“And then there’s number four,” I said.
“What’s number four?” she said.
“The whole damn thing took place outside of my jurisdiction as marshal of this here town,” I said. “Legal, there ain’t nothing I could do about it nohow.”
Happy Bonapart come in just then, and he come over to set with us. I asked him if he wanted a drink, but he said he never. He called to ole Aubrey for a cup of coffee, though, and it come to me that maybe he was a-trying to act like ole Sly there, and I come near to telling him that it would take a heap more than sipping coffee all day for him to ever come close to being like ole Sly, but I kept my yap shut for a change. Happy, he took a sip of coffee and burned his tongue.
“I just come from the jailhouse,” he said. “Doc was over there taking a look at ole Rumproast. He says that Rumproast is might’ near ready to go home now — that is, if you’re willing to let him go.”
“Give him another couple of days to really cool off,” I said, and then I got to thinking about how the longstanding Hooper and Hanlon feud had come to a end that very day, and how me and ole Bonnie had us a new understanding and all that, and I tossed down what was left in my tumbler, and I said, “Aw, hell, Happy, go on back over there and tell the kid he can go on home.”
I think that ole Sly actual smiled a little at that.
Chapter Seven
I noticed over the next few days that ole Sly was spending more and more time over at ole Lillian’s place of business, and whenever she closed the place up at night, why, it had just become a natural and expected thing for him to walk her on home. The nights was getting a little more chillier all the time, and once I even seen him with a arm around her shoulders. But what I have to say for ole Sly is I have to say that he never so far as I knowed went inside the house. He always just only shuck her hand there at the door and said good night, and she went in, and then he walked on back to the Hooch House all by his lonesome. Like ole Lillian said, he was a real gentleman.
I was about to think that ever’thing had settled down again in Asininity in spite of the fact that the Widder-maker was in town. All the ones what had thought that he had come to town to kill them had final figgered out that it just weren’t so. Like I said, I was just about a-thinking along them lines whenever ole Peester come into my office early one morning. I don’t know what the hell I was a-doing in there. Usual, if I was up and around that early, I was over at the Hooch House, but for some damn reason I was in the marshaling office, and I was there by my own self. Ole Happy hadn’t reported in yet. Peester come in and shut the door behind him. Then he come over to my desk like as if he had some kinda secret about him.
“What the hell’s wrong with you?” I asked him.
“Baijack,” he said, keeping his voice low, even though me and him was the only ones around, “when are you going to do something about Sly?”
“I thought we had done had this here conversation,” I said. “Why do I got to do anything about ole Sly? What’s he done?”
“One man was shot up and another killed,” Peester said. “There was a brawl in the street, and it was all because of Sly being here.”
“The man what got shot up, what was ole Rumproast, he come into the Hooch House and took a shot at Sly,” I said. “Sly coulda killed him, but he never. And the one what did get killed was outa town, and the witness said that he went for his gun first, so that there was a case a self-defense, and Sly weren’t nowhere near where it happened nohow. And if you’re a-calling that silly fight between them two old men a brawl, why, I’d say you ain’t never seen no real brawl. The only thing I can see what Sly has caused around here is he caused them two old fools to call off their fifteen-year-long feud. Now, what the hell’s your problem?”
“I suppose it doesn’t matter to you that Sly has been seen walking your wife home every evening,” Peester said.
“Mister Mayor, you son of a bitch,” I said, “you just count yourself damn lucky I don’t knock the piss outa you right here, or even blow your worthless ass away deader’n hell, ‘cause that ain’t none of your goddamn business.”
“All right, all right,” he said, “but Baijack, something has got to be done. We can’t have his kind just hanging around our town.”
It come to me then of a sudden that ole Peester was way too worried about Sly being with us, and it just didn’t make no sense to me unless, as I thought briefly before, the old pettifogging bastard had something he was a-skeered of. Had he did something to someone so bad that whoever he done it to might want to pay to get him killed for it? Now, the thing about that what really interested me was not so much that someone might be wanting to get rid of ole Peester or that Peester might be a-skeered of Sly so bad for personal reasons, but what really interested me was just what it mighta been that ole Peester had mighta did that was so bad. I wanted to know. I pulled my bottle and two glasses outa my desk drawer, early as it was, and I poured two drinks.
“Set down, Peester,” I said, “and let’s have us a drink and talk this here thing over.”
“I don’t need a drink,” he said.
“You act to me like you do,” I said.
“Baijack, it’s way too early in the day,” he said.
“Well, just set yourself,” I said. “Pull up that chair over there.”
He dragged the chair over and set right across my desk from me. I shoved the glass of whiskey over where he could reach it real easy, and I took my own self a drink.
“Mister Peester,” I said, changing my previous harsh tone, “maybe I been a-dismissing your worries too casual. Maybe you had ought to tell me real calm-like just what it is about ole Sly a-being here that’s got you so upset, and then maybe between the two of us, we can figger out a way to make him leave.”
“Well, yes,” he said. “Maybe so.”
He reached over and picked up the glass I had put in front of him and took hisself a drink. He put the glass down again and harrumphed to clear his throat.
“Well,” he said, “I know that Sly is a killer. He takes money to kill people he doesn’t even know. He’s coldblooded. It seems to me that if he’s spending time in our town, he must have a target here. Someone he’s been paid to kill. It could be… anyone. You maybe.”
“Or you?” I said.
He shuck his head real fast and nervous-like, making his loose lips and jaws flap. “No,” he said. “No. Not me.” He picked up the glass and took another swaller.
“Why not you?” I said. “Ain’t there someone out there somewhere what might have it in for you bad enough to hire the ole Widdermaker? Hell, we all got our enemies, don’t we?”
“There’s no one with a reason to kill me,” he said, but by damn, I coulda swore he was lying to me. I had never saw the little bastard so nervous. I’d saw him mad before, but not hand-shaking and jaw-flapping nervous like that.
“Who is it you’re a-thinking mighta sent him here?” I said.
“No one,” he said. “I tell you, it could be anyone. I — I’ve got to get back over to my office.”
He got up fast and got his fat ass outa there, and I knowed then for sure that I had hit on a tender nerve with the ole mayor. He had did something bad to someone, and he was a-skeered that Sly had come to town just to get him. And whatever it was that he had did, he sure as hell didn’t want me a-knowing nothing about it. Well, goddamn, I wanted to know. I wanted to know his honor’s secret so damn bad, it was a-hurting me. I finished off my drink and what he had left of his, and I put the hat on my head and left out to go over to the Hooch House. Along the way, I seen Happy headed for the office.
“Happy,” I said, “come on along with me.”
“I was just going to the office,” he said.
“I could see that,” I said, “but I’m a-telling you to come along with me.”
He turned and fell along beside me. “Where we going?” he asked me.
“Just come on along and don’t ask so many damn questions,” I said. I walked on to t
he Hooch House and inside, and Happy come along too. I ordered up a breakfast and some coffee. “You want anything?” I asked Happy.
“I done had my breakfast,” he said. “I was going to work.”
“You are at work,” I said. “You want some coffee?”
“Sure,” he said.
We got set down at a table with our coffee. I was still a-waiting for my breakfast to be brung out. I sipped a little coffee, and Happy did too, and then I said, “Happy, you was here in this town whenever I first come along, wasn’t you?”
“Yeah,” he said. “I reckon I was.”
“How long was it you had been here?” I asked him.
“You mean whenever you first come to town?” he said.
“Ain’t that what I just asked you?” I said. “I’ll say it again real plain for a stupid head. Whenever I first come to town, how long was it you had done been here?”
“Ah, well,” he said, “I don’t rightly know. Maybe three or five years. I ain’t sure, Barjack. Why you asking, anyhow? Is it important?”
“No,” I said, “I’m just wasting time asking stupid questions.”
“Oh,” he said.
“Hell yes, it’s important,” I said. “Why else would I want to know?”
Sometimes I wished that I could come up with a bucket of brains somewhere and cut a hole in ole Happy’s head and just pour them brains in there.
“I don’t know,” he said.
“All right,” I said, “listen to me real careful now. I want you to tell me ever’thing you know about ole Pees-ter — what he done and ever’thing — before I come to know him.”
“Ever’thing?” Happy said.
“Ever’thing,” I said.
“Well,” said Happy, “whenever I first come to town, he was already here, and he had his lawyering office over there where it’s still at. Well, it ain’t exactly the same office on accounta that time it got blowed up, and he went and had it rebuilt, but it was there in that same place. But only he weren’t the mayor yet then. I don’t mean whenever his office got blowed up. I mean whenever I first knowed him. He was just lawyering, that’s all. He got hisself elected mayor just a year or so — no, maybe six months before you come along.”
“All right,” I said. “Go on.”
“I don’t know nothing more,” he said.
Aubrey come out a-fetching my breakfast over to me just then, and whenever he set it down in front of me and started to turn around and go back toward the bar, I stopped him and made him set down, and I asked him the same questions I had just asked ole Happy. Aubrey, he leaned back and scratched his head.
“Well,” he said, “Peester wasn’t doing too well with his business. That’s about all I recall. He was always in debt, you know, owing folks money he couldn’t pay. Then whenever he got himself elected mayor and got a regular salary, things got a whole lot better for him.”
“Whenever he was lawyering,” I said, “was he persecuting or defending?” I asked that question, and then I picked up my fork and tied into that breakfast.
“I seem to recall that he done a little of both,” Happy said. “Ain’t that right, Aubrey?”
“I think he mostly defended when he was in court,” Aubrey said. “Once he was prosecutor over at the county seat, but mainly he was suing folks. Like that time ole Singletree stumbled over the step out in front of Jonsey’s store and hurt his knee, and ole Peester told Singletree that if he was to say he hurt his back, they could sue poor ole Jonsey and get a bunch of money out of him.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Happy. “I remember that now.”
“Who’s Jonsey?” I asked. “What store?”
“Well, Jonsey had the general store down there,” Aubrey said, “till Peester sued him for ole Singletree. They got the store and everything away from Jonsey, and Jonsey up and left town.”
“So where’s this Singletree now?” I asked, ‘cause I sure didn’t know of no Singletree owning no store in Asininity.
“Oh, Singletree didn’t want to own no store,” Happy said. “He sold it out to Chester Filbert, and then he left town.”
“So this here Singletree,” I said, “and ole Peester made out like a couple of bandits on the deal. Right?”
“I reckon,” Happy said.
“Peester acted as agent on the deal when Filbert bought the store, too,” Aubrey said. “He come out a little more ahead then.”
“All right,” I said, between chewing on my breakfast, “let me see if I got all this straight. Peester was Singletree’s lawyer, and he got paid for suing Jonsey, and then he got paid again for selling the store for Singletree. Right?”
“That’s right,” Aubrey said.
“That’s how I recall it too,” Happy said.
“And it was a crooked deal to begin with,” I said. “Singletree’s back never hurt him till Peester told him it should.”
“I believe that’s the way it happened,” Aubrey said.
“So if anyone was to have it in for ole Peester over that deal,” I said, “it would be this here Jonsey?”
“Well, yeah,” said Happy. “I reckon.”
“So might Singletree,” Aubrey said. “From what I heard, Peester wound up with more of the money on both deals than Singletree did.”
Oh,” I said. “I see. Does either one of you know of any other such deals our esteemed mayor had his sticky pettifogging fingers into?”
“There must have been,” Aubrey said, “but just now I can’t recall anything in particular.”
“I can’t think of nothing else,” Happy said.
“Well, if either one of you comes up with anything else along them lines, let me know, you hear?” I said. “If that’s all you can come up with right now, then that’s all I need, except for some more coffee, Aubrey.”
“Me too,” said Happy.
“You don’t need no more coffee,” I said. “You get your ass on over to the office.”
Happy pouted on outa the place, and Aubrey fetched the coffeepot over to pour me another cupful. “You seen ole Sly yet this morning?” I asked him.
“He came through a little while ago,” Aubrey said. “I think he went across the street to get his breakfast.” “Oh, sure, he would,” I said. “I shoulda knowed that without asking.”
“Funny thing,” Aubrey said.
“What?” I said. “Sly having breakfast at the White Owl?”
“No,” said Aubrey. “I was still thinking about poor ole Singletree.”
“What’s funny, then?” I asked.
“Peester not only got all that money out of him,” Aubrey said, “he also got Singletree’s wife, at least for a while there.”
“Set your ass back down here and tell me about it,” I said.
“I don’t really know too much about it,” said Aubrey. “But I’ll tell you who likely does know.”
“Who’s that?” I said.
“Miss Bonnie,” he said. “She knew all about it. I think.”
I swallered down the rest of my coffee and like to burnt my tongue off, and then I hurried up the stairs and went back to Bonnie’s room. I had spent the night there, but whenever I had got up, she was still a-snoring away. Ole Bonnie always liked to sleep away half the morning. I went up there and barged right in through the door and moved on over to the bed and set down on it and slapped Bonnie on the ass. She yelped and jumped.
“What?” she said.
“Wake up, Bonnie,” I said. “I got to talk to you.”
She kinda half set up and went to rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. God, she looked awful in the morning.
“Can’t it wait?” she said.
“Hell no, it can’t wait,” I said. “If it could wait, I wouldn’t be here.”
“I can’t wake up this early,” she said. “What time is it, anyhow?”
“Hell, I don’t know,” I said. “Somewhere’round seven, I guess.”
“Seven!” she said, and she plopped herself back down and pulled the covers plumb u
p over her head. “Leave me alone.”
“Bonnie,” I said, slapping her ass again, “wake up, damn it.”
“Get out of here, Baijack,” she yelled.
It seemed hopeless, but I was determined, so I went back downstairs, and I seen that a few more folks had come into the place by then, but I weren’t concerned none with that just then. I had more important things on my mind. I got the coffeepot and a cup from ole Aubrey and took them upstairs and poured Bonnie a cup of coffee.
“Here, sweet,” I said. “I brung you some coffee in bed. Set up now and drink it. It’ll help you wake up. I got something important to ask you about.”
“Go away,” she said.
I took hold of the covers and pulled them down from offa her face, and she turned over real quick-like and swung a right arm and smacked me right across the side of the head and knocked me clean offa the bed and sprawling onto the floor and the coffeepot and cup and all of that hot coffee went after me and like to scalded my chest and belly. I yowled out something fierce, and that made her set up all right.
“What’s wrong?” she said.
“You like to burnt me to death,” I said, “and that after you broke my goddamned jaw and wrenched my back, to boot.”
“Did I do that?” she said. And she come outa that bed still stark staring nekkid, and she come a-flopping all that flesh at me and squatted down beside me. “I was asleep, honey,” she said. “I didn’t know what I was doing. Oh, sweetheart, are you hurt bad?”
“Look at me here,” I said, and I pulled at my white shirtfront there where it was all stained brown with coffee.
“Oh, baby,” she said.
“And it’s blistered my belly, too,” I said. “And after I brung it to you in bed. When’s the last time a man brung you your coffee in bed?”
“Here, sweetness,” she said, “let me help you up.”
She took hold of me and started in to pulling, and I groaned something fierce getting up to my feet. I twisted an arm around to kinda hold on to my back like as if I was about to die from the pain, and I limped over to a chair and set my ass down. She started into taking off my coat and vest and then went for my shirt, but I stopped her right there. I didn’t have no intention of getting nekkid again. Well, then she went and reached under my shirt, and she glommed some kinda salve onto my poor ole blistered belly. She kept on a-saying sweet things and making over me all the time. Final, she led me back over to the bed, and we both laid down on it. She took my head and held it against her big left titty.
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