Shit Fingers, aka Toad, brought the pie.
“Get me one too,” Jimson said.
“Yeah,” Muscles said. “Pie all around. And some milk. What we got here, five milks?”
Toad looked at Jimson. Jimson sighed. “Why not? More pie. Bring milk. We might as well see if anyone wants coffee.”
“I’ll top it off with coffee,” Muscles said.
Jimson shook his head a little.
Leonard took a big bite of pie, worked it around in his mouth, and swallowed. “Any chance you might hook us up with this Devil Red killer, like maybe we act like we got a job we want that bad boy to do?”
“No.”
“Come on, man,” Leonard said. “Here we are sharin’ pie, and you won’t hook a brother up.”
“I belonged to the Aryan Nations in prison, so I don’t hook brothers up.”
“Unless it’s to fasten ’em to a chain to get dragged by a car,” Muscles said.
This time the tall thin man who hadn’t said a word yet grinned. It was like seeing the Grim Reaper get a chuckle.
“Oh, that’s funny,” Leonard said.
“Look here. I ain’t into all that nigger hatin’ anymore,” Jimson said.
“That’s big of you,” Leonard said.
“Only way you might see this Devil Red dude, as you call him, is if he comes to shoot your black ass, and your white pal too.”
“That’s so sweet,” I said. “Both of us, and in the ass.”
“Look here,” Jimson said. “We’ve had a talk. I’ve bought some pie.”
“We’re not asking you to buy our pie,” Leonard said. “The milk maybe, as your man ordered that.”
Jimson snapped both hands in the air, making a crosscutting motion.
“Forget it. I’ve got the whole goddamn bill. I just want you two to go away and stay away, and let’s go back to where we were before. I’m out of your business, and you’re out of mine. You jackasses are like having seed ticks imbedded in the balls.”
“All right,” Leonard said. “But before we go, and before I say thanks for lunch, let me confirm some things. There is a killer who works for money who uses a red devil head as a symbol to sign his work?”
“That’s what I’m told,” Jimson said.
“And you’re sayin’, and I know you might lie to a brother, you’re sayin’ you’ve got nothin’ to do with these hits?”
“If I did,” Jimson said, “them crossin’ your path would just be a coincidence.”
“So you’re sayin’ you did have somethin’ to do with it?” Leonard said.
“No,” Jimson said. “For Christsakes, no. That was one of those hypotheticals.”
“You learn that word in prison?” I asked.
“I just added an s to it, that’s all. I have nothing to do with Devil Red. I have never had anything to do with Devil Red. I might consider havin’ something to do with Devil Red in the future. Maybe the very goddamn near future.”
“That a threat?” I asked.
“Hell yeah,” Jimson said.
“Don’t forget,” Leonard said. “Vanilla Ride is a personal friend of ours.”
“No need to bring that bitch into this.”
“You are such a misogynist,” I said. “If you can’t be sweet, don’t have anything to say at all.”
“Yeah,” Leonard said, tossin’ his napkin on the table. “You’re gonna talk like that, then we’ll just have to leave.”
He got up. I got up. I went to the fire door and pushed it. The alarm went off. I backed slowly out of it, and Leonard backed out after me. We went around by the side glass on our way to the car. Jimson, Muscles, and the Grim Reaper were watching us from the table. Well, Muscles was actually eating pie and drinking milk. Jimson and the Reaper were watching.
Toad wasn’t in sight.
Nobody pulled a gun.
49
On the way home, Leonard said, “Did Jimson seem a bit grumpy to you?”
“He did.”
“The guy with the big arms, he didn’t worry me none. Neither did Jimson, but the quiet one.”
“I call him the Grim Reaper,” I said.
“Yeah, him. He’s someone could be trouble.”
“We’ll file him away for any future associations.”
“That part of the file, people that don’t like us, might kill us, and just ought to be watched, is getting sizable.”
“It is,” I said.
“Hap?”
“Yeah.”
“You feelin’ better?”
“Sure.”
Actually, I had no idea how I felt.
50
When I got home, Leonard took his car and went away somewhere to do Leonard things, which probably meant he was giving Brett and me time together.
Inside, Brett was sitting on the couch with her suitcase parked by her.
I closed the door and said, “Problem?”
“It’s Tillie.”
“You just got back from there. You said yourself you can’t change her.”
“I can’t. She got beat up. Her pimp did it.”
“Shit. How bad?”
“Bad. She’ll be all right, but she’s bad.”
“Damn, Brett, I’m sorry.”
“I got to go. I was just waiting on you.”
“Why didn’t you call?”
“Your phone was off.”
“Oh.”
“And I wouldn’t have called anyway. I wanted to see you before I left.”
“How’d the hospital take it?”
“They took it,” she said, and stood up. “I get there, I’ll give you a call.”
When she stood up and came close, I could see there were tears on her cheeks.
“Long as you need, of course,” I said.
We kissed and I picked up her suitcase and carried it out to her car. She kissed me again and got behind the wheel and started the engine and rolled down the window.
“You didn’t offer to settle the pimp’s hash for me,” she said.
“No. I didn’t.”
