“Well, I figure his daddy faxed his cum to his momma when she had the telephone shoved up her cunt. It’s called nigger phone sex.”
Country guffawed. “Goddamned niggers!”
Ace watched Kandie squirm over his racist remarks, although he knew she wouldn’t dare correct him. “Hey, Country, let's watch our language.” Ace pointed at Lloyd, who appeared spellbound. “Whadaya say, Bud?”
Lloyd’s eyes lit up. “Watch me fight, Ace.” The four-year-old stood and once again tried unsuccessfully to perform the kick box routine Ace had showed him.
“Keep it up, tiger, and you’ll learn,” Ace said, patting the boy on the head.
Later, after Carmen put Melody to bed and sent the two older kids to their room to play, Ace suggested a game of gin rummy. He’d gotten fond of this pastime while both in the Navy and in prison. He patiently explained the game to Country, who nodded as if he understood.
“Just pick up a card and lay another one down,” Ace said, exasperated. “Try to find cards that look alike. We’re really playing each other, Kandie.”
Suddenly, car lights dimmed and brightened in rapid succession, causing Ace to walk over and twist shut the vertical blinds covering the patio doors.
“It’s probably just some high school kids messing around in the parking lot,” Kandie said hastily.
Then a car horn sounded incessantly.
“What the fuck,” Ace said irritably, getting up again. “There ain’t no parking lot on this side of the building, Kandie. Just a street angling off the other way. They’d have to drive the car up on the lawn to shine the lights in here.”
“Just ignore it, Ace,” Kandie pleaded, reaching out an arm to stop him. “It’s probably just some drunk. Don’t get involved. We don’t want the police out here.”
“Drunk or not, he keeps it up much longer and I’m gonna go out and tell the sonofabitch to take his act somewhere else.”
Ace got three beers from the refrigerator and set them on the table. They resumed playing cards until the front door of the apartment burst open, and Hank and Melvin walked in. He recognized them from the dust up at The Stadium. His broken collarbone was still an irritant.
“Since you wouldn’t come outside, we decided to come in,” Hank said, holding up a key for everyone to see.
Ace saw the gun Hank had in his other hand and the baseball bat Melvin carried. “You two fuckers just don’t know how to fight fair, do you,” he said, jerking Country to his feet and shoving him several feet away so as to divide Hank and Melvin’s attention.
“Hank, what are you doing here?” Kandie demanded. “You start any trouble and the police will come!” She walked to the hallway and locked the bedroom door where the two older kids slept. Reversing the lock had been the only effective way to keep Lloyd in his room at night.
“You’re gonna need an ambulance before the police,” Hank said, causing Melvin to snicker.
Ace could tell both of them had been drinking to get their courage up. He smiled at Melvin, who still wore a strip of tape across his broken nose. In a perverse sense, Ace relished the energy and anticipation the situation had created.
Hank waved the gun at Ace and Country. “Both of you lie face down on the floor.”
“No, please, Hank!” Kandie cried. “Let them go and I’ll do anything you want.”
“What do you think, Melvin?” Hank asked his partner. “You want to double dip Kandie after we take care of these two pussies?”
While they discussed their sexual fantasies, Ace boldly put his right boot on the chair, so he could easily reach one of the throwing knives. If Hank thought that was a suspicious motion, he didn’t react quickly enough, because Ace extracted the knife and with the same motion whipped it underhanded at a tremendous speed. It didn’t even turn over as the four-inch blade buried itself into Hank’s chest, at about the top of his rib cage. Hank dropped the gun, stepped backward, and stared stupidly at the knife, as if a comet from outer space had just hit him.
Melvin froze initially, but then took two steps forward and started to swing the bat at Ace, but Country charged him and grabbed the bat in mid-air as if it were a toothpick. Country flung the bat to the floor and then grabbed Melvin by the neck with both hands, just as he’d done in the bar. He lifted Melvin off the floor, carried him three steps forward and slammed his head against the front door. The impact even made Ace wince, although he recovered quickly and said, “Good job, Country!”
Country released his grip and Melvin fell to the floor. Ace repositioned himself and delivered a powerful kick to Melvin’s face, knocking him unconscious. The steel-toed boot knocked out two front teeth, and split Melvin’s lip, which bleed profusely. “That’s for the broken collarbone, asshole!”
“Golly!” Country said, amazed at the rapid action that took no more than fifteen seconds.
Kandie held her face and cried, but not loudly, presumably so as not to disturb the kids. But it was too late as Lloyd banged on the locked door and shouted, “What’s goin’ on, Momma!”
She shouted. “Nothing! We got more company, Lloyd. Go to sleep!”
Hank had staggered backwards and collapsed onto a sofa, where he continued to stare in amazement at the bloodstain spreading across the front of his gray shirt. His mouth formed words that never came out. Finally, his eyes rolled back into his head and he slumped sideways. Ace bent over him and pulled his knife from Hank’s stomach, and then wiped the blade on Hank’s shirt to remove the blood.
“Jesus, Ace, I think you killed Hank,” Kandie said, without much emotion.
Ace put two fingers to the side of Hank’s neck. “Nah, he just passed out.” Ace knelt and similarly checked Melvin, who also was unconscious but had a rapid heartbeat.
“What are we going to do?” Kandie said, hugging herself and hopping up and down in fear.
“We’ll take them to the hospital,” Ace said, putting the throwing knife back in the boot holster. He fished in Hank’s pocket to find his car keys. He picked up Hank’s gun and jammed it behind his pants’ belt.
“That’s a good idea, Ace,” Kandie said. “Isn’t it? I mean, they had a gun and a baseball bat. No one can blame you for defending us, can they?”
“Nope,” Ace said calmly. “I’ll take care of everything. Don’t worry, Kandie. You just keep quiet about all this. Don’t call anyone. Understand? I’ve had some trouble with the police before. They might try to frame me for this.”
“Really, Ace?”
He walked over and stood in front of her. “Yeah. They’re sure to ask about you and Hank and your relationship, and how he used a key to get into your apartment. They might call it a lover’s triangle or something like that. Say it started that day Hank and Melvin attacked us in The Stadium. They might even think you set Hank up by inviting him over tonight so he’d start a fight and I’d kill him. Even if the police only took you in for questioning, they’d probably call Children and Family Services to take your kids. We don’t want that, baby, do we?”
Kandie put her hands to her face. “Oh, no, Ace! No.”
Lloyd continued to pound on the door and demand to be let out. Cindy, on the other hand, didn’t say a word.
“I’ll make sure everything works out fine,” Ace said. “We’ll talk tomorrow, Kandie. Until then, you keep all this to yourself, okay?”
“Okay, Ace. Be careful.”
“What kind of car does Hank drive?”
“A red Firebird, remember.”
Ace parted the patio door blinds and looked out at the car parked on the street. “Wrap a towel around Hank so he doesn’t bleed on anything,” he said. “I'll be right back.”
He went out the north exit and jogged across the lawn to the Firebird. Using the remote key, he opened the trunk to look at the contents. He saw a pair of leather gloves, which he put on. He grabbed a large toolbox and closed the trunk lid. He opened the front door and slid the toolbox onto the floor behind the driver’s seat. He got in, started the car, and drove around
to the south entrance. He backed the car into an area painted with white hash marks. Beyond that, a sidewalk led to the apartment hallway. He kept the motor running and popped the trunk lid. Standing beside the car, Ace looked around the apartment complex, but didn’t see anyone.
Inside the apartment, Ace kissed Kandie, whose cheek felt like ice. “We're gonna go now, sweetheart. Stay inside. I’ll call you later on your new cell phone. Don’t call anyone, not even Carmen.”
“Oh, Ace, I'm so scared.”
He told Country, “Get Melvin up. Put his arm over your shoulder like he’s drunk and you’re helping him to the car.” Ace demonstrated with Hank. “Get the door, Kandie, and check the hallway.”
She peered into the hallway and said, “It's clear.”
With Ace leading the way, they carried and dragged the two semiconscious men toward the Firebird’s open trunk. Ace threw Hank in first and Country did the same with Melvin.
Holding the trunk lid so it was nearly closed, Ace looked around but still didn’t see anyone. That didn’t mean someone in an adjoining building wasn’t peeking through the blinds. He also knew that most people didn’t like to get involved in potential trouble.
“What’re we gonna do now, Ace?”
Ace had already decided. “Get in. You’re gonna drive the Firebird.”
“Where we going, Ace?”
“I’ll tell you in a minute.”
After Country got into the car, Ace lifted the trunk lid, his eyes darting left and right. A light illuminated the trunk and its contents. Ace again had a knife in hand. He pulled the towel from around Hank’s upper body and held it in his right hand as a splatter shield. Ace stabbed Melvin in the throat, thrusting at an angle so the blood would shoot out to the side. The arcing, blackish-red stream initially soaked the front of Hank’s flannel shirt, and then became a trickle.
Ace reached across Melvin and slapped Hank’s face several more times until he revived. Hank stared incomprehensibly at Ace, who said, “Your little game didn’t turn out to be any fun at all, did it, motherfucker?” He slit Hank’s throat across the Adam’s apple. The tissue was a pristine pinkish color just before the rush of blood.
Ace used the towel to wipe blood from his knife and gloves. He took off the gloves and put them in a back pocket. Then, Ace slammed the trunk lid, looked around, and put the knife in its boot holster. He walked to the driver’s side of the Pontiac and said to Country, “Give me the keys to your pickup. I’ll follow you.”
“We goin’ to the hospital, Ace?”
“Naw, I just checked and those guys aren’t hurt that bad. They’ll be up and walkin’ pretty soon.”
“Really, Ace?”
“Yeah. Don’t you fish around here?”
“Yeah,” Country replied, stupefied.
“Any deep lakes or quarries nearby?”
Country thought for a few minutes. “There’s a big lake in Canyon Park. They stock it with bass, Ace. ’Cept, you gotta throw back any fish that’s under ten inches.” Country held out both hands to demonstrate.
“How far is that?”
“Fifteen, twenty minutes.”
“Okay, that’s where we’re goin’.”
“What we gonna do with those guys in the trunk, Ace?”
Ace explained patiently. “We're gonna run their car into the lake and make them walk back to town, Country.”
Country began his hiccup-type chuckling. “That’s a good one, Ace.”
“Drive carefully, Country. You don’t want the cops picking you up tonight.”
Ace jogged back to Kandie’s apartment and knocked on the door. She opened it and said, fearfully, “Yeah?”
“Country’s on the way to the hospital. I’m gonna follow in his pickup. I’ll get my car later. I want you to clean up any blood you can find on the sofa, the door or the floor. Use Clorox. Okay?”
“Sure, Ace, anything you say.”
∞ ∞ ∞
Ace followed the Firebird as it left the apartment complex, turned south on a state highway and then onto the beltway that circled the city. Within ten minutes, Country turned off the beltway onto a blacktopped county road. After traveling about eight miles west, the Firebird turned north into Canyon Park. A sign at the entrance warned that the park closed promptly at 11 p.m. It was nine-thirty.
They drove both vehicles over the dam of the lake that Ace calculated to be nearly a mile long and a quarter-mile wide. Immediately after he crossed the dam, Country turned the Firebird into a parking space within twenty feet of the lake. A solitary street light illuminated the area.
Ace parked the pickup beside the Firebird and rolled down the passenger’s side window. “Too much light here,” he said to Country. “And the ground is too level. Is there some place dark where we can get close to the lake? That’s like on a hill?”
The act of thinking brought a pained look to Country's face. “There’s a baseball field where they only turn the lights on during a game, I think.”
They drove to another parking lot that separated the baseball field from the east end of the lake. They parked both vehicles in front of a metal guardrail separating the graveled parking area from the field. Ace got out of the pickup and surveyed the scene. He stepped over the guardrail and walked to a high bank about five feet above the water. Country got out of the Firebird to join him.
“How deep is it here?” Ace asked.
“It drops off pretty quick, Ace. I fished off the bottom here once. It’s probably about fifteen feet, I guess.”
Ace inspected the steel guardrail closely. Bolts and nuts attached eight-foot sections of the railing to four-inch square wood posts. He didn’t like having to mess with it but this area was the only accessible dark spot on the lake. Best of all, the land sloped toward the lake.
Ace took the toolbox from the backseat of the Firebird. He rummaged through it until he found a Crescent wrench. He handed it to Country and said, “Use this to remove those bolts on the guardrail, and then take out the section right in front of the Firebird.”
While Country went about his task, Ace kept a watch in case the park rangers decided to do an early drive-through before closing.
“I’m done, Ace.”
Ace again put on the gloves, opened the driver’s side door of the Firebird, reached in and turned the ignition key. The car started to life for one final time. Ace picked up the section of guardrail and placed one end of it on the accelerator. He reached into the car and slipped the gear selection lever into drive. Then, he pressed hard on the accelerator with the steel beam and ran alongside the car as it picked up speed. He let go of the guardrail at the last minutes. It fell to the ground as the Firebird went over the embankment and into the water. At first, it seemed the car had not landed far enough out in the lake. However, the Firebird inched forward and downward slowly. It disappeared in less than a minute.
“But Hank and Melvin are still in the trunk,” Country protested. “They’ll drown!”
“Think so,” Ace said scornfully, as he picked up the section of guardrail and put it back in place, held only by two bolts. He didn’t bother to tighten the nuts. Then, Ace took off the bloody gloves and walked toward the pickup. “You drive,” he said to Country. “We’ll go to Rhonda’s trailer and stay there again this evening.”
Country remained sullen, and pouted as he drove back toward the city.
“Look, they was fuckin’ with us,” Ace said. “If they coulda, they’d’ve shot us or busted our brains open with that bat, right? We’d be dead now. Would you feel better then?”
“You should’ve told me what we was doin’, Ace.”
“Why? So you could chickenshit out? Tell me I couldn’t do it.”
Country sulked. “No.”
Ace rolled down the window and threw the gloves into the ditch alongside the road. “Look, when you was a kid, you probably had a bunch of cats and dogs on that farm where you grew up in Dogpatch, right. When a new litter arrived, did you keep all of ʼem?”
&
nbsp; Country's eyes brightened with the memory. “No, if we couldn’t sell ʼem, Daddy would put ʼem in a sack and drop ʼem in the lake!”
Ace laughed. “There you go. We just did the same thing, Country. There’s a helluva lot more people in the world than there are cats. There really ain’t any difference. Some animals is good, right? And, some is mean. We just got rid of two mean and useless human beings.”
Country turned his head and flashed a half-witted smile. “If you say so, Ace.”
To Ace, there really was no difference at all.
But doubts still plagued the moron. “It ain’t right to kill people, Ace.”
“Says who?”
As if reciting, Country said, “My Mom and Dad said it was against God’s law. Thou shalt not kill.”
“And what the fuck’s God gonna do about it?”
“You’ll go to hell, Ace.”
“What happens to you there, dummy?”
“You burn for all eternity.”
“How long’s that?” Ace asked, relinquishing the interrogation.
Country squinted, searching for the answer. “I don’t know, Ace. A long time, I guess.”
“If there is a God, Country, he’s as psychotic as I am. He does a million times more damage in a minute than you or I could do in a lifetime.”
“You sure, Ace?”
“Positive. God kills people all the time, by the hundreds, thousands and millions. Men, women and children. He does it with cancer, accidents, fire, murder, earthquakes and wars. Religious wars. He must spend most of his time trying to figure how to torture and kill his creations. Once, he got pissed and drowned everyone except Noah and his animals. All because they wouldn’t do what he told them. I’m not sure there is a God, Country, except the one people invented so they wouldn’t go crazy with the fear of dying. Life is mainly about dying, Country. It’s what we’re aiming for from the day we’re born. So there ain’t no use being afraid of it, right?”
“I guess so, Ace.”
Ace smiled broadly. “Everybody dies, so if you kill ʼem a few years early, it don’t mean anything. Not if you’re dead for eternity, right, Country?”
The Money Game Page 29