“I just wanted to have a good reason to do something I shouldn’t have. I was tired of this life. Then, after I done it, I thought this life wasn’t so bad after all. I made that story up because I didn’t want to just be a common thief, like you two. I mailed the money back.”
Timmy laughed. It was the kind of laugh that was solid enough and sharp enough you could have whittled wood with it. “You are one big liar, Strangler,” he said.
“Not about the money,” he said.
Bad Tiger moved quickly and brought the gun barrel down on the side of Strangler’s head. Strangler staggered back a step and turned his head sideways. When he looked back at Bad Tiger, there was blood running down the side of his face. He grinned. There was a look in his eyes akin to the look he gave the man that had hit him below the belt. I saw Bad Tiger’s eyes shift a little when he saw that look. He didn’t like it. He stepped back.
Strangler said, “My ole granny can hit harder than that, and she’s got a bad arm.”
“Yeah,” Bad Tiger said, “well, let’s see how a bullet in your gut goes. See how big a bite that is. No, tell you what. I’m going to start with the kids first. I’ll take shorty there, and then you don’t talk, I got to do one of the others. The girl, I’m going to shoot her several times. I really don’t like her.”
“Get in line,” Jane said.
“You just don’t learn, do you,” Bad Tiger said. He raised the gun and pointed it at Jane.
Strangler said, “All right, now. I’ll give you the money.”
Everything went still and silent for a long moment.
“That’s the way I figured,” Timmy said. “I knew you had that money. Mailed it back, my butt.”
“I got it, all right.”
“So you didn’t mail it back?” Jane said.
“No,” Strangler said.
“Way you lie,” Jane said, “you and me should team up.”
Strangler laughed a little.
“Okay,” Bad Tiger said. “You’ve had your chuckle, now show us the money.”
Strangler moved over to a trunk on the floor and started to open it.
“Hold it,” Bad Tiger said. “I done looked there. We threw this place earlier. If we found the money, we might have just left you.”
“No we wouldn’t have,” Timmy said.
“You got to know where to look, and how,” Strangler said.
“It could have been four ways,” Bad Tiger said, “but you had to get cute. And Buddy, he had to get shot. You messed things up.”
“Not for you two,” Strangler said. “I give it to you now, you only have to split it two ways.”
“Sure it’s in there?” Timmy said.
“Yeah,” Strangler said.
“All of you, get over there by the chest,” Bad Tiger said.
“Yeah, that way, we start shooting, you’ll be grouped up nice,” Timmy said.
We went over and stood by the trunk, near Strangler.
Strangler opened the trunk and took out a small barbell and a few metal weights, placed them on the floor beside the trunk.
He turned and looked at Bad Tiger. “I’m going to have to have a pocketknife, something like that.”
Bad Tiger reached his free hand into his pocket and took out a pocketknife and tossed it to Strangler. Strangler caught it, opened it. He bent down and reached into the trunk, caught the bottom edge with the knife, and wiggled the blade until the bottom came up.
It was a false bottom. The trunk was actually several inches deeper. There were bills in it. Lots of them. They were laid out in rows.
“I thought I was the liar,” Jane said. “You got the touch. You told me your mama robbed the bank, not you, I might have believed you.”
“I didn’t spend a dollar,” Strangler said.
Bad Tiger came closer and said to us, “While y’all are sorting your consciences, back over there a ways.”
We moved. That put our backs against the wall.
“That’s nice,” Bad Tiger said, looking inside the trunk. “But is that all of it?”
“There’s some in the bedroom,” Strangler said.
“I looked in there,” Bad Tiger said.
“You looked in here,” Strangler said. “Now, split it up, shoot me, whatever, but let the kids go.”
“Oh yeah,” Bad Tiger said, turning slightly, looking at Timmy. “There ain’t actually going to be no two-way split.”
He shot Timmy in the chest. The sound of the shot in the trailer made my ears ring like a telephone. Outside, though, with all the carnival racket going on, it wouldn’t have sounded like much, if it was heard at all.
Timmy moved slightly but didn’t drop. He just stood there. He looked at Bad Tiger like maybe it was all a joke. The bullet had gone right through him and slammed into the wall. He tried to shoot his gun, but it was suddenly too heavy for him to hold. It fell out of his hand and he went to one knee.
“For the record,” Bad Tiger said, “I never liked you much.”
Timmy leaned forward slightly, then fell on his face.
That’s when it happened.
As Bad Tiger turned, Strangler, quick as a card cheat, dipped down and grabbed one of the weights and threw it, hit Bad Tiger in the face. Bad Tiger groaned and fell on his back. Strangler stepped forward and put his foot on Bad Tiger’s gun hand. He pushed his weight down till Bad Tiger let go of the gun.
Bad Tiger made a noise like a rat trapped in a fruit jar, managed to jerk his hand free. As he got to his feet, Strangler hit him with a punch that knocked him across the room and into the front door.
The door wasn’t closed so good, and when Bad Tiger flipped backwards against it, it flew open and he went tumbling down the stairs.
“Now I’m going to show you how you really hit someone,” Strangler said, and picked up the little barbell.
By the time he started for the door, Bad Tiger was gone.
46
Outside, we saw Bad Tiger running across the lot in the direction of the rides. Strangler took off after him.
Jane said, “Well?”
She broke into a run, and we followed.
Darting between people and around concessions and booths, we followed Strangler and Bad Tiger to where the air was filled with the grinding and clanking of gears, shifting seats, and people yelling and laughing.
Bad Tiger was making good time, but Strangler, big man or not, was making better. We kept running after them, and then Bad Tiger came up against a swirling ride and stopped. The chairs with people in it swung down and back up, around and down again. Bad Tiger seemed kind of frozen by it. He looked at the ride; then he turned and looked at us. But mainly he looked at Strangler and that barbell.
Bad Tiger reached down and pulled up his pants cuff. There was a little holster there, and in the little holster was a little revolver.
Like I said, it wasn’t a big gun, but any gun if it’s pointed at you is big, which is why little men love to carry them.
He pointed it at Strangler.
“I ain’t running no more,” Bad Tiger said.
“You’ve run all your life,” Strangler said. “You ain’t nothing but a runner.”
“Yeah, you think so. I tell you, I ain’t running from you no more. You best just let me go.”
“Without your money.” The way Strangler said it, I thought he was about to break out and snicker.
