Blossom - Andrew H. Vachss [86]
"Yeah. Some of it."
"Wesley knows. This guy has to die."
"That's not mine. We're going to smoke him out, clear Lloyd once and for all. Then I'm gone."
The Prof looked around the room. Nodded.
"When that evil little baby–killer got on the train, he didn't know it stopped at Dodge City."
162
I DROPPED HIM off where we'd picked up the 'Cuda.
"You got enough cash?"
"I'm going back on the ground, ride the 'Hound. No problem."
"Prof…"
"It's cool, fool. Don't get sloppy on me now."
"Okay."
I took his hand, surprised as always by the power in the little man's grip.
His handsome face was calm, troubadour's voice a separate, living thing in the Indiana night. "Wesley may have showed you some things, schoolboy. But I was your teacher. Wesley, he knew death. Up close and personal. Me, I know life. Stay right on the line, you'll be fine."
163
"YOU LIKE THE blonde or the redhead?" I asked Blossom. The sex shop had a plentiful supply. Black, white, Oriental. Matching pubic hair, "removable for washing," the dandruffy clerk told me. "All three holes, too." The two faces were identically blank.
"I don't like either of them."
"Yeah, okay. I know what you don't like. What I need is some clothes of yours, okay? They need to be dressed when I first pull into the spot."
"It won't work."
"Why not? You think he's gonna get that close a look?"
"Let's see."
"What do you mean?"
"Let's try it. Look for yourself."
"It'll work, don't worry."
"You can't be sure."
"Burke, we won't get another chance. I'll leave it up to you. Just take a look first. Please."
"Get a suitcase," I told her as I pulled the plug on the inflatable dolls.
164
VIRGIL AND LLOYD weren't home. "They went out somewhere," Rebecca told us. "Have some coffee with me—they said they'd be back in an hour or so."
Virginia marched into the kitchen, pulling her brother by one hand. "Mommy, can we get Junior a sailor suit? I saw one on TV before. He'd look so cute in it when he goes back to school."
"Junior, you want a sailor suit?" Rebecca asked him, eyes dancing with joy at her children.
"No!"
"I guess that settles it, Virginia. Your brother's getting old enough to know his own mind."
"He's just stubborn."
"Like his daddy."
"Daddy's not stubborn."
"No, Daddy's perfect, huh?"
"Well, he is."
"How come you're not practicing your piano, sweetheart?" Blossom asked the child.
"She don't hardly touch that thing unless her daddy's around to hear her." Rebecca laughed.
"Mommy!" Virginia gave her a look I didn't think women learned until they were grown.
I went into the living room. Watched a Monster Truck competition on TV. Virginia sat down at the kitchen table with Blossom and her mother, sipped her mostly–milk coffee with them. I lit a cigarette, drifting. Junior came inside, sat down in his father's chair, watched the trucks with me.
165
IT WAS ALMOST ten o'clock when I heard the door. The kids were in bed. Virginia came into the living room in her flannel nightgown, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Virgil picked her up, gave her a kiss, carried her back to bed.
"Got something to show you, brother. Outside."
The 'Cuda was in the garage, lights on. A neat round hole in the driver's door.
"Lloyd and me, we took it up to a spot I know. Off in the woods. I threw down on it from maybe fifty yards. Real close. Put one round into the door, one into the driver's window. From the thirty–ought–six. The bullets never got inside. That thing's a bank vault."
"You don't know the Mole," I told him.
His face was calm. "That's right, I don't. Thought I'd see for myself."
"Okay, it's time. We're set. Tomorrow night."
"What about the other test?" Blossom. Honey–voiced, thread of ice running deep inside.
"What test?" Virgil wanted to know.
"She wants to see what the dummies look like from outside the car. I got them in the Lincoln. I'll just blow one up, we'll take a look."
Blossom stood to the side, watching us, hands on her hips, jaw set. "Not here."
"What difference does it make?"
"Difference enough. Let's take it back, to where Virgil