Grave Promise

by David R Lewis

  “I’m good,” Clete said.

  “Great,” Crockett said.

  He began to straighten things up and load the dishwasher. The two of them let him proceed in that manner for nearly a minute, before Marilee couldn’t stand the tension anymore.

  “Well?” she said. “What happened?”

  “About what?”

  Marilee stood up off the stool to her full height and glared across the counter in Crockett’s direction.

  “Don’t make me come over there, Crockett,” she said.

  “Oh! You mean with Ruby?”

  Her look would have wilted crabgrass.

  “She’s fine,” Crockett said. “We’re fine. Better than we’ve ever been, actually. Major change in the parameters of the relationship, if you get my drift.”

  “Hot damn!” Clete said, slapping the counter with both hands.

  Marilee looked confused.

  “Clete tell you anything about what happened while we were gone last night?” Crockett said.

  “Not much,” Marilee said. “Just that Ruby was a real wreck about you and you’re partnership. Oh. Oh! So that’s what you meant! You guys are, like, a couple now? A real couple? Not just, well, you know.”

  “Looks that way to me,” Crockett said. “I’m not stupid enough to believe we’re gonna ride off into the sunset and live happily ever after, but things have definitely changed.”

  “What did you do? What did you do!”

  Crockett grinned at her.

  Marilee peered at him, raised an eyebrow, leaned forward across the counter, and growled.

  “What did ya do, Crockett?”

  Crockett paused for effect before he answered.

  “I kissed her,” he said, “and told her she didn’t have to call me God.”

  Clete’s snort rattled the silverware in the drawer. Marilee looked at Crockett out of the corner of her eye.

  “That’s it?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Wow,” Marilee said. “I gotta re-think this whole ‘older man’ thing.”

  She turned to Clete and bumped her eyebrows.

  “Hi, Sir,” she gushed. “New in town?”

  “Oh, no,” Clete said. “I can’t stand this. I’m gonna go step in front of a truck.”

  In spite of Clete’s overwhelming aversion to the opposite gender, he did allow Marilee to con him out of a short shopping trip for hygienic essentials. While they were gone, Crockett did some housework, stuck in a load of laundry, fed Nudge a celebratory can of albacore tuna, and cleaned himself up a little.

  Around noon, Crockett popped some mac n’ cheese in the microcave, opened a jar of applesauce, and got down a bag of chips. Shortly thereafter, Ruby, looking a little furtive, came walking out of his closet.

  She delivered a full body hug, a long and lovely kiss, and poured herself a cup of coffee.

  “Where are they?” she asked.

  “Clete took Marilee out to pick up some ladies’ necessities. Laudanum, toilet water, things like that.”

  Ruby stared at Crockett for a moment, then smiled.

  “This is so strange.”

  “Yeah. Normal can get pretty weird. Scared?”

  “Sure. You?”

  “You bet. Cool, huh?”

  Ruby smiled. “Way cool,” she said.

  She slid into Crockett again, not holding back, not trying to control or manipulate, not attempting to protect herself.

  She was right there, in the moment. Without condition or reservation. Nothing manufactured, nothing restricted, nothing anticipated or expected. Just there. Open, relaxed, accepting. The usual limitations were so gone, they both were a little shy. The bell on the microwave went off.

  They were sitting at the counter, picking at lunch, when Crockett’s front door banged open and Clete and Marilee came giggling in, carrying several bags. Cletus and Ruby looked at each other, and the room became quiet.

  Ruby walked to him, and Clete extended his arms. She stepped into them and put her face against his neck. They held each other without speaking, rocking from side to side for a long time. Marilee stood beside Crockett and put her arm around his waist. He hugged her shoulders and kissed the top of her head. Even Nudge got into the act, walking to the center of the room and sitting, while he lazily lashed his tail and slow-blinked at all of them.

  Cats know things.

  That afternoon, while Ruby slaved over hot patients, Marilee told Clete and Crockett what she remembered of her mother before the Walker couple took her with them when they moved from Los Angeles to north of San Francisco. Clete and Crockett gave her as much detail as they could about her mother and grandmother. She was amazed at the repetition of patterns among their lives.

  “My grandma and I even posed for artists,” she said. “I could get a job doing that now, right where she did it way back then. Talk about full circle!”

  “You gonna?” Crockett said.

  “Naw. Too creepy. This has gotta stop someplace. May as well be me.”

  “Any idea what you will do?”

  “Not a one,” Marilee said. “I haven’t really thought about it yet.”

  “Well, you ain’t gotta hurry,” Clete said. He unplugged his cell phone from its charger where he’d set it up on an end table. “I’m fixin’ to call Ivy and let her know what’s going on. Unless I miss my guess, she’ll invite you up to our place for a while. It’s a great spot to think.”

  Clete spoke with Ivy for several minutes until Marilee took possession of the phone to say thank you. She and Ivy talked for nearly half an hour, then Marta, who just happened to be at Ivy’s place, took over for another thirty minutes. Cletus and Crockett went outside and fussed in the garden for a while.

  Clete finished raking the mulch around a bed of hostas, and took a step back to admire his work.

  “Nice,” he said. “Ruby get out here much?”

  Crockett gave him a blank stare.

  “I had to ask,” he laughed.

  Crockett grinned. “Can you possibly visualize,” he said, “Ruby mowing the lawn?”

  “Tailored silk coveralls, kidskin work gloves, and five-inch pumps with little bows on the back,” Clete said.

  “She enjoys it from behind glass. Ruby is not an outside kind of girl.”

  Clete shook his head. “Ya never know, Crockett. As you may have noticed, Miss Ruby is capable of change. Good for you, Pard. Good for both of you.”

  “Slow and easy,” Crockett said.

  A little after seven that evening, as Ruby was finishing up with her last client of the day, Crockett developed a craving for sweet and sour chicken. Clete and Marilee both agreed that Chinese was a good idea. When Ruby came upstairs, she concurred and dispatched the two men to pick up some carryout. Business was brisk at the Happy Family Restaurant and it was dusk before they began their drive home in Clete’s rental Ford. As they climbed the slope about a block away, Crockett saw a red Humvee pull out from the curb in front of their building. The hair on his arms stood up.

  “Shit!”

  “Whazamatter?” Clete said.

  “Look! Dead ahead. See that red Hummer?”

  “Yeah. Oh, no!”

  Crockett swallowed around the lump that had appeared in his throat.

  “Gotta be Ricky,” he said.

  “I got my cell phone, Crockett. I’ll follow the sonofabitch. You get out and check on things!”

  Crockett bailed out as the Ford was still rolling by the front of the building and tore inside as fast as he could. His apartment was empty except for the heavy smell of To A Wild Rose. He crashed through the closet and found Ruby on the floor, leaning against the living room wall by the kitchen doorway. She had blood on her chin and her left arm wasn’t right. He slid to a halt beside her on his knees.

  Ruby spat blood on the floor and brandished her cell phone.

  “I’m alright,” she said. “I was just trying to call you. There’s four of those sonsabitches. They took Marilee.”

  C
rockett was almost afraid to touch her for fear she was badly injured.

  “What’d they do to you?” he said.

  “Not as much as they were going to. Where’s Clete?”

  “Following their Humvee. He won’t loose ‘em. Where are you hurt?”

  “I think my right arm is broken, and a couple of ribs and one hip hurt pretty bad. I also got this split lip where that asshole you cold-cocked out in California with your cane punched me.”

  Tears formed in Ruby’s eyes and her voice trembled with stress.

  “He was gonna kill me, Crockett. He had the gun pointed right at me. Three of ‘em dragged Marilee out of here and he stayed behind to finish me off. He was standing right there in front of the cat door. Nudge came screaming through it and ran directly up the guy’s legs and back, launched off his head and face, and leaped clear into the kitchen. That cat just shredded him. His gun went off and the bullet hit someplace, and he tore out of here dripping blood.”

  “I gotta get you to the hospital.”

  “No, you don’t. You have to get after Clete. They have things called ambulances, Crockett. I’ll call Mast and have them take me to the Medical Center. I’m not dying. I’ll be okay.”

  “Ruby–”

  “Don’t fucking argue with me! Get your ass in gear and go get our girl back! Ricky is with ‘em. I heard on of his guys call him by name. Do something drastic to that sonofabitch!”

  Leaving Ruby on the floor, Crockett went back into the closet. Top shelf, against the left wall, old cigar humidor. He wrestled it down and opened it up. Removing the oily rag, Crockett lifted out his old four-inch, Smith and Wesson Model 686. Quickly, he checked the cylinder. Full. Grabbing two charged speed loaders, and hoping to hell the old Super-Vel .357 magnum ammo would still work, he confirmed he had his cell phone and went back to Ruby.

  Ruby smiled at him through short choppy breaths. Her lip was swelling badly.

  “Raincheck on tonight?” she said.

  Crockett kneeled beside her. “Plenty of time,” he said.

  “The ambulance is on the way, Crockett. Go. Go!”

  “I love you,” Crockett said.

  “I love you, too. Now get the hell outa here! Clete needs you.”

  Against every instinct, he left her and hurried down the stairs to the foyer. On the bottom step, a small piece of paper caught his eye. It was one of Ruby’s business cards with Crockett’s number written on the back. The one she gave to Marilee in that California park, a thousand years before.

  Crockett tore out the door and around to the carport, grabbing the grill guard on his truck as he went by to help slow down so he could get inside. The big block Vor-tec rumbled to life at the turn of the key and he drove over part of their tiny front yard on the way to the street.

  The bad guys had less than a ten-minute head start. Driving with one hand, the Smith and Wesson bouncing on the seat beside him, Crockett hit Clete’s speed dial number on the cell phone.

  CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

  Encounter

  “Crockett. You got ‘em?”

  “I got ‘em. Hard to hide a Humvee. Ruby okay?”

  “No. She’s waiting for an ambulance. Looks like a broken arm and a split lip at best. They were gonna kill her. That asshole whose nose I broke was ready shoot her, but Nudge took him out.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah,” Crockett said. “Nudge to the rescue. Grandma showed up and freaked ol’ Nudge out so bad, he ran right over the fucker while the guy was getting ready to shoot Ruby. She said Nudge just shredded the sonafabitch. His gun went off and he ran outa the apartment!”

  “Ha! Goddam! Pays to keep a watch cat, Crockett.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I-35 comin’ up on 635,” Clete said. “Yeah. It’s what I figured. They’re taking the exit North. On the way to I-70, I imagine. I’m about a quarter mile behind ‘em. Fuckin’ Humvee is so big, it’s easy to follow. They ain’t bright enough to drive somethin’ inconspicuous. Gotta have their macho ride. They’re not in a real big hurry, so I don’t suppose they have any idea I’m behind ‘em. A Humvee, unless it’s one of them jazzed up custom jobs, can’t run over eighty at best. They won’t lose me.”

  “Ruby says there’s four of ‘em, including Little Ricky himself. I have no idea what kind of shape Marilee is in.”

  “She’s probably okay,” Clete said.

  “Think so?”

  “Yeah. If Ricky was gonna kill her, he could have done that at your place. He’s taking her home. It’s real important to an asshole like that to re-claim his possessions and that his possessions know they’ve been re-claimed. He’s got to show her he’s the boss. He probably won’t even hurt her very much. Drivin’ all the way back to L.A. with an injured passenger would be a real bitch. Yep. Here we go. They’re linin’ up to take I-70 west. Still runnin’ around sixty-five. Where are you?”

  “Just getting to I-35. I’ll catch you before you get to the first toll booth on the way to Lawrence.”

  “Drivin’ your truck?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Got gas?”

  “Almost a full tank.”

  “I’m over half. If one of us has to stop, we can relay the tail. Wouldn’t be a bad idea anyway, in case one a them fucks is smart enough to look for the same headlights behind him too long. I doubt it’ll be a problem though. That Hummer is so easy to spot, we can lay way back. I’m at least four hundred yards behind it now. Got your cell phone charger?”

  “Nope.”

  “Me either,” Clete said. “Let’s shut down for a while to save the batteries. I’ll call you if anything changes. Just head west on I-70, Crockett. You’ll find us.”

  “Roger Wilcox,” Crockett said, and hung up.

  He stayed in the left lane, passing a steady procession of cars, the thought of being stopped by a cop hardly crossing his mind. 635 came up and Crockett flogged the truck into the left ramp, braking violently for the tight northbound turn, then floored the 454 and headed for I-70. A couple of miles later, he had another left exit and almost missed it, sliding a little as he slowed down, violently crossing two lanes and diving for the turn-off. Horns honked, lights flashed, and Crockett was on I-70 west, passing into three digits on the speedometer, gaining on Cletus and the Columbians, rumbling his way into Kansas.

  Traffic thinned, and Crockett kept his speed up, flashing by the occasional impediment in the roadway, his thoughts absorbed in a retrospective of the events of the past few days and worry over Ruby. He called her cell phone.

  “Hello?” Female voice, not Ruby.

  “Who’s this? How’s Ruby?”

  “Is this Mister Crockett?”

  “Yes, it is.”

  “Sir, my name is Pamela Dixon. I’m an ER nurse. Ms. LaCost said that you would call. I am authorized to tell you that she is alert and responsive. Currently she is under examination and will soon go for X-rays or an MRI, depending on what Doctor Kramer decides.”

  “How is she, Pam?”

  “As I said, Sir, I am authorized–”

  “How is she, Pam?”

  “I am author–”

  “Goddammit! Stop being a nurse and be a woman! I love that lady. You are the only one who can help me right now. Tell me how she is before I go fucking nuts!”

  “Well, uh, she took a pretty bad fall. She is going to require stitches to close a cut under her upper lip, she may have some broken ribs, her right arm is probably fractured, there may be a problem with her pelvis from the fall, and it looked like she might have a dislocated shoulder.”

  “Jesus!”

  “But, her vitals are good. That would indicate no serious internal trauma or bleeding. She doesn’t appear to have any head trauma or concussion, she is very alert, she responds well to all stimuli.”

  “How is she, Pam?”

  “She’s screwed up, Sir, and its gonna be quite a while before she’s back to normal, but, if there are no complications, she’ll be fine. She’s just gonna be
hard to live with for a while.”

  “Hell,” Crockett said, “she’s hard to live with now.”

  “I got that impression,” Pamela said, and Crockett could hear her smile.

  “How long ‘til I can talk to her?”

  “At least two hours, probably more. I’ll hang on to her cell phone until eleven, then pass it on to the night supervisor.”

  “Thanks, Pam. You’ve been a peach.”

  “You didn’t hear a thing from me, Sir.”

  “Call me Crockett, “ he said, and hung up.

  He was still holding the phone when it rang.

  “Yeah?”

  “Slow the hell down, Dummy!” Clete shouted. “You just blew by me and took off two coats of paint! You’re commin’ up on the fuckin’ Humvee, for chrissakes!”

  “Shit,” Crockett said, holding his speed as he passed the big Hummer. He didn’t look at it as he went by.

  “I’ll get to the toll both ahead of him,” Crockett continued, “and drive on. A little ways up is a fast food joint and stuff. I’ll pull off there and let both of you get ahead of me again.”

  “Good idea,” Clete said.

  “I just talked to the hospital. Ruby’s all screwed up, but she’ll be okay. Dislocated shoulder, messed up pelvis, maybe a busted arm and ribs.”

  “Coulda been a lot worse.”

  “You got that right.”

  “Don’t let worryin’ about her make you stupid, Crockett,” Clete said. “Keep your shit together.”

  “Yeah.”

  Clete chuckled. “Looks like it’s gonna be a while before the two of you do much cleavin’, one unto the other,” he said.

  “Kiss my ass, Texican,” Crockett said.

  “Yeah, I speck you’ll be damn near that desperate before Ruby’s back on her, ah, feet. I feel for ya, Son, but I just can’t quite reach ya.”

  His phone clicked off.

  They passed Lawrence without incident and continued west. On the bypass around Topeka, Clete pulled off to gas up. Less than fifteen miles later, he passed Crockett and took up the lead again. The Humvee stayed right at sixty-five, and they rolled on into the Kansas night.