Raylan_ A Novel - Elmore Leonard [72]
Boyd said, “I’m in charge of”—came close to saying Disagreements, but changed it to—“drivin her around.”
She said, “You was with her, wasn’t you? The night Otis come up to you?”
Boyd straightened, saying to the widow, “Ma’am, I did not shoot your husband.”
“I know that,” Ms. Culpepper said. “I’ve heard her talk and now I’ve heard you talk, offerin to go out and get me a jar. Get two, please. I suppose you don’t have much patience, but she don’t have none. She like to get things done right now. She come to get these papers signed, you now what I’m gonna do?”
Boyd shook his head.
She threw off the quilt covering her legs and was aiming a shotgun at him.
Boyd said, “Jesus Christ.”
Ms. Culpepper said, “My Lord and Savior.”
“You surprised me’s all.”
“I’m gonna scare her good. Thinks I’m about to shoot her, but they’s no shells come with the gun. Was Otis’s, a state trooper give me. I asked him, ‘Say I want to go out and shoot a turkey for supper?’ He says no, he can’t bring me no shells since I’m stayin in this home. He believes it’s against the law.”
“What you need shells for?”
“Shoot the company woman, she comes in tomorrow.”
“Whoa,” Boyd said. “You can shoot that gun?”
“Near good as Otis.”
Boyd took his time before asking, “How many loads you think you’d need?”
“Jes one,” Ms. Culpepper said. “It’ll put her down. Maybe one more if I need it.”
Chapter Thirty
Liz Burgoyne came in the sun parlor from the patio to see Jackie Nevada waiting, getting up from the sofa, and it made Liz think of Raylan, the time she walked in and he asked her about Cuba stealing kidneys. Liz crossed the room in jeans and cowboy boots offering her hand, saying:
“Jackie Nevada. Harry’s told me about his poker-playing buddy. He makes you sound like a little girl, but you’re quite something else, aren’t you?” Liz smiling now. “Harry mentioned you’re wanted by the police?”
“It’s a misdemeanor thing,” Jackie said. “I didn’t show up for a hearing.”
“Picked up in a raid,” Liz said. “Harry told me about it. He said you like Manhattans, is that right?”
Jackie said, “If that’s what we’re having.”
They were both on the sofa now, the nearly empty pitcher on the cocktail table, both smoking cigarettes.
“You ever cheat?” Liz said.
“Why do only women ask that? You mean at poker.”
“Or on a guy.”
“Poker, I’ve never had to.”
“You’re that good?”
“You have to work with another player. Didn’t you see Rounders? They cheat playing with a bunch of cops. I’ve never cheated on a boyfriend either. Right now I don’t have one, but I live with seven guys. You know what they think is funny? Farting.”
“Why do guys love to fart?”
“They’re expressing themselves.”
“You hop in the sack with any of them?”
“Nope. There’s some fooling around, girls come for a party and we get high, but I don’t recall anything really inappropriate. You might hear a girl tell some guy to quit grabbin her ass. We have great parties.”
Liz said, “You like to go down on guys?”
“Not guys, no. But I have polished the occasional knob.”
“Wow,” Liz said. “You’re not bashful, are you?”
“You know what I’m talking about or wouldn’t of asked.”
“You have to meet some of my friends from olden times, they’d love you.”
“I’m not a lay,” Jackie said. “I’ve only gone to bed with three guys in four years, ones I thought I was serious about.”
“What happened to them?”
“They graduated.”
Liz poured the rest of the Manhattans.
“You like to do it standing up?”
“I never have,” Jackie said. “In movies they look like they’re ringing the bell, but I think it would be uncomfortable.”
Liz said, “I bet I know the movie you’re thinking of. The girl walks in the bar—”
“That’s the one.”
“She can’t get any attention and yells out, ‘Who’s a girl gotta suck around here to get a drink?’ ”
“She gets into the cute guy’s pants, in the booth.”
“Then you see them in back doing it standing up.”
“You ever do it with a black guy?”
“No, and I’m not racist,” Jackie said. “Or maybe I am and don’t know it. I’ve never had any chills and thrills