glove box. They slashed all your tires. I replaced them. Bill's in the glove box with the tapes. I know it's a bad time, but I got to remind you, I need my money.'
'You'll get it,' I said. 'How bad is Hanson?'
'A coma's bad,' Cantuck said. 'You know all I know.'
'How'd you know we were here?' I asked.
'I told them,' Tim said.
'And how did you know?' I said.
'Maude told me. I went over to apologize for the way my father acted. Or rather to distance myself from the old bastard. Got a little carpenter work too, fixing what y'all wrecked. I can use the money. I said I was a friend, she told me how bad you two were hurt, where you were. I told the Chief, offered to bring out your car.'
'Great,' I said. 'And I guess Officer Reynolds knows where we are too?'
'No,' Cantuck said. 'I didn't tell him. There's places where me and him don't see eye-to-eye.'
'Only because he's taller,' I said.
Cantuck grinned at me. 'You really don't know me, son. Not even a bit. Hey, Bacon, where can I spit this shit?'
Bacon disappeared into the kitchen. I heard him scrounging around in the garbage. I sat down on the couch. I was past standing up. Bacon came back with an empty corn can. Cantuck took it, spat a cancerous wad of chewing tobacco into it, sat the can on top of the television next to Bacon's grocery sack.
Bacon said, 'You was gonna have to leave anyway, Mister Hap.'
'Before you head out,' Chief Cantuck said, 'let me give you a little report. . . . Bacon, got any coffee?'
'Yes sir.'
'Make us some.'
'Yes sir.'
I watched sadly as the old black man shuffled into the kitchen. He had gained ten years and lost twenty points off his IQ the moment Cantuck arrived.
The Chief took hold of a rickety chair, straddled it carefully, adjusted his nut, said: 'On this gal.'
'Florida,' I said.
'Yeah, well, you boys may be right. I think maybe she might be in trouble. Or beyond it.'
'No shit,' Leonard called out.
'There's stuff don't add up,' Cantuck said. 'Tim, give me that spit can.'
Tim, with a scrunched face, picked the can off the television set and handed it to Cantuck by holding it with thumb and forefinger. Cantuck put the can in front of him on the chair, peeled back his coat, pulled a pack of Beech-Nut from his shirt pocket. He carefully unfolded the pack and opened it. The smell of the tobacco was fresh and sweet, like syrup on pancakes. Too bad it didn't taste that way.
Cantuck poked tobacco into his mouth as if packing a cannon. He worked his mouth a little, wiped spittle on his sleeve and said, 'There's some kind of tie-in in all this. Bobby Joe's death, this Florida gal missing.'
'So we're not quite the assholes you thought,' I said.
'No, you're assholes all right,' Cantuck said, 'you're just a little smarter than I expected.'
I could hear Leonard moving in bed, trying to find a better listening position.
'This mornin' a Texas Ranger came down with the County Sheriff, Tad Griffin. They had a fella with 'em. Some kind of coroner, or dead body expert, whatever them sonofabitches are.'
'Forensics,' Tim said.
