Devil Red cap-8

by Joe R. Lansdale

  “It didn’t bother you?”

  “I didn’t know the man I killed, so no. I’m not sure it would have bothered me if I had known him. Hell, Hap. He could have been my father. He was the right age. I don’t even know why they wanted him killed. It didn’t matter to me.”

  I let that soak in. I said, “Kincaid had a second wife, right? What did she think about all this?”

  “She was unaware of the business. An airhead. She bore him two children. Ms. Clinton couldn’t have children. There was an arrangement. He cared for his wife, but Mr. Kincaid really cared for Ms. Clinton. Maybe it was love. I don’t know. I’m a little confused on that issue, Hap. They never really stopped being together. There was a house in town for the wife, and an estate in the country where he and Ms. Clinton spent their time. Where I was trained.”

  “You call them Mr. and Ms.?”

  “That’s how I was taught. I can’t think of them any other way. But this isn’t about me. This is about you, Hap. You and Leonard. Though they may have already punched his ticket. They’ll wait and see. Why take an extra chance? It’s my bet he never even saw his shooter. They’re too good for that. But if he doesn’t die, they’ll be back to finish the job. And there’s you.”

  “They leave a devil’s head at the scene of their murders, staged events. Why? Why leave any indication?”

  “Did Picasso sign his work?”

  “They see it as an art?” I asked.

  “You could say that. So do I. But I don’t sign my work. They don’t if time and situation doesn’t permit. But they are proud of their craft. After years of doing something well, on some level, they want to be recognized, not caught. It was also a way they could challenge anyone trying to discover them. Here’s our calling card. Respond if you can.”

  “So you deserted them at some point.”

  “Most do. It’s the way of the job. They always have a few who live on the grounds. People who protect the place and them. They saw us as their retirement. But they haven’t quit. They won’t retire.”

  “No one should be raised to be a killer,” I said.

  “You could say I was exploited. But it has given me a livelihood. And I am an artist.”

  “You’re a killer, Vanilla. That’s all.”

  “For me it beats being a teacher or a nurse. No offense to your redhead.”

  “Plenty taken.”

  I thought I saw her blink when I said that, but it could have been the light.

  “And you?” she said.

  “What exactly are you?”

  “I suppose I’m the same as you.”

  She looked at me for a long moment. Her face seemed so soft, her lips so kissable. She was mesmerizing. I sat farther back from her.

  “You’re not like me at all, Hap. You’re not even close. For me, there’s no passion in the act. It is what it is, and I do it artistically. That’s what makes me second to them. They are still passionate about their work. And you, you’re no artist and you don’t do it for money. You have reasons, views. I don’t get that.”

  “And you’re telling me all this because…?”

  “I don’t know really. I feel we have a connection. Do you feel it?”

  “I do.”

  “What is it exactly?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. I’m old enough to be your father.”

  “Maybe that’s it,” she said.

  “I hope not. All I know is, I have to get them. They shot my friend.”

  “He means that much to you?” she said, turning her head slightly, as if trying to position herself to believe that idea.

  “He does.”

  “They’ll kill you.”

  “Maybe.”

  “They’re better than you,” she said. “I’m better than you.”

  “The chips aren’t down yet,” I said.

  Vanilla shook her head slowly. “No. It won’t work out for you.”

  “Just tell me where to find them and when.”

  “I don’t know when, and I won’t tell you where.”

  “You think I can’t find out where they live? If I can’t do it myself, I have friends who can. I’ll find them. I’m asking you to speed up matters.”

  “I’m not one to betray.”

  “They betrayed you,” I said. “They took a child and made a killer. You may not think that matters now, but maybe some part of you knows that isn’t the life you had to have. It can’t be that good a life.”

  I watched her face. It revealed nothing.

  “It was you who got snookered, baby,” I said. “The fact you came to me means you feel something other than professionalism. And if you think you’re helping me by not telling me where they are, all you’re doing is giving me a reprieve. They’ll get to me eventually. At some point, it’ll be me and them.”

  “Run.”

  “I’m not into running.”

  “Man’s got to do what a man’s go to do, huh?” Vanilla said.

  “Something like that. If you’re not going to help me, then leave and let me get about my business. And thanks for the warning.”

  Vanilla set the diet soda can on the coffee table, careful to make it fit into one of Brett’s coasters. “Do you have weapons?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “They certainly do. And they probably have at least two bodyguards on the grounds. Maybe more. And dogs.”

  “Dogs.”

  She nodded. “Yep. And a security camera.”

  “Oh, good. And do the Mummy and the Wolf Man work for them too?”

  “There you’re safe.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “And consider this. They may or may not be home. If they were here earlier, it would take them almost two hours to go back to the estate. It’s on this side of Houston. In the woods. A hundred acres or so. They would be there by now if they went home. But you don’t know. It’s a gamble.”

  “What isn’t,” I said. “You gonna help me, or not?”

  “Get a pen and paper,” she said, “and I’ll draw you a map. But when I do, it’s like me signing your death warrant.”

  62

  Not long after that cheery little comment from Vanilla, I had warm clothes on, including a wool cap, the heater turned up, and my foot heavy on the gas pedal. I had a thermos of coffee and a tuna fish sandwich in a plastic bag on the seat beside me. Brett’s revolver was holstered on my hip. In the glove box was my. 38 Super. In the trunk, the twelve-gauge pump and ammunition for all three weapons. Also there was a toolbox with a pair of snips in it and some other things I needed. I had my clasp knife in my pocket and a roll of breath mints so as not to offend anyone I might want to stab or shoot. Marvin’s sawed-off I had left at the house, replaced by my own twelve-gauge. Call me sentimental. I preferred my own gun.

  Outside the air was damp with a cold mist, and the highway in the beam of the headlights looked like a ribbon of blue steel. It was late and the road was oddly empty, as if while Vanilla and I talked there had been some kind of apocalypse.

  I was still trying to wrap my mind around what Vanilla had told me, and there were parts of my brain that doubted what I heard. For all I knew she was setting me up. But that didn’t make a lot of sense. If she wanted me dead, she would have done it. I’d have had a bullet up my ass while I was still trying to find my house key. Not to mention that since she suspected a bomb, she could have just let it go off and they would have found my pecker in a tree the next day. And when I came downstairs from fetching my guns, she was gone, and she had taken the bombs with her.

  A tidy cleanup for someone who would want me dead. And if she was using me to take out the competition, so far I wasn’t proving to be that good. Neither was Leonard. A bag of crackers and cookies had got him shot, maybe killed, and Vanilla had snuck up on me while I was on my porch about to unlock a door that would have blown me apart.

  I decided to believe she was on my side. I also thought maybe she had arrived at the house by means of teleportation. Where
was her car? And after she had drawn the map, and I had gathered up my weapons and ammunition, how did she get out and gone so quickly, without making a sound?

  That girl was creepy.

  No more slacking. No more being distracted. No more feeling sorry for myself. Tonight, I had to be back on my game, like the old days.

  I called Brett and asked how Leonard was doing.

  “Same ole, same ole,” she said. “You on the road, baby?”

  “Yes.”

  “For reasons discussed?” she asked.

  “Yes.”

  “That was quick.”

  “I had some help.”

  “Help?”

  Brett knew about Vanilla Ride, and what she knew about her she didn’t like, so I decided not to mention her.

  “I’ll tell you about it later,” I said. “At some point I’m going to cut off my phone. Not for a while, but in the next couple of hours.”

  “Be careful,” she said.

  “Always careful,” I said. “Take care of Leonard.”

  “You’ll be back to do it.”

  I hesitated. “You’ll take care of him, right?”

  “You know it,” she said.

  When I finished with Brett, I called Marvin.

  “I need you at the hospital. To watch Brett. To make sure she and Leonard are okay. I know I told you to sleep, but-”

  “Say no more. I’m on my way.”

  “Marvin… I know what happened. I know who did it.”

  “Wait until you’re not so steamed up, Hap. You know who it is tonight, you’ll know who it is tomorrow, and you can put a plan together. Right now you’re acting on anger.”

  “I am at that.”

  “Cool some.”

  “Now’s the time,” I said.

  “Tomorrow we can get Jim Bob. Me. My leg is better. I’m sort of up to it now.”

  “No you’re not.”

  “You’re gonna hurt my feelin’s, Hap.”

  “Right now I don’t have room for that, my friend. I’m tellin’ it like it is. You’re not up to it, and I’m not waiting. And I don’t want to pull you or Jim Bob or anyone else into this. At least not directly. This is goddamn personal. And they don’t expect me to come to them. That’s the only edge I got. That and knowing you’re there with Brett and Leonard.”

  “Who are they?” Marvin asked. “Who are them?”

  “I told a certain someone that if I didn’t come back, they were to let you know what happened.”

  “Who’s that certain someone?”

  “You’ll know if I don’t come back.”

  It was a promise Vanilla had made me before I went upstairs to get the guns. If I didn’t come back, she’d let Marvin and Brett know, warn them that Devil Red would be after them. I hoped they were smarter than me. I hoped they’d take Vanilla’s advice and run. I hoped she would keep her word. I was pretty certain she would.

  Marvin said, “You sound a little dramatic.”

  “I feel a little dramatic,” I said.

  I heard Marvin sigh. “You doing something like whatever the hell you’re doing, and Leonard not being there… Man, that don’t seem right. I can’t think of one of you without the other. It’s like Siamese twins have been halved.”

  “Tell me about it,” I said.

  63

  It had started to snow. Real snow. Highly unusual for East Texas. The flakes were huge, like cotton balls. Normally snow in this area was little more than flakes that barely stuck and lasted about as long as it took to melt one on your tongue. If I hadn’t been on a mission to blow people’s brains out, I might have enjoyed its uniqueness and beauty. Right now, it was nothing more than a hindrance.

  I wasn’t far from where I wanted to go. There was a rest stop nearby and I pulled in there and tried to eat the sandwich because I thought I was crazy hungry, but it just turned out I was crazy scared. I drank a cup of coffee, slowly, because my hands were trembling. I turned on my overhead light and looked at the map Vanilla had drawn on a piece of paper. I studied it. I was close. I was very close. I turned off the light and sat and thought, and it seemed as if the trees in the roadside park were drawing nearer to me, as if the darkness between them were gathering together into something solid and demonic, trimmed in snow and ice.

  I squeezed my eyes shut, and then opened them. I didn’t look at the trees.

  I poured another cup of coffee and tried to work my courage up as I sipped it.

  My cell phone rang.

  I almost jumped out of my skin.

  It was Brett.

  “He’s slipping,” she said.

  “Oh, shit,” I said. I felt the bit of sandwich I had eaten churn in my stomach and nearly rise up.

  “Hap, I’m so sorry. They don’t think he’ll make it through the night.”

  “Goddamn it! Goddamn it to hell!”

  “They let me in to see him. They said I could come in because I’m all that’s here. I shouldn’t have told you to go. Oh, shit, Hap. I never thought he’d die.”

  “He isn’t dead yet.”

  “I held his hand. I told him you were taking care of things. I told him we loved him. Marvin is here. He’s out in the waiting room.”

  “I told him to watch over you,” I said.

  “He has a gun under his coat. And he gave me one. But really, a shootout in the hospital?”

  “I’m just being cautious… So the doctor said… no hope?”

  “Just said he was slipping away.”

  “Tell Leonard I have his hat.”

  “What?”

  “Whisper in his ear. Tell the big bastard I have his deerstalker, and if he wants it back, he’ll have to take it from me. Tell him, he dies, I’ll shit in it. You tell him that.”

  Brett laughed a little. It was strained, but it was a laugh.

  “I’ll tell him. If he can hear me, he’ll come back just to kick your ass.”

  “Right now I’d let him. You go back in there, and you take Leonard’s hand, and tell him his brother loves him. You hear me? You tell him that again. And you tell him what I said about his hat.”

  “I will,” she said.

  “I’m gone,” I said. “And so is the phone.”

  I turned off the phone. I rolled down the window and tossed the coffee from the cup and threw the cup on the floorboard and sat for a moment. My stomach was really churning now. I got out of the car quickly and walked around back of it and upchucked the sandwich and the coffee. It burned my throat.

  “Leonard. Don’t you die,” I said out loud.

  I got back in the car and got a Kleenex out of the glove box and wiped my lips. I tossed out the sandwich. I put a few of the breath mints in my mouth to kill the vomit taste. I pulled away from the rest stop onto the highway.

  Devil Red, I’m coming.

  64

  There was a little logging road, and according to Vanilla it went down behind Kincaid and Clinton’s property. I took it, bumped along, almost got stuck a couple of times, made my way to where the road stopped amid what looked like the results of a nuclear strike but was in fact the end product of logging. In the moonlight, I could imagine the snow as nuclear ash, all the world dead and turned to powder.

  Off to the south, that myth dissolved. The woods were thick there. Out there without lights, the moon behind cloud cover, all I could see were vague tree shapes, nature’s own palisades rising thick and wild against the dark sky.

  I got out with the. 38 Super and my flashlight and went crunching over the frozen leaves and pine needles to the trunk of the car and opened it up, removed the shotgun, and laid it on the roof. I opened the toolbox, got the snips, and removed a little strap-on headlight like the kind you use to read in bed so as not to wake up your partner. I turned it on and slipped it over the wool cap on my head. It wasn’t a big light, but it was a good enough light. I turned off the flashlight and put it in my coat pocket. I got a machete from the toolbox and the ammunition out of the trunk and stuffed my pockets with it. I m
ade sure I had the Super’s spare ammo clips where I could get to them quickly. The shotgun had a strap, so I slung it over my shoulder.

  I took a pee.

  I picked up a wad of snow and made a snowball in my gloved hand and threw it at a stump of a tree. I missed.

  I hoped that wasn’t an omen.

  I was ready as I was going to be.

  Way Vanilla had explained it, I had to go through the woods there, had to find my own trail, of which there were a few, and if I kept going south, I’d come to the high wall that led to the grounds of the estate. How to get over the wall was another matter, but Vanilla felt that since there were high woods on my side of the wall, on property other than their own, the logging company’s property, I could maybe find access that way.

  I didn’t think that far ahead. If I did I’d turn around whimpering and head back to the car.

  I tried several times to find a path but couldn’t. The woods were thick and dead winter vines were twisted up between the trees like ancient fencing. Worse, I was no longer exactly sure which way was south. It was too damn dark, and among the trees I couldn’t see anything but the whiteness of the snow and the occasional glare of moonlight on dangles of ice.

  I made an attempt to follow my instincts, knowing full well that could get me in deep doo-doo, but I went ahead with it.

  Hacking my way through the undergrowth, following the little beam of my head-strap light, I fought my way forward. At some point, I came upon a path through the trees and I followed that. It finally veered off to the right. I reluctantly abandoned it and started hacking again. I kept moving forward, inch by inch. I figured by the time I got through this mess and arrived, it would be two weeks from Tuesday.

  Even in the cold weather, wearing all those clothes and hacking away, I was steamed and had to pause to cool it. I opened my coat and leaned against a tree. I was glad Leonard and I had been doing more workouts as of late. I had dropped a few pounds and my wind was better. Still, I was tired.