probably in English but with such a thick Spanish accent, I couldn’t follow what he was saying. The other voice was clearer and in English. I held my breath, strained to listen.
Billy.
It was Billy’s voice, and I could almost hear what he was saying. The two seemed to be arguing, but it wasn’t too heated. Nothing too passionate, just a disagreement about something or other. But since I just had my ass stomped by some Mexicans, you can bet your sweet ass I was curious what Deputy Billy was doing in a supposedly closed up firehouse, talking to a Mexican, hell, maybe even the guys who’d kicked me in the ribs.
So yeah, I was going top find out more.
I opened the door just enough to scoot through then shut it back. I crouch-walked to the front of the truck, put a hand on the hood. Cold. It had been parked here a little while, or anyway, it hadn’t just arrived. I eased my way down the other side where there was a narrow aisle between the truck and a bunch of oil cans and tools and other stuff that had collected up against the wall. I went on my belly by the rear tire, lay there flat and stone still, trying to control my breathing.
“I told you these ain’t even the right ones.” Billy’s voice. Exasperated. The jangle sound of keys. “I tried every one of them three times.”
“You said get the keys from him and I did,” insisted the heavily accented Mexican.
“Hell, you probably got the keys to that piece of shit Nova.”
Now that was just fucking uncalled for.
The Mexican muttered something I didn’t catch. They talked so damn fast.
“You better watch your Goddamn mouth,” Billy said. “This isn’t my fault, remember? You people are the ones fucked this up. Where the hell is Juanita, anyway?”
The Mexican said something again, talking too low to catch.
“Good then,” Billy said. “Keep her out of the way and go find the boy again and get the right keys this time.”
Mumbling.
“Yes, right now, Goddamn it. We got to get this shit back on the rails.”
The Mexican mumbled one more time and walked back toward the door I’d just come through. I watched his steps under the truck and recognized the boots. I’d seen one of them up close, standing square on my chest. I was-n’t eager for a replay of that situation.
The door slammed shut, and the Mexican was gone.
Billy shuffled his feet and said, “Shit.”
Okay, time for me to back the fuck out of there and call in the Marines.
I backed right into a stack of oil cans. They tumbled and clattered across the cement. Son of a bitch! Just like some dumb shit in a Three Stooges movie.
“Who’s there?” Billy came around the truck.
I stood up quick, tried and failed to look casual.
“Toby.” Billy’s face got hard like I’d never seen before. “How long you been there? What did you hear?”
“Just saw the light on, thought I’d better check it out.” I tried to play it cool but couldn’t stop my head from looking around for an escape route. “But I guess you got everything under control here.”
He took two real slow steps toward me. “I told you to go home, Toby.”
“Yeah.”
“We’re … uh … hiring some guys to fix up the firehouse,” Billy said.
“That Mexican and two of his buddies just kicked my ass.”
Billy shook his head. “No, not this guy. You’re thinking of somebody else.”
“No I’m not.”
“I said you’re thinking of somebody else,” Billy said. “You need to trust me on this.”
“I just saw the guy, man.”
“Jesus, Toby, you’re not making this easy. You could play along, you know.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“It’s a shame. A damn crying shame, but there’s a whole lot of shit going on here that isn’t any of your business, and you’ll mess it up if I let you blab it around.”
I forced a laugh. It sounded scared. “Blab what, man? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I won’t blab.”
“Uh-huh.” He reached for the fire axe hanging on the
Billy.
It was Billy’s voice, and I could almost hear what he was saying. The two seemed to be arguing, but it wasn’t too heated. Nothing too passionate, just a disagreement about something or other. But since I just had my ass stomped by some Mexicans, you can bet your sweet ass I was curious what Deputy Billy was doing in a supposedly closed up firehouse, talking to a Mexican, hell, maybe even the guys who’d kicked me in the ribs.
So yeah, I was going top find out more.
I opened the door just enough to scoot through then shut it back. I crouch-walked to the front of the truck, put a hand on the hood. Cold. It had been parked here a little while, or anyway, it hadn’t just arrived. I eased my way down the other side where there was a narrow aisle between the truck and a bunch of oil cans and tools and other stuff that had collected up against the wall. I went on my belly by the rear tire, lay there flat and stone still, trying to control my breathing.
“I told you these ain’t even the right ones.” Billy’s voice. Exasperated. The jangle sound of keys. “I tried every one of them three times.”
“You said get the keys from him and I did,” insisted the heavily accented Mexican.
“Hell, you probably got the keys to that piece of shit Nova.”
Now that was just fucking uncalled for.
The Mexican muttered something I didn’t catch. They talked so damn fast.
“You better watch your Goddamn mouth,” Billy said. “This isn’t my fault, remember? You people are the ones fucked this up. Where the hell is Juanita, anyway?”
The Mexican said something again, talking too low to catch.
“Good then,” Billy said. “Keep her out of the way and go find the boy again and get the right keys this time.”
Mumbling.
“Yes, right now, Goddamn it. We got to get this shit back on the rails.”
The Mexican mumbled one more time and walked back toward the door I’d just come through. I watched his steps under the truck and recognized the boots. I’d seen one of them up close, standing square on my chest. I was-n’t eager for a replay of that situation.
The door slammed shut, and the Mexican was gone.
Billy shuffled his feet and said, “Shit.”
Okay, time for me to back the fuck out of there and call in the Marines.
I backed right into a stack of oil cans. They tumbled and clattered across the cement. Son of a bitch! Just like some dumb shit in a Three Stooges movie.
“Who’s there?” Billy came around the truck.
I stood up quick, tried and failed to look casual.
“Toby.” Billy’s face got hard like I’d never seen before. “How long you been there? What did you hear?”
“Just saw the light on, thought I’d better check it out.” I tried to play it cool but couldn’t stop my head from looking around for an escape route. “But I guess you got everything under control here.”
He took two real slow steps toward me. “I told you to go home, Toby.”
“Yeah.”
“We’re … uh … hiring some guys to fix up the firehouse,” Billy said.
“That Mexican and two of his buddies just kicked my ass.”
Billy shook his head. “No, not this guy. You’re thinking of somebody else.”
“No I’m not.”
“I said you’re thinking of somebody else,” Billy said. “You need to trust me on this.”
“I just saw the guy, man.”
“Jesus, Toby, you’re not making this easy. You could play along, you know.”
“What are you talking about?” I asked.
“It’s a shame. A damn crying shame, but there’s a whole lot of shit going on here that isn’t any of your business, and you’ll mess it up if I let you blab it around.”
I forced a laugh. It sounded scared. “Blab what, man? I don’t know what you’re talking about. I won’t blab.”
“Uh-huh.” He reached for the fire axe hanging on the
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