I shook my head, almost laughed, was too pissed to actually do it.
– You're totally setting me up, aren't you, Soledad?
– I? Web?
– This whole deal has been one long setup. Like, that shit with your brother, all this. Even fucking me. It's all a setup. I'm so being used here. You have been totally working me.
Silence on the line as she struggled to find something to say to squirm her way loose from my accusation.
Silence broken as she found the words.
– Web, you are such an asshole.
And she hung up.
Talbot poked me in the neck.
– Stop fucking around with her, she's not setting you up. Just listen to the bitch.
I looked up at him.
– She hung up on me.
He looked at the phone screen.
– Jesus.
He started to dial again.
– Man, you are one asshole. Girl calls and needs your help, been snatched, and you make like she's in on it. Way to trust people, man.
He put the phone to his ear.
– Fuck, going straight to voice mail. Bet he's calling me back now.
He looked at the cowboy.
– Should I hang up and let him call or keep dialing?
The cowboy rose from the couch.
– Put the phone away.
Talbot put the phone away.
The cowboy scratched the whiskers on his neck and walked over until his boot heels were inches from my face.
– She tell you what we want?
I looked up the length of his denim legs, past the scratched longhorn belt buckle to his leathered face.
– The can?
He tucked the gun into the belt at the small of his back.
– Yeah, that's it.
He squatted, held up a finger.
– She tell you what we'd do?
– Something bad?
– Yeah. Something pretty bad.
He looked at Talbot.
– Go take a look out that window and see what's to be seen.
Talbot limped to the kitchen window and looked out.
– Nothing. Just the stairs and part of the parking lot and the street.
– Keep looking. Been here awful long without no one else coming home.
He rested a hand on the phone I clobbered Talbot with, and with which Talbot returned the favor.
– Old phone.
– Yeah.
– Must have hurt.
– A lot.
– Uh-huh.
He hefted the phone.
– Talbot's been spoiling a bit to put a hurt on someone. Since he got himself cut.
Talbot turned from the window.
– That wasn't my fault.
– Just keep your eyes out there.
Talbot looked back out.
– Not my fault.
The cowboy rested the phone on his knee.
– Was his fault. Fella like your girl's brother, he shouldn't be no trouble for no one. Talbot, he just isn't the kind who can admit he screwed up and let someone get the better of him.
He stood, took three steps, heels loud on the linoleum, and pounded the phone into Talbot's face as he turned. And pounded it again as he went down. And again when he was on the floor. And again.
He hunkered next to the bloody rag-dolled man and stuck a gloved finger deep under his jaw alongside his throat. Apparently not liking what he detected, he raised the phone and brought it down once more.
For luck, I suppose.
This time, when he checked under Talbot's jaw, he felt the stillness in the man's pulse that he was looking for, and he dropped the phone on Talbot's dead body.
He stood and looked at me.
– You took that pretty well. Figured you for the screaming and crying type.
I shook my head.
– No, not me, I've seen that kind of thing before.
He nodded his head, went to the sink, looked in the cupboard underneath, and came out with a plastic garbage bag.
– Yeah, guess you would have, with your job and all.
I rested my head on the carpet and watched as he shook out the bag and fitted it over Talbot's crushed head.
He came over to me.
– And it looks like that training's going to come in handy for you.
He grabbed one end of the knot that tied my hands and gave it a tug and it came apart.
– You best get cleaning.
He took the rope to the corpse and used it to tie the bag around its neck.
– And then go get our can, and call.
He tossed Talbot's cellphone onto the carpet.
– Just call the last number he called on there.
He took the corpse under its arms, pushed up with his legs, let it flop over his shoulder and stood.
– I'll take care of this bit here.
He walked to the door, easy under the weight of the dead.
He opened the door.
– Go get my can. I want them damn almonds. Alright?
I stared at Talbot's blood in my kitchen.
The cowboy tapped a heel on the floor.
– Said
I looked away from the mess.
– Yeah. Alright.
He touched the brim of his hat.
– Good then. And, oh yeah, I got your boss's van. You can have that back too, when you bring the can. Case you need any other motivation.
And he went out the door, corpse on his shoulder, apparently prepared for any questions such a thing might raise.
That or just quick on the draw.
Almonds.
