The Devil's Right Hand

by J. D. Rhoades

  “I don’t know why you got to use those,” Raymond complained. “I’m so busted up I ain’t going nowhere.”

  “Yeah, right,” the cop said. “You got these doctors fooled, Raymond, but not us.” Raymond sighed with theatrical resignation, then lay back on the bed and lifted his arm. The cop snapped one cuff on Raymond’s right wrist and locked the other to the bed rail. Then he walked out to take up his position in the chair outside Raymond’s door. Raymond turned his head and looked out the window, waiting.

  Keller entered the hospital through the front entrance. He walked to the front desk, where a middle-aged woman in a blue and white striped uniform was talking on the phone. She had dark hair shot with streaks of white, cemented in place with enough hair spray to give it a shellacked appearance. Keller started to speak, but she silenced him with an upraised hand. “Fayetteville General,” she said in a singsong voice. “I’ll connect you..” He waited while she answered and routed several calls. Eventually, there was a lull in the traffic and she looked up at him. “May I help you?” she chirped.

  “I’m trying to locate a Crystal Lee Puryear?” he said.

  The woman turned and began tapping the keys of a computer terminal in front of her. “Are you a family member?” She asked. “It says here she’s to receive no visitors except...”

  “I’m her brother,” he lied. “Leonard.”

  “Room 433,” she said after a moment. “Follow the green line on the floor to the elevators, go up to the fourth floor, and follow the yellow lines to the patient rooms.”

  “Thanks,” he said, but she was already on another call.

  He found the room with only slight trouble. The door stood slightly ajar. He pushed it open gently.

  It was a double room. Crystal Puryear lay in the bed closest to the door, her face nearly as pale as the sheets. She was asleep or unconscious, and there was a thin clear oxygen tube crossing her face under her nose. There was a girl seated in the chair next to the bed, her hand resting lightly on Crystal’s. The girl stood up quickly as Keller entered.

  The girl was tall and painfully thin. Her narrow face was pale and nearly green in the glare of the harsh fluorescent light over the bed. Her light-brown hair was plaited in cornrows that hung in braids to beneath her shoulders. The braids were woven in with colored beads that rattled and clacked when she moved. She was dressed in a ragged midriff top that did what it could to emphasize almost non-existent breasts. A pair of frayed jeans was slung low on her slim, boyish hips.

  “Who are you?” she said. Her voice sounded slurred and Keller wondered if she was drunk. Then he noticed a flash of light reflecting off the metal stud through the girl’s tongue.

  “My name’s Keller,” he said. “I’m the one that brought her in.”

  “I’m Rita,” the girl said. She gave him a professional smile with no actual warmth.

  “She going to be okay?” Keller asked.

  The girl looked back at the pale figure on the bed, chewed her lower lip. “She’s going to live,” she said, “but she ain’t nowhere near okay.”

  “She been shooting up long?”

  The girl sat down and shook her head. “She never did anything like that before. Said she was scared of needles. She just did a little reefer, a little blow, nothing serious. But after her brother and her parents got killed, Jesus, in the same week and all--I guess she just decided what the fuck, y’know?”

  “What about that cousin of hers,” Keller said. “You know, DeWayne. Anybody contact him?”

  Another shake of the head. “Nobody knows where he is. They say he shot a cop. He’s on the run.”

  Keller shrugged, trying to appear casual. “I just thought, he’s the only family she has left. He ought to be here.”

  The girl laughed bitterly. “Right,” she said. “They hardly ever saw each other. Me and Mara, we’re the closest thing she has to family.”

  “Mara?”

  “We work together. I mean, not together, you know, although Mara and I used to do a show together sometimes. But the three of us worked at the same place.”

  “The club?”

  Rita looked puzzled, but quickly nodded. “Yeah. Right. The club.”

  She obviously didn’t know what Keller was talking about. The girl was another hooker, he realized.

  “Still,” he persisted. “Somebody ought to let him know. She ever tell you how to reach him?”

  “No,” she said. She looked up, suddenly suspicious. “How come you’re so interested in DeWayne, anyway?”

  “I know the family,” Keller said. “Maybe she told your boss something.”

  Rita’s face became hard. “What boss? Who the hell are--”

  “I talked to your boss on the phone,” Keller said. “She tried to call Crystal while I was driving her to the hospital.”

  Rita stood up. “What are you, a cop? Son of a..”

  Keller shook his head. “No. Not a cop.”

  “Her dealer then? Did you give that shit to her?” The girl advanced on him, her hands clutching at him like claws. Keller noticed her nails, They were at least two inches long. He didn’t feel like going up against them, so he backed up. “No,” he said firmly. “How many dealers you know would drive someone to the hospital when they OD’d?”

  The girl’s hands fell to her sides. “You trying to get Amber to work for you, maybe? Trying to steal her away? Let me tell you buddy, you don’t want to tangle with my boss. You may think she’s a pushover ‘cause she’s a woman. There’s people who’ve made that mistake. But she’s got people that’ll fuck you up, but good.”

  “Yeah, she likes to point that out. But I’m not a pimp, either,” Keller said. “So you can tell your boss that.”

  “What, you think she sent me down here?”

  “It’s a pretty good bet. I doubt you’d stir your ass out of bed otherwise.” The girl swung a clawed hand at his face. He caught her wrist and held it in a painful grip. She gritted her teeth, but didn’t cry out.

  “Tell your boss,” he said evenly, “That I’m not after her or Crystal. I’m after DeWayne.”

  “Hah,” Rita hissed. “I knew it. You are a cop.”

  Keller shook his head. “Nope. I work for DeWayne’s bondsman. I came to talk to Crystal--Amber--because she might know where he’d go if he was on the run.”

  The girl nearly spat into Keller’s face. “Fuck you. She isn’t going to tell you shit.”

  “Even if I knew,” a small voice said.

  They turned to look at the bed. Crystal’s eyes were open. Her face sagged with fatigue and sickness, and Keller saw what she would look like when she got old.

  Rita gave a scream of theatrical joy and threw herself on the bed beside Crystal, who winced with the jouncing. “Baby, sweetie,” Rita crooned, running her fingers through Crystal’s disheveled hair. “We were so worried about you.” She looked at Keller with an expression of spite on her face. “Don’t tell this guy anything, baby. He’s trying to arrest DeWayne.” She turned to him. “She isn’t going to tell, so you can just get the fuck out of here.”

  “She better,” Keller said. He looked at Crystal. “I want to bring DeWayne in, Crystal. And I actually have an interest in seeing him brought in alive. It’s the only way I get paid. But how many cops you think feel the same way, after he gunned one of them down? Somebody’s going to catch him. Nobody can run forever. How do you rate his chances if it’s a cop who finds him first?”

  Crystal closed her eyes. A tear ran down her cheek. She shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I don’t want to lose him, too. But I just don’t know anything.”

  “You see what you’ve done?” Rita snapped. “You got her all upset.” she turned back to Crystal. “Don’t you worry, sweetie, Mara went to get you some clothes and makeup. We’re going to get you out of here.”

  “Yeah,” Keller said. “She and your boss. They’ll have you flat on your back again in no time.”

  Rita turned to him. “Fuck you,” sh
e snarled.

  “Sorry,” Keller said, “but I’m a few bucks light right now.”

  He took a business card out of his wallet. He took a pen off the bedside table and wrote another number on the back. “Call me if you hear from DeWayne,” he said. “Or have him get in touch with me, I don’t care. But you know it’s his only chance.” He handed the card to Crystal.

  “Even if you don’t call me,” he said, “Call the other number I wrote on there. It’s a rehab center. A friend of mine runs it.” He walked to the door and leaned on the jamb. “You need to get out of the life, Crystal. It isn’t just Leonard and your parents’ death that’s pushing you over the edge.”

  “Don’t listen to him, baby,” Rita said, a note of pleading in her voice. “What does he know? He doesn’t care about you, he just wants to catch DeWayne.” Rita stretched out her hand to take the card away, but Crystal closed her hand over it. As Keller turned to go, she spoke up.

  “Thank you,” she said softly. “I’d probly’ve died if you hadn’t brought me in.”

  Keller stopped in the doorway. “It’s likely,” he said. “So I guess you owe me one. Call the number.”

  She stared at Keller, not speaking, as he walked out.

  Keller left the hospital and drove back to Marie’s house. When he got there, she was in the front yard. A blonde-haired boy about three years old was riding the Big Wheel down the driveway as Keller was pulling up, so he parked on the street. Marie came out of the garage as Keller was coming up the drive. She was dressed in a pair of white shorts and a man’s denim shirt tied beneath her breasts. Her hair was bound up in a pale blue and white scarf and there was a smudge of grime on her cheek. Keller stopped and watched her come towards him. “Trying to get the garage organized,” she explained. “There’s so much crap in there, I can’t even get the door closed.”

  “Looks like a big job.” Keller said.

  She looked away. “Yeah. Well. Just trying to stay busy. Keeps my mind off things. You know.”

  “I know,” Keller said. He felt strange and awkward. He wanted to kiss her, but was stayed by the solemn regard of the boy with the Big Wheel, who had stopped to regard him gravely. Keller and the boy stared at each other for a long moment, then the boy unhorsed himself from the Big Wheel, ran to Marie, and attached himself to her leg, where he watched Keller warily.

  “Ben,” Marie said, a laugh bubbling just under the surface of her voice, “this is Mister Keller. Can you say hello?”

  The boy’s answer was to bury his face in Marie’s thigh. She gave him a reassuring pat on the head. “How’d it go?” she said.

  Keller shrugged. It seemed somehow grotesque to discuss what he had seen in the hospital room in the middle of this domestic scene. “She doesn’t know anything.”

  She wiped the sweat from her brow. Keller wanted to gently wipe the smudge from her face, could imagine himself doing it, but the boy was staring at him again. “I got a Big Wheel,” the boy announced suddenly.

  “I can see that,” Keller said. “It looks like fun.”

  The boy pondered for a moment. “You want to ride?”

  “Thanks,” Keller said. “But it’s been a while. I might fall off and hurt myself.”

  “Okay,” the boy said. He detached himself from his mother’s leg and went back to the Big Wheel. He saddled up again and began industriously pedaling his way up the driveway, his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth with concentration. Keller and Marie watched him, standing a few feet apart.

  “You going to keep an eye on her in the hospital?” Marie asked finally.

  Keller shook his head. “She won’t be there long. She’s got no insurance, most likely, so they’ll show her the front door as soon as they can without risking a lawsuit. If she gets lucky, somebody will refer her to rehab. If not--well, I gave her the number of a friend of mine.”

  Marie turned in surprise to look at him. “You did?”

  “Yeah,” Keller said. “A guy--a doctor I knew in the Army runs a rehab center. Does good work. If he knows I sent her, he might not be so sticky about insurance questions. Why, are you surprised?”

  She shook her head, a slight smile on her face. “You’re a hard guy to figure out, Keller,” she said. “One minute, I feel like you’re staking the girl out like a goat set as tiger bait. The next, you’re sending her to rehab.” She slid her arm around his waist and kissed him on the cheek.

  He shrugged. “Maybe she goes, maybe she doesn’t. It’s not like it cost me anything. Besides, I finally decided that with as many people as he has chasing him, DeWayne Puryear would be an idiot to try to contact her at that hospital, anyway.”

  “C’mon, Crystal,” DeWayne muttered, “answer the damn phone.” He hunched over a little more, trying to make his face inconspicuous. The pay phone was stuck on a metal pole in the corner of a convenience store parking lot, and DeWayne felt as exposed as a bug on a sidewalk. He had considered calling from Debbie’s apartment, but he suddenly got paranoid about the possibility of phone taps and traces. That was the problem with that rock cocaine, he thought. It felt good going down, almost better than sex, but afterwards, when the blast wore off, you felt all jittery and sick and your mind kept running into all these dark places. All the colors looked too bright and sharp and the sound of the phone ringing was boring into his ear like a needle. He was about ready to slam the receiver down when he heard somebody pick up on the other end. A female voice said “Hello?”

  “Crystal?” DeWayne began. “It’s DeWayne.”

  There was a short pause. “Crystal’s not here. This is a friend of hers.”

  DeWayne took a deep breath. “Do you know when she’ll be back?”

  A longer pause. “She’s in the hospital.”

  Keller, DeWayne thought. The son of a bitch got to Crystal. “What happened? Who is this?”

  “I’m Mara,” the voice said. “I’m a friend of hers. We work together at the--we work together.”

  “What are you doing in Crystal’s house?”

  “Hey man,” the voice held an edge of irritation. “Ease up, all right? I came by to get some things for her. Clothes and shit. Don’t be gettin’ all in my--”

  “Is she hurt?” DeWayne asked. “What happened?”

  “Who did you say this was?” the voice demanded suspiciously.

  “It’s DeWayne, her cousin. I need to ask her about our folks. I need to find out what she knows.”

  “Oh. Yeah. She mentioned you.” The voice softened somewhat. “Sorry about your folks.”

  DeWayne resisted the urge to slam the phone against the side of the booth. “What happened to my cousin, damn it?”

  “Look, you don’t have to get all hostile, all right? I mean I know you’re upset and all, but I got feelings, too--”

  DeWayne was trying not to scream. “Look, I’m sorry. I just found out last night about my aunt and uncle. I’m upset. They raised me, y’know?”

  “Yeah, whatever,” the voice still sounded offended. “Anyway, Amber, I mean Crystal, didn’t take the news too well, you might say. She decided to check out for a while.”

  “What are you saying, she tried to kill herself?” DeWayne thought of feisty little Crystal, who would stand toe to toe with either he or Leonard and face them down when they were kids. He had trouble imagining her trying to do herself in.

  “Not, like directly. But she started in on the hard stuff. She always told me she’d never do nothin’ like that. She tol’ me she was afraid of needles. But I guess you know after what happened, she just wanted to get away for a while, y’know what I’m sayin’?”

  DeWayne thought of the rock he had smoked at Debbie’s. He remembered the desperate need he had felt for numbness. “Yeah,” he said. “I know what you’re saying. Where’s she at?”

  “Fayetteville General,” Mara said. “Room 433.”

  “Thanks,” DeWayne said.

  “No problem,” Mara said. “And sorry again, about everything. Hell of a thing to hap
pen.”

  “Yeah,” DeWayne said. “Hell of a thing. Thanks.” He hung up. He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders as he walked back to Debbie’s car. She was seated in the driver’s seat, staring blankly out the window.

  “Crystal’s in the hospital,” he said as he slid into the passenger seat.

  “Hmmm,” Debbie said. She sounded utterly disinterested.

  “I gotta go see her,” DeWayne said.

  Debbie turned back to him. “You said we was gonna get some more rocks,” she said.

  The whine in her voice set his teeth on edge. “I got more important things to do right now than get you high, bitch,” he said.

  She looked sulky. “Maybe you can just get out of my damn car, then.”

  DeWayne reached between the seats and pulled out the gun. He jammed it up under her chin. “And maybe you can just shut the fuck up,” he snarled.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’m sorry. Just don’t hurt me.” Her eyes were wide with fear, but there was something else there, too, something very much like excitement. He heard her breathing quicken. “I’ll do anything you want.”

  The blood pounded in DeWayne’s temples and the sickness came back in a wave. Suddenly, he wanted another hit of the thick white smoke worse than anything else in the world. “Jesus,” he said. You are one twisted bitch.” He lowered the gun.

  “Just drive,” he said wearily. “We’ll get some more. Then we’ll go find Crystal.”

  She smiled brightly, like a child promised a trip to the candy store. She dropped her hand from the steering wheel to squeeze his thigh. “Now you’re talkin’ baby,” she said. She put the car in Drive and returned her hand to his leg. “Now you’re talkin’”.

  Raymond looked up as the door opened. He saw the heavy silver cart from which the meals for the entire floor were distributed by a cheerful young black guy dressed in the light blue coveralls that were the uniform of the hospital’s service staff. The last time Raymond had seen him, the man pushing the cart had been dressed in a flannel shirt and a baseball cap.