Mr Majestyk (1974) (5 page)

Majestyk remained by the crack of vertical light that showed between the doors , looking out in the direction they had come, seeing the dust settling in the su n g lare.

Somewhere behind him in the gloom Renda said, "You move, don't you? I figure d y ou for some kind of a local clown, but you move."

Majestyk didn't say anything.

"What'd they bust you for?"

"Assault."

"With what?"

"A shotgun."

"Assault, shit, that's attempted murder. They were going to jam you the same a s m e."

"Maybe," Majestyk said.

"Maybe? What do you think you're going to do about it?"

"I got an idea might work."

"Listen," Renda said, "we get to a phone we're out of the country befor e m orning. Drive to Mexico, get some passports, we're gone."

His back still to Renda, Majestyk pulled the deputy's keys out of his pocket.

He'd almost forgotten about them, hurrying to get out of there, maybe hurryin g t oo fast and not thinking clearly. He would have to slow down a little. No t w aste time, but make sure he wasn't doing anything dumb. He listened to Renda a s h e began to study the keys and select one that would fit his handcuffs.

"I got friends," Renda was saying, "as you noticed, huh? It was set up in a h urry and they blew it. All right, I call some more friends. They get us out o f t he country, someplace no extradition, and wait and see what happens. I go t e nough to live on, I mean high, the rest of my life. It won't be home, shit no , but it won't be in the fucking slam either. I couldn't make that. Couple o f w eeks I'd be sawing my fucking wrists." He paused. "What're you doing?"

Majestyk didn't say anything and Renda came over to him, his face brightening a s h e saw the keys.

"Jesus, it keeps getting better. You not only move, you think. Give me those , hold your hands up." As he tried the keys in Majestyk's handcuffs he said , "Figure if you take a long chance, get me out of there, it'd be worth something , huh? Okay, you do something for me, I do something for you. Maybe fix it so yo u c an go with me."

Renda snapped the handcuffs open. As Majestyk slipped them off Renda handed hi m t he keys and raised his own hands to be unlocked.

"How's that sound?"

"I think you got it ass-backwards," Majestyk said, returning the keys to hi s p ocket. "I'm not going with you, you're going with me."

He found an old hackamore that did the job. Looping it around the link of th e h andcuffs, he could pull Renda along by the length of rope, yank on it when Renda resisted, held back, and the cuffs would dig into his hands.

Leaving the feed barn, hauled out into the sunlight, Renda put up a fight , yelling what the fuck was going on, calling him a crazy insane son of a bitch.

So he belted Renda, gave him a good one right in the mouth that quieted hi m d own, and brought him along. But, God, he didn't like the look in the man'
s e yes. The man wanted to kill him and would probably try. So his idea had bette r t urn out to be a good one and come off without any hitches.

All afternoon and into the evening he led Renda by the hackamore, forcing him t o k eep up as they moved through the brush country, following dry washes an d a rroyos that gradually began to climb, reaching toward the high slopes.

Majestyk, in his work clothes and heavy work boots, had little trouble; h e s eemed at home here. He seemed to know what he was doing, where he was going.

Renda, in his tailored suit and thin-soled shoes, stumbled along, fallin g s ometimes, getting his sweat-stained face and clothes caked with dust. Majesty k j udged the man's endurance and let him rest when he felt he was near the end o f i t. Then would pull him to his feet again and they would continue on, throug h b rush and pinyon thickets, climbing, angling across high slopes and ope n m eadows.

He brought Renda more than ten miles this way, up into the mountains, and a t d usk when they reached the cabin--a crude one-room structure that was part timbe r a nd part adobe--he had the feeling Renda would not have gone another ten yards.

"We're home," Majestyk said.

Renda looked at the place with a dull, lifeless expression. "Where are we?"

"Place I use sometimes. Mostly in hunting season."

Inside, he found a kitchen match on a shelf, feeling for it in the dark, an d l ighted a kerosene lamp that hung from the overhead.

"We got coffee and canned milk. Probably find some soup or some beans. I haven'
t b een up here since spring."

Renda was looking around the room, at the two metal bunks with bare mattresses , the wooden table and two chairs, the cupboard with open shelves that showed a f ew cans and cobwebs, but were nearly empty. Renda went to the nearest bunk an d s at down. Majestyk followed him over, taking the keys from his pocket.

"Hold up your hands."

The man sure looked worn out. Renda raised his arms slowly, too tired to move.

But as soon as Majestyk freed one of his hands, Renda came off the bunk , pushing, chopping at Majestyk with hard jabs. It took him by surprise, Renda'
s f ists stinging his face, and he had to back off and set himself before he coul d g o after Renda, jabbing, feinting, then slamming in a hard right that stunne d h im and dropped him to the bunk. Majestyk put a knee on him and got hi m h andcuffed to the metal frame before he could move again.

It took something out of him. Majestyk had to sit down on the other bunk an d r est, get his breath.

There was silence until Renda said, "All right. What do you call this game?"

Majestyk looked over at him. "You'll find out."

"Tomorrow night," Renda said quietly, "we could be in L
. A . Stay at a place I know, get some broads in, booze, anything you want to eat or drink, get some ne w c lothes. A couple of days later we're in Mexico. Get a boat, some more broads.
I mean like you never seen before. Cruise around, anything you want, it's on th e h ouse. You ever have it like that? Anything you want?"

"I been to L
. A .," Majestyk said. "I been to Mexico and I been laid."

"Okay, what do you want?"

"I want to get a melon crop in. That's what I want to do." Renda gave him a p uzzled look and he added, "I grow melons."

"Hire your work done."

"I hope to. But I got to be there."

"I'll tell you something," Renda said, taking his time. "I've killed seven me n w ith a gun, one with a crowbar, and another guy I threw off a roof. Fiv e s tories. Some people I didn't kill but I had it done. Like I can have it don e f or you, even if I get put away and they let you off. Any way you look at it , you're dead. Unless we go out of here together. Or, we make a deal."

"What kind of deal?"

"Put a price on it. You take the cuffs off, I walk away. What's it cost?" Rend a w atched him closely. "If you think it's going to be hot out there, all right , you'll have dough, you can go anywhere you want." He paused. "Or if you fee l l ike taking a chance, turn yourself in, you can tell them I got away. Serve som e t ime, come out, the dough's waiting. How much?" He paused again. "You don't kno w w hat your price is, do you? Afraid you might be low. All right, I'll tell yo u w hat it is. Twenty-five."

"Twenty-five what?"

"Twenty-five thousand dollars."

It was Majestyk's turn to pause. "How would we work it? I mean how would I ge t t he money?"

"You call a Phoenix number," Renda said. "Say you got a message for Wiley. Yo u s ay where you want the money delivered and where I can be picked up. It's al l y ou have to do."

Majestyk seemed to be thinking about it. He said, "Twenty-five thousand, huh?"

"Tax free."

"Could you go any higher than that?"

Renda grinned. "Getting greedy now. Like what's another five or ten."

"I just wondered."

"Twenty-five," Renda said. "That's your price. A nice round number. Buy yoursel f a tractor, a new pair of overalls. Put the rest away for your retirement." H
e w aited a moment. "Well, what do you think?"

"You say I call somebody named Wiley," Majestyk said. "What's the number?"

Chapter
5.

THE PAPAGO TRADING POST was a highway novelty store in the desert, about thre e m iles below and east of the hunting cabin. Big red-painted signs on and aroun d t he place advertised AUTHENTIC INDIAN SOUVENIRS . . . ARROWHEADS . . . MOCCASINS. . . HOMEMADE CANDY AND ICE COLD BEER. There was a Coca-Cola sign, an Olympi a s ign, and a Coors sign.

Majestyk came down from the cabin about nine in the morning and approached th e s tore from about three hundred yards up the highway, reading the signs an d l istening for the sounds of oncoming cars. Nobody passed him. He reached th e s tore and went inside.

Beyond the counters displaying the trinkets and souvenirs, the Indian dolls an d b lankets, and sayings carved on varnished pieces of wood--like, "There's only on e t hing money can't buy. Poverty"--he saw the owner of the place sitting at a c ounter that was marble and looked like a soda fountain. The man was abou t s ixty, frail-looking with yellowish gray hair. He was having a beer, drinking i t f rom the can.

Approaching him Majestyk said, "I got a flat tire a couple of miles back. N
o s pare."

"That's a shame," the owner said.

"I wonder if I could use your phone. Call a friend of mine."

"Where's he live?"

"Down at Edna."

"That's two bits call Edna."

Majestyk watched him raise the wet-glistening beer can to his mouth.

"I don't have a spare. The truth is, I don't have any money on me."

"Have to trust you then, won't I?"

Majestyk smiled at him. "You trust me for a can of that too?"

When he got his Coors, a sixteen-ounce can, he took it over to the wall phon e w ith him, looked up a number in the Edna directory, and dialed it. He kept hi s b ack to the man at the counter. When a voice came on he said, quietly, "I believe you have a Lieutenant McAllen there? . . . Let me speak to him, please."

He waited, looking over at the counter where the owner of the place was watchin g h im, then turned his back to the man and hunched over the phone again.

"This is Vincent Majestyk. You remember we met a few days ago?" He paused , interrupted, then said, "No, I'm downtown in a hotel. Where do you think I am?

Listen, why don't you let me talk for a minute, all right?" But he wa s i nterrupted again. "Listen to me, will you? I got Frank Renda . . . I said I go t h im. . . . You want to listen or you want me to hang up? . . . Okay, I got Rend a a nd you got an assault charge against me. Drop it, tear it up, kick it under th e r ug, and I'll give you Frank Renda."

With the loud sounds coming from the receiver he held the phone away from him , covered the speaker with his hand, and looked over at the owner of the place.

"He's sore cause I took him away from his breakfast." He turned and put th e p hone to his ear again, waiting to break in.

"Yeah, well nothing's free in this world," Majestyk said finally. "You want him , that's the deal. . . . No, I'll deliver him. You come here you're liable to sa y y ou found us. But I bring him in it's me doing it and nobody else. . . . Yeah.

Yeah, well it's nice doing business with you too."

He hung up, took a sip of beer, but didn't move away from the phone. "Pu t a nother call on there, okay?" he said to the store owner. "Phoenix. And maybe a c ouple more beers, to go."

He finished dialing, waited, and as he turned to the wall said, "I got a messag e f or somebody named Wiley. You understand? All right, get a pencil and piece o f p aper and write down what I tell you."

It was a little after twelve, the sun directly above them, when the sports ca r a ppeared on the county road. They had been waiting since eleven-thirty, partwa y u p the slope that was covered with stands of pinyon pine. In that time this wa s t he first car they had seen.

"That's it," Renda said. He started to rise, awkwardly, still handcuffed.

Majestyk motioned to him. "Keep down." He watched the sports car, a white Jaguar XK, go by raising a trail of dust on the gravel road, finally reaching a poin t w here it passed from sight beyond the trees.

"That's the car," Renda said.

Majestyk continued to watch the road, saying nothing until the car appeare d a gain, coming slowly from the other direction.

"All right, let's go."

By the time they reached the road the Jaguar was approaching them and came to a n a brupt stop. An attractive young girl with short blond hair and big roun d s unglasses got out and stood looking at them over the open door.

Majestyk stared, taken by surprise. He hadn't expected a girl. The possibilit y h ad never entered his mind.

"Who's that?"

"That's Wiley," Renda said. He started toward the car and called to the girl , "You got the money?"

"I already gave it to him," the girl said. "God, Frank, you're a mess."