Part 21 (2/2)
The reverend nodded.
”It's funny,” said Farrow, looking down at him. ”I find that those the most afraid are those who believe in G.o.d. The same ones who hide their eyes at horror movies are the ones who bow their heads in a place like this. And for what? Something that does not, cannot, exist.”
”Please,” said the reverend.
”Your journey is just beginning,” said Farrow with a smile. ”You're going to a better place. Isn't that what you've been telling those old people out at the home, the ones who are about to die?”
”Yes, but -”
”But, what?”
The reverend looked up at Farrow with bloodshot eyes. ”What if I was wrong?”
Farrow laughed. His laughter echoed in the church and then it was erased by the deafening explosion of the .38. The reverend's hair lifted briefly from his scalp and fragments of his brain sprayed out across the altar. He fell back; his head made a flat, hollow sound as it hit the wooden floor. A widening pool of blood spread behind it.
Farrow stood over the reverend and shot him again in the side of the face. He walked from the church.
Farrow drove a half mile down Old Church Road in the opposite direction of the interstate until he reached Lee Toomey's house at the edge of the woods. Toomey was loading some cable wire into his utility truck as Farrow pulled the Ranger into the yard. Toomey's eyes clouded when he saw that it was Farrow behind the wheel. He noticed the light yellow gloves on Farrow's hands as Farrow stepped out of the truck and crossed the yard.
”Lee.”
”Frank. Thought you left town.”
”I didn't. Where's that family of yours?”
”Martin's playin' that TV game of his. My wife and daughter are in the kitchen, I'd expect.”
”Let's walk into those woods a bit.”
Toomey spit tobacco juice to the side. ”Why would we need to do that?”
”We won't be but a minute. C'mon.”
They went in through a trail and then off the trail until they were out of the house's sight line. Toomey leaned against the trunk of a pine and regarded Farrow as he lit a cigarette.
Farrow let the Kool dangle from his mouth. He pulled the .38 and tossed it to Toomey. Toomey caught it and stared back at Farrow.
”I just used that on the Reverend Bob, back in the church. Blew the top of his head off, right up there on the altar. That's a real efficient weapon you gave me, Lee.”
”Thought I heard a shot,” said Toomey slowly, not taking his eyes off Farrow's.
”What you need to do now,” said Farrow, ”is get over there with some cleaning supplies. I wouldn't wait for the blood to get too dried in. Scrub that altar down real good and drive the reverend out to that nature preserve we talked about. I was you, I'd bury him up there. Ground'll be hard, but not too hard. You can thank this mild winter for that. Then I'd throw your gun in the bay, seeing as how it's got your prints all over it.”
”You,” said Toomey.
Farrow chuckled. ”You know, for a moment there I saw the old Toomey in your eyes. Now, that was one bad-a.s.s boy. Getting the Jesus into you, though, it really tripped you up. You and I both know how soft you are now. You'd never make any kind of play on me.”
”That's right, Frank. I never would.”
Farrow dragged on his smoke. ”But just to make sure, I ought to let you know that I'm not going to be far away. I've got a little business to take care of up in Was.h.i.+ngton, D.C., probably keep me in this part of the country for the next couple of weeks. If I even get an idea that you've been talking to the law about me, Lee, I want you to remember that I'm just an hour and a half away. I can easily get down here and make a visit to that beautiful family of yours. Or I could pay someone else to do the same. And I'd never forget. Do you understand?”
Toomey felt his blood ticking and his head grow hot. He hadn't had this feeling for a long while, but it was a familiar feeling, nonetheless. He wanted to kill Farrow right now. He could could kill him right now. kill him right now.
Toomey said, ”I understand, Frank.”
”Good. You'll be okay if you move fast and leave nothing behind. The reverend leaving town, well, it happens. Folks'll just figure he was throwing it to one of the paris.h.i.+oner's wives. Anyway, you bury him deep enough and they'll never find him.”
”I'll do it.”
Farrow looked at Toomey. ”See you around, Lee.”
Farrow dragged on his cigarette, dropped it on a bed of pine needles, and crushed it beneath his boot. He walked out of the woods and straight to the truck. Toomey stayed behind, the gun in one hand, the other picking at his beard.
Later that night, when Toomey had finished his task, he phoned Manuel Ruiz at the garage outside D.C. ”Manny?”
”Yes.”
”It's Toomey, bro.”
”Lee, what's up?”
”Frank Farrow's heading back to D.C.,” said Toomey. ”We need to talk.”
NINETEEN.
TWO O'CLO,” SAID Maria Juarez. ”My time, right, Mitri?” Maria Juarez. ”My time, right, Mitri?”
”Yeah, Maria,” said Dimitri Karras, checking his watch. ”Go ahead and let it roll.”
Maria slipped the tape that Karras had bought her into the boom box and turned up the volume. Karras had picked it up at an international record store near the old Kilamanjaro club the night before. He had asked for something danceable and Latin, and the clerk had a.s.sured him that this one moved.
A Spanish female vocal with t.i.to Puente's band behind it came from the box. Maria met James Posten in the middle of the kitchen, and the two of them began to dance, James doing his idea of a chacha. Darnell, from where he stood over the sink, turned his head and smiled. He looked over at Karras, leaning on the expediter's station, and nodded one time.
”Ole, baby!” said James. His eye shadow was on the maroon side of the rainbow this afternoon.
”Like this, Jame,” said Maria, taking two steps in, retreating two steps, and twisting her hips on the dip.
”That's what I'm I'm talkin' about,” said James, following her lead, twirling the spatula like a baton. talkin' about,” said James, following her lead, twirling the spatula like a baton.
”You doin' it, Jame,” said Maria.
”Tell the truth,” said James, ”and shame the devil.”
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