Raylan_ A Novel - Elmore Leonard [63]
“Why does it make you nervous?”
“You mean everybody thinkin I’m the one shot him? I don’t even own a gun no more.”
“We tell them the gun’s licensed,” Carol said, “and I gave it to you just in case, that evening, once we knew Otis was armed.”
Boyd stared at her across the table.
“We tell who the gun’s licensed?”
“The marshals,” Carol said. “One of them called again this morning.”
“Raylan?”
“No, a Bill Nichols. He’s writing a report. Wants to be sure he has the facts straight.”
“They got the sheriff’s account don’t they? Everything you told ’em?”
“They’re not coming to get us. He’d like us to stop by the office and I forgot,” Carol said. “He called again this morning and I told him we’d come in tomorrow.”
“It’s that goddamn Raylan,” Boyd said.
Chapter Twenty-six
Nichols was telling Raylan back in the Lexington marshals office again, Jackie Nevada was no longer a bank suspect.
Raylan said, “She never was.”
“But could’ve been. Start with her droppin twenty grand in a poker game.”
“That’s her motive? You lose money, you rob a bank?”
“The Indy cops said she was acting desperate.”
“Wait,” Raylan said. “Who was acting desperate?”
“Why’re we arguing?” Nichols said. “We’re holding a twenty-five-year-old white girl walked out of a bank on West Main—it was this morning—with a little over two grand and a dye pack among the take. It goes off as she pushes open the door and colors her red for guilty.”
Raylan said, “She’s one of the girls in the surveillance tape?”
“The one Indy police swore was Jackie Nevada. She sent word from the cage she’s ready to talk to us. Like she’s changed her mind, gonna put the stuff on this guy has her robbin banks.”
“You know who the guy is?”
“We’re gonna find out, aren’t we?”
“What’s her name?”
“Jane Jones on her driver’s license.”
“You look her up?”
“Couple of falls for prostitution,” Nichols said. “Jane Jones both times. Her occupation’s listed as exotic dancer.”
“A stripper,” Raylan said, “when she’s not robbin banks.”
“Good-lookin young girl,” Nichols said, “blond. I wouldn’t mind seein her act.”
Jane was brought in and seated facing Nichols at his desk, Raylan in the chair next to her. He said, “Jane . . . ?” She turned to him with not much of an expression, tired out. “You look good for gettin hit with a dye pack. Your face is just a little pink. No color on your jeans or your T-shirt.”
She said, “You should see my raincoat. You may as well throw it in the trash. I wanted to brush out my hair, but you don’t have a brush you loan out.”
Raylan asked where she was from and she said Kentucky.
“But not from around here,” Raylan said. “I think I hear Letcher or maybe Perry County in your voice. Am I right?”
“Born and lived in Hazard till I worked up my nerve to leave.”
Raylan, grinning at her, said, “Get out. You know where I’m from? Harlan County. Worked my way out and I’m back there again with the marshals.”
Now Jane was sort of smiling. “It’s hard to escape. You have to make up your mind, you gonna go? Then get the hell goin.”
“Your daddy,” Raylan said, “dug coal, didn’t he?”
“Till a mine blew up on him.”
“The one in ’96”—Raylan shaking his head—“when you were a little girl. I’m sorry I mentioned it.”
“It’s all right,” Jane said. “I came away from Hazard to better myself, I end up dancin naked and robbin banks.”
Raylan smiled.
Jane said, “It isn’t funny.” But now she was grinning.
“The way you tell it it is,” Raylan said, “like ten years from now you’ll have people laughin out loud.”
She said, “That’s how long I’ll be in prison?”
“This fella made you rob the bank,” Raylan said, “didn’t he get you high and you’d think it was fun? I believe you have a case against this man. What’s his name?”
“The reason I didn’t tell it before,” Jane said, “I’m scared to death of him.”
“He’d beat you up?”
“He’d slap me I argue or don’t answer right away. Then says in his soft tone a voice, ‘Baby, you know I don’t like to hit you.’ Always this, ‘Please, baby, don’t make me do it.’ He told us we had to get five thousand each or don’t come home. So we go in a bank it’s