Hey There (You with the Gun in Your Hand)

Twenty-seven

Thomas ended up taking the hundred-dollar bill I pushed into his hand and we parted company in the warehouse parking lot.

“That was odd,” Jerry said, as we got into the Caddy.

“What was?”

“That guy,” he said. “Comin’ along when he did, doin’ what he did … odd.”

“What are you saying?”

Jerry shrugged and started the engine.

“I’m just sayin’ it was odd.”

When we got back to the house we still had work to do. We decided to leave the bloody blankets in the warehouse, among some cartons and tarps we found in a dark corner. Maybe the cops would never find them. But if they did, it’d just be another part of the puzzle for ’em to solve.

At the house, we had to clean the blood out of the living room rug. We also had to decide what to do with the chair Jerry had been duct-taped to.

It was well into the morning when we put away our buckets, sponges and mops. We had flushed gallons of bloody water down the toilet. I hoped to replace the products before my cleaning lady discovered they were gone. I also hoped the rug would dry before she showed up. I didn’t want her asking any questions.

“I’m hungry,” Jerry said, as first light started to brighten the interior of the house. “You hungry?”

“Yeah, I’m hungry, but I’m also tired,” I said. “Let’s go out and get something to eat and then come back and get some shut-eye.”

“Fine with me.”

We washed up, put on clean shirts-we’d been cleaning in our t-shirts-and left the house. There was a place not far from my house where Jerry and I had had breakfast a few times last year, and he remembered the way. He ordered a tall stack of pancakes while I went for eggs, bacon and the works.

“I can’t believe I’m hungry after what we just did,” I said.

Jerry leaned forward and lowered his voice, despite the fact that there was no one seated near us.

“Mr. G., we didn’t shot nobody.”

“I know it, but we broke a helluva lot of other laws,” I said. “You may be used to that in New York, but I’m not.”

“You and me bent a lot of ’em last year. Did ya lose sleep over those?”

“So I guess this is what happens when you start bendin’ the laws,” I reasoned. “Eventually, you end up breakin’ ’em, too.”

“Don’t beat yerself up, Mr. G.,” Jerry said. “You’re doin’ what you always do.”

“What’s that?”

“Tryin’ ta help somebody. Ya kept Mr. Davis out of it.”

“Sammy,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ve got to call and tell him what’s goin’ on.”

“Didn’t he head back to Tahoe today?”

“You’re right,” I said. “I’ll wait a while.”

“Call him after ya get some sleep,” Jerry suggested. “You don’t look so good.”

I didn’t feel so good, either, but I was still hungry, so we dug in.

When we came outside the sun was shining brightly and I thought about those four bodies inside that warehouse-one already partially ripe. I shaded my eyes.

“Back home?” Jerry asked.

“Only to get your things,” I said. “I don’t want to take a chance on somebody comin’ to the house again. We’ll catch some sleep at the Sands.”

“I got two beds in my room, Mr. G.,” Jerry said. “You’re welcome to one.”

“Thanks for the offer, Jerry,” I said, “but I don’t think I’ll have any trouble getting myself a room.”

“Naw, probably not,” he said.

We drove from the diner to my block and as we started to pull in I saw the black-and-whites complete with flashing lights. Jerry stopped the car cold and we stared down the block.

“Cops!” he said, and in that one word you could hear his disdain.

“What the fuck-” I said.

“They’re in front of your house.”

“Jerry, get us out of here,” I said, “and don’t screech the tires.”

“I’m way ahead of you, Mr. G.”