Tumbler, page 5
Du Pré nodded.
Little tiny girls all horn and wire. Grows some tits and hips and she is past her prime.
Du Pré grimaced.
“What?” said Bart.
He shook his head.
“What?” said Bart.
“It is all the same crap,” said Du Pré. “Gymnastics, those people, lifting weights, take drugs, die young. Race horses, bred for speed got weak legs. Me, I do not like people wanting to win some dumb contest so bad they make freaks of people, animals.”
“Yeah,” said Bart.
“I give up fiddling contests,” said Du Pré.
“That’ll show ’em,” said Bart.
Du Pré sighed. He nodded.
“It is not the same, I guess,” he said.
Julie came back toward them. She went overhead, the little engine snarling and screaming.
“Amazing,” said Bart.
Julie made a long wide bank. She lined herself up with the highway and she began to descend. She got to two feet above the blacktop and she gently set the funny little machine down on the tiny wheels. She cut the engine and the ultralight slowed down and then she stopped it by putting out her feet and dragging her heels. She cut the engine altogether. She grinned, her teeth white and her face happy, encased in the helmet.
“Wow, wow!” she said. She undid the harness and she stood up.
A little puff of wind lifted one wing.
Bart helped her break down the little aircraft and they put it in the back of his big pickup. They hooked bungee cords here and there.
Du Pré got in the back of the crew cab and Bart and Julie got in front. Bart started the truck and he turned it around and they headed to Bart’s place.
Bart pulled up to the machine shed. They got out and hauled the ultralight off the tailgate and carried it in and set it down next to a huge Caterpillar tractor.
“So we got a deal?” said Bart, looking at Julie.
Julie nodded.
“I don’t have a lot of practice at this,” said Bart.
“You’re doing fine,” said Julie. “Mom was on my case all the time and I got tired of it. You know, do your schoolwork. I didn’t want to do schoolwork. I wanted to be practicing. Then there wasn’t any point in practicing.”
“Kid,” said Bart, “old fart I know told me once that in life what you lose on the roller coaster, you make up for on the merry-go-round.”
“Yeah,” said Julie. “Can I have a smoke?”
“No!” yelled Bart. “God damn it! You’re too young to smoke! It is bad for your health!”
Julie shrugged.
“I’m thirsty,” she said.
They went up to Bart’s house.
There was a thump on the door and Booger Tom came in, walking a little stiffly.
The old cowboy looked at Du Pré and Bart and Julie.
“Yer a sorry-lookin’ bunch,” he said. “What happened? You was all just a standin’ around mindin’ your own business and a coyote come outta nowhere and pissed on yer boots?”
Julie laughed and laughed and laughed.
Bart and Du Pré grinned at Booger Tom.
Julie got up from her stool.
“You want, coffee, Mister Bodine?” she said.
“That would be nice, Missy,” said Booger Tom. “These two sorry sons of bitches ain’t been givin’ you too much good advice, have they?”
“Yeah,” said Julie. “Could ya just shoot ’em?”
“God damn, Missy!” said Booger Tom, “thought ya’d never ask! Been waitin’ years fer a chance, maybe ta do somebody a real favor. I’ll be right back!”
“Enough!” roared Bart.
“Tch-tch-tch,” said Booger Tom. “Sensitive, ain’t he?”
“I got to go,” said Julie. “Thanks, Uncle Bart.”
She went out the door with Booger Tom.
“Julie, she seems, be doing well,” said Du Pré.
Bart nodded.
“I dunno about raising kids,” said Bart. “Angie … maybe she and Julie just got in a wrangle and they couldn’t figure out how to get out of it.”
“She is sixteen,” said Du Pré. “It is hard, that. She is the best at something, then she can’t do it anymore.”
“Dear Sis,” said Bart, “I am trying to kill your daughter with very dangerous toys. My foreman is trying to kill your daughter with very dangerous horses. We should succeed soon. Love, your brother. I do need to write that letter. That kid, for chrissake, I oughta be grateful she doesn’t want to race stock cars.”
“You ask her?” said Du Pré.
“Please!” said Bart, “and for God’s sake tell Madelaine to keep her trap shut.”
“Non,” said Du Pré. “I got, me, all my own teeth, balls, I don’t want lose them.”
“Yeah,” said Bart, “I forgot about that.”
“So she is doing fine,” said Du Pré.
“If anything happened to her I’d lose my mind,” said Bart.
“She is a good kid,” said Du Pré. “Tough kid. She is ver’ tough.”
“Well,” said Bart, “I made a deal with her. She does well in school, she can try to kill herself in her spare time.”
“Maybe she don’t like school,” said Du Pré.
“I got to do something!” said Bart.
“Yeah,” said Du Pré, “thinking, that kind, get us into this war, Vietnam.”
“What do I do?” said Bart. “Give up?”
Du Pré nodded.
“You will have to later anyway,” he said. “I did, after that, things settle down, my daughters. They take care of me.”
“Oh,” said Bart.
“I am trying, run their lives before,” said Du Pré, “wonder I am not found, head down in a badger hole, some dead.”
“Oh,” said Bart.
“Anyway,” said Du Pré, “don’t talk, me, talk, Madelaine.”
“She has more brains,” said Bart.
Du Pré drank his coffee.
Julie shrieked out in the corral.
YAHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!
“I got this bad feeling,” said Du Pré.
Bart looked up.
“This woman, Allison Ames,” said Du Pré, “says she is a journalist. She follows me. The Lewis and Clark stuff. I am in the bar, I come out, there is this envelope, got a wad of hundreds in it. I get this phone call, the bar, saying, we want that Lewis and Clark stuff. I throw out the envelope, I say no on the telephone.”
Bart nodded.
“Susan Klein she put that thing, the phone, gives the number that is calling you—” said Du Pré.
“Caller ID,” said Bart.
“Yeah,” said Du Pré, “but this call I get, it don’t show the number.”
Bart looked up, sharply.
“Why didn’t you tell me this?” he said.
Du Pré shrugged.
Bart had his cell phone in his hand and he dialed.
CHAPTER 11
“I’VE SEEN THE FUCKING ballet,” said Julie. “I don’t want to go.”
“It’s required,” said Bart. “The teachers went to a lot of trouble to get the grants to take everybody down to Billings for the ballet. Now, quit whining. It would be rude to them if you didn’t go.”
“Christ,” said Julie.
“Julie,” said Bart, “please. I know you don’t like school. They are trying very hard here. If you don’t go, the other kids and their parents will think you’re a rich snot, too good to go to Billings with them.”
Julie sighed and she nodded.
“I am a rich snot,” she said.
“Can’t help that,” said Bart, “but you do get things like ultralight aircraft out of it.”
“OK OK OK,” said Julie.
“Not bad,” said Madelaine, reaching across the bar to pat Bart’s hand. “You need, little practice laying on guilt, though.”
Bart nodded. He rubbed his eyes.
“I have no talent for this,” said Bart, looking miserable.
“Uncle Bart,” said Julie, coming to him and hugging him, “if you are trying to make me feel sorry for you, you’ve succeeded.”
“Getting better, him, huh?” said Madelaine, looking at Julie.
They both laughed.
Pallas and Berne and Alcide and Thierry were going down to Billings, too, to see the ballet. They were over in the corner playing a video poker machine for nickels.
Benny Klein came in. He looked at the kids in front of the gambling machines.
“Madelaine!” said Benny. “God damn it!”
“Kids!” said Madelaine, “away from those machines. The Baptists are here and they have guns!”
Benny looked down at his badge.
“Just a minute,” said Pallas. “I about got a flush here.”
“Criminals,” said Benny.
“Got it!” yelled Pallas. “Big win!”
“For chrissakes,” said Sheriff Benny Klein, “what if the liquor and gaming pricks come here. I am the sheriff and this place is owned by my wife!”
“They don’t come here,” said Madelaine. “You remember the last time that they come here?”
“Oh, yeah, that,” said Benny.
“They come in, snoop around,” said Madelaine, “go back out their car is on these four jackstands, all the tires are gone.”
“Yeah,” said Benny.
“It is the winter,” said Madelaine.
“Yeah, I remember that,” said Benny.
“They sit all night, the cold, in the car, no rooms are empty, it is late hunting season,” said Madelaine.
“Yeah,” said Benny. “I remember the call about the stolen tires.”
“So this old liquor cop, he comes in here, says, please, we will go away and not come back for a long time. Just give us back our tires.”
Benny nodded.
“Him, his two friends come in, have hamburgers, get warm, they go out, tires are back on the car, they go away,” said Madelaine.
“Right,” said Benny.
“So,” said Madelaine, “what are you worried about?”
“Oh, just the fact that I took an oath to uphold the law,” said Benny.
“You want to jump, ever’ time those assholes in Helena want to run everyone’s life?” said Madelaine.
Benny thought about that for a moment.
“This is Montana,” said Benny, “and I am a Montanan. We obey any law we think is a good one and not in the way.”
“Good,” said Madelaine.
“Shit!” said Pallas. “I lost all my money!”
“Happens when you gamble,” said Madelaine, “most of the time.”
“OK,” said Pallas. “We need to go.”
Bart got up. He took the kids out the door.
“Could I have a hamburger?” said Benny.
“Sure,” said Madelaine, “but maybe you better call Helena, see if those assholes made it illegal to eat meat.”
“All right, all right!” said Benny, “I give up.”
“I dunno,” said Madelaine. “Maybe the law is, that tofu shit, all you can serve in bars in Montana, no smoking neither.”
“Please,” said Benny, “can I have my hamburger?”
“Sure,” said Madelaine, “your wife, she owns this place.”
Du Pré laughed silently and he turned back to his ditchwater highball.
“That Ames woman is still out there, sitting in the SUV,” said Benny. “She’s staying at the hotel in Cooper. Just staring at ya.”
Du Pré shrugged.
“She’s spreading money around, too,” said Benny. “She knows about ol’ Benetsee now.”
“Good,” said Du Pré.
“Yeah,” said Benny. “Look, I can’t do anything.”
Du Pré shrugged.
“She will get tired, go away,” he said.
“Probably,” said Benny. “Pain in the ass while she’s here.”
Du Pré got up and he walked outside and he looked over at Allison Ames sitting in her little white SUV.
The envelope with the money in it was still in the parking lot, with tread marks on it.
Du Pré shook his head and he went back inside.
“I go out, few days ago,” said Du Pré, “there is this envelope, got a bunch of hundreds in it, on my car seat. I toss it out the window. It is still there.”
Benny sighed.
“Lost and found maybe?” said Du Pré. “Me, I do not want to go pick it up. She maybe put it in my car.”
“OK,” said Benny. He got up and he went to the door and Du Pré followed, and he pointed at the envelope in the drying mud. Benny went to it and he picked it up and he looked inside. He came back in.
“There’s thousands of dollars here,” he said. “Wonder no one picked it up.”
Du Pré nodded.
Benny took out the soggy money and he counted it.
“Ten thousand dollars,” said Benny.
Du Pré nodded.
“I get this phone call, man says he has someone wants the Lewis and Clark stuff,” said Du Pré. “Then this envelope, has a note, says You need to talk to us.”
Benny nodded.
“This country,” he said, “has too goddamned much money these days.”
Madelaine came out of the kitchen with Benny’s hamburger and fries. She set the platter down in front of him.
Benny squirted catsup on his burger and he laid the slab of red onion on top. He put on the other half of the bun.
He ate with pleasure.
“Me,” said Du Pré, “I am going to see that Benetsee.”
Madelaine nodded.
“You got wine?” she said.
Du Pré shook his head. Madelaine went in the back and she came out with a jug and she pushed it over the counter.
Du Pré went out to his cruiser. He put the wine in the trunk and he got in and he started the engine and he backed out and roared off to the west.
The little white SUV followed.
Du Pré drove up to the bench road and along it until he got to the rutted track that led to Benetsee’s cabin. He bounced over the torn-up mud and he parked next to the big rock that lurked in the weeds hungry for oil pans.
There was no smoke coming from the chimney.
Du Pré walked around to the back and down the little hill to the sweat lodge, and he saw the doorflap up on top of the frame of willows.
No tracks on the ground.
He went back up the hill to the cabin.
The little white SUV was down on the county road. A camera lens was poked out of the window.
Du Pré looked at the porch. There was an old saddle blanket in front of the door, much caked with mud. Something white stuck out a little from under it.
Du Pré pulled the envelope out.
It had been there for a few days.
He didn’t need to look in it.
CHAPTER 12
“VERY INTERESTING,” SAID FOOTE’S voice on the phone.
Du Pré waited, thinking about Bart’s lawyer, in his English suits and shoes, in an office the size of a school here, with his feet on the desk.
“It bothers me,” said Du Pré.
“Real menace,” said Foote. “No threats. Just a shadow.”
“Yah,” said Du Pré.
“Well,” said Foote, “Bart wants to have security out there now. What do you think?”
“Me, I do not know,” said Du Pré. “They are leaving ten thousand dollars here, there, they don’t care.”
“Ummmhummm,” said Foote.
“But nothing has been done that is threatening,” said Du Pré.
“Like many rich people,” said Foote, “Bart wants to be protected without seeing his protection.”
Du Pré snorted.
“He wants you to make the decision,” said Foote.
Du Pré sighed.
“Maybe we wait,” he said. “Maybe this is a game, they go away.”
“Possibly,” said Foote, “and possibly they ratchet things up a bit.”
“Yah,” said Du Pré, “but there are no threats. Just money. That woman who is here, Allison Ames, she swears she has nothing to do with it. She say the envelope was left by a man who was driving some rental car. He came, parked with the engine running, put the envelope in the car, went away. He kept his face away.”
“OK,” said Foote, “and who the hell is Allison Ames?”
“Journalist,” said Du Pré.
“For whom?” said Foote.
“I don’t know,” said Du Pré.
“For chrissake,” said Foote, “then go and talk with her.”
“She is a pest,” said Du Pré.
“Talk to her anyway, if you don’t mind,” said Foote.
“I mind,” said Du Pré.
“God damn it, Gabriel,” said Foote, “please. Otherwise I have to send somebody all of the way out there … and that takes time.”
“She will lie anyway,” said Du Pré.
“Whatever,” said Foote.
“All right,” said Du Pré. He put the telephone back in its cradle.
Madelaine was sitting at the table in the kitchen, still in her robe. Her dark skin had a blush of red in it, and her black hair had crimson lights in it.
“Foote says I need to talk, that Ames woman,” said Du Pré.
“Well,” said Madelaine, “she will not be hard to find. She is probably out front right now.”
Du Pré nodded. He poured himself some coffee and he went to the front door of the house and he opened it.
No little white SUV.
He shut the door.
“Not there,” said Madelaine when he came back.
Du Pré shook his head.
“I got, go see about Benetsee again,” said Du Pré. “That money, it worry me.”
“You leave it there?” said Madelaine.
“Yes,” said Du Pré. “I wonder who is doing this.”
“Pret’ good,” said Madelaine. “Hard to hide, this country.”
Du Pré went out to his cruiser and he got in and he started it. He drove out of town and he turned north to go up on the bench road.
He rolled a smoke.
It was warming up now.
The snow on the peaks of the Wolf Mountains blazed white in the morning sun.
Du Pré stopped at the track that led up to Benetsee’s cabin. He looked carefully at the dirt.
His tire tracks going out the night before.
Nothing come in since.
