I couldn’t tell if Leonard was more upset about John or Bob. I studied his face, decided it was a draw.
“Sorry, man,” I said. “Really.”
“Thanks. It don’t help worth a damn, but I’m glad you said it,” and his voice wavered a little. “Actually, I’m thinking of trying to write a soap opera, call it
“Leonard?”
“Yeah.”
“You can have the last cookie.”
14
Leonard stayed with us about three days. After work we played chess, talked nasty, read books and discussed them; we talked about which was cooler, Marvel Comics or DC. Leonard thought Marvel. I thought DC. Brett liked Archie Comics. That immediately excluded her from the discussion and a bit of respect was lost. We listened to music. We rented movies and played Monopoly. Brett proved to be adamant about having the silver dog as her token, and she won a lot. I saw her steal some money from my pile once, but let it go. I called her on it when we went to bed and she made it up to me and the authorities were not called, though Archie Comics was not entirely forgiven.
It was fun having Leonard around for a while, and we hated to see him go, but he finally rented a little apartment on the other side of town, said he was calling John daily, that they were talking and he was guardedly optimistic, hoping things would resolve quickly because the hair on his balls had grown back.
I came home from work one day, sweaty and dirty and feeling like something the dogs had dragged under the porch and gnawed on, and there was a police car parked out front of the house at the curb. There was a big black guy with a cop’s uniform and a cowboy hat about the size of a life raft sitting in one of my lawn chairs smoking a cigar big as an erect horse dong. When I parked in the driveway and got out, the stench of that damn cigar wafted over to me and damn near curled the hair on my eyebrows.
I went over, said, “Let me guess. No Enterprise Police Department.”
“Ah, hell, man, you ain’t that smart,” he said, turning his head as if he wanted to pin me with just one eye. “You read that off the side of my car.”
“You’re right.” I sat down in a lawn chair and looked at him. I said, “So, you took a wrong turn or what?”
“No. I’m in the right place. They said you were a smart-ass, both of you were, and I figure you’re the white guy.”
“That’s observant.”
“Yep. I had a whole month of cop college and I read a book on fingerprinting once. I took a couple of courses in identification too.”
“Wow!”
He grinned at me around his cigar. He had strong creases around his mouth when he grinned and his eyes were slightly bloodshot. One ear floated out from the side of his head as if signaling for a turn. He didn’t strike me as over fifty. He had a hard body with a bit of a gut and arms that could twist a full-grown pig like wet wash. I remembered that Marvin had told me he was one of two fat guys. Boy, was he full of it. This John Law was big enough and mean enough looking to use an elephant’s ass to store his shoes and make the elephant like it.
“You already talk to my buddy?” I asked.
“No. Thought I’d talk to you. Hear you’re more reasonable and you don’t have lace on your panties.”
“You’re right. I am. And that lace remark, not smart. Leonard heard you talk bad about him like that, he might stick you in your hat and piss in it after you.”
“Doubt that.”
“A man with confidence,” I said. “I like that. I know a lot of confident men Leonard has handed their teeth.”
“Yeah, I hear you two think you’re tough guys. Be that as it may, what I know about you and him and me, I’d say I’m doing some better than either of you.”
“Probably. Less graft in the jobs we have.”
For the first time he didn’t look amused. “All right, let’s get formal. My name is Budd Conners. I’m half the law out of No Enterprise.”
“Do the two of you count as one lawman?”
He thumped ash from his cigar on the ground. “Let me tell you why I’m here.”
“Let me guess. I stuck my dick in your territory.”
“Something like that. You can wise off all you want, but I’m here to do you a favor.”
“I could use some yard work done.”
He leaned forward. “Listen, asshole. Listen good, and tell your partner what I’m going to tell you.”
“Should I take notes?”
“You can take notes, or you can just let it whistle through your ears. This way, I came to you and told you and I’m giving you a chance. Those guys you fucked over, shot one in the leg, took that girl from, flushed their dope down the shitter, they didn’t like it.”
“Well, I hope not.”
“They’re mad at you, and the more connected guys who work the dope through them, guess what? They’re pissed too.”
