Down Don't Bother Me (9780062362209)

by Miller, Jason

  “Anything come of it? Anything physical, I mean.”

  I shook my head. “Not even hard words. I’ll tell you, that surprised me a bit. The boy’s a buzz saw in a world of forest. I thought it’d go hard, but he seemed eager to let the whole thing slide.”

  Willard sighed. He turned to Wince and Wince shrugged. He didn’t look at Dave. He didn’t care what Dave thought, I guess. Dave noticed it, too, and sulked it up something fierce. Finally, Willard looked at me again.

  “Well, that’s a problem then. You say you left Reeves this afternoon, and apparently some time between then and around four thirty or five he must have dispatched his boys to pay you a visit.”

  “Or later, possibly,” I said. “I didn’t see them until tonight.”

  “Or possibly later,” he agreed. “Funny thing is, we’ve spent the last couple of hours trying to run him to ground, but we’ve come up empty. No one seems to know where he’s at. You got any sense of why that might be?”

  We sat there for a long moment. If this were a crappy novel, there’d be a line here about a dog barking in the distance.

  Finally, I said, “You think something’s happened to him?”

  “I think that’s possible, yes. Maybe he’s run off from something. Something threatening, if you follow me. Another possibility is, he’s already cold as a crate of Russian hammers.”

  “Or maybe he just doesn’t keep regular hours. He’s in that kind of business.”

  “He is,” Willard said. “Problem is, someone torched one of the kid’s flops this evening. One of those of those awful places at the trailer park outside Carbondale. Obvious arson job, and now no sign of Reeves, so you can see how this looks to us.”

  “I was with Peggy and Anci all night,” I said.

  “Your buddy wasn’t, though, and he’s got something of a reputation for getting into scrapes. Oddly enough, he’s refusing to alibi himself right now. Now why you think that is?”

  “He couldn’t have done it,” I said, hoping I sounded more confident than I felt. In fact, he could have done it, and if he thought that Jump was a real threat to me or Anci he probably would have. But I thought he would have asked me first, or told me after. I said, “I need to talk to him.”

  “Not right now, you can’t.”

  “When?”

  “When we decide to let you. If we decide.”

  He stood up. I remembered his lesson and remained seated. Dave smirked at me. The two of them went out. Wince lingered behind just a moment.

  “I told you to stay out of this mess, Slim,” he said.

  “Wish I’d listened.”

  “If you don’t wish it yet, you will soon,” he said, and then he was gone, too.

  They kept us until morning, then kicked us loose. Neither Jeep nor I had a lawyer, and neither of us had any real money to speak of, so we ended up sharing a public defender. The guy turned out to be a real goober. He showed up late, read slow, talked slower, and was covered more in food stains than clothes. I hate to sound like that—the public defender system is a good thing—but you got the feeling that, in this guy’s hands, you could walk in to donate to the policemen’s fund and end up tied to a metal table. Anyway, the sense was that they wanted to charge us, but our self-defense story kept getting in the way. The goober warned us not to enjoy fresh air much, because charges were probably forthcoming.

  That was something to ask about, but Willard didn’t make an appearance, and no one else really spoke to us except the guy at the properties desk, who just grunted and gave us back our things. I had a few bucks missing, and I think Jeep lost his Timex, but neither of us raised a fuss. Outside, the day was cool and bright. The two of us were underground coal miners, so the physical effect of a few hours in a holding tank was pretty small, but it still felt good to be outside again, and we paused a moment to stretch in the sun. There’s nothing like an overnight in jail to convince you of the wisdom of the righteous life.

  “I’d rather not spend any more time in there,” I said. “I shared a cell with a drunk who kept time by farting.”

  “Not my favorite experience, either,” Jeep said. “Some time around midnight, they tossed in a first-timer who wanted to be King of the Cell, and for some reason he chose me as his target.”

  “Sometimes they’ll choose the biggest guy, thinking it sends a message. How’d it go?”

  “For him? Not well, but after that everyone left me alone. One guy even offered to make my bed.”

  “I’m hoping you didn’t take him up on it,” I said. “They already think you killed Jump Down.”

  Jeep didn’t say anything.

  “You didn’t, did you?” I said.

  Jeep didn’t say anything.

  “Because, the thing is,” I said, “he’s missing. One of his places was burned, too, which feels like revenge to me. You were supposed to be at work last night, but instead you showed up to shotgun one bad man a few hours after another bad man mysteriously vanished.”

  Jeep said, “You think I did it?”

  “I don’t know for sure that anything was done. Jump Down probably isn’t the easiest guy to get in touch with. Maybe the place burned on its own. If that’s where he kept his meth kitchen, my understanding is they burn easier than birthday candles. I’m just saying that if anything did happen, now might be a good time to come clean.”

  “In front of the police station?” he said. “You really are new at this.”

  “Well, maybe you can tell me all about it later,” I said, but instead of answering he trailed off to phone his wife.

  Anci and Peggy had left the station house the night before, and I wasn’t sure exactly where they’d gone. Back to the hotel, maybe, but more likely to Peggy’s place. Wherever they were, I wouldn’t feel completely comfortable until we were all together again. Willard had promised me there’d be some kind of police protection, but I got the feeling that was the kind of arrangement that would keep away the honest but not much else. I punched in Peggy’s number. Anci picked up. Like I thought, they’d gone to Peggy’s.

  “She’s out, by the way,” Anci said. “As in, like a light. You’ve never seen a person sleep so hard. I tried waking her a while ago, but it’s like trying to rouse a tree stump. I’ll try again in a while. Maybe tomorrow morning.”

  “She had quite a start,” I said. “We all did. It kinda takes it out of you. How are you holding up?”

  Anci shrugged with her voice. “I’m okay. That’s never happened to me before, and I hope it never happens again.”

  “It won’t, I have anything to do with it. To that end, I’ve got to talk to your Uncle Jeep about a few things. Then I’m going to see about finding us a new hotel. Might be time to move again, given the circumstances.”

  “Maybe back to the Pin Oak.”

  “Maybe not.”

  “Peggy’s house is okay, though. She gave me my own room. It’s small, but it’ll be nice sleeping in a room where the only snoring you have to hear is your own.”

  “Sorry.”

  “You can make it up to me by making it so we can go home again,” she said.

  “Well, that’ll be soon, I hope. It’s not safe yet, exactly, but most of the people I was worried about have been accounted for. I’ve got one or two more small things to look after this morning, and then hopefully things will start to fall into place.”

  “Sounds like a plan. Pick me up from school today?”

  “You got it.”

  “On the bike?”

  “Right on.”

  I hung up and was heading back to meet Jeep when the phone buzzed again. I looked at the screen. There was a text from Anci, which she must have sent as soon as we’d parted: “Don’t forget your meeting.” But I was all about that incoming phone call. My heart lifted, and I wished I had a pocketful of confetti to throw. The number was Tony Pelzer’s.

  “You’ve been calling me?” a voice said. It was an odd creature, this voice, rough and high at the same time. Also, there was somethin
g distantly familiar about it, though maybe that was just my imagination.

  I said, “Once or twice. I think it’s time we meet.”

  “I think so, too. I’m here at the house. You know where it is?”

  “I know where it is.”

  “Okay. Come out. But, listen, I want you to be cool, okay? I want you to be very cool. Can you remember that?”

  “Cool is my middle name.”

  “I’m guessing it ain’t.”

  “I know.”

  “But I want you to. Be cool, I mean, because it’s not always easy.”

  “You sound anxious, Mr. Pelzer.”

  “I’m very anxious,” he said. “And it’s Tony. And fuck you.”

  “I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

  “Twenty minutes?”

  “More like forty.”

  “Fine. But don’t dawdle. Forty-five and I’m gone. And for the love of Mike, don’t bring a piece.”

  I rolled again toward Bluegill Point. Along the way, I stopped by the Vale and swapped the truck for the bike, because I’d promised to give Anci a ride on it later. I checked the kitchen window lock, but it was the same as before, and I went inside and looked at Anci’s computer, but all I saw on the makeshift security feed was Peggy stopping by to pick up some of the Anci’s things. I collected my helmet and Anci’s and my jacket and gloves and went out again. The weather was still cool, but the clouds had pushed off, and the sky was clear and blue and beautiful. You’d never think all this strife was going on under that sky. I strapped Anci’s helmet to the rack on the back of the bike and took off.

  It was just after nine o’clock when I found myself back on Tony Pelzer’s doorstep. The GMC was still there, but in a different spot, so either Pelzer had gotten it running or gotten that team of elephants. The sign with his name was still there, so the elephants hadn’t stepped on it. I went up on the porch and knocked and after a short moment there he was, shirtless, with a soft belly and a bruise the size of a grapefruit on his furry chest. I felt a shock of recognition and a few things sliding into place. I remembered the weird things he’d said on the phone, and I remembered what Mary-Kay Connor had told me about him and his job. I’d thought maybe the badge and police uniform were pieces of a costume. That they might have been part of a security job hadn’t occurred to me. I tried to be cool, but he was right, being cool wasn’t easy.

  Tony Pelzer was Round-Face.

  ELEVEN

  I’ve never been shot with one of those things before,” he said. He touched the bruise gently but winced and sucked a stuttering breath. “Got tased once. No, twice. And maced unconscious. That ain’t my favorite memory. And this one time, I got hit with a cattle prod pretty good.”

  “A cattle prod?”

  “It’s a long story,” he said and nipped at his can of beer. We were sitting on his back deck not far from the banks of Grassy Creek. “But I ain’t never been shot with one of them beanbag guns.”

  “Betsy.”

  “That what you call her?”

  “Yup.”

  “I got my heart broken by a Betsy once, so that hurts double.”

  “I bet.”

  “I kinda thought you’d say you’re sorry.”

  “You were kinda wrong. You kicked me so hard I thought I’d wake up surrounded by a gang of bowling munchkins.”

  “I actually am a little regretful about that. I’m a tough guy, and I tend to overdo it sometimes. I wouldn’t have been after you at all, except Beckett’s wife asked me to back you off.”

  “Temple?”

  “She does love to hear her own name. What’s with that anyway? Who in the hell names their kid Temple?”

  “Redneck telenovela,” I said.

  “What?”

  “A flair for the dramatic married to a certain kind of taste. She pretended not to recognize your description, by the way.”

  Pelzer said, “Can you blame her? At first, she’s thinking you’re just the old man’s crazy idea. She wants you gone, but she’s afraid to tell her father no, so she calls me. Then a couple of days later, shit gets real, and suddenly she starts to need you. Not exactly a great time to admit she had you roughed up. ’Nother beer?”

  “Sure.”

  He left the deck and went inside for a pair of fresh ones. I didn’t figure he planned to murder me in his own house—the deck furniture looked new, for one thing, and murder would probably risk staining it—but I sat in my chair with the hand in my right jacket pocket around the grip of the unregistered Beretta 9000S I’d borrowed from Jeep Mabry. Came to it, I could shoot Pelzer out of his chest hair before he cleared the sliding door. Least I hoped I could. Probably the shot would go wild and clip a gas main and blow us both to Terre Haute. If I was going to keep at this business, I was going to have to find a weapon I was more comfortable with. Alligator on a leash, maybe.

  It didn’t come to that, though. Guns or gas mains or angry reptiles. Pelzer came back with two fresh ones. I’d had one, and didn’t want the second, but having it in front of me might calm him down some, so I accepted the cold can and set it on the patio table.

  “This is a little awkward,” he said, slugging his.

  “Putting it mildly,” I said. “Last twenty minutes or so, I’ve been trying to think up a polite way to ask you for my co-pay back.”

  “Mine was bigger, probably. That is, if I had a co-pay, which I don’t, being self-employed. I woke up on the floor feeling like I’d been run over by a football team. You didn’t tie me so tight, but I gave myself some pretty good burns wiggling free of the ropes, and by the time I got out of there I could hear sirens on their way. You called the cops?”

  “Seemed like the best thing to do at the time.”

  He shrugged. “I don’t blame you. I guess I might have done the same. I mean, I blame you a little. I might have been willing to talk, but you didn’t give me a chance.”

  “You didn’t give the chance before. Plus, you were reaching for a weapon.”

  “That’s fair. I’m a fair person, and that sounds fair to me. So where are we here?”

  I said, “I’m more interested in where Guy Beckett is.”

  “Wish I knew. Truly. I’ve been running all over the place for days looking for him. I even looked in Texas, believe it or not. He and Temple have a place there. Well, Temple has a place there, and Beckett was allowed a room. I got a buddy down that way. He looked in for me. Nada. Beckett and I spoke the night before Dwayne Mays got pulled off the count, and I’ve not heard a peep from him since.”

  “He asked you to look after him?”

  Pelzer shrugged. “He asked me to babysit, yeah. Couple weeks earlier. We’re buds from way back, and I do this kind of work these days, so it seemed like a good fit. Dwayne was against me coming in, though. He thought I’d step on this story he and Beckett were working on. Serious shit. Meth dealers in the mine. I’m sure you know. The two of them were haunting the Knight Hawk for weeks. It has a rep. Lot of shit moves in and out of there. Then one night, they staked-out the whatdoyoucallit tanks.”

  “The ammonia tanks.”

  “That’s the stuff. I can never remember,” he said. He shook his head. “Ammonia. Jesus God. How in the hell do people use that shit?”

  “It makes them feel good for a while,” I said. “People like to feel good.”

  “Yeah, but this kind of feeling good rots their teeth and boils their brain. It turns them into the walking dead. I knew a lady once carried a kid to term in a meth house, and when the thing was born it came out looking like a melted candle. I’m not guessing that felt too good.”

  “Probably not.”

  “Anyway, after that night, Dwayne had a flash, and he and Beckett stopped pestering the small fries and started working on something else.”

  “Galligan.”

  Pelzer raised his eyebrows. His soft face moved around a little like when you’re working wet bread dough.

  “Not bad, Hawkshaw. Galligan. Least that’s what I figured.
Dwayne was pretty tight about the whole thing, and I think Beckett was scared out of his wits. That wife of his had tossed him out during one of their frequent bouts of marital distress, and Guy was living with Mays and feeling like a bird on a wire.”

  “He could have run,” I said.

  “From Galligan? And gone where? The moon?”

  “Good point,” I said. Money had long arms. “So Dwayne thought Galligan had dealt himself into the local meth business? I got to tell you, I’ve heard this one a couple times now, and it just doesn’t sit right with me.”

  “Me, neither. He’s an old guy, for one, and kind of an old-school hard-ass. It’s hard to imagine him getting in bed with these young dirtbags. Two, add it up, it’s a lot of risk for not much reward. At least that’s what I told Beckett.”

  “What’d he say?”

  “Well, the night of the stakeout, they were watching that tank, the big one, way down the hill at the cold-storage hut.”

  “I know the one.”

  Pelzer said, “I think Beckett expected some kids to show up with gas cans or something, but instead it was a tanker truck and bobtail. The entire tank got tapped. More than six thousand gallons of whatdoyoucallit.”

  “Ammonia.”

  He shook his head. “Got a mental block about that. Nasty shit. Beckett said they’d painted the sides of the tanker, but someone had done a shitty job, and you could still make out some of the letters. It was a Galligan mine truck, all right.”

  “Which one?”

  “King Coal. One up the hill above the lake.”

  “Next to the Grendel.”

  “What?”

  I said, “It’s an abandoned coal mine across the gap from the King Coal. Not important.”

  “I don’t like being left in the dark.”

  “You’re in the wrong story then,” I said.

  “Brother, you said it. Anyway, from what I gather, Dwayne got this flash. He started thinking Galligan wasn’t selling the shit. He started thinking maybe Galligan was actually giving the shit away.”

  “Giving it away? Why?”

  Pelzer said, “Juice the mine’s numbers. Dwayne read it in a book somewhere, I think. Mines in Africa or Asia, some godawful place, they used to juice the workers secretly, or against their will, or whatever. Gives the guys a serious buzz and keeps them working harder and longer. Production goes up, tonnage goes up, mine stays open longer. The money flows.”