Part 34 (1/2)

I squinted through the pale darkness toward the police car and saw the pickup camper. The driver stepped out and walked to the far shoulder to view the damage. He carried a flashlight in his left hand and a pistol in his right.

”What'd he do?” I asked.

”Shot their tires, I imagine.”

Brad came up carrying a torn T-s.h.i.+rt, which he handed to Lloyd. ”Marcella has her baby.”

”Thank you,” Lloyd said. He pressed the T-s.h.i.+rt against his cut.

”That truck was back at the cafe,” Brad said.

Our savior returned to his cab and drove up to where we stood next to the trailer. He rolled down his window and smiled at me. I smiled back. His eyes were amused, and he had this tiny gap in his front teeth that made him appear impish.

”Hi,” he said.

”Hi.”

He turned his attention to Lloyd. ”Are you okay?”

The s.h.i.+rt m.u.f.fled Lloyd's voice. ”It wasn't worth killing anybody.”

”You folks were in trouble and I had to help.” He waved the pistol vaguely back in the direction of the upside-down patrol car. ”Neither one is hurt-just shook up some. They won't be pursuing anyone else today.”

Bernard was stooped over with one hand on the car and the other hand on his lower back. A.B. pulled himself out a broken window. When he stood up I heard a groan. Both had that stunned posture men get right after they've been popped in the face with a baseball bat.

The man in the truck leaned a hairy arm on the windowsill. ”Their car is full of broken gla.s.s and smells like a brewery. Why were they after you?”

Lloyd said, ”Long story.”

I figured somebody should thank the guy. Even though I wasn't nuts about his methods, he had just saved our a.s.ses. ”Thanks for helping us,” I said. ”I don't know what we'd have done if you hadn't come along.”

He stared right at me. For the first time all trip I was conscious of the no-bra deal. ”Glad to have been of service. I specialize in saving damsels in distress.”

Lloyd spit blood.

There didn't seem like anything to do but watch Bernard and A.B. stumble around their car. They were looking for something-an upper bridge or a contact lens or something, I don't know what. The air had that smell like right after it starts raining, the same smell you get when a neighbor changes his oil. The road glistened, so it must have been raining lately and stopped. I wondered what was supposed to happen next. Bernard had to come up with a story explaining a t.i.ts-up patrol car full of broken beer bottles. Would he leave us out, or would the countryside soon be crawling with armed-to-the-teeth cops with orders to shoot to kill anyone in a big white ambulance pulling a horse trailer?

The hairy man must have read my mind. ”You folks better follow over to my place. It might be a good thought to lay low for a day or so.”

Lloyd was studying our rescuer. ”We don't have much choice,” he said.

The man nodded, as if the plan were settled. He kept his eyes on me while he talked. ”I live thirty miles up the Hiwa.s.see River. It's remote, they'll never find you.”

As Lloyd, Brad, and I walked up front to Moby d.i.c.k, Brad said, ”I don't trust that guy. He smiles like Freedom.”

I couldn't decide if I trusted him or not. He was intriguing-dangerous and southern-the way I always pictured Stonewall Jackson.

”So far he's behaved like a gentleman,” I said. ”He saved us when we were in trouble. He didn't have to save us.” I opened the driver's door. ”What do you think, Lloyd-evil snake or knight in s.h.i.+ning armor?”

”I think...” Lloyd dropped the blood-soaked T-s.h.i.+rt into my hand. His eyes were angry. ”I'll drive from here on.”

40.

His name was Armand Castle. He was a sculptor. To prove it he led Marcella and me into the barn-turned-studio, where iron skeletons lay around in various levels of completion. What Armand did was he found sc.r.a.ps of metal and junk in old dumps and welded them into these conglomerations he gave names like Mobocracy and Pain. The camper was full of bed frames and brake shoes and unidentifiable angle iron he'd picked up driving across the state.

”I will wager you could use a drink,” Armand said.

”How'd you guess?”

”That was one heck of a job of driving. One heck of a job. How about you, Miss Marcella, ready for a toddy?”

Marcella touched her bun. ”Maybe just one.” Shocked the h.e.l.l out of me.

Armand stuck his head in the trailer, where Brad held two flashlights while Lloyd sorted through the chaos. ”You fellas hungry? You want a drink?”

Lloyd said, ”No.” Not ”No, thank you” or ”Thanks just the same.” His voice held no hint of politeness. Rudeness wasn't like him. In fact, rudeness was less like Lloyd than any other person I knew except maybe Dot Pollard back at the Killdeer Cafe. I decided he was jealous. Armand was good-looking and creative and he'd rescued us, and Lloyd couldn't handle not being top dog on the block.

From Shane, on the other hand, I expected rudeness.

”Are you kin to the family who founded the White Castle restaurant chain?” He was bent over loosening his ankle clamp so he could drain onto the front yard.

”I believe the White Castle restaurants are named after the shape of their first building, not the family who owns them. I'm kin to the Virginia Castles,” Armand said.

”You look as if you own White Castle. They sell the worst hash browns in the food industry, although the term bad hash browns is redundant.”

”I avoid hash browns altogether.”

”Did you make your money on square hamburger patties?”

Armand was being amazingly patient, considering he's the kind of man would shoot the tires off a cop car. ”I made my money by outliving my father.”

”That explains a lot about you.”

”Pay no attention to my friends,” I said. ”They're ex-alcoholics, and ex-alcoholics are always holier-than-thou jacka.s.ses.”

Shane turned his head to give me a hard look. I expected a mean shot back, but it was more like he decided I wasn't worth fighting with. That's the feeling I got, anyway. Instead, he said, ”Your escapade seems to have affected the seals on my reservoir.”

”Did that rolling around make you spring a leak?” Marcella asked.

He retightened his clamp. ”I would appreciate the use of strong tape, electrical tape might be best.”

Armand started up the steps. ”I imagine we can find you some electrical tape, old-timer.”