Kent Conwell - Tony Boudreaux 12 - Murder Among Friends by Kent Conwell Page B

face twisted in anger, he shouted,
“What do you think you’re doing?” Short and stocky,
Butcherman wore jeans and a denim jacket. His western hat
was soiled, but the brim still maintained its rakish curves.
He didn’t look like one of the archetypal transients. On the
other hand, maybe he was new to the business. When he
recognized Goofyfoot, his anger faded.

    Goofyfoot looked up at me. “This is him.”
    Butcherman studied me, and then held out his hand to
Goofyfoot. “Where’s my forty?”
    I looked down at Goofyfoot. “Why, you two-timing little
sneak. I-”
    “Can’t blame a guy for trying, can you?” He turned and
quickly shuffled away.
    Butcherman yelled after him, but I held up my hand.
“I’ve got your money. A hundred bucks.”
    He stared at me in disbelief for a moment, and then his
eyes blazed as he glared after Goofyfoot. “A hundred?
Why that-”
    “Forget about him. I’ve got a couple questions, and then
the money’s yours” I hooked my thumb at Wichie’s. “How
about a drink?”
    He pulled out a pack of crumpled cigarettes and touched
a match to one. “Sure”
    Inside, we sat near the hall leading out the back. He
ordered a double bourbon neat. I ordered a cup of coffee.
    “Goofyfoot said you saw a dude wasted” He sipped his
bourbon and just stared at me. I recognized the animal
wariness in his eyes. “I’m not a cop. My old man has been
accused of killing that guy. The dead guy’s name, by the
way, was Salinas Sal. I’m just trying to get a lead on who
did the job.”
    He studied me another moment, downed his bourbon,
and ordered another double. Lighting up another cigarette,
he replied in a raspy voice, “Yeah, I knew Sal. I know your
old man too. Boudreaux? Some kind of Frenchy?”
    I nodded. “Go on”
    “We got in from San Antone. I hopped off. Sal figured
on staying in the car, but then he decided he’d come down here and pick up a few bucks before heading on to Fort
Worth”

    “What about my old man? What did he do?”
    “Nothing. I think he was passed out somewhere. I ain’t
sure. Anyway, I worked the streets until about two or three,
and then headed back to the rail yard. I’d spotted a snug
hole to bunk in. When I got close, I saw two men bending
over someone on the ground. I was in the streetlight, and
they spotted me. One of them yelled for me to come over,
but I took off running. I ditched them and hid out in a culvert all night. I didn’t know the dude on the ground was Sal
until next morning when I heard it on the street” He shook
his head. “They’d of killed me too”
    “What did they look like? Can you describe them?”
    He grimaced. “Tall. About like you. One a couple of
inches shorter. His face was all marked up” He jabbed his
finger at his cheeks. “What do you call that stuff that scars
up people’s faces?”
    “Acne?”
    He nodded emphatically. “Yeah. Acne. Real bad scars”
    By now, he was on his third double.
    “Any idea why they wasted him?”
    He stubbed out his cigarette. “I ain’t sure, but I figure it
might have something to do about the time Sal stumbled
onto some old boys dumping a body in the back of a car.
They was probably them old boys”
    “When was that?”
    He shrugged. “Oh, some weeks back. That’s why he left
town and went to San Antone”
    “San Antone, huh?”
    “Yep, according to what he said, he was out at Barton
Springs-you know, the swimming hole. Two cars drove
up. That’s what woke him. He was sleeping under a picnic table. He laid there and watched when they pulled the body
out of a big car and dumped it in the trunk of another one”
He fumbled in his shirt pocket and pulled out an empty
pack of cigarettes. He looked up at me. He had me right
where he wanted me, that little sucker.

    I held up the empty cigarette package to the bartender.
Moments later, Butcherman lit up again.
    “So, then what?”
    “They spotted him, but he ditched them in the