Devil Red cap-8

by Joe R. Lansdale

  The maid told us to make ourselves comfortable and went away.

  We sat on the couch and Leonard said, “Can you believe this is in the center of town? Hidden up here in the trees?”

  “I can’t believe a place like this is anywhere,” I said. “I thought they made this stuff up for the movies.”

  “The movie screen wouldn’t be wide enough to hold this place,” Leonard said. “It might take a few theaters just to get that hallway in frame.”

  A moment later a woman came into the room. She was some woman. She looked like she was dressed to go out on the town, and not our town. Someplace in Manhattan, perhaps Paris, London, or Rome. Her long blonde hair was waved and she wore a pantsuit of shimmering white and she had a small glass in her hand and it was half-filled with a golden liquid that I knew wasn’t fruit juice.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she said. It was a nice voice full of pep and insincerity. “I’m June. I hope you don’t mind if I don’t offer you a drink. I thought we could race through this rather quickly.”

  “That’s fine,” I said.

  She came and sat in a leather chair across from us and put her drink down on the wooden coffee table between us, no coaster. It was a heavily stained table and it was the only thing in the room besides the books that looked old.

  “So, you’re private detectives,” June said, smiling. She had nice teeth and just the slightest bit of an overbite.

  “We’re not exactly private detectives,” I said.

  “Oh,” she said.

  “We’ve still got the training wheels on,” Leonard said.

  “So should you be on the job?” she asked.

  “We’ve had a lot of experience,” I said. “We’re just not what you’d call official. We’re operatives. We work for a private detective.”

  “So someday you may get a little badge, a whistle, and a canteen,” she said.

  “Our boss,” Leonard said, “he started with Where’s Waldo books to sharpen us up, but now we’ve moved on to interviews. We mostly ask short questions.”

  “I see,” she said. She grinned and leaned back and sipped her drink and studied Leonard, then me. Her eyes were very green and very penetrating.

  “You boys look a little rough,” she said. “Like you’ve been around the block a few times.”

  “Maybe more than a few,” I said.

  “Oh, I didn’t mean anything by it. I like the way you look. Most of the men I know use skin cream and have straight noses and the most violent thing they do is grunt playing table tennis. Sometimes, in their sleep, they fart dramatically. Oh, I’m telling, aren’t I?”

  She moved her head slowly, so we could have a look at her profile, and then she moved it back and sipped her drink.

  “It’s just that I don’t know why my mother is bothering with all this, or why she would send you to talk to me. There’s nothing I can add. Ted and his girlfriend were murdered for sex and money. Though they didn’t get the sex, and my guess is they didn’t get much money.”

  “Do you know what was actually stolen besides his ring?” I asked.

  “Well, he may have had money in the wallet,” June said. “But I don’t know.”

  “Credit cards?”

  “Most likely. Several. Mostly filled to the brim and leaking over, would be my guess.”

  “Did the police say anything about anyone trying to use them after his death?”

  “No. I know you’re thinking that might mean the robbery was a sham. But I think whoever did it panicked and took what was in the wallet and was afraid to use the cards. Afraid they’d be tracked. Or maybe the cards got canceled before the killer could use them, and they just disposed of them.”

  She leaned back in her chair and crossed her long panted legs and dropped her head slightly. I was sure she knew the effect this had; the way her hair fell across one eye, and the way she looked when she lifted her head and smiled that sexy beaver-toothed grin.

  “Look,” she said, “my brother, he and I weren’t close. I’m sorry about what happened to him, but it was an unfortunate accident. Wrong place. Wrong time. I suppose it could have been someone who knew him, knew he was going to be there, thought he had money, and jumped him, but I think he was a victim of opportunity.”

  “What about the girl?” I asked.

  “She was a tramp. And in case you’re vague on that, let me translate. She was Miss Insert Slot B.”

  “That covers a lot of ground,” I said.

  “And a lot of ground was covered,” June said.

  “Only thing that surprised me about her was that she got killed in the daytime.”

  “Beg your pardon?” Leonard said.

  “She didn’t go out in the daytime.”

  “Fear of skin cancer?” I said. “She freckled?”

  “Nope… Wait for it… She thought she was a vampire.”

  15

  “Big teeth?” Leonard said. “Bite your neck, suck your blood? Wear a cape? Turn into a bat?”

  “I doubt she turned into a bat,” June said. “A bitch maybe, but not a bat.”

  “So, you’re not denying the cape?” he said.

  She smiled at Leonard.

  “You knew Mini, then?” I said.

  “Some. Liked to wear black and her hair was dyed so dark it looked like strands of shadow. She mainly went out at night. Claimed the sunlight made her weak, unless she needed to go out, and if she did, she seemed spry enough. She was out that day, wasn’t she? The day she got popped. She was said to drink blood. Mostly it was her who said it. She was a goddamn nut. Being a nut was kind of her hobby. Some people collect stamps or keep a diary, she practiced doing nutty things.”

  “It probably has nothing to do with anything,” I said, “outside of it’s just weird as all daylights and I want to hear about it, but could you give us some more background on her?”

  “I didn’t know her well. I didn’t want to know her well. But she told me a few things when she got out of jail.”

  “Jail?” I said.

  “Yeah. She and my brother dated for a while, and I was trying to patch things up with him, because, as I said, we didn’t get along. So, in the process, me and her hung a little and she talked a lot. I picked up other bits of her story here and there. Mini roosted with a really screwball crowd. Especially Evil Lynn.”

  “You’re yankin’ me?” Leonard said. “She had a friend named Evil Lynn?”

  “I haven’t had the pleasure of yanking you.”

  She smiled at Leonard seductively. I thought: Lady, you are wasting the possibility of a few wrinkles around your mouth on someone who is seriously batting for another team. Look this way.

  She didn’t.

  “Was Evil Lynn her real name?” I asked.

  “Of course not. Her last name was Gonzello. I called her Godzilla, not Evil Lynn. I can’t remember Godzilla’s first name. Cassie. Candy. Canola. Something like that. Only met her once, at my brother’s place, and that was enough. There were several of them, actually. Vampires I mean… Let’s walk outside. My husband used to smoke cigars in here, and I can still smell them, and him. Both stink.”

  We walked through the hallway, outside into the backyard. There were trees and a few leaves, and there was a man in work clothes walking around with a stick with a point on the end of it. He was stabbing the leaves and putting them in a big, black plastic bag he was dragging.

  “I know a guy works doing special effects in movies,” she said. “I’m thinking about having plastic trees put in. These are so messy.”

  Leonard looked at me out of the corner of his eye. I looked back and tried not to laugh. Plastic trees?

  Underneath one of the pesky real trees was a stone table with a bench on either side. We sat down there.

  June rattled the ice in her glass, looked at what was left of her drink as if it were the last of all sunshine, and said, “This is what I know, and all I know. And when I tell you what I know, I don’t want to talk about it again. I’m all th
rough. Just thinking about her and her nutball friends makes my ass tired.”

  She shifted her tired, but very nice, ass on the bench and looked at the pond. There was a big insect, a dragonfly, cruising over the water. She put her focus on that for a while. Maybe she was thinking about having it killed and crucified on the edge of the pond as an object lesson, then having the yard sprayed with insecticide. She could always get her special effects friend to make her a robotic dragonfly, maybe some birds. She drank and moved the liquid around inside her mouth in case her teeth were in need of a whirlpool bath. The man with the pointed stick and the bag full of leaves moved across the yard and around a corner of the house and out of sight.

  June swallowed loudly, said, “Mini hooked up with Ted because they were both a little freaky. Ted, he was into anal, and she didn’t mind it. His girlfriend before, Lori, not so happy about it. She had two kids, and she told me all Ted wanted to do was crawl up her poop chute. It’s all he talked about. Had videos and magazines and a game plan in bed that always, if you’ll pardon the pun, ended the same way.”

  I wasn’t sure where this was going, and maybe it was going a little too far south, but Leonard and I let it go. I kind of like nasty stories.

  June said, “She started thinking, from the way the kid’s toys smelt and felt, that while she and the kids were out, Ted was greasing up and shoving toys up his ass.”

  “Ouch,” Leonard said. “Hope one of those toys wasn’t a bicycle.”

  “So, she confronts him, and he admits it, and she is major pissed off, and he says, ‘Hell, just wash them off.’ He wasn’t concerned. It was all about his ass, his fetish.”

  “And that was, rim shot, so to speak, the end of the relationship,” I said.

  “Not yet. She thought maybe he could change. We always think our men can change, and they can’t. Assholes at birth, assholes at death. A motto I live by. Anyway, one day she comes home, and she’s got the children with her, and what does she find but a drunk and drugged-out Ted passed out in the living room on the rug, naked, with the engine of a hard plastic toy train up his ass, the rest of it dangling out, all the way down to the caboose, like it couldn’t make the hill.”

  “Oh, hell,” I said. “That had to hurt.”

  “Yep. Bled on the carpet. Children were traumatized, and no one wanted to play with the train thereafter. And she’d already dealt with him and a rubber duck and a twirler’s baton, so she’d had enough. The train set was expensive. You can buy a duck or a baton anywhere and mostly cheap, but not those buddies. She was fed up with him, and she liked that carpet. Moroccan. Way more expensive than the train. So, it was choo-choo-choo-cha-boogie, you are gone, baby. So, that leads him to Mini, who is connected to Godzilla and a couple other girls who drink blood. Good thing for Ted is, Mini didn’t have a problem with the ass business.”

  “Will there be more trains and tunnels in this story?” Leonard asked.

  “No. We’re switching tracks,” June said. “I’m just trying to say nuts attract nuts. Now we’re going to the Children of the Night. That’s what they called themselves. Is that hokey or what?”

  The maid, as if on cue, came out with another drink, set it on the table in front of June, and without a word went back to the house. I watched her swing away with more than a bit of pleasure. Being male is a full-time, and sometimes tiring, job.

  “You like that maid outfit?” June said to me.

  “I don’t think it would fit me,” I said, “but it’s very nice. I don’t have the legs for it either.”

  “You ought to see me in one,” she said.

  “And what days do you wear it?” I asked.

  She snorted and sipped her fresh drink. She was starting to get pretty lit, though she was an experienced drunk and wasn’t losing her focus on the story, and the words came out clear, if slightly spaced, as if they had to stop and rest before going on.

  “I don’t know why Mini felt she could talk to me, but she did. Maybe she needed to get away from all weird all the time. Also, she was drunk and at a party here at my house, and she was fresh out of jail and no one else wanted to talk to her. Word gets around. Had I not been drunk, I wouldn’t have wanted to talk to her myself. She told me she and these other girls, Godzilla, as ringleader, would go out to the cemetery and have ceremonies, reading spells out of witchcraft books, lighting candles, that kind of crap, calling on Satan to come on up and see them sometime. Then one night, Godzilla’s girlfriend… Let’s see… She was called Trip. I don’t know what her real name was, but she was called that… So, one night, they’re in the cemetery, and they’re doing some ceremony or another, and it leads to Trip letting Godzilla cut her neck a little with a pocketknife and suck blood from the wound. And then everyone has to have a taste, so there’s more cutting. Everyone giving up a little blood, except Godzilla. They all take turns sucking neck, which I figure is pretty damn unsanitary.

  “Godzilla and Trip, who were lesbian lovers, end up making out. Then the nonlesbians say what the hell, and they’re all making out, followed by more blood sucking. Anyway, they’re sucking blood and suckin’ whatever, and Godzilla, who was a pretty tough-lookin’ broad, or seemed that way the time I saw her… I figured about three feet of chain and two stiff drinks and I could have whipped all of them.”

  “And without the chain?” I said.

  “Might have been touch and go,” June said.

  “So you were saying?” I said.

  “Well, they were doing vampire things, I guess. But Mini, she tells me that the night in the graveyard when everyone got naked and tried to find a place to bite, Godzilla started talking about killing people. Feasting on their blood, as she put it. Mini thought it was cool talk, but just talk. Like you know, when you say you’re putting a band together in your garage and you’re going to cut a record and go all the way to the top, and you know you’re not, and the best that happens is you end up playing a bad version of ‘Wipe Out’ or ‘Free Bird’ at a bar for tips. Anyway, Mini claimed she was just playing along. Told me she thought she was a vampire on the weekends and late at night, and the rest of the time, she had to work at RadioShack. The other girls, they all had money and time to waste. Harder to be a vampire when you have to be nice to customers and earn a paycheck.”

  June took a long ice-rattling drink from her glass. When she started talking again her tongue had grown a little thick.

  “What happened was, one night they’re driving along in Godzilla’s car, four of them, Godzilla, Trip, Mini, and this other goober I can’t think of, and they come across this drunk frat-rat on a bicycle. Mini said they could see him pedaling along ahead of them. He was all over the road, like a sidewinder snake trying to drive a tricycle. So they pull over and get out, and this guy, he thinks he’s hit the jackpot. Four hotties giving his drunk ass attention. Well, three hotties and Godzilla.

  “They get him to abandon his bicycle, which he tells them he stole off a front porch, and he climbs into the car. Mini said Trip showed him some tit and a bottle of whiskey, and now this sap thinks he’s died and gone to heaven.”

  Something clicked while June was talking. I remembered this. I had seen stuff about it on the local news, a while back. The vampire angle had been mentioned, but I had forgotten all about it.

  “They drove over to Camp Rapture, teasing him and giving him whiskey, and then Mini said Godzilla said something about her and Trip taking the boy out behind the warehouse district and doing him a favor. By this point, this guy was so drunk and worked up he’d have humped a crippled sheep wearing stockings, a garter belt, and a purple beret. To him, even Godzilla was probably starting to look like a runway model. Man, where’s my maid? I need another drink.”

  “Finish your story,” I said, “and I’ll look her up for you.”

  June held up her glass and shook the ice in it, hoping the maid might hear. She didn’t. June shook the glass harder. After a moment she gave up and placed it on the table and burped pleasantly with her hand almost making
it over her mouth.

  “There’s not much left to tell,” June said. “They took him out back of a shed, down in the warehouse district. Mini said she could see what was happening from the inside of the car. They were a ways back, but it was all in full view. While the guy is shucking his drawers, thinking he’s going to get to churn the log in the mill, out of her purse Godzilla pulls a big knife and sticks the guy in the neck.”

  June made a stabbing motion in the air, gritting her teeth as she did.

  “Then Godzilla pounced on him, started sticking him, lots of times. He screamed and fell down on his face. Godzilla kept after him. She wasn’t any slacker. She tried to hand Trip the knife, but she wouldn’t take it. Godzilla went back to it. Trip went back to the car and got in and sat there and all she could say was that there was a hole in the guy’s back big enough to shove a wiener dog through. Or so Mini said. They watched Godzilla bend over the body and start sucking at the blood.

  “When it was over, Godzilla came back covered in gore. Mini said her eyes were wide and bright and she had that big wet knife in her hand and a loopy blood-smeared smile on her face like she’d just had a seven-course dinner and someone had been polite enough to burp her.

  “Mini said right then she was through playing vampire. She got out of the car and made a run for it. And when she looked back, Trip was out of the car and chasing after her. But Trip, drunk, or just worn out by shock, fell down in a stretch of trees, and Mini just kept going. They were way out in the country, so she got lost. Wandered through some woods and over a little creek, finally saw lights. It was Camp Rapture. She could see the university tower all lit up.”

  June paused and closed her eyes. The last words she had spoken had begun to have fuzz around them. I said, “So, she saw the tower lit up.”