Raylan_ A Novel - Elmore Leonard [1]
Behind him he heard Rachel say, “Raylan, the bed’s full of blood. Like he was killin chickens in there.” And heard her say, “Oh my God,” sucking in her breath as she saw Angel.
Raylan turned the knob to let the water run out, lowering it around Angel, his belly becoming an island in the tub of ice water, blood showing in two places on the island.
“He had something done to him,” Raylan said. “He’s got like staples closing up what look like wounds. Or was he operated on?”
“Somebody shot him,” Tim said.
“I don’t think so,” Raylan said, staring at the two incisions stapled closed.
Rachel said, “That’s how they did my mother last year, at UK Medical. Made one entry below the ribs and the other under her belly button. I asked her why they did it there ’stead of around through her back.”
Tim said, “You gonna tell us what the operation was?”
“They took out her kidneys,” Rachel said. “Both of ’em, and she got an almost new pair the same day, from a child who’d drowned.”
They wrapped Angel in a blanket, carried him into the bedroom and laid him on the spread, the man shuddering, trying to breathe. His eyes closed he said to Raylan staring at him, “What happen to me?”
“You’re here makin a deal?”
Angel hesitated. “Two guys I know, growers. We have a drink—”
“And you end up in the tub,” Raylan said. “How much you pay them?”
“Is none of your business.”
“They left the weed?”
“What you see,” Angel said.
“There isn’t any here.”
Angel’s eyes came open. “I bought a hundred pounds, twenty-two thousand dollar. I saw it, I tried some.”
“You got taken,” Raylan said. “They put you out and left with the swag and the weed.”
Now his eyes closed and he said, “Man, I’m in pain,” his hands under the blanket feeling his stomach. “What did they take out of me?”
Raylan felt his pulse again. “He’s hangin in, tough little whatever he is, Sorta Rican? I can see these growers rippin him off, but why’d they take his kidneys?”
“It’s like that old story,” Tim said. “Guy wakes up missin a kidney. Has no idea who took it. People bring it up from time to time, but nobody ever proved it happened.”
“It has now,” Raylan said.
“You can’t live without kidneys,” Tim said.
“Be hard,” Raylan said. “Less you get on dialysis pretty quick. What I don’t see, what these pot growers are doing yanking out people’s kidneys. They aren’t making it sellin weed? I’ve heard a whole cadaver, selling parts of it at a time? Will go for a hundred grand. But you make more you sell enough weed, and it isn’t near as messy as dealin kidneys. What I’m wondering . . .” He paused, thinking about it.
Tim said, “Yeah . . . ?”
“Who did the surgery?”
About noon Art Mullen, marshal in charge of the Harlan field office, came by the motel to find Raylan still poking around the room.
Art said, “You know what you’re looking for?”
“Techs dusted the place,” Raylan said, “picked up Angel’s clothes, bloody dressings, surgical staples, an empty sack of Mail Pouch, but no kidneys. How’s Angel doing?”
“They got him in intensive care, maintaining.”
“He’s gonna make it?”
“I think what keeps him alive,” Art said, “he’s half out but mad as hell these weed dealers ripped him off. Took what he paid for the reefer—if you believe him—and left him to die.”
“Didn’t mention,” Raylan said, “they took his kidneys?”
“I kept makin the point,” Art said. “ ‘Tell me who these boys are, we’ll get your kidneys back for you.’ He commenced to breathe hard and the nurse shooed me out. No, but his kidneys,” Art said, “were taken out by someone knew what he was doing.”
Raylan said, “They were taken out the front.”
“They’re always taken out the front. Only this was the latest procedure. Smaller incision and they don’t cut through any muscle.”
“I’d like to see Angel,” Raylan said, “less you don’t want me to. I’ve known him since that time he was brought up for sellin khat. When I was on court duty in Miami. Angel and I got along pretty good,” Raylan said. “I think he believes I saved his life.”
“You probably did.”
“So he oughta be willing to talk to me.”
“He’s at Cumberland