I'm a fool to kill you

THIRTY-NINE

When Ava saw the address for the car lot we were going to she said, ‘That’s not a really good neighborhood. I’m glad I have you guys — and that I’m packin’ heat.’ She laughed.

She directed Jerry as he drove the cab. We drove past burnt-out buildings and a collection of bums and derelicts who found us very interesting. There was also a lot of graffiti, some of which Jerry said wasn’t there just for decoration.

‘Gang signs,’ he said. ‘We better get done what we gotta get done, Mr G., and haul ass outta here.’

‘Agreed.’

We pulled up in front of the lot. It looked more like a junk yard than anything else.

‘Have you got money?’ Ava asked me.

‘Some.’

‘Any idea how much this car’s going to be?’

‘I hope it’s reasonable,’ I said. ‘I’m looking to rent, not buy.’

‘Here,’ she said, and handed a sheaf of bills over the back of the seat. ‘Take this.’

‘How much is there?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I grabbed it from my dresser as a last thought. Thousands.’

‘I better go in with ya, Mr G.,’ Jerry said, eyeing the money.

I was wearing a windbreaker with an inner pocket, so I stuffed the cash inside.

‘You have to stay out here with Ava, Jerry,’ I said.

‘Then take this with ya.’ Jerry held out his.45.

‘I haven’t gotten any better with that, Jerry,’ I said. ‘I’ll probably shoot my foot off.’

‘How about mine?’ Ava asked, digging into her purse.

‘I’ll shoot off my toe,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.’

‘Don’t worry, he says,’ I heard Ava mutter as I got out of the car.

I went through the front gates, wondering if I was going to be chased by a couple of junkyard dogs. When none appeared I kept walking. There were aisles of discarded and junked automobile parts, with a hollowed out car carcass here and there. I reached the center of one row when a man stepped out from nowhere and stopped in front of me.

‘You lookin’ for somethin’?’ he asked.

He was taller, thinner and about ten years younger than Louie the Dispatcher, and while Louie’s hair was thinning, the guy had a mop of unruly black hair. But I could see by his features and heavy stubble that he was Louie’s brother.

‘I’m lookin’ for Freddy.’

‘I’m Freddy,’ he said. ‘You Mr Vegas?’

‘That’s me.’

‘Come on through,’ he said. ‘Got a garage in the back.’

I looked around, didn’t see anyone else, so I decided to follow him. We walked the rest of the aisle and came to a garage that looked like it had been made from corrugated metal. There were two large white doors that could swing out to open.

As we approached, the garage doors did open and one man appeared at each one.

Freddy kept walking, so I followed him into the garage. In the center was a vehicle completely covered by a tarp. Off to each side were similarly covered vehicles. The two men on the doors pulled them closed, and someone turned on overhead lights that bathed us in yellow. I made it four men.

‘My brother said you need a car with some kick,’ Freddy said.

‘I need a car that’ll get me where I’m goin’,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t have to break any speed records.’

‘This baby will do both,’ he said.

He grabbed the end of the tarp and pulled it off. I was surprised to see a red Chrysler C-300. I remembered when the car was first introduced; Chrysler called it ‘America’s most powerful car.’ It only had two doors, but there was a back seat.

‘Whataya think?’ Freddy asked.

‘It’s a beautiful machine,’ I said. ‘But it’s not what I need.’

‘It’s what every man needs, man,’ Freddy said.

The other three men closed in, standing with me in the middle. They were similar in age and build to each other — thirties to forties, with hard, round bellies pushing against their t-shirts. Freddy was the only one without that bowling ball belly, and he looked almost emaciated. There wasn’t a friendly face among them.

‘Let’s talk price.’

‘What are those?’ I asked, waving at the other covered cars.

‘They ain’t for you,’ he said. ‘Twenty-five hundred, and that’s a deal because my brother sentcha.’

‘I’m lookin’ to rent, Freddy, not buy.’

‘Rent? How do I know where you’re goin’ or if you’ll bring it back?’

‘Well, I thought since your brother sent me-’

‘Fuck that, man,’ Freddy said. ‘I ain’t in business for my health.’

‘I don’t think we can do business, Freddy,’ I said.

‘You got cash on ya?’

I didn’t answer.

‘Yeah, you got cash on ya.’

I stayed quiet, but my pulse was racing. Shoulda went to Hertz, I thought. Shoulda taken Jerry’s gun, or even Ava’s.

‘Freddy-’

‘You’re on the run from somebody, man,’ Freddy said, cutting me off. ‘Maybe the cops, maybe not. You can’t be fussy. But if you don’t want my car we can just take your cash and dump you someplace for somebody to find.’

‘Or not,’ one of the other men said, and suddenly he had a crowbar in his hand. I turned. Another man had a wrench, and a third was holding a pry bar.

When I looked back at Freddy, he was holding a gun, a long barreled revolver.

‘Just in case you’re heeled,’ he said.

‘I’m not.’

‘That’s good,’ he said. ‘That might be the thing that lets you come out of this alive.’

‘Guys,’ I said, ‘there’s no need for this. What would your brother say, Freddy?’

‘My big brother’s an idiot,’ Freddy said. ‘Why do you think he’s a fuckin’ dispatcher?’

And what are you, I thought, but I didn’t say it. Instead, I started looking for a place to run, or something to use as a weapon.

‘Let’s start with the cash, man,’ he said, ‘and then we’ll get to the pain.’

I started to sweat.