Die Laughing: 5 Comic Crime Novels

by Steve Brewer

  Walznick’s head jerked up quickly. “He what?”

  “That’s right, you probably thought we were just out here to burn the weed and take you in. But it’s a little more complicated than that. See, the guy was an asthmatic, and he died because of your pot. Now, I’m guessing you treated your crop with all kinds of pesticides and herbicides. And seeing as how you’re not exactly a Rhodes scholar, you probably had no idea what you were doing. Your negligence adds up to involuntary manslaughter, at least.”

  Walznick was shaking his head back and forth. “Shit. Shit!”

  Garza was taking his time, enjoying himself. “You could be looking at five to twenty years. Twenty years is a long time, when you think about it, isn’t it? Remember when you were eight years old, playing war games and sneaking peeks at your daddy’s nudie magazines? How would you like to have been in jail since way back then? That’s how long of a stretch we’re talking about.”

  Walznick was now breathing very heavily. Just about to talk, Garza thought.

  “Charles, any second now, one of my men is gonna holler out. That will mean he’s found the first of your plots. I’m sure you’ve got small ones all over the place. But I’ll make you a deal. If you start talking before one of my men hollers, telling me the whole story about your little farm here—who you deal to, who helps you with the operation, how you got the money to buy this place—I promise you…” Garza paused. “Look at me, Charles.”

  Walznick’s head came up out of his hands and he looked Garza in the eyes.

  Garza continued. “I promise you, I’ll do what I can to help you out. I mean, it seems obvious to me that you didn’t intend for the guy to die. But if you don’t talk, I’ll make you a different promise. I will do everything in my power—everything—to fuck up your life. I’ll make sure you get sent to Huntsville for a good, long time.”

  Walznick nodded his head just in time, as one of the men whistled loudly from a few hundred yards away.

  15

  ROY SWANK FINALLY joined Oscar by the pool at nine-thirty. The weather was still and cool, in the fifties, and it looked like it was going to be a beautiful Texas autumn day, with plenty of sunshine.

  Roy said good morning to Oscar and sat down next to him. Oscar nodded, but did not look up from his newspaper. The Colombian had a portable radio on the table and was singing along with it…something about being “too sexy for his pants.”

  Roy was in a bathrobe and slippers, and began to feel a little self-conscious sitting there with no conversation. He sipped orange juice and waited, sensing that something was wrong. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a great day after all.

  Just as Roy was about to speak, Oscar turned the radio off and asked, “Who are Red and Billy Don?”

  Swank was puzzled. How did Oscar know those names? For some reason, Swank always felt like he should lie to Oscar, thinking the less the Colombian knew, the better. But it seemed an innocent-enough question, so Swank told him that those were the two men who had helped him take the deer back from Phil Colby.

  “And where are they now?” Oscar asked, still not looking up from the paper.

  “Hell if I know. I’m done with those two. Like you say, you gotta deal with professionals only, and those guys are rank amateurs.” Swank was making an effort to appease Oscar, his way of saying, See, I’ve been listening to you, and I’m trying to do things your way.

  Oscar folded the paper neatly and placed it on the table. “What would you say if I tole you that they are locked up in your house right now?”

  Swank smiled, and then his mouth fell open as he realized Oscar was telling the truth.

  Oscar continued, his voice beginning to rise. “Yes, the two men you have trusted before, men who know things they should not know, came to your house lass night. I believe their intention was to steal back the deer, for whatever reason. Maybe to milk more money out of you. But they have too much whiskey and become clumsy and loud. I shoot one of them, and…”

  “You shot one of them?” Swank echoed in amazement.

  “Yes, but he ees fine. Just a small wound. Big man like that, ees no problem for him.” Oscar paused and looked at the sun rising over the oak trees around the pool. “Also, who is Thomas Stovall?”

  “He’s one of my neighbors. Why?”

  Oscar recounted Thomas Stovall’s tale at the tavern the night before, and told about breaking into the game warden’s vehicle to retrieve the white powder.

  “Shit. This whole thing is coming unglued,” Swank said.

  “You are right, my frien’. These men, we cannot have them running around causing trouble. Now is the time for me to call in some of mis amigos from my country.”

  “What for?” Swank was getting wound-up, but he was determined not to let it show.

  “Something must be done with all of these…what you call loose ends. This Red and Billy Don. The game warden and his frien’. We must find a way to convince them to leave us alone, to go about our business. My frien’s, they are experts at convincing people in such matters.”

  The last thing Swank wanted was a bunch of swarthy thugs running around his property. So he tried a new approach with Oscar: brashness. “Fuck your friends,” he said, pounding his fist on the table. “That damn game warden doesn’t know a thing. I already told him we’re giving the deer back, so he’ll get off our backs after that. Like you said, he ain’t got nothing on us without the powder. And Red and Billy Don, hell, we just pay ‘em a few bucks and they’ll go on their merry way. I don’t see why we need any of your buddies up here.”

  Swank looked out of the corner of his eye to see how Oscar would react. Swank had never spoken that forcefully to Oscar before. The Colombian merely smiled. Then he spoke in a calm, collected manner. “Who is running thees operation?”

  Swank hated to answer that one. It was always an unspoken understanding that Oscar was the boss, but Swank hated to admit it out loud. “You are,” he said bitterly.

  “Yes, I am,” Oscar said. “And I am bringing in some help. Some men I can trust.”

  At that point, Swank truly didn’t give a damn anymore. Frankly, he was tired, and he didn’t want to deal with any of this mess. His mind was humming, thinking that if Oscar’s men could find a way to end all these problems, then what the hell. “Fine,” he said, still trying to sound like the decision was a mutual one. “Bring your boys on up. Let ‘em help us out a little bit.”

  Oscar went inside to call his men, while Roy Swank sat on the patio, wishing he had some men of his own. He had an uneasy feeling that he might need some soon.

  Oscar was surprised. Swank had reacted more bravely than he had anticipated. If Swank could show a little machismo, without panicking, maybe there was still a way to salvage the remaining merchandise. After all, the game warden named Marlin no longer had the drugs. Popping the truck door open was easy, and the glove box wasn’t even locked. These Americans were far too trusting…but that was a fortunate thing in this case.

  So all the game warden could really say was that he had found a white powder on the ground. The federales from the DEA would ask: How do you know it came from the deer? How do you know the powder was drugs? Marlin would not only be ridiculed, he wouldn’t even be able to get a search warrant. Especially not with Swank’s connections. So Oscar felt confident that Marlin would do nothing.

  The thing to do now, Oscar decided, was to continue with business as usual, with one exception. Bring no more merchandise to the Circle S Ranch. Simply unload what’s already here, and then abandon Swank for another wealthy American who was equally greedy.

  And if Swank objected to that, Oscar’s men would be here to deal with him.

  Marlin stuck his head into the hospital room, expecting Phil Colby to look pretty awful. He wasn’t disappointed. But his best friend was awake, thank God, and that’s what really mattered. Colby was lying back, hand on the remote control, watching a Spurs game on TV.

  “Knock, knock,” Marlin said, swinging the door open.

>   Colby looked in Marlin’s direction. “John?”

  “Who were you expecting, the Pope?” Marlin said. Maybe some light humor would keep him from getting choked up.

  Marlin walked up to the bed and the two men clasped hands. “Goddamn, buddy, you look pretty lame. You’d think you’ve been in a coma or something.”

  “You don’t know the half of it,” Colby said, easing himself up a little straighter in bed. “My head feels like I been kicked by a mule. They say I still have a pretty good concussion. But they don’t want to give me any painkillers until they know I’m gonna be conscious for a while.”

  Marlin eyed the heavy bandage across Colby’s forehead. “I guess you got some stitches….”

  “About twenty. Right behind the hairline, though, so it won’t mess up my movie-star looks. Plus a little double vision, vertigo, and I get a little confused now and then and think I’m a Vegas showgirl.”

  Marlin grinned from ear to ear. It was the old Colby, cracking jokes and taking things in stride. Damn, what a nice thing to see.

  Colby griped a little about the hospital food and the boredom that came with watching TV all day, but it didn’t take him long to get around to the big question: “So where’s Buck?”

  Marlin had been contemplating just how much to tell Colby about the last few days. He didn’t want to load Colby down with a bunch of worries when he should be concentrating on getting better and getting out of the hospital. So Marlin had made up his mind on the way to the hospital to keep the details to a minimum. At least he could tell him the truth about Buck. He told him about the message from Roy Swank, and added that he felt confident that Swank wasn’t pulling a fast one. “When he returns Buck, believe me, I’ll keep an eye on him personally until you get home. The only thing I’m wondering is how Buck got back over to Swank’s place. He said that Buck just showed up one day…”

  “We both know that’s a load of shit,” Colby said. “Whoever cracked my skull took him.”

  “Any idea who it was?”

  “It’s a real pisser. I can’t hardly remember anything. All I know is that I was closing up shop and someone knocked on the door. I look out the window and there’s two guys standing there in Moe and Curly masks.”

  “In what?”

  “In masks like Moe and Curly…you know, from The Three Stooges. Next thing I know, I’m waking up here last night.”

  “You don’t remember anything they said?”

  “Nothing. I don’t even know whether they came into the shop or not.” Colby bit his lip. “I guess I might have told them where Buck was.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. We’re getting him back.”

  “John, what in the hell do you think is going on? Would Swank really resort to this kind of crap just to get Buck back? We’re talking about a bunch of felonies here, right? I mean, to you and me, getting Buck back is a big deal. But Swank has dozens of deer just like him. What’s so special about Buck all of a sudden?”

  Marlin wanted to spill his guts, to say, Oh, it’s no big deal, I just think Swank is running some kind of drug ring out there, importing deer with narcotics surgically implanted inside them. But he kept quiet. Now was not the time. Marlin just shook his head and said he was doing his best to find out. Then he changed the subject. “Any idea when you’re getting out?”

  “So far, all they’re saying is that it will be at least a few days. But to tell you the truth, I don’t really mind.” Colby had a sly grin on his face.

  “Man, I’d be climbing the walls,” Marlin said.

  “I would, too, except I think I’m falling in love with one of the nurses.”

  Marlin’s stomach lurched.

  “She’s sweet and funny,” Colby said. “And man, you gotta see her, John. She looks like Julia Roberts.”

  16

  RED O’BRIEN COULDN’T decide whether he should be angry or afraid. After all, here they were, tied up in a room in Roy Swank’s house. What kind of gratitude was that for the job they had done? And who was that Meskin man anyway? He sure didn’t act like the wetbacks they had around Blanco County. Those boys knew their place. Sure, they might get to drinking sometimes and get a little big for their britches. But most the time, they kept quiet and did what they were told. Fear of deportation is what it was. But not this guy from last night. Hog-tied all three of them, including the stripper, and dumped them in this small room. And Billy Don was lying over there bleeding and moaning. Well, whimpering, really, because of the tape over his mouth.

  There was only one chair in the room, a big leather recliner, and Red and Billy Don had let the stripper have it for the night. Right now, she was fast asleep, snoring like a bloodhound.

  Red could feel the nylon ski rope around his wrists. He had been trying to loosen it all night, and he thought he was making headway. His skin was getting pretty raw, but he was getting used to it. He wasn’t a crybaby like Billy Don. Man, he’d love to get himself free and go looking for that Meskin. Red had just started working on the rope again when the door opened and the man entered.

  “Good morning, my frien’s,” the man said with a fake smile. “I trust that you sleep well.” He walked over and looked down at Billy Don, as if making sure he was still alive. Then he stood over the stripper and put his hand on her cheek. She woke up with a gurgle from behind her taped mouth. The man eased the tape off the girl’s mouth while holding a finger to his lips, telling her to keep quiet. Then he removed a pocketknife from his trousers, leaned behind her, and cut her free. “You just stay right there,” the man said. She rubbed her wrists but remained seated quietly on the chair.

  The man turned to face Red and Billy Don. “My name is Oscar. Mr. Swank confirm who you are…Red and Billy Don. I think maybe we both make mistakes lass night. You should not have been on the property…and perhaps I should not have shot at you. But I think maybe you meant no harm.” He smiled as Billy Don began nodding rapidly. “So I come in here to find out why you were really here lass night. I think maybe you will tell me now.”

  The man walked over to where Billy Don was leaning against the wall. “Beeg man…you look honest to me.” Billy Don nodded again, with wide eyes. The man bent down and peeled the tape off Billy Don’s face. “Tell me…why were you here?”

  Billy Don looked in Red’s direction, so Oscar stepped in between them, blocking Billy Don’s view. Billy Don stammered for a minute and then said, “Well, we just had a little too much to drink and wanted to show Crystal that big ol’ deer we rescued.”

  Oscar’s smile slowly faded. He knelt down beside Billy Don and unfolded the knife. “Let’s have a look at the gunshot you received last night.” Oscar then cut away a swatch from Billy Don’s shirt to reveal a hole the size of a pencil eraser in Billy Don’s flabby midsection.

  “Mister, that buckshot you used on me last night shore tore me up,” Billy Don whimpered. “I think I need to go to a hospital.”

  “You are lucky you were just hit one time. Tell me the truth and you will be free to go wherever you wish. Why were you here lass night?”

  “I already told you. Hell, we was just having a little fun.”

  Oscar shook his head and stared at Billy Don. Then, without warning, he leaned down and worked his forefinger into the huge man’s wound, tearing it open wider. Billy Don cried out in pain. Oscar got right in Billy Don’s face. “You feel that? You feel me moving your intestines around? Yes, I believe you are right…you need a doctor. But first tell me the truth.”

  Tears ran down Billy Don’s cheeks, but he shook his head in defiance. Oscar said, “I now have my finger around your intestines. Start talking…or I’ll start pulling. You end up looking at your own guts lying on the floor.” To the amazement of the other three people in the room, Billy Don remained quiet. His eyelids fluttered, as if he were about to faint. Oscar’s finger came back out of the wound…and with it, a narrow, gray tube of intestine. “Look!” Oscar said, like a child spotting a butterfly. “I can see wha’ you had for dinner lass n
ight.” He smiled at his own sick joke.

  “Okay!” Billy Don yelled.

  “Tell me the truth.”

  “Just quit pulling!”

  “The truth,” Oscar said, having fun with this little game.

  “We was gonna steal the deer back from Mr. Swank and then sell it to him again,” Billy Don couldn’t talk fast enough. “It was wrong and stupid and we never should have done it.” His eyes remained locked in fear on Oscar’s finger and the protruding U-shaped portion of his own entrails that the finger was hooked around.

  “All you wanted was the money?” Oscar asked.

  “We figgered if he paid us once he’d pay us twice.”

  “Do you know why that deer ees so special?”

  “No idear. Honest.”

  Oscar gently prodded Billy Don’s intestines back into the cavernous belly. He stood and faced Red. “That deer is Mr. Swank’s most productive stud. He values him most greatly.” Oscar handed his knife to Crystal and said, “Cut them loose. And then all three of you…leave this property and do not come back.”

  Oscar turned on his Italian heels and left the room.

  John Marlin struggled long and hard with the idea of calling Nurse Becky Cameron. He asked himself, Am I really interested in this woman—I mean, really interested? Then he realized, just by asking himself that question, he already knew the answer. What’s more, he had a reason to call her, a matter of official business.