Part 5 (1/2)
It seemed easier to get out of jail than it was to get back in.
He got a ride in a feed truck as far as Junction, after walking a couple of miles, then sitting down to rest and waiting almost an hour in the sun. When the driver asked what'd happened to him he said he'd blown a tire and gone off the road and was thrown out when his pickup went into the ditch. The driver said he was lucky he wasn't killed and Majestyk agreed.
At Junction he went into the Enco station and asked the attendant, the one named Gil, for the key to the Men's Room. The attendant gave it to him without saying anything, though he had a little smile on his face looking at Majestyk's dirty, beat-up condition. In the Men's Room he saw what a mess he was: blood and dirt caked on his face, his s.h.i.+rt torn up the back, his hands raw-looking with imbedded gravel.
It was four-thirty that afternoon when he walked into the Edna Post of the County Sheriff's Department and asked the deputy behind the desk if Lieutenant McAllen was around. The deputy, ignoring his face, asked him what it was he wanted to see the lieutenant about.
”I want to go to jail,” Majestyk said.
He waited on the bench thinking, Christ, trying to get back in. He was still sitting on the bench twenty minutes later when McAllen walked up to him and stood there, not saying anything.
”I had him,” Majestyk said.
”Did you?”
”I guess you want to hear what happened.”
”I think I can see,” McAllen said.
6.
GETTING RENDA to Mexico was no problem. A young guy who brought reefer in two or three times a month flew him down in his Cessna, landing on a desert airstrip not far from Hermosillo. Renda spent two nights in a motel while the rest of it was being worked out. On the morning of the third day an Olds 98 with California plates and a house trailer attached-with Eugene Lundy behind the wheel and Wiley curled on the backseat reading a current bestselling novel-pulled up in front of the motel. Renda, wearing work clothes and a week's growth of beard, walked out of his room and got in the trailer. The Olds took off and didn't stop again until they were on the coast road south of Guaymas and Lundy thought maybe Frank would want to get out and stretch his legs, exercise a little, breathe in the salt air, and throw a couple of stones at the Gulf of California. Wiley said to him, ”You don't know Frank very well, do you?” to Mexico was no problem. A young guy who brought reefer in two or three times a month flew him down in his Cessna, landing on a desert airstrip not far from Hermosillo. Renda spent two nights in a motel while the rest of it was being worked out. On the morning of the third day an Olds 98 with California plates and a house trailer attached-with Eugene Lundy behind the wheel and Wiley curled on the backseat reading a current bestselling novel-pulled up in front of the motel. Renda, wearing work clothes and a week's growth of beard, walked out of his room and got in the trailer. The Olds took off and didn't stop again until they were on the coast road south of Guaymas and Lundy thought maybe Frank would want to get out and stretch his legs, exercise a little, breathe in the salt air, and throw a couple of stones at the Gulf of California. Wiley said to him, ”You don't know Frank very well, do you?”
He didn't come out of the trailer or bother to look up when the door opened. He was sitting in back on one of the bunks, smoking a cigarette.
Wiley said, ”Hey, do you love it? I think it's great.”
Behind her, Lundy said, ”Air-conditioned, you got plenty of vodka, scotch, steaks, and beer in the ice box and”-he took an envelope out of his pocket and handed it to Renda-”twenty-five hundred cigarette money.”
Wiley was opening cabinets and doors. ”There's a shower in the john. Even a magazine rack.”
”Tonight we'll be in Mazatlan,” Lundy said. ”We can stay there or go on down to Acapulco, it's up to you.”
Renda looked up at him. ”Regular vacation. You having a nice time?”
”Listen, I think I could use a rest. That stunt, hitting the f.u.c.king bus, that took some years off me.”
Renda watched him turn to the refrigerator and take out a can of beer.
”Where is he?”
”You want one?”
”I said where is he!”
Lundy, about to pop open the can, looked over at Renda. ”The guy? He turned himself in. Last I heard they're still holding him at Edna.”
Wiley came in to stretch out on the opposite bunk. ”Kind of tight fit, but all the comforts of home.”
”We're not at home,” Renda said. ”He is.”
”He's in jail, Frank.” Wiley's tone was soft, approaching him carefully. ”You're free. We can go anywhere you want.”
”There's only one thing I want,” Renda said. ”Him.”
Lundy opened the can and took a swig. ”He gets out, we can have somebody take care of that.”
Renda shook his head. ”Not somebody. I said I I want him. I want him to see it and know it's me. Put the gun in his stomach and look at him. Not say anything, just look at him and make sure he understands.” want him. I want him to see it and know it's me. Put the gun in his stomach and look at him. Not say anything, just look at him and make sure he understands.”
”You still have to wait,” Lundy said.
Renda didn't say anything. He was still picturing it, putting the gun in the melon grower's stomach.
”All right, let me ask you,” Lundy said. ”What do you do, walk in the jail, ask them for a visitor's pa.s.s? How do you get close to the guy?”
”You get him out of jail.”
”You get him out. How?”
”Find the guy he hit,” Renda said. ”Tell him to drop the complaint. It was all a mistake, a misunderstanding.”
”What if the guy doesn't want to drop it?”
”Jesus, I said tell tell him, not ask him.” him, not ask him.”
”Maybe pay him something?”
”That's up to you. See what it takes.”
”You mean you want me to do it? Go back there?”
”I'm talking to you, aren't I?”
”I just wanted to be sure.”
”You're going to go back and set it up,” Renda said. ”Find the guy made the complaint and get that done. Get some people if you see we need them. Call me, I come up. We go in and get out fast. No bulls.h.i.+t s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g around. Arrange it, I walk up to him, and it's done.”
Lundy took a sip of beer, getting the right words ready in his mind. ”I keep thinking though, what about the cops? They'll be looking for you, watching your house, the apartment.”
”Christ, you think I'm going to go home? We'll stay someplace else. Call Harry, tell him to arrange it.”
”I mean right now, why take a chance?”
”I told you why.”
”I'm not against it,” Lundy said. ”I'm just thinking, we're this far. Why change your mind all of a sudden?”
”I didn't change it. I hadn't made it up yet. But the more I think about it-I know it's what I'm going to do.”