Two Bits Four Bits (4 page)

“Hey homie, when you gonna
drag your lazy ass out of bed?” he yelled into the
phone.

“Listen half-pint,” I
said. “I was already up when you were still asleep and having that
wet dream about your mother-in-law. And don’t call your homie. I’m
just as straight as any of the other guys you used to gawk at in
the shower after football practice.”

“Shee-it, and I thought
you was down with the lingo, babe. See, when I call you my homie it
means you—“

“I know, I know,” I
interrupted. “Just jerking your chain, Ray-gun. Besides, the only
reason you know what it means is from watching reruns on
MTV.”

“Hey, we gonna go run
today or what?”

“If you think you can
handle it, and you can get your butt out here before the
temperature hits triple digits.”

Thirty minutes later we
were jogging down the side of Highway 385 on the outskirts of
Elmore, headed toward town. Like a lot of other small towns in West
Texas, big industrial yards containing rusting hulks of farm
machinery and oilfield equipment lined the highway leading to town.
Some people might find the surroundings bleak and depressing, but
for me the run was a nice change from the rolling hills of Austin,
where I normally worked out.

Although it was beautiful
around Austin, with no shortage of lush greenery and trees, I’d
missed the flatness and the visible evidence of the oil industry
that had surrounded me when I was had growing up. There was a sense
of freedom in being able to see miles in any direction, your gaze
uninterrupted by hills or foliage. And, you couldn’t get much
flatter than the terrain around Elmore, Texas. If Hollywood ever
needed more stock footage of long, straight highways stretching off
into the distance with heat waves rising and making the horizon
shimmer, this would have been a perfect place to film
it.

The climate was different
too. Elmore was located in a semi-arid desert region, which meant
that perspiration could evaporate and cool your skin as you ran,
instead of simply running down your body to collect in your
socks.

As we ran, Ray had been
filling me in on the latest gossip he had picked up about our
classmates during the weekend. He’d had been so excited about the
reunion, and deeply involved in the planning, that I knew he felt
let down that the weekend was over.

Ray was a very social
person and had been his whole life. It was something down deep in
his personality. I was just the opposite. Unless my work gave me
reason to talk to people, I wasn’t naturally equipped to generate
idle conversation. During my years on the APD, I had grown to avoid
any non-cop social functions. Some people were uncomfortable around
members of the police, which could make for awkward situations when
they had a drink or two. It became simpler to limit my circle of
friends to other cops.

But, since I was no longer
a cop, and knew I had to reenter normal society sooner or later, I
had vowed to let Ray drag me to any function he wanted to during
the reunion weekend. I had missed some of the earlier reunions, and
hadn’t seen a lot of the people in our class since graduation
night.

Nearing the city limits,
we jogged past Jenkins Drilling, one of Elmore’s major employers. A
series of large, neatly maintained, fabricated metal buildings sat
in the center of a huge fenced dirt lot that served as storage
space for drilling pipe and drilling rigs of various sizes and
vintages. The fact that there were any rigs in the yard at all was
indicative of the bad health of the local economy. It wasn’t
unusual for a driller like Jenkins to owe several million dollars
on their drilling rigs, which meant they did everything within
their power to keep them operating around the clock, since interest
on the loans kept running even when the rigs weren’t. When rigs
were sitting unused in the drilling company’s yard it meant there
was a visible slowdown in drilling. And, anytime drilling in the
Permian Basin slowed down, oilfield payrolls got smaller and the
entire business community felt the impact.

“It’s a shame about Kandy,
becoming a widow like that.” Ray said.

I didn’t say anything. Ray
was all about competition, and we often tried to work mental games
on each other during our runs, to tire each other out. We were well
past mile four of our run and my body was working like a well-oiled
machine. My knees hadn’t begun aching yet, and my breathing was
smooth and steady. Ray was trying to upset my physiological balance
by introducing mental stress into the mix. Kandy had been my high
school sweetheart long before she married Russell Chilton. Ray
couldn’t understand how I wouldn’t still be carrying a torch for
her. He thought that by mentioning her name he would throw me a
mental curveball and gain an edge in our never-ending athletic
competition.

“Yeah, won’t be long
before she’ll be looking for somebody to replace her stud-muffin
bank president,” he continued. “Of course he spent most of his time
screwing one teller after another.”

I just kept running,
staring straight ahead. I had a strategy of my own. It centered on
letting Ray do the talking, pouring all of his spare energy into
verbalization, while I concentrated on feeding a steady supply of
oxygen to my heart and muscles. It was a perfect strategy to use
with Ray because he couldn’t stand any lull in the conversation,
and would always move to fill it. He should’ve gotten a job in talk
radio.

“She’s looking pretty good
these days, Bud. You might want to make a move when things settle
down.”

“When did he take over at
the bank?” I asked.

My strategy allowed me to
speak a few words occasionally, especially if it prompted Ray to do
more talking. I was also afraid that if I didn’t say something
every now and then, he might catch on to what I was doing and shut
up until the run was over.

“Oh, let’s see,” he said
between wheezing breaths. “Her old man turned over the reins seven,
maybe eight years ago. Just before he died. I think Kandy’s mother
is still on the board of directors, but Russell Chilton was running
the show. Had himself a pretty sweet deal. Got to be president of
the bank all day and hump Kandy all night.”

I could see him glance
sideways at me to see if this last barb would get a reaction. I
just focused on my breathing and waited for him to
continue.

“Course he hasn’t been
humping her much lately if the talk around town is halfway right.
It sounds like he nailed every female working in that bank under
the age of sixty. I’m telling you bro, you might have a shot at her
if you play your cards right. Good looking woman like that
shouldn’t have had to put up with that screwing around. You ask me,
that man was a fool for looking at anybody else. Kandy rocks, dude.
She’s still got that cheerleader body and her face is even prettier
than it was back in the day.”

“What was Russell Chilton
like?” I asked.

My strategy was working
perfectly. Ray had begun talking in short bursts of four or five
words, punctuated by gasps as he tried to gulp enough oxygen to
feed his legs and his mouth, both of which were feeling the effects
of the deficit.

“Well, you know, man, it’s
weird. I met him when he first came to town about fifteen, sixteen
year ago, and he was the nicest guy you could imagine. He was
really friendly to everybody and straight as an arrow. I mean you
never heard anything bad about him. But, after Kandy’s pop died and
he moved into the corner office, he decided he could make up for
lost time. Started drinking and hanging out at the bars, which was
something Kandy’s old man wouldn’t let any of the bank officers do
when he was alive. And, that’s when the talk about him fooling
around with the women at the bank started. First it was an affair
with his secretary and then just about any skirt on the payroll.
Melba’s sister Ramona worked down there at the bank for a while.
She said one night they were having some kind of bank party and a
bunch of the women ended up in Russell’s office watching porno
movies with him.”

“Sounds like Kandy picked
a real winner. Did he ever make a run at Ramona?”

“No, but she kept hoping
he would. I tell you, Buddy, it’s a damn shame you and Kandy didn’t
end up together. I could be going out for a morning run with the
president of Elmore Bank & Trust right now.”

“And, trying figure out a
way to get me to jump Melba’s sister.”

“Hey, Ramona gets jumped
more often than the Rio Grande border. She doesn’t need any help
from me.”

Ray may have finally
caught on to my competitive strategy, as he fell silent while we
continued on into the center of town, still following Highway 385
as it turned into Commerce Street and led us to the courthouse
square. The streets surrounding the square were empty except for
immediately in front of Lita’s Little Mexico Restaurant, where the
vehicles of Sunday morning diners took every parking
space.

Most of the businesses
that lined the square during my youth were gone, their buildings
occupied by new enterprises that reflected the change in times. The
old Woolworth’s dime store, as my mother always called it, was now
home to the Daze Gone Bye antique store, which likely offered for
sale hundreds of items originally purchased as new in the same
building. Several smaller buildings around the corner held a nail
salon, payday loan office and a video rental store. The old Derrick
Theater, where I had watched every movie I’d ever seen growing up,
was still there, but boarded up, the tall derrick-shaped facade
stripped of its elaborate neon of yesteryear by rock-throwing
vandals, weather and time.

We circled the courthouse
square and headed back out of town the way we’d come, stopping in
at a convenience store for bottles of water and walking for a
couple of blocks before picking up the pace again. After we’d been
running for a couple of minutes I tried my strategy
again.

“Hey,” I said. “What do
you think about that new tax bill they passed this
year?”

He didn’t answer, and when
I looked over at him his expression told me he was onto
me.

“Ask… me… later,” he
wheezed.

* * * *

CHAPTER SEVEN

After finishing my run
with Ray, I decided to spend some time trying to organize things
around the house. I’d been through most of the closets and pulled
out what I thought could go directly to the Salvation Army on
Monday. I would go back through the same closets later and try to
decide which items my brothers might want to claim for their own.
As yet, neither of them had shown any interest in keeping anything
from the house. But, if they weren’t going to offer any help in
wrapping the estate up, I was going to force them to disclaim
ownership of items one by one.

As I carried another box
of clothes out to my pickup, trying not to step on McMurtry who
seemed determined to walk as close to me as possible, I heard my
cell phone ringing from where it was lying on the living room table
inside the house. I didn’t rush back to the house to answer it,
since it was most likely Ray, eager to reveal some tidbit of gossip
he’d forgotten to tell me the night before. I had my phone set to
allow ten rings before kicking over to the answering machine, but I
reached it and answered on ring number nine.

“Buddy?” It was Kandy
Chilton.

“Kandy. How are
you?”

I heard her take a deep
breath on the other end of the line.

“Okay, I guess. I don’t
know. This is just all too sudden. It seems like a bad dream. I
keep thinking I’ll wake up at any moment.”

“How are your girls taking
it? Did they get here yet?”

“Yeah, they got in last
night. I think they’re still in shock. I can tell they don’t know
how to act. They’ve never lost anyone close to them
before.”

“Is there anything I can
do?” I asked.

“There is. I need to talk
to you about something.” Her voice displayed so little emotion I
would have never guessed she had found her husband brutally
murdered the previous morning.

“Sure,” I said. “Would you
like me to come by this afternoon?”

“No, not here. Ray told me
you’re staying at your parents’ house. Do you mind if I come out
there?”

“Not at all. The place is
a mess, but you’re welcome,” I said, realizing Ray must have been
the one to give her my cell phone number.

We agreed on a time and I
spent a few minutes straightening up the living room before taking
a quick shower and changing clothes. I was brewing a pot of iced
tea when I heard a car roll up the dirt driveway, followed a few
seconds later by a knock on the door.

“I just really wanted to
ask your advice,” Kandy said sitting at the kitchen table with a
glass of tea.

“The police want to talk
to me again. That detective, Clemmer is his name, I think. He
called and wants me to go down to see him tomorrow
morning.”

She took her sunglasses
off, placing them on top of her head. Her eyes were worried and
tired looking, but I felt the deep tug of an old attraction in
them.

“I mean, is that normal? I
don’t know what else I could say that I didn’t already tell
them.”