The Mystic Arts of Erasing All Signs of Death - Charlie Huston [103]
Did I know what he meant? Shit yes. I was hip deep in what he meant.
Which he already knew.
So he kept talking without me giving an answer.
—What no one wants is for the secrets to start coming out into the open. Guys like we were just talking about, they can make things come to light. Just by being around and getting involved in your life, they can cause all kinds of shit to unnecessarily become unhinged. So we did what we do.
He gulped the last of his drink.
—We cleaned shit up.
He set the empty glass in front of me.
—Like the man said, you wanted to know, all you had to do was stay in the room.
I looked at the glass.
—That's the thing.
I looked at him.
—I don't want to leave the room. Po Sin, man, honestly, even if I did want to, I'm not sure I could find the door. But. That doesn't even matter. Because.
I shook my head.
—I love this shit.
I raised a hand.
—I liked teaching. I did. But I love this shit. It's like, man, it's like I found my calling. It's like if I took one of those employment placement tests we gave the kids in junior high. You should be a scientist, an insurance adjuster, a flight attendant. When I took that test, it said I should be a structural engineer. But this, this is like if that test said, You shall be a crime scene cleaner, Webster Fillmore Goodhue, and you shall like it well. It just fits. It fits me. This is what I want to do, man.
I lifted my beer.
—I want to clean up after dead people.
—Hey yo.
We looked at the bartender.
—You guys come over in that van?
Po Sin started to rise.
—It getting a ticket?
—No.
Po Sin started to sit.
—Good. That would have been a pisser.
The bartender pointed out the swinging saloon door.
—But looks like it's on fire.
The Lost and Found is in a strip mall at the corner of National and South Barrington. That far west, that close to their place of business, it was probably a provocation. But that wasn't the kind of thing I could be expected to know. Po Sin and Gabe, I guess they just wanted to go to one of their favorite bars.
We came out the swinging door into a small parking lot illuminated by the flames pouring from the shattered windows of the van. Morton's crew was already piling back into a silver Pathfinder. Morton was on the sidewalk with an ax handle. Dingbang just behind him, jumping up and down, jabbing a finger at us as we came out.
—'Bout that shit? Huh, motherfuckers? 'Bout that shit?
Morton raised the ax handle and pointed it at Po Sin.
—Had it coming. We were under truce, you pulled that shit. Had this coming.
Gabe started across the lot.
Po Sin grabbed him.
—Cool it. He's right.
He pulled Gabe back to his side.
—Deal with this later.
Dingbang bounced higher.
—'Bout that? Fuck with the best, get fucked in the ass like the rest.
Po Sin raised his voice over the flames.
—Shut up, Dingbang.
—Bang! Bang!
Morton raised the ax handle over his head.
—You are done, Chinaman. You and your nigger. Gonna squeeze you right out of business.
Dingbang pumped a fist.
—Right out of business!
—Motherfucker!
Po Sin started toward them.
—You're a disgrace, Dingbang!
—Bang!
—A wart. Your dad is a jailbird, but at least he has half a brain. At least he never let himself get used against his own family by some whiteass motherfucker.
He pointed at Morton.
—Fuck this midget. I'm gonna kill you. I'm gonna take the stain off my family. If I got dead ancestors watching, they are gonna be laughing their asses off tonight. I'm gonna improve the gene pool, Dingbang.
—Bangbangbang!
—Motherfuckermotherfuckermotherfucker!
He charged, Morton and Dingbang reeling back from him as his shadow fell over them.
Then he stopped, a monster in silhouette against