about.”
20
I called the Lazy Lodge. Russel sounded tired and old when he answered.
“Use some of that money I gave you to call Jim Bob Luke,” I said. “I’ll give you some more. Ann and I are coming there for lunch soon as we get Jordan squared away.”
“Your wife?”
“I believe you know her name. You know all our names and a lot about us. Remember, you researched us?”
There was a long silence. “All right, bring her.”
“I intended to. You call Jim Bob and see if it’s the man you knew and if he’s still doing what he used to do and if he’ll work for us. We’ll bring you a hamburger or something when we come. We can make plans from there.”
“What’s Jim Bob’s number?”
I gave it to him.
“How does your wife feel about this?” Russel asked.
“She hates your guts. I’m surprised she’ll even be in the same room with you.”
“This is going to be cozy. Wish I could make it up to her.”
“Well, you can’t. Just sit tight and make the call. We’ll be there before too long.”
· · ·
We went by Jordan’s day school and checked him in late. Then we stopped off at Burger King and ate so we wouldn’t have to eat with Russel. That was too damn friendly. When we finished I bought him a hamburger and french fries and a soft drink and we drove to the Lazy Lodge.
Ann looked the place over. “Looks just right for him.”
We got out and walked to Russel’s room. The door was still open and Russel was sitting on the bed looking at us. I went on in, but Ann stood in the doorway looking at him. Russel couldn’t hold her gaze. He checked out some tatters in the rug, which looked older than original sin.
“Come in, Ann,” I said.
I waved her to the chair I had sat in, and when she was seated it groaned at her the way it had at me. I gave Russel the sack with the food in it and he sat it on the bed beside him and didn’t open it. “Thanks,” he said.
I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms and felt the heat of the room nestle about me like chain mail. The air conditioner still wasn’t on.
“You talk to Jim Bob Luke?” I asked.
Russel stole a glance at Ann, still didn’t like what he saw, so he looked at me. “Yeah.”
“Well?”
“It’s the same Jim Bob Luke, all right.”
“For Christsake, Russel, tell me what he said.”
“He’s coming. He’ll be here in about three hours. I told him everything. He sounds just the same. It was like it was yesterday I saw him last.”
“I’m glad you talked about old times,” Ann said, “but is he going to help us when he gets here?”
“He is.”
“Jen='lk sus,” Ann said, and she got up and walked out the door.
I walked out after her. She had gone about halfway down the walk and was leaning against the wall, looking across the highway like it was a raging river she had to swim.
“You okay?” I said.
“How did I let you talk me into this?”
“Ann, I’m worn down and I know you are. I’m going to do this thing and I’d like for you to see it through with me. I’m not going to argue anymore. I’m doing this because I’ve got to. I’d like for you to understand and accept it. At least tolerate it. We’ve been together for a long time for you not to trust me.”
I held out my hand.
She didn’t smile; but she took my hand and we walked back to Russel’s room.
· · ·
About two-thirty an ancient blood-red Cadillac about the size of a submarine pulled up directly in front of the door to Russel’s room. There were baby shoes hanging off the mirror along with a big, yellow, foam-rubber dice, and on the windshield was a homemade sticker that had six stick-figure humans and three dogs drawn on it and there was an X through each of them. The car had curb feelers and they were still wobbling violently when the driver got out and slammed the door and stretched.
“Shit,” Russel said. “That’s Jim Bob’s Caddy. That sucker’s twenty years old. It was new when I went in the joint.”
I could see the man stretching beside the door, and he looked like a washed-up country and Western singer. He was tall and lean and wore a worn straw hat with a couple of anemic feathers in it. He had on a white cowboy shirt with thin green stripes in it and faded blue jeans and boots that looked like they had often waded through water and shit.
Russel got off the bed and went out there and I heard the cowboy yell, “Goddamn, ole horse, you look like smoking dog shit.”
“I been sick,” Russel said pleasantly.
“Sick! You look like you been dead and some ignorant fuck dug you up. Good to see you again, you sorry asshole. How’s it hanging?”
“It’s hanging fine. Jim Bob, there’s a lady in the room here.”
“One that costs money?”
“No, a real lady.”
“Shit, me and my goddamn mouth.”
And then Jim Bob came into the room behind Russel and I got a real look at him. His age was hard to determine, but from what Russel had said, I knew he was at least fifty. He had a pleasant, tanned (except where his hat protected his forehead), thin face and a mouth that was full of nice, white teeth made for smiling.
“You must be Mr. Dane?” he said.
I shook hands with him and introduced Ann.
“You didn’t mention a woman,” Jim Bob said to Russel.
“My surprise,” Russel said.
“Howdy, ma’am. I’m sorry for the way I was talking out there in the parking lot, but I didn’t know a lady was in here.”
“Just treat me like one of the guys,” Ann said.
“No, ma’am, I couldn’t do that. Only a deaf, dumb and blind fella could treat you like one of the guys. You darn sure don’t look like no one of the guys.”
“Thank you,” Ann said after a pause.
“Man, Ben,” Jim Bob said, “this place looks like a Juarez whorehouse, couldn’t you have done no better than this?”
“Well,” Russel said, “actually, Mr. Dane paid for these accommodations.”
“That right?” Jim Bob said. “I don’t call this here accommodations. I’ve seen nigger rent shacks better than this.”
“I wasn’t trying to find Russel a permanent place to live,” I said, “just a place to nest for a time.”
“Nest?” Jim Bob said. “If you was a bird would you nest here? Hell, a bird wouldn’t shit here, let alone nest… Pardon my French, ma’am.”
I looked at Ann and she looked at me. The expression on her face was noncommittal. Too noncommittal.
“Tell you what, lady and men, we’re gonna shag on out of this place and get on out to the Holiday Inn. Get
