Blind tiger, p.28
Blind Tiger, page 28
She didn’t dare try to guess what these manifestations of male agitation implied. Actually, she was afraid she knew. “It’s late. I’d better go in, so I can—”
“Run away from me.”
“I’m not running away.”
“Those twins make you laugh. I make you nervous. You’ve been wound up since you saw me here.”
“Yes! Lurking in the dark!”
“Are you jittery because of what I said to you this morning?”
Unbuttoned. Unhooked. Us lying down together. “I don’t remember what you said this morning.” Her voice lacked conviction and substance, and instead sounded raspy with desperation.
“You remember.”
“No I don’t.”
He didn’t grab her. She didn’t even see him move. She had no warning at all before he was just there, his hands encircling her waist, his fingers tensing and drawing her against him. Flush against him. Fitting them together. He felt solid and strong, an ensuring and durable presence, safe except for the quickening in her center that he incited and the unchecked recognition with which her body responded.
His breath was damp and warm against her neck as he sighed her name, the one she had forbidden him to use but which sounded so sweet now as he nuzzled her ear and whispered, “Stay away from Lefty’s.”
She couldn’t believe she’d heard right. She jerked her head back. “What?”
“Keep away from there, Laurel. It isn’t safe.”
She tried to escape his hands, but he held her fast. “Let go of me.”
“Not until you listen. Don’t go out there again.”
“You’re overstepping, Mr. Hutton.” She pried his hands from her waist, but before she could move away, he cupped them around her face, bringing it up and close to his own.
“You’re right, I am, and I’ll tell you why. Chester Landry claimed that last night was his first time to go to Lefty’s, but I don’t believe that for a second.”
She turned her head aside and was about to shout at him how little she cared, but he talked over her.
“He told me he went to Lefty’s today to recover a pocket watch he’d lost during the raid. He’s the flashiest dresser I’ve ever come across, but I’ve never once seen him sporting a pocket watch.”
It finally sank in that he hadn’t insulted her carelessly or maliciously. He’d wanted to secure her attention because what he was telling her held importance, at least to him.
She placed her hands over his where they still pressed against her cheeks. “Why are you preoccupied with this man you obviously dislike, and how does it relate to me?”
He withdrew his hands gradually, as though fearing that as soon as he released her she might sprint into the house. Which she probably should do. And bar the door. But when he said, “Just hear me out,” she stayed where she was and gave a small nod.
“Landry palled around with a young man in the boardinghouse. A show-off. Obnoxious. Named Randy. One night, he up and moved out without notice, without telling anybody.”
“So?”
He raised a shoulder. “Maybe nothing, but…” He raked his fingers through his hair again. “Landry made light of it. Shrugged it off. But I got the impression he knew exactly what had happened to Randy.”
“If they were friends, maybe Randy had asked him to cover his trail.”
“Maybe,” he said, but it lacked backbone. “He claims to be a shoe salesman. He boasts of a wide territory he covers on a routine basis, but he’s rarely away from the boardinghouse for more than a couple of days at a time.”
“Men often exaggerate their success.”
“True, but I think Landry downplays his. I think he’s very successful, but not at selling women’s shoes. He’s dealing in something else.”
“Like what?”
“Liquor. He’s bootlegging.”
Her heart skipped a beat, but when he paused to give her time to comment, she didn’t say anything.
“There’s money to be made,” he said, “and a lot of it, but it’s a dangerous occupation. There are few game rules and no such thing as honor among thieves. Double-crossers, poachers, and loudmouths—like Randy—usually wind up dead.”
He paused and focused even more sharply on her. “If I’m right about Landry, he wouldn’t want to be seen at a well-known speakeasy the night after a raid when it was closed to business. But he was seen. By you.”
She took all that in and thought how closely it correlated to what Irv had told her about the hazards of the illegal liquor trade. But she couldn’t tell Thatcher she’d heard it all before in cautionary sermons from her father-in-law. She carefully weighed how she would respond.
“The only two people I saw were Lefty and Gert. Not even a sign of the girls. On my way out, before I got to the highway, a car passed me on the road. I didn’t see the driver. Even if I had, and had recognized Mr. Landry, I wouldn’t have given it a second thought because I don’t know him, and how he earns his living makes no difference whatsoever to me. So even assuming you’re right and his business dealings are illegal, he has absolutely nothing to fear from me.”
“But see, Laurel, you may have a lot to fear from him.”
Thirty-Eight
Gert knew that eyes had been on her since she’d turned off the highway. From the crevices of boulders, from behind foliage, from underneath the collapsed roof of a disused barn, she was being watched, probably through the sights of deer rifles.
Her arrival had been charted, but when she reached the house, it was in total darkness, and there was no one to greet her, not that she’d expected a welcoming committee.
A pack of mongrels was standing sentinel. They weren’t barking, but she could hear their bloodthirsty growls as they stood alert and eager for the signal that would send them charging her.
She heaved herself out of her auto and moved to stand in the beam of her headlight where she could be seen. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she hollered, “Call off your mutts and your militia and invite me in.”
Nothing happened. She stayed as she was, knowing that the head of the clan was taking his sweet time just to piss her off. “I ain’t leavin’ till we talk, Hiram.”
From around the corner of the house, a Johnson materialized out of the darkness. She couldn’t make out any distinct features except for the shotgun he held aimed at her.
“You’re trespassing,” he said. “Be on your way.”
“Or what? You’ll pull the trigger?”
“You make a sizable target. I couldn’t miss with both eyes closed.”
“If you shoot me, you’d just be provin’ what everybody knows, and that’s that all Johnsons are stupider than they are ugly, and that’s sayin’ somethin’.”
“What do you want?”
“Like I said, to talk to the ol’ man. Unless he’s dead.”
“He ain’t.”
“Figured that was too much to hope for. Tell him to show hisself or he’ll never know what I know about Wally’s killin’.”
Seconds ticked past. Then, no doubt acting on a cue from inside the house, the young man lowered the shotgun. The dogs backed down, whimpering in disappointment over being denied a mauling. The screen door squeaked open and a young woman came out onto the porch. “He says come on in.”
Lamps flickered to life inside as Gert made her way toward the house. She paid the dogs no mind as she stomped past them and up the steps. The young woman lit a cigarette, eyeing Gert sourly as she shook out the match. “He’s waitin’.”
Gert pulled open the screen door and went inside.
It was a large, rectangular room. The collective glow from the recently lit lamps didn’t reach the ceiling. Loitering around the perimeter of the room were a passel of Johnsons of both sexes spanning at least three generations, from a bald-headed baby straddling his mother’s hip to a withered, toothless old woman, who Gert recognized as the reigning matriarch.
Gert muttered with scorn, “To think I’m related to this bunch.”
“We ain’t so proud to claim you, neither.”
This from the man holding the place of honor in the corner of the room where he sprawled in an overstuffed chair. He held a coffee can propped on one knee. Looking at Gert, he raised it to his mouth and spat a string of tobacco juice into it.
Hiram Johnson had inherited his position as head of the clan from his father, and for the last four decades had ruled the family with an iron fist. His face was as crinkled as a dry creek bed in August. He had a dingy gray beard that covered his chest to the third button of his flannel shirt. A jar of moonshine and a flyswatter sat on the windowsill within easy reach of him. His bare right foot, missing toes and striated white with petrifaction, was propped on a footstool. A large, leather-bound Bible lay open in his lap.
“But I don’t hail from the inbred branch of the family,” Gert said.
Eying her with malevolence, Hiram spat into the can again and wiped stained spittle from his beard with the back of his hand. “Gettin’ raided is bad for business, cousin.”
“Couldn’t tell it by the crowd we got tonight,” Gert said. “The place was hoppin’ when I left.”
“You had some product stashed?”
“Enough for tonight, but the raid made a dent. I come to buy.”
“Tup.” Hiram raised his index finger to one of his offspring whose chair was propped against the wall, front legs raised. He was stropping a hunting knife. At the signal from the old man, the chair legs hit the floor. The man addressed as Tup came to his feet and slid the knife into a scabbard at his waist.
“Load her up,” Hiram said to him.
He was on his way to the door when Gert said, “Ten gallons less than what we usually take.”
Tup looked to Hiram for direction. Gert kept her expression blank. Never taking his eyes off her, Hiram said, “You heard her.” Tup pushed open the screen door and went out, calling to someone unseen to come help him.
“How come you’re cuttin’ back?” Hiram asked.
Gert took a slow look around the room, as though taking inventory of the assembled relatives. They all appeared indolent and uninterested, but she knew better. They all had the trademark big ears, but not necessarily in the physical sense.
Hiram, grasping that she wanted to talk to him privately, flipped his hand at the room at large. “Git.”
His offspring began to scatter, some going outside, others disappearing into other rooms. A teenaged girl helped the old woman out of her chair and supported her as she hobbled out.
Watching her leave, Gert said, “I thought she’d’ve died by now. You, too. And why don’t you spare us all that stink and cut that damn foot off?”
Ignoring that, Hiram repeated his question about her order.
Gert seated herself in one of the vacated chairs. “While your boys have been keeping the roads hot between your stills and the oil patches, small-timers have been taking up the slack locally. You’re losing ground, Hiram. You’re being undercut.”
“Nobody would dare.”
“Fine. Don’t believe me. But Lefty struck a deal today. I’s sittin’ right there when they shook on it. More hooch for a lot cheaper than you charge us.”
“Rotgut.”
“Nope. Good stuff.”
“Labeled liquor?”
Gert shook her head. “’Shine.”
“Whose?”
“I’ll get to that. Let’s talk about Wally.”
He slapped his palm onto the open Bible in his lap. “God as my witness—”
“Which he ain’t.”
“—we’re gonna get the sumbitch what killed Wally.”
Gert crossed her arms over her massive chest. “You made any headway in that direction?”
“We’ll get him.”
“That means you got no idea who done it.”
Temper sparked, Hiram leaned forward, nearly tipping over his spit can. “If you know something, you’d better tell me, or being my second cousin thrice removed won’t mean shit. Kinship won’t save your fat ass from being flayed.”
She huffed an exhale. “The night before Wally was murdered, he tore into one of my girls.” No doubt Hiram had heard about it because he didn’t dispute or defend it. “She weren’t much count as a whore, but she was handy helping Lefty on the grill and serving drinks in the back room, so I kept her on.”
“You’re sayin’ was. She die after all?”
“No. The ungrateful hussy run off last night, still owing me money for her upkeep. Slipped off during the raid. Today, I learned she’s been took in.”
“By who?”
“By the moonshiner who persuaded Lefty to squeeze you out of ten jugs per order.” She leaned forward and tapped her temple. “I put two and two together. One bullet was fired into Wally’s head for stealing that truckload of sugar and causing a shortage. The second bullet was payback for whippin’ up on that whore.”
Hiram picked up the Bible and brandished it. “He’s dead meat.”
Gert’s smiles were as infrequent as blood moons. She gave Hiram Johnson a smug one now. “Ain’t no he.”
Thirty-Nine
Irv scowled up at Laurel from his pillow. “Hutton dropped that on you, then just left?”
“Without another word.” Now part of their morning routine, she tied a knot to secure the fresh bandage around his chest. “There.”
“Does it have to be so tight?”
“Yes, because you work it loose as the day goes on. But the wound looks better today than yesterday, and it will continue to get better if you rest.”
“I’ve done nothing besides lie in bed.”
“And fret. Your mind needs rest, too. Stop worrying so much.”
“First you tell me that Ernie’s secret stash has been stolen, then that you took it upon yourself to go alone to Lefty’s, and lastly about this doomsday message from Hutton. Now you tell me to stop worrying?”
“Do you know Chester Landry?”
“How would I know a guy who sells ladies’ shoes?”
“Maybe more than shoes.”
“What’s he look like?”
She described him to the best of her recollection. “I only saw him that one time in the café, and I wasn’t really paying attention.” She’d been distracted by Thatcher.
Irv scratched his bristly chin. “I know the fella you’re talking about. I’ve seen him in town.”
“Where?”
“Here and there.”
“At Lefty’s?”
“No, and I think I would remember, considering those duds he wears.”
“If you haven’t seen him there, then it’s possible Mr. Hutton’s hunch about him is wrong.”
“Just as possible that he’s right, though, Laurel. Remember, I told you it was rumored that a bootlegger from Dallas was a big-time operator around here? Could be Landry’s him. Hutton must think so, or he wouldn’t’ve gone out of his way to tell you.”
“That wasn’t all he came to tell me. You’ll be glad to know that Sheriff Amos is letting you off the hook, this time, in the hope that you’ve learned your lesson.”
“And I hope you’ve learned yours.” He shook his finger at her. “Out at Lefty’s, you’re in danger of more than bootleggers. Don’t go there again.”
“I won’t.” When he looked sternly doubtful, she stressed that she wouldn’t. “I only went to seal your deal. The O’Connors will be making the deliveries.”
“Larger deliveries.”
“Which is what we were going for, Irv. Remember?”
“There’s nothing the matter with my memory. But our gain represents a loss to competitors. I’m all for increasing our business, but not if it means that one or all of us will meet with bodily harm.”
“I’ll be doubly discreet and careful.”
“Warn those twins not to be so damn cocky, but don’t tell them why. Keep it general.”
“You still don’t trust them.”
“Never have trusted men with dimples.”
She laughed. “What do you have against dimples?”
He went on as though she hadn’t interrupted. “Ernie and Corrine need to be put on watch, too.”
“Because of the theft, Ernie is already on alert.”
“How’d Ernie take to Corrine?”
She hedged. “She’ll grow on him.”
He barked a laugh. “Don’t count on it. He’s used to his own company and silence. God knows he’ll have precious little of that.”
Laurel smiled. “I have pies to bake today, but I’ll drive out and check on them tomorrow. Hopefully they’ll have several crates of whiskey ready for me.”
“Speaking of, I could do with a nip.”
“At bedtime.”
“I just woke up.”
“At bedtime.”
“I’m hurting now.”
“Part of the healing process.” She stood up and straightened the cover where she’d been sitting at the foot of his bed. He was idly scratching his chin again. “Your stubble is itching. Would you like a shave?”
“No.”
“I’m happy to do it.”
He waved off the offer. “I’m thinking, is all.”
“Something’s gnawing at you, Irv. What?”
“You say you introduced Hutton to the twins? How’d that go?”
“All right. After they shook hands, I sent the twins on their way.”
In giving Irv an account of last night’s visit from Thatcher, she had omitted certain details, one being the hostility that had crackled between him and the O’Connors. She also didn’t tell him that Thatcher had questioned her about the deliveries the twins made to Ranger, or that Sheriff Amos had pointed the O’Connors out to Thatcher while referring to them as wild. Nor did she mention that Thatcher had asked who supplied Irv’s moonshine.
Unabridged honesty could set his recovery back for weeks, which was how she justified those omissions. Even so, his forehead remained furrowed.
“This warning from Hutton about Chester Landry worries me,” he said. “It should worry you, too, Laurel. My advice is to steer clear of the man.”
“I plan to, whether or not he’s into bootlegging.”
Irv peered up at her through his lowered brows. “I wasn’t referring to Landry.”
