He drove out to Mitchell’s place and turned onto the gravel driveway. He saw Russell’s Ford but Mitchell’s truck was not there. He sat parked for a moment and watched for movement and didn’t see any and so he drove on to the house. He parked next to the Ford and got out and walked to the back door and knocked.
“Mr. Gaines,” he called. He looked through the door’s glass pane and studied the kitchen. The light was off and it was clean. No plates or cups on the table or on the counter or in the sink. Boyd knocked again and called again but nothing. He waited and listened for the sound of a television or a radio or anything but there was only silence.
He turned and walked into the yard. The sun was high and gave him a short shadow as he looked around. He noticed the cooler out by the pond and some rusted aluminum chairs on the back porch. A full ashtray on a table between the chairs. He walked around the side of the house and the yard was cut and trimmed and it was such a quiet place. He had forgotten how nice a quiet place could be.
Then he looked toward the barn. The tractor and riding mower parked underneath. Shovels and rakes hanging on nails and stacks of paint buckets and drop cloths and a pile of rolled extension cords. And standing tall out in front of the barn was a concrete statue.
“What the hell?” he said and he walked toward it. He stopped in front and thought she must have been an angel but there were no wings and she wore drab clothing, even for a concrete statue. Then he figured it out. You never know what’s gonna end up where in this world, he thought. He shook his head and looked around again. Decided he didn’t want to go up the stairs to that room. Not yet. But when he turned to walk back to the cruiser out of the corner of his eye he saw the curtain fall in the upstairs window. And for the first time he noticed the hum of the air-conditioning unit around on the other side of the room.
He reached to the radio on his belt and turned off the sound. The stairs to the room ran up the outside wall of the barn and he walked over and climbed, taking each step slowly and listening for movement in the room as he eased his way up. He knew he wasn’t going to surprise whoever was in there but he remained patient with his steps and held his lips together tightly as he moved. When he reached the top of the stairs he unsnapped the holster and put his hand on his pistol. And then he touched the doorknob and turned it as if it might snap or break and the door made a click and he cracked it open.
He paused. Listened. Moved to open the door wide and a voice behind him yelled, “Hey! Que tal?”
Boyd jumped and standing a few steps below him was Consuela. She was pointing a finger at him and screaming short phrases that he didn’t understand but she was damn serious about whatever she was saying.
“Holy shit, you need a damn bell around your neck,” he said.
“Pare! No suba más!”
“Calm down.”
“Váyase de aquí! Ahora mismo!” She was waving her thick arms now and had moved a step closer and looked like she might tear him up if he didn’t do what she wanted.
“All right, all right. Calm the hell down. I’m going.”
“Voy a llamar a la policía!”
“I am the damn police,” he said and he pointed at his badge. She shouted and waved and he came down the stairs and slid by her and she paused the animation long enough to let him get past and then she cranked it up again. She followed him down the stairs and stalked him across the yard as he walked quickly to the cruiser, looking over his shoulder every couple of steps to make sure she didn’t hop on his back or worse.
“Eres un rata!” she yelled. “Un rata!”
He hurried into the car and cranked it and quickly turned around. She marched toward him as he backed up and then when he pulled forward she stomped along the driveway, raising her arms and yelling in the trailing dust with a watchdog tenacity.
She chased him along the gravel road until he was onto the highway and out of sight and then she turned and waved at Maben, who was watching from the window.
42
AFTER THEY RETURNED WITH THE FRESH BAIT RUSSELL LEFT THEM to it and he got in his truck and headed to his house. He sat now on the front steps and held Sarah’s ring in his fingertips. Held it up to the sun and watched the tiny spots of light dance inside the diamond. Then he stuck the ring back into the pocket where he had kept it since Sarah had given it back. Inside he took a beer from the refrigerator and he sat down on the sofa and stared at the blank television screen. He picked up the remote but before he had the chance to turn on the television a car pulled into the driveway. He stood and looked out the window and he saw Boyd walking toward the front door. Goddamn it, he said. Russell opened the door and then he sat again on the sofa and waited.
Boyd plopped down in a chair at the end of the sofa. Didn’t say anything. Looked at the television. Looked at Russell. Russell didn’t look at him. Sipped on his beer and waited for what was next.
“Rode out to your daddy’s a little bit ago. That woman’s quite the barracuda.”
“I don’t know nothing about that.”
“Well. She is.”
“Good for Mitchell.”
“Yep.”
“That it?”