man’s arm off firing a shotgun at him as the guy’s pullin his gun.”
“Tryin to get it out of his pants,” Raylan said. “The guy wanted a million bucks for the loss of his arm. The only snitch I ever heard of packin a gun. Delroy drew seven to ten for tryin to kill him.”
“What’d he make off you girls,” Nichols said to Jane, “around forty, fifty thousand? We get him this time for bank robbery from a distance.”
“I talked to him,” Jane said, “on the phone.”
Raylan said, “You called him from here?” Wanting St. Christopher to stop her from telling Delroy she was being held.
“I told him I’d been picked up,” Jane said, “covered with red dye. You know what he said? No mellow tone a voice this time. He said, ‘Who is this, please?’ Trying to sound innocent. First time he ever said ‘pleas saaid. e’ in his life. He knows cops are gonna be playin my call later. I’m like, ‘Come on, don’t fuck around, I’m in jail.’ Delroy says in a white tone a voice, ‘Who is this, please?’ I screamed at him, ‘It’s Janie. I got picked up.’ His white voice comes on the phone again, ‘I don’t happen to know anybody name of Jane,’ and shuts off his cell. I robbed banks for the son of a bitch. Now he don’t even know me.”
Raylan saw he’d better move this along.
Nichols’s phone rang.
He picked up and listened and said, “Tell Miss Conlan we’ll see her in just a couple minutes,” and hung up.
Jane said, “Delroy made porno movies too, in the back of his van. Kim and Cassie were in them. I wouldn’t do any.”
Nichols said, “I’ll take Miss Jones and get things started while you interview Miss Conlan.”
Raylan said, “And Boyd?”
“And Boyd.”
“I appreciate it.”
“I told the chief why you think Boyd shot Otis.”
I know he did.”
“The chief said he wishes you’d go back to Harlan County.”
“What was his tone a voice? You don’t know when he’s kidding with you? He let you set it up, didn’t he?”
“You’re gonna owe me for this.”
“I get Boyd to shoot off his mouth,” Raylan said, “I’ll buy you a three-dollar martini.”
“Delroy’d get us in a nod,” Jane said. “I’ll have a case, won’t I? Forced to rob banks? You have to arrest him for sure now, right?” She said, “Oh my God, I just thought of somethin. The girls don’t know I’m in jail. You think I could call them? If I’m in jail they’ll know I gave him up. Somebody oughta tell them.”
Chapter Twenty-seven
Delroy Lewis was a member of a biker club one time called Spades, all black guys, least fifty of ’em in black leather, the ace of spades painted on their yellow helmets. Once a month the Spades took a ride to said Spa some sleepy town in the country and fucked with people on the street. Delroy rode with the gang four times, got filthy dirty riding in the ass-end of the pack and quit the Spades.
He wore sport shirts with high collars to shorten his neck, the man long all over his six-foot-six-inch frame, 178 pounds wet, a skinny body on toothpick legs. He wore a white scarf loose around his neck and sunglasses in his hair.
This was a time before Delroy went down for shootin the snitch, the idea of Chicks Who Rob Banks came to him.
He owned a cocktail lounge on New Center Road called the Cooz Club that featured chicks writhing bare- naked on a pole that rose from the narrow strip of stage back of the bar. They’d get up there in their heels, eyes dreamy, out of focus, and the guys at the bar would bet on which chick would fall off, side bets on hitting the bartender or not. He made drinks looking over his shoulder. Once Delroy had the idea, he turned the bare-naked ladies into bank-robbin chicks and was doing fine till Janie tripped the dye pack. He’d told them how many times, check the money in bank straps before leaving and remind each other. Jane was alone and hadn’t checked.
He phoned the other chicks, Kim and Cassie, had to wake them up saying, “Collect your clothes and valuables, any dope, get all your shit together and be ready to leave when I get there in ten minutes. You listenin?” He said, “Jane got picked up and is gonna roll over on us. Jane, the chick you do banks with.” He’d have to go over there and slap ’em some, make sure they took everything they owned out of the house. Finally, they got in Delroy’s car and drove out to horse country.
Going past miles of white fences and thoroughbreds raising their heads to see Delroy’s Mercedes flying past.
They were approaching trees and some bushes now. Delroy slowed down and stopped on the side of the road.
“Come on out and we’ll relieve ourselves together, ladies. Won’t have another chance to pee-pee for a while.”
Kim said she couldn’t do it with him watching.
Delroy said, “Girl, I see you bare-ass naked every day. Get out the car.”
Once the girls were out looking for a good place to pee, Delroy took his PPK from inside his shirt and racked it. By the time he was in the trees, Cassie was pulling up her jeans. Kim was still squatting. He walked up and shot Cassie first. She fell without making a sound. But now Kim was screaming to bust a lung. Delroy shot her and she stopped. He made sure neither one had ID on her and dragged their bodies into the bushes.
A marshal brought Carol and Boyd to Nichols’s office, rapped on the glass door, stepped aside, and Boyd saw Raylan stasawl: lang='ending by the desk, Raylan coming around it now, looking right at them.
Boyd said, “You knew we were seein him.”
“I didn’t,” Carol said, “really. It was someone else who called, both times.”
“I’m not talkin to him,” Boyd said. “I got nothin to say on the matter hasn’t been written in reports. Far as I’m concerned the case is closed tight.”
Carol said, “Try to control yourself, all right?”
The door opened and she was saying to Ray1an, “Well, isn’t this a surprise, my old bodyguard.”
I ’ve always enjoyed watching you,” Carol said. “Even when you were showing off and shot one of my employees… It wasn’t in the head but in the hair? I asked Boyd, ‘He’s so accurate he can do that?’ Boyd said, ‘He wanted ’em dead they be dead.’ ”
They took the two chairs facing the desk, Boyd gripping the arms of his, staring at Raylan sitting at the desk now holding forth. Boyd saw him waiting to try some new approach and said, “What’re you gonna pull on us this time?”
“Tell me if I have it straight,” Raylan said. “You shot Otis while he’s firing a twelve-gauge at you.”
Boyd took his time. Did he shoot Otis? No, goddamn it, but said, “Yes, I did.”
“You hit him and he fired in the air.”
“I believe so, yes.”
“How many times?”
“Did he shoot? I don’t know, a couple.”
“Racked the shotgun and tried twice, after you hit him in the chest from fairly close.”
Boyd paused, thinking of how he’d told it to the sheriff’s people. “See, Otis was firing before I shot him. After I hit him, I guess he only got off one more.”
“You thought he might hit you?”
“Jesus Christ,” Boyd said, “you ever been shot at? I give you the benefit of knowin you don’t stop and think, you’re returning fire.”
“You hit him,” Rahiturning firylan said, “and he fired in the air. But you say he was shootin at you before you put him down.”
