Liars table, p.20
Liars' Table, page 20
“Talk fast, old man.”
“We talked to the preacher. He called the sheriff and told him to give it back.”
“The sheriff said no?”
“No! I mean yes. I mean…” Sweat ran down my back. My legs quaked. I dribbled a little more and no longer cared who noticed. “He agreed. He’s giving it back. We’re picking it up at ten tomorrow morning.”
“Why tomorrow?”
“Something about evidence lockers and chain of custody and… I don’t know. He said tomorrow.”
The tattooed man glowered, and his eyes flicked back and forth across my face as if he was trying to decide whether to believe me. Then he pushed away and screamed, “Arrrrrrrrgh!”
The young couple that had been making out jumped. With a startled glance in our direction, they gathered their loosened clothing and ran toward their car. A minute later, they peeled out of the parking lot, nearly clipping a large SUV that was entering. The tattooed man paced back and forth, talking to himself. “Tomorrow is not fast enough. I need it now. Now. I need it now. Not tomorrow. Too late. Too late. It’s not fast enough.”
The SUV parked, and two men exited. They began the climb up the hill to the river trail. Must be tourists, I thought, because you left the woods at night. You didn’t enter them. I prayed, though, that their presence might save us. The tattooed man wasn’t deterred by them because he never seemed to notice them at all. Instead, he screamed in frustration, grabbed my shirt, and pushed me flat on my back on the picnic table. I felt my head wound open up and blood trickle down. He shoved the pistol against my cheek. Spittle flew from his lips. “Why shouldn’t I just shoot all three of you right now?”
My heart pounded in my chest. I grasped for Wyatt’s words from earlier. “Because then you’d never get the money. You need us to get it.”
“But tomorrow’s not fast enough.”
“It’s all I’ve got to offer. You can’t get blood from a stone.”
“He can’t,” said the smaller of the two approaching men. “But I can.”
Wyatt gasped.
The stranger stepped in front of him and smiled. “You must be the legendary Wyatt Earp.”
34
The tattooed man released his grip on me and backed away, allowing me to stand. I felt blood drip down my neck. My mind swirled in confusion. I touched Wyatt’s elbow with my hand. “Who is this?”
The man smiled broadly, a toothy grin that held more menace than warmth. “Wyatt would know me as Rudy the Roach, an unfortunate nickname, but let’s stick with it, shall we?”
Wyatt attempted to shake loose my hand, but I gripped his elbow harder. “How do you know… each other?”
Before Wyatt could answer, Rudy—or was it Mr. Roach—laughed. “Better question, old man, how do you know our little Wyatt?”
I tried to answer, but I felt dizzy. As much as I had feared the tattooed man, this new character froze my blood. He was neatly dressed—khakis and a golf shirt—as though he was just coming off the course. His hair was closely cropped, his face clean shaven, and his skin absent of any tattoos. At first glance, he looked like nothing but a businessman. His eyes, though, were cold and dark. His voice was equally icy. Menace filled his aura.
The big ape who came up the hill with him hadn’t said a word. He stood two steps behind Rudy, like a dog waiting on instructions. I really didn’t want to know what those might be.
My legs threatened to let go. I leaned against a tree to keep from falling to the ground and tried to speak, but nothing came out.
Wyatt looked worried and reached out. “Grandpa. Are you okay?”
Laughter erupted from Rudy, a cold, harsh sound. “Grandpa? Oh, this is rich.”
Wyatt clenched his fist and took a step forward. The large, silent man slid between him and Rudy. He didn’t threaten. He didn’t need to. He was built like a granite boulder—broad shoulders, thick arms, massive hands. He could snap me in half without breaking a sweat.
The interaction between them only brought more laughter from Rudy. “I heard Wyatt had a temper.”
I pulled Wyatt back. “The past doesn’t matter.”
“Ah, but it does. I always heard good things about him—until he disappeared. Reputation was Wyatt was quite the little hustler. I’d been told he had some potential for moving up. He was quite skilled at moving inventory into the schools. Got to get a customer young, so you can have them for life.”
I sneered in disgust. “You’re okay selling drugs to kids?”
“Oh no. I never did anything like that. Never even met Wyatt. I tend to stay a healthy distance from specifics.” That sly grin crossed his face. “I’m more executive level. I only get into details to resolve business problems.” He aimed that wicked grin at Wyatt. “Sadly, though, your grandson had the same weakness for the product his mother had.”
Wyatt snarled and stepped toward him, but the ape moved lightning fast for such a big man. He didn’t strike but positioned his body between his master and the threat.
Rudy ignored the conflict with a shrug, confident his attack dog had things under control. He returned his attention to me. “Now tell me why you didn’t bring Gene my money.”
I looked at the shrinking tattooed man. “His name is Gene?”
Rudy raised an eyebrow. “What did you think it was?”
“I didn’t know… We just called him the tattooed man.”
Rudy’s eyes moved over Gene’s ink-filled arms. “That works.” With a dismissive shrug, he turned back to me. “You’re stalling, old man.”
“No, I’m not. I’ve already explained. I’ll bring all the money to him tomorrow as soon as I get it.”
“No, you’ll bring it to me. Gene won’t be available tomorrow.” He turned his focus on the tattooed man. “He has issues to atone for.”
The confident Gene who had pushed me around earlier in the day was gone. He had been replaced by a nervous, jittery man who tried to shrink into the shadows. His voice quivered. “I’ll fix this. I promise.”
Rudy ignored him, that slimy smile broadening. “Do you know what Gene’s issues are?” When I didn’t answer, he continued. “He has such a simple job. He collects payments from, shall we say, retailers with a need to stock up their inventory. Our terms are payments in advance—saves that messy collection business. He counts it to ensure we have payment in full—never trust the front line, Grandpa, a key rule of business. Then he places a phone call. The retailer receives his shipment from a package delivery specialist. Do you know why those jobs are separate?”
I didn’t know and didn’t care, but I wasn’t about to say that. Whatever the man was trying to communicate, I just wanted out of the situation.
Seeing we had nothing to contribute, Rudy continued. “Keeping product and cash separate keeps things running smoothly. Makes it much harder for those boys in blue to interfere in business.”
I didn’t know how to react. Congratulate the man on his brilliance? Discuss legal strategy? No reaction seemed wise, so I stayed quiet.
“But there’s a side benefit, one my employees don’t really think about. You might be surprised to discover dishonest people are attracted to this business. Shocking, right?” He smiled, but no one laughed. “By having the product and the cash separate, I can spot skimming. If the two of them want to pull off something creative, they must work together, and that always fails. Trust me, there really is no honor among thieves.”
He turned his attention away from me and over to Gene. “When this one was late, I asked around. Discovered he had bought a stolen car. Had a chat with the guy he bought it from, who introduced me to the punks who stole it.”
Wyatt’s head popped up in shock. “Noah’s alive.”
Rudy cocked his head, an eyebrow raised in surprise. “A little bruised but very much alive. Did this one tell you different? Gene doesn’t have killer in him. Acts tough, but he’s too soft. Too bad because Noah was quite helpful. Told me all about the car.”
Rudy focused on Wyatt. “He told me all about you as well. I had heard about you years ago. Heard you had potential back then. Thought it might be fun to get to know you again, but first I need to handle some business.”
The tattooed man shivered in fear as Rudy spun back around to him and said, “People who lie to me don’t work for me for very long. Nor do people who steal from me.”
Gene backed away, but the gorilla was on him before he made it two steps. He pinned those tattooed arms behind his back and forced him to his knees. Rudy approached and tapped Gene’s forehead with his finger in cadence with his next sentence. “This idiot decides to carry the cash in a stolen car. My money. Money that should already have been turned in.”
He looked back at me, and I realized his smile was gone. As chilling as it was, now I missed it. His face was contorted and snarling. “He made it worse. You know how, old man?”
I didn’t know what the right answer was, so I slowly shook my head, not trusting myself to speak.
“He didn’t tell me. He kept information from me. That’s the same as lying. Wouldn’t you agree?”
He grabbed Gene’s chin in his hand. “Why hide something like that? Makes me wonder why he wouldn’t tell me. Why he needed a stolen car. Maybe he had plans for that money that didn’t involve me. Maybe he was taking his lovely bride and sweet little children on a vacation. A very long vacation.”
He raised his hand high in the air and roared, “With my money!” He backhanded the tattooed man across the face. The sickening snap of a breaking nose filled the air. Gene cried out, and the gorilla let him fall to the ground. He whimpered and sniveled, which only infuriated Rudy further.
“Sit up.”
“Please,” Gene sobbed, his voice muffled through his shattered nose.
Rudy reached down, wrapped his hand around Gene’s throat, and pulled him upward until he was on his knees. “Why didn’t you tell me you lost the money?”
“Because you would’ve killed me.”
“Did you think I wouldn’t have found out?”
“I-I-I…”
“If you’d gotten the money back, you never would’ve told me?”
Gene looked up, tears running down his face mingling with the blood from his nose.
Rudy began speaking rapidly, ignoring Gene’s pitiful pleas. “Were you planning to steal from me, Gene?”
“Please—”
“Are you lying to me, Gene?”
“I’m begging you—”
He pointed at us. “Tell them what happens to liars and thieves.”
“Please—”
Rudy sighed and looked up to the stars. “I always have to do things myself.”
“Please—”
He stepped to the side of Gene and kept his eyes on him, but he spoke to me. “You promised me you’d bring the money tomorrow. If you don’t, I’ll know you lied. And I’ll know you’re a thief. Here’s what happens to people like that in my world.”
The pistol appeared in Rudy’s hands like magic. I didn’t know if it had always been there or if the man was that fast on the draw. But it was there. Crammed against the side of Gene’s head. The tattooed man had been reduced to a mess of begging, over and over. “Please. Please. Please.”
I squeezed my eyes shut as Rudy pulled the trigger. The roar of the gun filled my ears.
35
We were on the interstate, headed back to Millerton, when a sheriff’s car passed in the other direction, blue lights flashing. We hadn’t spoken since Rudy had left us standing dumbfounded around the body as he calmly walked away with his gorilla in tow. We hadn’t spoken, even as I shuffled C.J. and Wyatt back to the car and drove away from Coogan’s Cove.
Wyatt shifted in his seat. “I’m sorry.”
I was still trying to get the ringing out of my ears. “For what?”
“The drugs.”
“I knew you used drugs.”
“But you didn’t know I delivered them.”
I whispered my reply, “No.”
Wyatt hung his head and stared at his feet. “He told you how he split collections from distribution, right? The collectors were fairly safe because they only handled cash. If the cops stopped them, they weren’t really guilty of anything. But the distributors had drugs on them, so if they were arrested, they would at least get charged with possession. Usually with intent because that’s based on quantity.”
“Okay.”
“The trick was that the distributors had to be dumb about the organization in case the cops swooped in. We didn’t know anything other than where we picked up a package and where we delivered it. Even if you were stupid enough to talk, you didn’t have much to give. And, trust me, you just kept your mouth shut. You weren’t facing much time anyway.”
“The judges just need to give the distributors long sentences.”
“The distributors… were kids.”
“Kids?”
“Yeah. Like me. The younger, the better. If we got caught, we didn’t have a record, so we’d just get probation or something. Even once you had a record, it didn’t matter because you just went to juvie for a few months.”
“And that was okay?”
“You know Rudy the Roach said he resolved business problems?” Wyatt looked out the window and licked his lips. “He didn’t care if the problem was only thirteen or fourteen years old. I knew better than to ever be a problem.”
We rode in silence for a few minutes. I asked, “Jessica knew about this?”
“What was she going to do? She needed her fix. She’d beg me not to work for them, but someone had to bring home the money.”
I wiped the back of my hand across my face. “I understand.”
“No, I don’t think you do.” Wyatt took a deep breath. “I will always regret it. I should’ve found another way. Social workers. Churches. Teachers. I just didn’t take their help.”
“You can’t blame yourself. You didn’t have any choice.”
“I used to believe that lie too.”
The tires hummed on the pavement. “This is on me, Wyatt. I chased your mother away. She hated me, and I don’t blame her.”
Wyatt sat up straight and squeezed the steering wheel. “Mom didn’t hate you. Why would she? You raised her like she was your daughter, unlike Horace Pearson, who never gave her the time of day.”
I glanced in the rearview mirror to see C.J.’s reaction. He knew about the affair—the rumor mill in our little town made sure everyone knew—but we didn’t talk about it a lot. He wasn’t paying attention, though, and was staring blankly out the window. I said quietly, “We tried to keep that quiet. Tried to hide it from her.”
“Some kids teased her about it. They even had some rhyme about Horace and his whore.”
I flinched. Poor Jessica, having to suffer for the sins of her parents. “I don’t like your grandmother being called that. If I had been a better husband, the affair would never have happened.”
Wyatt shrugged. “You were upset because you were shooting blanks. It happens.”
I jumped. “You knew all this?”
“Sure. Mom and I didn’t keep many secrets. I mean, we kind of knew the worst about each other anyway, so what was left?”
I blinked back tears. “I’m so sorry I made you go through everything. If only I had protected her more, loved her more, she wouldn’t have left.”
Wyatt’s hand wrapped over my shoulder, his fingers squeezing. “She didn’t leave because of you. She regretted hurting you with her decision, but she left because of Grandma.”
I focused on the reflectors embedded in the pavement flashing by and tried to make sense of what he was saying. “Because of the affair?”
“Because of the letters.” He let go of me and leaned his head against the passenger window. He sighed so deeply, a cloud of fog formed on the window. “You really don’t know.”
I shook my head.
He hesitated before plunging ahead. “Mom skipped school one day, but it was colder than she expected. She needed a jacket. She snuck home to get it, but the house was nice and warm, so she wasn’t in any hurry to leave. She didn’t really have anywhere to be. She just didn’t want to be at school, listening to those girls talk about her. To kill time, she poked around some, looking in drawers and boxes. Not really looking for anything, but just looking. She found a shoebox full of letters. She sat there for hours and read them until Mom pulled in the drive after work.”
“The ones we wrote while I was in the air force.”
There was silence from beside me until I heard a sniffle. “The ones from Horace.”
The air evaporated from the car. I struggled to catch my breath. When I spoke, only a wheeze came out. “Horace?”
“Yes.”
“They had letters? She kept them?”
“I wish I hadn’t told you.”
I gripped the steering wheel. A tear rolled down my face. “Do you know where they are?”
“Gone. Mom piled them in the fireplace, squirted lighter fluid on them, and burned them. Grandma caught her, and they had a huge fight about it. Mom said she demanded Grandma tell you everything, but she refused. A few days later, Mom left.”
Tuesday
36
C.J. took a handkerchief from his overalls’ pocket and mopped his sweaty face. His hair was unkempt. Puffy dark circles hung under his eyes. I hadn’t slept well myself. What had happened at Coogan’s Cove bothered me, of course, but what Wyatt had revealed unsettled me even more.
I had searched the drawers and closet of our bedroom late into the night but never found any of the Horace letters. Jessica burned the ones that existed before she left, of course, but were there newer ones? Perhaps Shelby had stopped corresponding with Horace long before Jessica left. If I found letters, they would break my already broken heart. If I didn’t find any, I would never be sure.
I asked C.J., “Did you sleep at all?”
He folded his handkerchief and stuffed it back in his pocket. He wouldn’t look me in the eyes but stared westward toward the mountains instead. Coogan’s Cove was nestled between them in that direction. “How could I? We watched a man get murdered.”
