Bingo Barge Murder (22 page)

“I was scared,” Coop said. “Stupid, I know.”

“Maybe it’ll be the great equalizer.”

“Or a spike in the coffin.”

_____

The inside of the semi’s cab was dirty and grease-stained, well-used. The cloying odor of stale cigarette smoke and gasoline swirled through the vehicle, making me dizzy.

Dawg perched on the seat between Coop and me, his lip hooked on an incisor, grimacing in as much distaste at his surroundings as we were. Coop sucked hard on a cigarette, keeping it close to his open window, and the smell was almost better than the stale odors that had long ago seeped into the upholstery and headliner.

Sharp metal dug into the soft skin on the side of my knee as Coop wheeled around a corner and rolled down a ramp onto southbound 35W. I gingerly pulled out the weapon and set it on the cracked vinyl seat beside me, careful to keep it away from Dawg’s paws.

My movements caught Coop’s attention. “What in the hell are you doing with that thing?”

I eyed the gun for a moment. “Not sure.”

Coop looked back at the road. “Put it away! You’re going to get us killed.”

“That’s what I’m trying
not
to do.”

Dawg’s head swung from me to Coop, and then he returned his worried gaze my direction. He settled down next to Coop with a deep sigh, resting his head on Coop’s leg.

“So,” Coop said as he changed lanes and navigated the new maze of ramps of the 35W/Crosstown commons. “How are we gonna play this out?”

Only fifteen minutes had passed since Rita’s call, but it felt like hours. “They want to meet in that lot by the gas station.”

“The one where we parked after George left?”

“Yeah. I suppose they want the truck close to the terminal, but not so close that attention is drawn to the situation if there’s a showdown.” I eyed the gun again and felt a throb of pain in my temple. I focused out the windshield on the car in front of us. It had bumper stickers all over its rear end, but the vehicle was too far away for me to make out what they said. I rubbed my forehead in a vain attempt to calm the thumping that had set in.

“Okay, how about this,” Coop said as he checked my side mirror and shifted lanes. We were now heading east on 494, away from downtown. “We’ll hand this jalopy over to them, get Rocky, and get the hell out.”

I sat silently for a minute. “What about Dawg?”

“What about Dawg?”

“I can’t give him back, Coop. Buzz’ll kill him.”

Coop chewed on the inside of his cheek. “I wonder why Buzz wants the mutt back so bad?”

We both contemplated Dawg’s chances with Buzz. I said, “Maybe because he’s a redneck who can’t stand for someone to have something that belongs to him.” I ran a finger over the ridge above Dawg’s eye. “This time the redneck goes empty-handed.”

“I’m with you.” He held his fist out to me and I knocked it with my own.

“Let’s play it out and go with the flow. It’s more or less worked for us so far.”

“Sounds like a plan to me. Call JT.”

JT didn’t answer, but I left a message and hoped she’d get it soon. I wondered if she was still in the midst of her verbal lashing.

The rest of the ride was uneventful. I knew that as soon as JT found out we’d bailed, there’d be hell to pay, even if I had left her a message. I hoped when this was all over, she’d understand why we took off—provided Coop, Rocky, and I came out of this unharmed.

As the road whizzed by, I thought about my feelings for JT. It’d been a long time since I’d had interest beyond the physical in anyone. I wondered if what I was feeling for her was simply a result of the overly charged emotions that came with life, death, and felonious break-ins.

My musings ended when Coop pulled off the freeway and headed down 61 toward the Grizzly Terminal. After a few minutes, the gas station came into view, and although I couldn’t see it, the entrance to the shipping terminal was only a quarter-mile away.

I opened my cell, found Rita’s number, and hit redial. For an instant I was afraid she wasn’t going to pick up. She did.

“We’re here,” I said without preamble.

“What about the dog?” The sound of Rita’s voice grated on my last nerve.

My throat constricted, but I said, “He’s here, too.”

“Park around behind the building and get out of the truck. Stand in front of it and wait.” She disconnected.

“Go to the back of the station,” I directed Coop. As he slowly eased into the parking lot, I scanned the area for Buzz and Rita. We came to a rumbling stop behind the station, and I wondered where they were.

Coop killed the engine. “Ready?”

“No.”

Neither of us made a move to get out of the cab.

“Do you know how to use a gun?” I asked Coop.

“Are you kidding?” He frowned at me. “I save things, not kill them. The Green Beans would revoke my membership.”

“Just checking.” I picked the weapon up. The metal was cold in my hands, and it felt very final. I didn’t know what else to do with it, so I stuck it in my pants at the small of my back. I had a sudden, frightening vision of it accidentally going off and putting a large hole in one of my butt cheeks.

I looked at Coop. “I love you, you fool. Thank you for being my best friend.”

He eyed me a moment, then reached over and tousled my hair. “I love you, too.”

I caught his hand and pressed it to my cheek, then let it go and opened the door, feeling like we were playing out the disastrous last moments of
Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid
.

We climbed out of
the semi at the same time, and I coaxed Dawg down once my feet were on the ground. Rita and company weren’t in sight, but I felt eyes burning into us from every direction.

Dawg and I met Coop in front of the truck’s massive grille. Stillness pressed down, and the only sound was our shuffling feet on the loose gravel. After a couple of tense minutes, a black Lexus pulled in. It rolled to a stop twenty yards away.

The driver’s door swung slowly open, and a man who could only be Buzz stepped out onto the dusty ground. He was almost six feet tall, with a solid beer belly and an unruly shock of sparse, mouse-brown hair on the top of his head. A thick, ugly moustache sprouted beneath a bulbous nose, and light-colored whiskers covered his cheeks. His facial hair and Rita’s mole-sprouts could really create some hair- and complexion-challenged brats. Ugh.

Buzz wore a faded black t-shirt beneath an unbuttoned, armless green flannel shirt. His Wranglers were held up by a brown belt with a shiny oversized metal buckle that was almost hidden by his overhanging paunch.

He shut the door and stepped forward. Dawg whimpered, cowering between Coop and me. The hard metal of the gun pressed insistently against my back. A drop of nervous sweat slowly trickled down my spine.

Buzz stopped about ten feet away. “Give me the keys and the dog.”

“Where’s Rocky?” I said.

Buzz glared at me. He swiped a hand over his face and yelled, “Rita!”

A moment later the passenger door popped opened and Rita emerged. Dressed in an expensive, light gray pantsuit she held herself regally despite the desolate surroundings. What did she see in white trash Buzz?

“Get the retard,” Buzz said to her.

Rita opened the rear door and reached inside, bringing Rocky out by the ear as if he were a misbehaving ten-year-old.

“Ow, ow, ow.” Rocky’s voice was hoarse and pain-filled.

Coop stiffened, and I slid my hand slowly behind my back, fingers wrapping around the grip of the gun. Rita dragged Rocky by his ear over to Buzz. Rocky’s head was tilted sideways and tear tracks slowly made their way down his cheeks. “Here’s the crybaby. Now give Buzz the damn keys,” Rita said, the mole on her chin quivering.

Buzz took a step closer and would have taken another, but Dawg growled low in his throat. Buzz stopped and glared at the dog. “You fucking mutt. You’ll get yours.” His weasly eyes shifted between Coop and me. “You stole my damn dog.”

Coop bristled. “We didn’t steal him. He escaped from your abusive bullshit, asshole.”

“Why you—” Buzz cocked his arm and his hand curled into a fist. He made a move to step closer but halted mid-stride as Dawg stood, hackles raised, his growl louder this time, higher pitched, and his long teeth bared.

Rita still held onto Rocky’s ear for dear life, and Rocky’s golden eyes were saucers, his face pale.

“Let Rocky go, Rita,” I commanded.

“Give Buzz the keys,” she countered.

“Let him go,” Coop said.

Dawg was still growling low in his throat and kept his eyes zeroed in on Buzz, daring him to make another move.

“Fine.” She let go of Rocky’s ear and shoved him forward. He stumbled and fell heavily to one knee before he regained his feet and stood, dazed.

“Rocky, walk over to the building and go around to the front,” I said. I wanted him as far away from the Showdown at Forlorn Station as he could get. Rocky blinked slowly at me, and then turned toward the structure and wobbled off on unsteady legs.

I redirected my attention to the two monsters before us. Rita sidled over next to Buzz. Both of them uneasily eyed Dawg, whose eyes flicked between the two of them as if he didn’t know who the worse threat was.

“Okay, he’s free. Give me the damn keys.” Buzz narrowed his eyes, pulled a revolver from beneath his flannel shirt tail, and leveled it at us.

My hand was still behind my back, and I tried to tug the gun from my waistband. The air felt weighted, like we were breathing pudding. Beside me, Coop tensed, sensing I was in the midst of doing something but not knowing what.

“Give me the goddamned keys,” Buzz roared, and took a long step toward us. As the barrel of the gun cleared my pants, Dawg launched himself at Buzz with a frenzied growl. In one bound, he was upon him and clamped onto Buzz’s crotch. An inhuman scream issued from the big man as Dawg’s momentum knocked him on his ass. The gun flew from his hand and skittered away, coming to a stop near Rita.

Buzz continued to scream, and Dawg didn’t appear to be letting up.

I brought my own gun in front of me but didn’t know if I should point it at Rita or Buzz. While I tried to make up my mind, Rita scrambled for Buzz’s gun. Coop dove for it at the same time.

Dust kicked up in clouds. Rita and Coop wrestled in the gravel, each trying desperately to get a hold of the weapon.

Suddenly a deafening blast ripped the air, and Coop was propelled violently backward. He landed flat on his back, limbs askew. A large stain appeared on his right shoulder, blood quickly soaking his shirt.

My horrified gaze snapped back to Rita, who scrambled to her feet. She waved the gun around, shell-shocked. Her neatly coiffed black hair was askew, her eyes wild.

She managed to get both hands on the gun and swing it in my direction. The gun in her hand bobbled as her hands shook, but the weapon in mine was rock-steady. My brain ceased processing. It was stuck in a never-ending loop of Coop’s name. Rita and I were at an impasse.

“You … you’re ruining everything,” she spat at me. It was hard to hear over Buzz’s howls of pain.

“Drop the gun, Rita,” I shouted at her.

She regarded me with eyes so full of anger that I’d have stepped back from the sheer force of her glare if I didn’t have a gun pointed at her.

“How could you do this to me?” She glared at Buzz in disgust as he writhed, trying in vain to get away from the vise of Dawg’s jaws. I had to hand it to the mutt, he had tenacity. Payback for years of hurt Buzz had heaped on him.

“Drop the gun,” I told her again.

Her gaze slid back to me. “You little bitch. You’ve wrecked it all.” Her hands steadied, the gun’s barrel pointed square at the center of my chest. My mind screamed at me to shoot while my finger remained frozen on the trigger, unable to squeeze it hard enough to fire.

Before I had a chance to say another word, an object rocketed from somewhere behind me. It struck Rita smack-dab between the eyes. She went down as if the ground had been yanked from beneath her feet.

I blinked once. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, I frantically looked for the source of the damage. Rocky bounced toward me from the side of the truck, surprise and joy spread across his face. “I thwacked her, Shay O’Hanlon! I thwacked her with a rock right in the thinker!”

The little man launched himself at me and I barely had enough time to stuff the gun into a pocket before he wrapped his arms around me. “I did it, Shay O’Hanlon, I did it!”

I squeezed him tight with one arm, frantically grabbing at my cell with the other and dialing 911 as I hobbled both of us over to Coop’s crumpled form.