Free Burn by Sean Doolittle Page B

wondering right now, ” Andrew said, “is why did you?”
    Larry took a sip. Then he grinned and said, “Turns out life's got a sense of humor.”
    Andrew stood by, wondering when Larry was going to decide to let him in on the joke.
    “And you owe me a favor, ” Larry said.
    “I don't know how you're keeping score. By my count, you and me are just about even.”
    “You still owe me, by mine.”
    “You'll have to explain how you figure that.”
    Larry finished his first round and brought himself another from the bottle Andrew had left on the counter. He held the bottle up; Andrew declined by raising his glass,still two fingers full. Or one finger empty, depending on your viewpoint.
    “What I said before? About nobody else coming to visit?” Larry tilted his head. “Why do you think that is?”
    “Not worth the trouble, I assume.”
    “Man. I swear, Torchie. Only you.” Larry took the top off his freshened drink and shook his head. “When you walked in naked that night and said you were quits, I figured you must be dumber than I realized. But in a million years, I never thought you'd be dumb enough to skip town with the advance cash from three open jobs. I gotta be honest, there's a part of me still doesn't believe it.”
    “Those were back wages, ” Andrew said. “Compensation for time served.”
    “Yeah, well, the way I heard it, Mama Mingo called it your hide. You may be dumb, but I don't think you're so dumb you expected that big greasy psycho to let a thing like that slide.” Larry arched his eyebrow. “And I know you ain't so dumb to think I'm the only guy bright enough to figure the most likely place to start looking for your dumb ass.”
    What remained of the money still waited in the safety-deposit box at California Federal. Every last large bill of it, neatly bundled and stacked. Andrew had convinced himself he'd needed it if he really planned to make a fresh start, convinced himself he deserved it for all the earnings Henrietta Mingo had gouged from his cut over the years.
    But he still didn't know what had possessed him to take the money with him. Probably the same reason he'd risked putting Caroline in harm's way, coming here to hide.
    There had been a time not long ago when Andrew simply had not been thinking clearly.
    “Call me sentimental, ” Larry said. “But I didn't let you keep breathing just so that fat bag Mingo could save you the trouble.”
    “Am I supposed to know what you're talking about?”
    “All you need to know is some business got settled. We can leave it there.”
    Some business got settled.
Andrew didn't know what that meant. He didn't know if he wanted to know. As he stood there, looking at Larry, sudden waves of conflicting sentiment began to lap at his conscience. He knocked back the whiskey in his glass and poured a refill.
    “I never asked you to settle my business.”
    “What are friends for?”
    “Jesus.”
    “Nah. Just me.”
    Andrew looked into the bottom of the glass and pondered the amber liquid there. For some reason, just then, the bourbon reminded him of nothing so much as kerosene. He stood there looking at it for a long while.
    “By the way, ” Larry said. He peered inside his own glass as if wondering what was so interesting. “Last time you and me saw each other, wasn't really the time and place, right, but just so you know. I was … shit. I was sorry to hear about your ma.”
    It was the last thing Andrew expected to hear out of Larry at that particular moment, and it caught him off guard.
    “Thanks, ” he said.
    “She was some lady. Shoulda had more time.”
    “Yeah.”
    Andrew didn't know what else there was to say about it. She'd had a bad heart, that was all. It washardly a surprise. God only knew it had been broken enough times.
    “Things had been different, I would have been to the funeral, ” Larry said. “Whatever. Stopped by the cemetery once, paid my respects. You picked her out a nice stone.”
    “You should tell Henrietta