fast, and he’s good at chasin’ down antelope. He can throw his spear real hard and he hits anything he aims at, because he practices a lot. But now, the second guy, he’s kind of a slacker. He runs real slow and he don’t practice with his spear. He’s a damn lousy hunter, and he never tries to get any better. So tell me, which one of those guys is most likely to get eaten by bears?”
“Shut up, Red!” Billy Don growled, looking out the window.
Obviously, Billy Don didn’t enjoy being compared to a dumb, slow hunter. “Don’t get your panties in a wad,” Red shot back. “I was just askin’-”
“Hush, I said! I heard something. Sounded like a car door.”
Both men fell silent. In the distance, they heard the sound of a large engine roaring to life.
Maria was sleeping, but Smedley was awake. A wide-eyed, heart-fluttering, spirit-soaring, I’ll-never-sleep- again kind of awake. He turned his head on the pillow and studied Maria’s tender face in the candlelight. Such a gentle, caring soul. Smedley had never dared imagine that such a woman existed. And yet, somehow, he had chanced upon an angel. He had found a woman who overlooked the flaws-both in his physique and his character-or perhaps didn’t see them at all.
Dinner had been fantastic. An authentic south-of-the-border dish, similar to the enchiladas from Smedley’s favorite East Austin Mexican diner.
Dessert was even better.
She had taken his hand and led him to her bedroom. There, they joined together as naturally and seamlessly as a creek and the banks that it hugs. At first, she had seemed to understand his hesitance, his lack of confidence. And so she showed him the way. She guided his hands as he unbuttoned her dress, stroked his hair as he slipped her panties down her thighs. She then removed his clothes, slowly, with Smedley expecting her to pull back in disgust at any moment. But she never did.
Naked, Smedley feeling a remarkable lack of self-consciousness, they moved as one. She eased back onto the bed, and he followed, his body just inches from hers, like a shadow.
And Smedley was overcome with ecstasy as they began to make love.
For Smedley, the first stage was over abruptly, as soon as he entered her. But he was amazed at his own endurance. He never lost his stiffness, but continued, unabated, for… for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Maria clenched his biceps with urgency, growled something beautiful in Spanish into his ear, moaned deeply, and then collapsed back onto the bedspread in exhaustion.
Just before she had fallen off to sleep, she had said, “You are very sweet man.”
Smedley had discovered that she spoke some English, though not much. He had hardly heard her speak more than a few words during his visits to the Mamelis’ house. As he lay in the dark, he was elated with the idea of learning Spanish. This wonderful creature was captivating enough, but imagine how close their bond could become when they could converse freely! It was almost more intoxicating than Smedley could bear.
He glanced at the clock on her wall. Nearly two in the morning. Thankfully, tomorrow was Saturday, and he could lounge in bed with Maria for as long as she would allow him to stay.
Smedley laid an arm across Maria’s breast, and she murmured approval in her sleep. He stroked the hollow of her throat, and then gently lifted and studied the necklace around her neck. Angela Mameli had once mentioned that Maria made her own jewelry and sold some of it to small boutiques in Blanco and Johnson City.
There was something else hanging from the necklace, an object that had caught Smedley’s eye earlier in the evening. But the light had been dim, and he had been understandably preoccupied. Now, leaning for a closer look, he saw what it was.
A spent shell from a handgun. That seemed odd.
Squinting, he could see the inscription on the butt of the shell:.35 AUTO S amp;W. Smedley had never even seen a.35-caliber handgun before, but he seemed to remember that Sal owned one, an old family heirloom. Sal had mentioned it over dinner one night: His grandfather had bought it when he immigrated to the United States, his way of saying,
Smedley’s train of thought was broken by a noise outside. Sounded like a car door, but he couldn’t be sure. Then he heard the rumble of Vinnie’s Camaro, and there was no doubt.
Where in the hell was Vinnie going at this hour of the night? Sure, Smedley might expect Vinnie to be coming home this late, but not leaving. With the recent events in Blanco County, Smedley realized he had no choice. He’d have to tail Vinnie and see what was up.
In bed, Sal Mameli could barely open his eyes. Was that Vinnie’s car he heard? Could be. The kid was probably getting down to business, just like Sal had asked. Sal didn’t want to know
Sal hadn’t told Vinnie about the caller earlier in the evening, but wondered if he should have. Nah, probably better this way. He didn’t want Vinnie to think he was totally whacked-out on painkillers-or losing his edge, getting senile.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Red had to make a decision. Would Sal Mameli be driving a souped-up black Camaro? Didn’t seem likely, but that was what had just pulled out of the driveway. A real nice car, sleek and shiny, with tricked-out rims and a throaty-sounding exhaust. Red remembered that Sal had mentioned a son named Vinnie a couple of times. Seemed a lot more like the kind of car a kid named Vinnie would drive. Then again, maybe the son was in on the murder and would lead them straight to Mr. Slaton’s body. Or it could be a trick. He and Billy Don would go hightailing after Vinnie, then Sal would take off a few minutes later, free to do his dirty business without any onlookers.
“So what we gonna do, Red?” Billy Don asked as the Camaro’s taillights faded in the distance.
“Let me think, dammit!” Red said, fidgeting with his keys. His entire future came down to this moment. He could wind up as a local hero by helping the cops find the corpse. And that, in turn, would make him the owner of Slaton Brush Removal, Incorporated. If there ever was a time when he needed to think like a vice president, this was it.
“Better git if we’re gonna git,” Billy Don said.
Red peered down the Mameli driveway, trying to see lights at the house. Was Sal waiting down there somewhere, watching to see if Red took the bait? All Red saw was darkness.
He cranked the truck’s big engine and took off after the Camaro.
Panting and already starting to sweat, Smedley trundled down the driveway as fast as he could, which really amounted to more of a fast walk. He could hear Vinnie’s car rumbling down the county road, and he knew he’d have a tough time catching him. Two miles to the west, the county road teed into Highway 281. If Smedley didn’t catch up before Vinnie reached that intersection, the kid would be long gone.
Smedley struggled to slip his jacket on as he walked, his ample gut jiggling, wishing he hadn’t eaten so many
