“Better than at their place. The atmosphere there is poisonous.”
“Good. And now, Leonard and I, and because you are one of us by proxy, should celebrate our survival from a big car bomb with some vanilla wafers.”
“Nope,” Leonard said. “Ain’t gonna happen. I got hungry last night, and I felt I needed a personal celebration.”
“You ate them all?” Brett said.
“Everything but the sack, and I licked that.”
“You turd,” Brett said.
“And there are no more Dr Peppers. I had a kind of festival of life.”
48
Marvin wanted to go back with us, but we made him feel bad about his leg and told him what a burden he would be and it was best he stayed out of action; it was true, of course. We did get some information we needed from him, though, and then we were in Leonard’s car and he drove us back to East Texas in a two-and-a-half-day run, except for a four-hour stop in Cross Plains, Texas, where we slept a couple hours in a motel, and then we had to go over and see the Robert E. Howard house because Leonard liked his Conan stories and wouldn’t hear of passing it up. I tried to explain to him that we were in a hurry because we had to find and shoot someone, but he wasn’t moved, so we did a tour there and then got back on the road.
In the car Leonard said, “I get killed, I know I’ve seen where one of my favorite authors lived and shot himself to death.”
“You get killed, what you saw isn’t going to matter.”
“Good point,” Leonard said.
With the information we had gotten from Marvin, we drove to my place briefly to get a few things, including a sawed-off shotgun, handguns, and a deer rifle. Then we drove over to No Enterprise in the dead of night, on out to where Marvin told us Conners lived. As Marvin had explained, it was out in the country some, and you could take a road that went up a hill, and you could look down on Conners’ place, which was on a few acres with a little pond and a lot of junked cars that in the night looked like huge insects. We drove up there behind a little clutch of pines and some gnarly persimmon trees and sat. There were no lights in the house, which meant Conners could be asleep, but there wasn’t a cop car in the yard, so we figured he wasn’t home yet. Probably out doing something corrupt.
Being true professionals, and having driven really far, we both fell asleep.
When we awoke the day was bright and the sun was high. I looked out the windshield between the trees and saw the house looked the same. Still no cop car. We got out and crapped in the bushes and wiped on napkins we had in the car, and a little later on we took pee breaks and drank some bottled water and peed some more. That’s the trouble when you’re an over-forty tough guy. You have to pee a lot.
We got out of the car and washed our hands with some of the bottled water, and washed our faces, and tried to figure if we were well hid up on the hill, and decided as long as no one came up the little hunting road, we were snug as bugs in a rug. From down there, Conners’ house, the only way we could be seen was if someone was looking for us.
We had some vanilla cookies with us, and a couple of cold burritos, and we ate those for lunch and drank some more of the water. If our guy didn’t show soon, we’d be out of food, water, and napkins on which to wipe our asses.
A hawk flew into a tree above us, and we looked up at it and it looked down at us. We didn’t worry it any. It was a large hawk and it cast a big shadow in the cold, bright day. Bored with us, it flew off.
We took turns taking walks along the hunting road to keep our circulation up, and then we took turns sleeping in the backseat of the car while the other watched the house below.
After a couple of hour naps, I felt pretty good, and got a paperback of an Andrew Vachss novel Leonard had in the car and read from that, and then it was his turn, and he read from it, losing my place in the process.
The sun dipped down and the night soaked in, and it got cold. I had slipped out of my jacket during the day, but now I was in it again, and we climbed out of the car and eased down among the trees, closer to the edge of the hill, and looked at the house and waited for some kind of revelation.
Leonard pulled his jacket around him and hunched his shoulders. He reached into his coat pocket and took out a blackjack and gave it to me. He said, “I got one, now you got one.”
“We are same alike,” I said.
“Only I am a handsome black color, and you are white of skin and small of dick.”
“Except for that, we’re same alike.”
Another hour or so passed, and then we saw headlights on the road below, coming toward the house. The road ran past the house, but it didn’t go far before it dead-ended, so we figured this had to be our man.
Sure enough, the car was a cop car and it pulled in the drive, and two men got out, dressed in cop clothes and holstered guns. One of them was Conners. He had looked big to me before, but recently I had seen Big Guy and he made everyone look small, even Conners. The guy with him was short and fat, but he had broad shoulders and carried himself in a manner that gave the impression he might be a load if you messed with him.
We, of course, were going to mess with both of them.
The fat guy was carrying a six-pack. They went inside the house.
Leonard said, “Ain’t that a shame. Man of the law buying beer, carrying it around in his patrol car.”
“Let’s go down and see can we have a little talk with them, maybe set them right on their civic duty.”
“All right.”
“But we don’t shoot anybody. I’m all worn out on shooting. At least until we get to our gal.”
