Captains Outrageous

by Joe R. Lansdale

  “What about Leonard?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” Jim Bob said. “No one tried to kill him, so maybe she didn’t give his name, died before she could. I don’t know. No way of knowing.”

  “I gave my address,” Leonard said. “Not where I was staying, with John. The ironic part is after Charlie was killed I moved John and me out to my house for a while, because I thought it was safer.”

  “By then it was,” Jim Bob said. “The killers had gone home. Maybe they decided they had the main two, and after torturing Charlie and Billy and getting nothing, they decided neither of you knew dick about the facades.”

  “That seems like a pretty good guess,” I said.

  “And Ferdinand?” Leonard said.

  “He was going to kill Ferdinand too, but Juan Miguel made the mistake of not sending the Jolly Green Giant. They sent some everyday fucker, and guess what? They sent him to do it with a machete. It’s kind of their trademark, death by machete.

  “Guy comes to get Ferdinand on his boat. Ferdinand disarms him, beats him like a circus monkey, makes him tell why he’s come. That’s how Ferdinand finds out about Beatrice.

  “Then, Ferdinand ties up his attacker, takes him out to sea, and dumps him in the ocean.”

  “Tied up?” John asked.

  “Yes,” Ferdinand said. “That way he cannot swim.”

  “Yeah,” Leonard said, “tied up cramps a fella’s breast stroke all right.”

  I thought, Damn. This is one mean old man.

  “How the hell did you find all this out?” Brett asked.

  “Hey, I’m a detective, lovely lady. And I had some help. Guy down there, a Mexican, runs a little private eye agency. I’ve worked with him I don’t know how many times. I heard this name, Juan Miguel, I thought it rang a bell. My acquaintance down there, César, he had a partner who met a nasty end not long ago, and the whole thing’s connected with Juan Miguel. That’s where I had heard the name, year and a half ago. It didn’t mean much to me then. Just something they had got themselves into.

  “I didn’t know the details, just that some gangster named Juan Miguel was responsible for César’s partner’s death. The partner I had met, but hadn’t dealt with much. Not directly. I always dealt with César. Fact is, César helped me find Ferdinand.”

  “How did you find him?” Leonard asked.

  “Me and César found him by finding the boy you told me about. José. The one helped him fish. He didn’t know Ferdinand was in trouble, just that he was gone, and César simply asked him did Ferdinand have a place he went that few people knew about, and how about three hundred dollars if he told us. He was loyal to Ferdinand for about five minutes, then he was loyal to three hundred dollars. For him, that’s like a thousand, at least.

  “The boy told me about a little island. Said that was where Ferdinand sometimes went to fish for himself and to be alone. Said he had gone with him a couple times. No one else had asked José that. No one else had offered him three hundred dollars either. No one thought or knew to ask him the question. We told José he should say nothing else about it to anyone. César rented a boat and we went out there, found Ferdinand. And the facades. That’s the island where they’re stored.”

  “What about what really counts to us?” Hanson said. “Justice for Charlie.”

  “There’s the rub,” Jim Bob said. “We might could put together some pretty good information for the Mexican police. But in that little town of Playa del Carmen, Juan Miguel’s pretty much the man. He’s pretty much the man throughout Mexico when it comes to crime and payoffs in cocaine, money, and poontang.”

  “So,” Leonard said, “might we assume you’re saying that would be a worthless approach to taking care of Charlie’s killer?”

  “Right.”

  “I say we go to Mexico and get the sonofabitch,” Hanson said. “Him and this giant. Or whoever gets in the way.”

  “First off, you’re not going anywhere,” Jim Bob said. “No offense, but in your state you’d just fuck up the mission.”

  “All right then,” Hanson said. “What are you and the others going to do? And how can I help?”

  “I like Hanson’s idea,” Leonard said. “We kill the sonofabitch.”

  “It’s an idea,” Jim Bob said, “but not an easy one to pull off.”

  “I been in on a designed killing once, and I didn’t like it,” I said. “I’m still dealing with it. I just don’t like the idea of a guy pisses you off, you kill him.”

  “Pisses you off,” Jim Bob said. “He killed Charlie, man. I’m more than pissed off.”

  “You want justice for your friend, Charlie,” Ferdinand said. “I want justice for my daughter. We all have a price to pay. Vengeance is a price, but it must be paid.”

  “Not me,” John said. “You know how I stand. I’m an observer. And not a happy one.”

  “Killing him seems awful heavy to me,” I said.

  “You’re fuckin’ me,” Leonard said. “What do you suggest, we humiliate him? Shame him? Bad dog. Smack him with a rolled-up newspaper? I think you ain’t got no peas for your pea shooter, Hap. Why don’t we just call him a bad name or knock his hat off?”

  “Or write he sucks dicks on some bathroom wall,” Jim Bob said. “Hey, meant nothing by that, Leonard. John. Anyone else in here suck dicks?”

  Brett raised her hand.

  Jim Bob burst out laughing.

  “Listen,” I said. “I was thinking we get some photos of these facades. We say to Juan Miguel we got these facades and we’ll sell them to you for such and such, and then we spring the police on him. You know, have them in waiting, so they got to arrest him when he shows up to buy them.”

  “They’ll arrest us for setting up the scam,” Jim Bob said. “It implies we stole the facades in the first place, even if we didn’t. And if it did work, you keep forgetting, he’s got the Mexican law’s dicks in his pockets. It’s a stupid idea, Hap.”

  “So we have to kill him?” I said.

  No one said anything for a time. Finally Jim Bob said, “Before we start passing out the ammunition and a sack lunch, might be a good idea I tell you a little about this guy Juan Miguel, and his main henchman.”

  “Henchman?” Leonard said. “Shit, I just love that term. I think I used to read that in the Fu Manchu books. Henchmen.”

  “César helped me find out a lot of stuff on this dude. Juan Miguel is rich because he’s run more drugs than Johnson and Johnson. He started out a petty thief, worked himself up to a higher level, killed off the right guys in the Mexican mafia, and eventually, he’s head dick. Got him some class along the way. Money buys class, you know. And very expensive suits, in all shades. When he wears a suit. He’s a practicing nudist much of the time.”

  “A nudist?” Brett said.

  “Yep. A classy nudist. At least in his own eyes. In reality he’s about as classy as a ball peen hammer to the back of the head. Which is something he’s done. Used a ball peen on his enemies’ skulls. But he’s too cool for that now. He’s got hired hands that do that.”

  “The henchmen,” Leonard said.

  “That’s right.”

  “Is he hard to get to?” Hanson asked.

  “He’s got a little fortress of a house in the hills surrounding Playa del Carmen. Nice pad. You can drive a car right up to it, but there’s guys with guns to greet you. One of the guys, according to César, is about six eight, weighs about three eighty-five, and only the bits between his fingers and toes is fatty.”

  “Sounds like hyperbole,” John said.

  “Could be,” Jim Bob said. “They call him Hammerhead.”

  “An old family name,” Leonard said. “Surely he’s a junior.”

  “Point is,” Jim Bob said, “what we got here isn’t a cakewalk. This guy is dangerous. The people who protect him are dangerous. We can’t drive up to his house, knock on his door, ask if he can come out to play and shoot him in the head.”

  “Any weaknesses?” I asked.

  �
��Maybe at bridge,” Jim Bob said, “not much else. Well, there is one thing. A mistress. A real stunner. She lives in a fine house with some pretty nice guards herself. Provided by Juan Miguel, of course. She likes to travel to Mexico City and shop in expensive shops. We followed her three times in one week to the airport. And we even got on the flight once. The guards were with her. She shopped Mexico City to death. Only thing she didn’t do was buy the coats off the bears at the Mexico City zoo. She had the two plugs with her carrying all this shit. Clothes. Shoes. Whatever the crap is women buy, and I bet me and César sat outside those stores in a rented airport car most of the day. We didn’t even eat lunch.”

  “She’s the key,” Leonard said.

  “Yep,” Jim Bob said. “I suppose so.”

  26

  THAT NIGHT THE RAIN blew hard against the house, rattled the windows like teeth chattering in a cold face. Only it was warm, sticky warm, even in the house with the central air and a fan blowing at the foot of the bed.

  Brett, who I thought was asleep, rolled over and laid her arm across my chest.

  “You aren’t sleeping?”

  “I know. And neither are you. Surely you don’t want sex again? I think I’m pooped out.”

  “We didn’t have sex tonight.”

  “I’m still pooped out … You sure we didn’t?”

  “I’m sure. Man, is that rain gonna wash us away?”

  “We’ll float on the bed. We’ll be okay.”

  “Will there be room for all the animals, Noah?”

  “We’re the only animals that matter.”

  “Hap. Can we do this?”

  “You don’t need to do anything. Me and Leonard, Jim Bob and Ferdinand, we can do it.”

  “The plan sounds kind of lame to me.”

  “He’s actually using part of my idea.”

  “Like I said, the plan sounds lame.”

  “Jim Bob said it was a better plan than he expected the bunch of us to come up with.”

  “Finding an extra pecan in your pecan sundae is better than you expected, but it isn’t exactly a whole pie. Jim Bob’s so smart, why doesn’t he come up with a better plan.”

  “You’re knocking the plan?”

  “I’m just saying Jim Bob saying it’s a better plan than he expected doesn’t make it the best plan devised.”

  “It’s better than me or Leonard running the show.”

  “It’s still not a plan that makes me feel confident.”

  “Would any plan make you feel confident?”

  “Probably not.”

  “It’s what we’ve got. Or what we’ve got without you. You don’t need to go at all. You have a job to worry about.”

  “You’re not doing anything without me. I got a little money put back. I can probably get off for a couple weeks. How long does it take to hunt down and kill a guy anyway?”

  “Christ, don’t say that, Brett. I still wake up with the other on my mind.”

  “Me too. I even wake up screaming about it sometimes. But I’d do it again. I’d do what we’re about to do twice. Charlie was a good guy, Hap. He didn’t deserve this.”

  “No, he didn’t.”

  “You did a thing for me once that I can’t imagine anyone else doing.”

  “Leonard did it too.”

  “You always say that, and he did, but he did it for you … Okay. I can’t imagine anyone but you two doing it for me, and now here’s my chance to pay you back.”

  “I don’t want that. You’re not paying me back. This has got nothing to do with you paying me back. It’s got to do with me paying back that cocksucker in Mexico.”

  Brett got up, went to the bathroom, came back, and snuggled in with me again. I said, “Frankly, I hate to admit it, but I been thinking about walkin’.”

  “No you haven’t.”

  “I haven’t?”

  “Oh, you might consider it. It’s in your head. But you know what you’ll do, and so do I.”

  “Am I that predictable?”

  “Except that part where you bent one of my legs sideways and came at me from that weird angle. I didn’t expect that. But, other than sex, yes, you’re predictable.”

  “Hey, we’re together long enough, I’ll be predictable there too. Then you’ll have to get rid of me.”

  “I don’t think you’re altogether joking.”

  “I haven’t had the best luck with love, my dear.”

  “Hap. I don’t care you’re not young, you’re not rich or overly handsome, or even well hung—”

  “Hold it now, goddamn it, you’re stepping across the line.”

  “I thought that would wake you up. I’m saying I don’t care. I don’t care about any of those things, but I care about you, and I can’t just kiss you bye and send you to Mexico not knowing what’s going to happen. And when it’s over, when we come back here, I want to make this deal permanent. I’m not saying you have to marry me, though that would be nice, but I want us to be together. And that means being together when you go to Mexico. I don’t want to be sitting here waiting on my man to do what a man’s got to do like some cheap-ass Western movie.”

  “That’s kind of what it boils down to, though, isn’t it?”

  “It boils down to you and me. From now on, I want it you and me. Except when I’m doing some serious business in the bathroom. I don’t mind you come in I’m doing a number one, but a number two, no way. Unless maybe it’s to hand me the toilet paper if I forgot to put it on the roll, but other than that, not a number two. You stay out then.”

  “You’re fucking nuts, Brett.”

  “I know.”

  “Brett, I don’t know I can go through with it. I think about it I clench up inside.”

  “Whatever you do. Whatever you decide. I want to be there with you. Except that bathroom part that I’ve already explained. And that goes if you’re doing number two as well. I don’t want to see that.”

  “Brett, thy middle name is class.”

  “I keep telling you that.”

  Next day they fired Brett when she wanted time off. She’d already used all her time off dealing with her worthless daughter.

  I was with her at the nurses’ station when the head nurse told her it was all over and that they’d been thinking about firing her for some time because of her mouth.

  “My mouth,” Brett said. “My fuckin’ mouth. You old dried-up cunt. You’d be so lucky as to have my cunt for your mouth. Turn it sideways, and it’d go better with your mustache than the mouth you got, you fuckin’ Wicked Witch of the West. I ought—”

  I got her by the arm and pulled her out of there. On the way out she yelled back what they could do with their thermometers.

  Later that day, Leonard and I went to our boss. It was tough. I knew Bond felt he owed me something, and I didn’t want to put him in a position of feeling he had to let me have more juice than I deserved, but there was nothing else to do.

  His office was in town, away from the chicken plant. There were, however, pictures of chickens on the wall, and charts with chickens. There was also a big wooden desk, a black leather chair, and a black and gray striped couch.

  Bond actually hadn’t been in the office, but I had called and he had called back and said he’d meet me there. He ended up meeting us out in the parking lot, riding up with us in the elevator.

  “I don’t come here much,” he said. “I’m really too rich and too far removed from what’s going on anymore to have opinions. I just like to collect checks and leave the work and the organization to people I’ve handpicked.”

  “It’s a nice life if you can get it,” Leonard said.

  “Yes it is,” Bond said.

  Leonard and I sat on the couch, shuffled our feet for a moment. Finally I came out with it. Told Bond something had come up. That we had to go away for a while. But we’d come back. And we’d like our jobs back, if that was possible, and not to think we were trying to take advantage of him. To my ears, I sounded like a kid making up some bullshit exc
use for not doing his homework.

  Bond looked at us, said, “You do whatever you want. I won’t even cut your pay.”

  “You don’t owe me that,” I said. “You sure don’t owe Leonard that.”

  “Thanks,” Leonard said.

  “No,” Bond said. “I do owe you that. Go with my blessing.”

  “I want you to know I’m not trying to take advantage of you,” I said. “Something really did come up.”

  “I believe you. Go with my blessing. And the assurance your jobs are waiting.”

  “How is Sarah?”

  “She’s much better. She has been moved to a less critical wing of the hospital.”

  “I’m glad to hear it.”

  “She’s talking now. Some of her old spirit is back. She speaks highly of you, Hap.”

  “That’s kind of her,” I said.

  Bond was starting to look teary. We got up to leave. Bond said, “Hap. Leonard. I got an idea you two aren’t just going on a hunting trip.”

  “Actually,” Leonard said, “that’s exactly what we’re doing.”

  “Be safe.”

  We thanked him and left.

  Jim Bob booked me, Brett, Leonard, Ferdinand, and himself on a flight to Cancun for the next afternoon. I took Brett to a nice store in Tyler and bought her an expensive outfit or two. Still, we packed light.

  That night we slept hardly at all, got up early, muddled about. Hanson came by to wish us off. Told us to keep him posted. Early afternoon, we headed for Houston Intercontinental in Jim Bob’s car, the Red Bitch.

  “What about guns?” Leonard asked.

  “César,” Jim Bob said, switching lanes to the sound of a car horn blaring. “He’ll provide what we need. He has his own grudge he’d like to take care of. He’s been nursing it for years, and now he’s ready. You brought some of that money you got, didn’t you, Hap?”