“Naw. He seems upset.”
There’s another pause. Darrell says, “What’s he doin’?”
“Runnin’ back in the house.”
“Is he carryin’ somethin’?”
“If he is, it’s small.”
Darrell laughs. “It’s small all right. Just like his dick.”
“You seen his dick?”
“No, you dumb shit. I’m just sayin’ he probably ran out to the car to grab a condom.”
“He’s gonna fuck her?”
“Sounds like it to me.”
“So we can bust through the door, surprise ’em, shoot ’em while they’re fuckin’?”
“Yeah. Shoot ’em right there in the bed. Or wherever they’re fuckin’.”
“I hope they’re fuckin’.”
Darrell says, “Me too.”
“Why?”
“It’ll make your job easier, and I’ll enjoy seein’ the look on Trudy’s face when she hears her precious doctor got shot while fuckin’ another woman.”
“What if they ain’t fuckin’? Can I still bust through the door and kill him?”
“Yeah, go ahead. But if he’s not lyin’ down on the bed, be sure to sit him in a chair before you shoot him.”
“Sit him down?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“You ever shot a man, point blank before?”
“I’ve shot at ’em, from inside the truck.”
“Well, it ain’t the same thing. A man thinks he’s about to be shot might jump outta the way, or throw somethin’ at you or do all sorts of crazy things. You get him sat down, it limits his movement. It also contains the blood spatter. Sit him down, then shoot him. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Say it.”
“I’ll sit him down, then shoot him.”
“Don’t miss.”
“I’ve got six shots.”
“Save a couple for the woman.”
“If I run out of bullets, I’ll beat her to death.”
“You like the idea of leavin’ evidence at the crime scene?”
“What kind of evidence?”
“The kind you leave when you beat someone to death.”
“No.”
“Then shoot her. From a distance.”
“How far?”
Darrell sighs. “You think it’s possible she’s got two chairs in her livin’ room?”
Cletus looks up at the house. “Yeah, it’s possible.”
“Sit her down, just like you’re doin’ with the doctor. Then shoot her, too.”
“Sit ’em both down at the same time?”
“If possible.”
“Then shoot ’em from a distance?”
“Yeah. But not too far, or you’ll miss.”
“How’s ten feet sound?”
“That’s fine. Call me when you’re done. And don’t steal any jewelry or personal items that can be traced back. Just cash. Nothin’ else.”
“What about the shotgun?”
“No guns, no stereos, wallets, purses, credit cards…wait. I’m not gonna give you a list of what not to steal. Just don’t steal anythin’ ’cept the cash they got in their pockets.”
“Got it.”
“Anythin’ else?” Darrell says.
“Yeah,” Cletus says, winking at Renfro.
“What?”
“Enjoy your shit!”
“Fuck you!”
29
Dr. Gideon Box.
It’s not that I don’t trust Faith Hemphill, I just want to hedge my bet because the best intentions can go out the window when detectives swarm a crime scene. So I drive nine miles toward civilization, find a truck stop with shower facilities, and use them. Then I change clothes and brush my teeth twice and use mouthwash till it makes my eyes water. Because if there’s one thing I’ve learned from this experience, puking up a dead seahorse has a negative effect on your breath.
After cleaning up, I enter the truck stop restaurant, order a sandwich, and make sure I’m seen.
Then I drive to Faith Hemphill’s house and pretend I’ve just shown up for our date.
Of course, the cops try to move me along before I can even park the car.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“Move along, buddy. This is a crime scene.”
“Is this Faith Hemphill’s house?”
“Who are you?”
“Dr. Gideon Box. I’m supposed to be meeting her. Is she okay?”
“Pull over there and park,” he says, pointing to a vacant spot on the road.
He follows me there, takes a pen from his pocket, opens his notebook, and says, “Let’s hear your story.”
I give him my name, address, phone number, show him my driver’s license, and tell him about my email correspondence with Faith. Tell him I’m here for our date.
“Does she know you’re coming?”
“I called yesterday and told her I’d try, but I wasn’t sure I could make it.”
“Why not?”
I shrug. “Cold feet. Fear of rejection. You know.”
He frowns. “You’ve seen her photos?”
I show him the photos I downloaded on my cell phone.
“That ain’t her,” he says. “If I were you, I wouldn’t worry about rejection. Come on. I’ll introduce you.”
He leads me to the side of the house where Faith is being questioned by a couple of detectives. When she sees me she raises an eyebrow, but says nothing.
“You know this man?” my police escort asks.
“You’re Dr. Box,” she says.
“I made it after all!” I say. “Is this a bad time?”
The detectives, the cop, and Faith all look at each other and start laughing. Then Faith says, “You missed all the excitement.”
“What happened?”
She looks at the detectives. They nod. She says, “Two meth dealers broke into my house. I threw some
