Free BBH01 - Cimarron Rose by James Lee Burke Page B

coons this year.
I aim to put steel traps along that ditch yonder. That's where they're
coming out of,' he said.
    'I need Lucas to help me with the case, Vernon.
You're not putting any steel traps on my property, and you can forget
about poisons, too.'
    'You ever see how a coon eats a melon? He punches a
little hole, no bigger than a quarter. Then he sticks his paw in and
cleans the whole insides out. All he needs to do is get his paw in the
hole and he don't leave nothing but an empty shell for anybody else.'
    His mouth was small and angry, down-turned on the
corners, his stare jaundiced with second meaning.
    'Let's go to the movies, Lucas,' I said.
     
    Lucas sat on the back steps and pulled
off his boots.
    'You don't have to do that,' I said.
    'I'll track your house.'
    We went into the library and I switched on the VCR
that contained the videotape of Roseanne Hazlitt dancing. Lucas's face
went gray when he realized what he was being shown.
    'Mr Holland, I ain't up to this,' he said.
    'Who are the other kids in that woods?'
    'East End kids messin' around. I don't know them too
good.'
    'I don't believe you.'
    'Why you talk to me like that?'
    'Because none of this will go away of its accord.
You played in the band at Shorty's. You knew the same people Roseanne
knew. But you don't give me any help.'
    He swallowed. His palms were cupped on his knees.
    'I grew up in the West End. I don't like those kind
of guys.'
    'Good. So give me the names of the other boys she
went out with.'
    He fingered the denim on top of his thigh, his knees
jiggling up and down, his eyes fixed on the floor.
    'Anybody. When she was loaded. It didn't matter to
her. Three or four guys at once. Same guys who'd write her name on the
washroom wall,' he said. He blinked and rubbed his forehead with the
heel of his hand.
     
    We drove into Deaf Smith and parked on
the square
and walked down a side street toward a brick church with a white
steeple and a green lawn and a glassed-in sign announcing Sunday and
Wednesday night services.
    'Why we going to the Baptist church?' Lucas asked.
    'We're not,' I replied.
    Next door to the church was the church's secondhand
store. An alley ran along one wall of the store, and at the end of the
alley was an overflowing donation bin. The pavement around it was
littered with pieces of mattresses and mildewed clothing that had been
run over by automobile tires. As soon as the store closed at night,
street people sorted through the bin and the overflow like a collection
of rag pickers.
    Lucas's eyes fixed on a waxed, cherry-red
chopped-down 1932 Ford with a white rolled leather interior and an
exposed chromed engine parked in front of the store.
    'You know the owner of that car?' I asked.
    'It's Darl Vanzandt's.'
    'That's right,' I said, and pointed through the glass.
    Darl was sorting a box of donated books by pitching
them one at a time onto a display table. When the box was empty, he
opened the back door and flung it end over end into the alley.
    'We need to have a talk with him,' I said.
    'What for? I ain't got no interest in Darl.' The
rims of his nostrils whitened as though the temperature had dropped
seventy degrees.
    'It'll just take a minute.'
    'Not me. No, sir.'
    He backed away from me, then turned and walked back
to the car.
    I got in beside him.
    'What's the problem?' I asked.
    'I don't fool with East Enders, that's all.'
    He twisted at a callus on his palm.
    'All of them, or just Darl?'
    'You don't know how it is.'
    'I grew up here.'
    'They look down on you. Darl knows how to make
people feel bad about themselves.'
    'Like how?'
    'In metal shop, senior year, he was making Chinese
stars in the foundry, these martial arts things you can sail at people
and put out an eye with. Darl was hogging the sand molds, and this kid
says, "I got to pour my mailbox hangers or I won't get my grade," and
Darl goes, "You got an S for snarf. Get out of the way."
    'The kid says, "What's a snarf?"
    'Darl says, "You don't got a mirror at