Free Con Law by Mark Gimenez

thug named Wesley said.
    ‘Did you come to Marfa to see the art?’ Agent Acosta said. ‘Judd’s boxes? Chamberlain’s crushed cars? Flavin’s fluorescent lights?’
    ‘Uh, yes,’ Book said. ‘That’s why we’re here.’
    Agent Crum’s eyes loitered on Book’s back-seat passenger. ‘I got fluorescent lights in my trailer,’ he said with a grin, ‘if you want to see them.’
    Nadine sighed. ‘Dope.’
    Agent Crum’s grin turned into a frown.
    ‘Enjoy your stay, Professor,’ Agent Acosta said. ‘
Bienvenidos
.’
    Book fired up the engine and gunned the Harley through the light and turned north on Highland Avenue. He saw in the rearview the two agents engaged in an animated conversation.
    ‘Dopes, Ms. Honeywell?’
    ‘I call them as I see them, Professor.’
    They cruisedslowly up Highland, apparently the main street in town. It dead-ended at the courthouse that loomed large above the low-slung buildings. They rode past the Marfa City Hall on the right and then a row of refurbished storefronts occupied by the Marfa Public Radio station, the Marfa Book Company, and a shop called Tiend M that sold handmade jewelry. On the very visible side exterior wall of one building graffiti had been painted in large strokes like a billboard:
The Real Axis of Evil is the US, UK, and Israel
. A city crew with brushes prepared to paint over the message, no doubt unappreciated in West Texas. They crossed El Paso Street, and Nadine pointed again.
    ‘Food Shark!’
    Parked under a large shed with picnic tables was a silver food truck with ‘Food Shark’ stenciled across the side and a few customers at the service window. A sign read
Marfa Lights Up My Judd
. Bicycles were parked under the shed and foreign-made hybrids at the curb; one had a bumper sticker that read WWDJD? On the north side of the shed ran railroad tracks; Book hit the brakes hard as the crossing arms came down. The red lights flashed, and a train whistle sounded; a cargo train soon roared through downtown Marfa on its way west to El Paso. Hanna’s train still came through town, but it was now the Union Pacific.
    When the arms rose, Book accelerated over the tracks and across Oak Street and past Quintana’s Barber Shop, the state Child Protective Services office, and the Iron Heart Gym. Other than the activity under the shed, downtown Marfa sat silent—no car horns, no sirens, no squealing tires, no sounds of the city. There was no traffic and few pedestrians. No joggers, cabs, pedicabs, or panhandling homeless people that one encountered in downtown Austin. It was as if the town were taking a siesta. Across Texas Street was a building with a replica of an oil rig on the roof; on the far side of Highland sat the two-story, white stucco El Paisano Hotel.
    ‘Back inthe fifties, they filmed
Giant
here,’ Book said. ‘All the stars stayed there.’
    ‘That was a movie?’
    ‘You’ve never heard of
Giant
?’
    ‘Nope.’
    ‘It’s an epic about Texas’ transformation from a cattle economy to an oil economy.’
    ‘Sounds exciting.’
    ‘It’s a classic. Rock Hudson played a cattle baron.’
    ‘Never heard of him.’
    ‘He’s dead. James Dean played a ranch hand turned oil tycoon.’
    ‘Never heard of him either.’
    ‘You’ve never heard of James Dean?’
    ‘Is he on Twitter?’
    ‘He’s dead.’
    ‘Well, there you go.’
    ‘What about Elizabeth Taylor? She played the cattle baron’s wife.’
    ‘Is she that blonde movie star who used to date Clinton then committed suicide a long time ago?’
    ‘That’d be Marilyn Monroe. She dated Kennedy. Overdosed on pills.’
    ‘Never heard of her.’
    ‘She’s dead, too.’
    ‘How am I supposed to know about dead people?’
    ‘How about Donald Judd?’
    ‘You’re making these names up, right?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘Who did he play in
Giant
?’
    ‘No one. He was an artist here in Marfa.’
    ‘Let me guess: he’s dead, too?’
    ‘He is.’
    ‘Is there anyone in this town who’s not