Raylan: A Novel (17 page)

“But seeing her dead,” Jackie said, “was different.”

“Killed with a shotgun.”

“By an old lady. You think she’ll go to prison?”

“I doubt it. But you don’t know which one to feel sorry for.”

“Indiana they speak Hoosier,” Jackie said. “Come down here you’re in a different country.”

“Coal country,” Raylan said. “Carol’s from West Virginia, she shouldn’t of been surprised.”

Jackie said, “Ms. Culpepper said the company woman came in and told her how nice it was to see her again, and Ms. Culpepper shot her.”

“Being cordial,” Raylan said, “instead of wondering what the hell that was under the blanket. You live down there you get to know people’s ways. You hear Boyd? He said, ‘I never used a shotgun on a woman.’ Carol knew everything but who we are. She was good at sounding West Virginia when she wanted but, I’ll say it again, she didn’t know our ways.” He looked at Jackie and said, “You want to get a beer? It might do you good.”

Chapter Thirty-one

T
he way Harry set up the poker show—once he decided Raylan and Boyd didn’t have the money and Carol Conlan was no longer available—he’d stage it as a guys-against-girls thing and have it shot professionally on HD video, in his poker suite at home, a Burgoyne Farms Production, with refreshments.

Jackie said, “You want us drinking?”

“Don’t poker players drink when they’re not on TV? I want the atmosphere real. The guys are Kwami and Qasim Mu’tazz, breeders from Saudi Arabia. I know they drink. I got to be careful doing the play-by-play I don’t call them Ike and Mike.” Harry said, “And joining the two Arabians will be Dude Moody, winner of two World Series of Poker championships. If Dude wants to smoke he may. You see him on
Poker After Dark
he’s rollin a dead cigar in his mouth.”

“And the girls?” Jackie said.

Harry was showing her the poker suite: a well-stocked bar, bookshelves and shots of horses on the paneled walls.

“I’ll introduce you as the Butler champ.”

“Butler doesn’t have a competition.”

“You beat everybody there, don’t you? And we have two of the top names from the women’s poker club here in town, Vanessa Russo and Leanne Lynn, always competitors.”

Jackie said, “That’s it?”

“Start playin for a hundred grand, top prize, and we’ll keep the local girls in for a while. Then you go no-limit with the boys.”

“You’re doing this,” Jackie said, “so you’ll have a video to show at Keeneland.”

“If it’s any good,” Harry said. “Everything anyone says will be in it. I think that part’ll be better’n the poker. But there’s always suspense when you raise a bet. All you have to do is sit down with the pros and see if you’re any good.”

He sounded serious. Jackie said, “Don’t you love me anymore?”

“Course I do. I’m checkin, see if you’re ready. You win, I suspect you’ll be on your own from now on.”

“And if I lose my bankroll?”

“We’ll still be buddies,” Harry said, “won’t we?”

R
aylan and Boyd sat at the back end of the suite by a screen that would follow the action: a camera mounted above the poker table, and a young guy with a Sony Handycam, putting it on the players as they came in the suite. Harry, by the bar, introduced the players.

Harry: “Twice poker world champ Dude Moody, here all the way from Cypress, Texas, to be with us.”

They watched Dude come away from the bar in his white Stetson, holding a lowball glass of Maker’s Mark. He touched his brim to the camcorder and took a seat. Dude rolling a cigar in his mouth.

Boyd: “Smokin it too. They don’t allow it he’s on TV. Raylan, did you get a good look at Ms. Conlan?”

Raylan: “I did. I noticed she was dead. Boyd, how come you’re here?”

Boyd: “Ms. Conlan invited me. I identified the body and the company had a funeral home come by and pick her up. She was lookin forward to this game.”

Harry was introducing the Mu’tazz brothers. “My good friends Kwame and Qasim from Saudi Arabia, successful at poker as they are breeding horses.”

Harry: “And now the ladies. Jackie Nevada, who’s been playin the big boys lately and winning. And Vanessa Russo and Leanne Lynn, local women’s club champs.”

Vanessa raised her arm in the sleeveless dress and waved to the camera.

She reached the table and the Mu’tazz brothers were each kissing her hand.

Boyd: “I believe Vanessa forgot to shave her armpit this morning. You notice some fuzz?”

Raylan: “Just the one?”

Boyd: “Far as I can tell. I saw Ms. Conlan’s armpit she’s layin there dead? It was clean as could be. You could see one of her knockers all bloody.”

Liz, as she joined them: “What was all bloody?”

Boyd: “Ms. Conlan’s chest.”

Liz: “I’m so sorry she couldn’t make it.”

Boyd: “
Poker After Dark,
you see their hands on the screen, you know what’s goin on. I think this is gonna be boring.”

H
arry: “You want some background music?”

Vanessa: “You got anything inspires poker?”

Leanne: “I 1ike it quiet so I can think.”

Vanessa: “The one turns me on is Taylor Swift.”

Dude: “That little girl?”

Vanessa: “She’ll pack a stadium.”

Dude: I don’t mind Brad Paisley, he change his name he wouldn’t sound queer. Him and Kenny Chesney’d swap names they’d have it right.”

Vanessa: “What’re you talkin about?”

Dude: “That Zellweger girl was married to him a week and walked out.”

Harry: “Why don’t we get the cards in the air?”

Boyd: “Dude don’t find Kenny to his taste. That Vanessa, she looks like she’d make a meal of Taylor Swift. How old you think she is, her twenties?”

Liz: “They’re all young, the girls. Would anyone like a drink?”

Raylan: “Not yet, thanks.”

Boyd: “You know how to make a Sazerac?”

Liz: “With my eyes closed.”

Boyd, to Raylan: “Your girlfriend hasn’t said a word.”

Raylan: “She’s waitin on everybody to shut up.”

Vanessa, to Dude, who’s coming from the bar with another bourbon: “You gonna drink all night?”

Dude: “When I’m playin women I do.”

Leanne: “All the talkin, I can’t concentrate.”

Dude: “Honey, we haven’t started yet.” To Harry: “What’s the blind?”

Harry: “How about four and six hundred?”

Dude: “We playin in the schoolyard? Bump it up some.”

Vanessa: “You’re dumber’n you look, sittin there with your cowboy hat on. I read you like a book, you and your bracelet. What’re you gonna do after, go round up the herd? You guys and your hats.”

B
oyd, to Raylan: “She see yours yet?”

Raylan: “I’m keepin it hid.”

Liz: “They gonna play or not?”

Raylan: “Bet you a buck they don’t turn a card.”

D
ude: “A man wears a hat it becomes part of him.”

Vanessa: “Cover up your bald head, less you’re wearing a hairpiece.”

Dude removes his Stetson to show Vanessa a full head of dark hair. He leans toward her at the table. “There a few strands of gray—but go on, pull on it, stick your nose in my hair and satisfy yourself it’s all mine.” Dude straightens. “I see you got kinda pink hair now. Any your other hair pink?”

Vanessa: “I can’t sit here and look at you no more. You are so fucking out of it. You win cause you bet enough nobody can call. That got you the bracelet?”

Dude: “A pair. Honey, the boys I play all got enough to call my bets. Give me a seven-deuce down and I’ll beat you playin for anything you want.”

Vanessa: “You’re a big-mouth stuck on yourself—”

Dude: “Sometimes.”

Vanessa: “You prob’ly think Lady Gaga’s a chick from outer space.”

Dude: “You mean wearin raw meat on your body makes you an alien? I thought it just made you un-hygenic.”

Vanessa, staring at Dude with cold eyes: “Why don’t you throw that stinky cigar away and get your yellow teeth cleaned? I don’t think I can look at you no more.”

Dude: “If we’re gonna continue exchangin pleasantries why don’t we forget the whole thing? Less you want to put all you brought on one game.” He waited.

He watches Vanessa and Leanne put their heads together for a moment. Now they both get up from the table and walk out of the poker suite.

B
oyd, to Raylan, both sipping Sazeracs: “You called it, partner. No poker this evenin for the young ladies.”

Liz: “Jackie’s still sitting there.”

Raylan: “She wants to play, foolin with her chips, but doesn’t say a word.”

Dude: “I’ll tell you what. Let’s see if we can be polite to one another and wrap this up.” To Jackie: “What’s the most you ever lost?”

Jackie: “At one time? Twenty grand.”

Dude: “You piss it away?”

Jackie: “I got mad.”

Dude: “Finally met some players, huh?”

Jackie: “Cigar smokers. I lost my cool but got it back, in case you’re wondering.”

Dude, reaching over to pat her shoulder: “Let’s see how far bein spunky gets you.”

The hired dealer in his vest and bow tie finally sat down at the table and dealt each player two cards down.

Jackie peeks at her hole cards: an ace and a seven.

Dude: “Hundred thousand to open,” and throws in his chips. “If that’s okay with you people.”

Jackie and the Saudis see the bet, the Saudis quiet, not looking happy this evening.

The dealer burns the top card and deals the flop: an ace, five, four.

Jackie now has her pair.

Dude throws in chips, betting another hundred thousand.

The Saudis fold and leave the table. Done with this nonsense.

Jackie sees the Dude’s bet.

Dealer: “Pot’s six hundred forty thousand.” He deals the next card, the turn, an eight of hearts on the board.

Dude: “I’m gonna leave it up to Miss Spunky. See where she’s at.”

Jackie: “A hundred thousand.”

Dude stares at her before adding chips to the pile on the table.

Dealer: “Pot’s eight hundred forty thousand.” He then deals the river card face up on the table. “An ace of clubs.”

Dude: “Well, hey, we both got aces paired. You got a good kicker under there?”

Jackie: “Bet and find out.”

Dude: “I do, I don’t see you got enough to call. Hon, I don’t want to take any more your lunch money.”

Jackie, bringing a checkbook and pen from her jeans: “You want to bet, go ahead.”

Dude: “Check, I’m gonna rest here.”

Jackie writes a check to
CASH
and drops it in the pot.

Jackie: “Eighty thousand to you, Mr. Moody.”

Dude, pausing: “You’re a tough little girl, aren’t you?”

Dealer: “Eighty thousand to Mr. Moody.”

Dude: “What’s the pot?”

Dealer: “One million when you call.”

Dude, staring at Jackie: “A big moment in your life, huh? Waited for the river to fill your hand? It didn’t, you have to act like it did. I’m callin your bluff, hon.” Drops chips in the pot and shows his hand. “Beat two pair, aces over cowboys.”

Jackie, turning up her ace in the hole: “A set, Mr. Moody, three bullets.”

Chapter Thirty-two

I
f Raylan wanted to say anything to Boyd and Liz he’d have to wait for them to quit talking. He watched Jackie at the poker table looking up at Dude Moody, listening and close to smiling at him. He’d turn his head and say something to Harry and her expression would lose interest.

Boyd was telling Liz about Ms. Conlan’s end, Liz saying “Really . . . ?” following every word. Raylan thought Carol dying of gunshot was excessive. Ten years would’ve been more like it. Boyd, he’d have to forget about Boyd’s part in it, even if Boyd had given shotgun shells to the old lady. Raylan would be kicking a dead horse.

Now he felt involved, or wouldn’t mind it, with Jackie Nevada, sitting there, her head bent back, looking up at the Dude. Now he was kissing her on the top of the head, the Dude bending over her, Jackie looking like she was hunching her shoulders. Now Harry was busy talking to the Dude and Jackie got up from the table and came straight over to Raylan.

He said, “I hear you beat the pro.”

“All three. You know how much I won?”

Raylan shook his head.

“A million bucks,” Jackie said.

“Come on—”

“Two-twenty from the Saudis and the rest from Dude. A million fucking dollars.”

“Took you only one game?”

“Dude was tired, thank God, or we might’ve played some more. He told me nice going, I did all right for a girl and kissed me on the head.”

“I saw that part.”

“Harry’ll put their checks in my account.”

“Were you nervous?”

“A little. But I knew I’d win.”

“How’d you know?”

“I told myself I’d hit on the river and I did.”

He’d ask about “the river” another time.

Raylan said, “So you won’t need a bodyguard. I was lookin forward to it.”

“I thought you’d want to guard me,” Jackie said, “so I won’t run off again.”

Raylan said, “I could handcuff us together.”

She was looking right at him. “And throw away the key?”

“We’re gonna have to be separated once in a while,” Raylan said, “to go to the bathroom. But being cuffed together’s a good test of compatability.”

She said, “We need to test how we get along?”

“You’re right,” Raylan said. “Tell me what you’d like to do.”

She kept staring at him.

“Go someplace and have fun.”

Raylan took a moment to see them in the Two Keys Tavern, going up to his monk’s room on the second floor. He said, “You know what tonight is where I’m stayin? Crazy Night.” He said, “You like to act crazy?”

Jackie said, “I love to act crazy.”

D
elroy said to his phone, “Kennet, nobody seen him at that bar. He’s livin there, ain’t they gonna see him?”

“You think your guys are alert?” Kenneth said.

“I get ’em what they need, stand around there all night. They like to feel relaxed.”

“While they’re in a nod, the Lone Ranger comes in and goes to his room. Delroy, you continue to be your own problem. Forget the guy. God, he arrested you, that was seven or eight years ago.”

“I made up my mind,” Delroy said. “I got me a cowboy hat I stuck in a bucket of water, get it to bend and shaped the motherfucker how I like it to look. I’m on face Raylan Givens in a shoot-out at the Two Keys saloon.”

Kenneth said, “Get someone to count to three and you go for your guns? Delroy, you’re wasting your life doing street drama.”

“My hat’s black. I pull it down on my eyes . . . See, I don’t want him to know it’s me right away.”

“Del, you’re quite tall.”

“But I want him to know it’s me that second he recognizes my stature and I shoot him in the head. Last thing he’s thinkin about. Kennet, what’s the last thing goes through a bug’s head he hits the windshield? The bug’s ass. I’m goin down to South America or someplace after. Once I stick up a bank for travel money. Or get some chicks to do it. You know why it worked with chicks? Nobody ever seen it before.”

“Delroy, listen to me. It didn’t work. You’re wanted on sight for murder. You’ll be caught and go to prison. Your next jolt will be life, at best, without parole. You know what Raylan Givens is famous for?”

“Drinkin shine?”

“Shooting people.”

“Sneaks up on ’em, like he done me, and gets the drop. See, this time I’m puttin on the show. I know my moves leading to shootin the motherfucker in the head. I tip my hat to the crowd and walk out the saloon.”

“And then you go to South America or someplace.”

“I been thinkin of Haiwaiya.”

“Delroy, Crazy Night at the Two Keys, some of the students go a little nuts and wear nutty outfits. Or sorority girls come as hula dancers. One time I heard,
Playboy
bunnies.”

“I’m gonna wear my hat.”

“Throw the fucking hat away. You have to wear something so he won’t know you.”

“You see me dressin like a bunny?”

“That’s not bad,” Kenneth said, a fingertip touching his lips. “Not a bunny, but some kind of . . . awfully tall broad in a dazzling frock. Or . . . I don’t know, something else.”

“Man, tall chicks rub up to me all the time. Know I’m lookin for one don’t get lost in my embrace.”

“I see you as statuesque, a fucking knockout from
La Cage aux Folles,
a tall, bawdy bimbo.”

“You see me wearin a dress?”

“A frock of some kind.”

“What do I do for tits?”

“Come on over while I’m thinking about it.”

He realized he may have to shave Delroy’s entire body, but decided not to mention it.

“I’m trying to think of what we have here at the Cooz besides G-strings. I’ll look around. Delroy? I’ll get Bobby over to do the makeup. All the black drag queens love him. Bobby’ll give you smoky eyes with long lashes you can flutter at Raylan.”

“What do I do for tits?”

“If Bobby want you to show cleavage you’ll have it.”

“I was thinkin,” Delroy said, “I could be a Arab. Cover myself with a sheet.”

“No, you want the exotic RuPaul look.”

Delroy said, “Kennet, where do I keep my piece?”

It was always something with the big boy.

“That’s right,” Kenneth said, “you’ll need your gun, won’t you?”

T
wo and a half hours later, from the time Bobby arrived with his suitcase of makeup and armloads of dresses he’d borrowed from friends—“Costumes, really, from two of the most popular drag queens in town,” Bobby said—to Delroy looking at himself in the full-length mirror in Kenneth’s bedroom, both Bobby and Kenneth waiting for Delroy’s reaction.

“He’s still awfully tall for a girl,” Kenneth said, “but he looks delicious. I love the rich pouty lips with the lighter skin tone, the eyelashes . . . Delroy, bat your eyes for us. Give us a flutter.”

Bobby said in a murmur, “He doesn’t know what you mean.”

Delroy was staring at his long, slim figure in the mirror, turning his head from side to side appraising himself.

Bobby, his hand over his mouth this time, said to Kenneth, “He hasn’t said a word. You know he does have quite a sexy figure. I was afraid he might be all angles.”

“I’m wondering,” Kenneth said, “if a simpler dress without the distracting sequins might work better. It’s awfully busy. But, I have to say, I love it. Delroy in the sky with diamonds.”

“It’s short,” Bobby said, “but his knees aren’t bad, are they? You like the earrings? I love the way they swing when he turns his head. The pumps, I’m sorry to say, are the largest size of sling-backs I could find.”

“His feet do look like they might burst out,” Kenneth said, “but I don’t know what else we can do. He can’t wear his own shoes, and his sandals are much too gauche with the frock. But who’s looking at his feet? Delroy, what do you think?”

“I look like a homasexual.”

“You’re a cross-dresser,” Kenneth said. “You don’t have to be gay to like wearing women’s clothes. It shows a certain flair. You don’t march with the common man.”

“You think I look all right, huh? Not too way-out?”

“You’re dazzling.”

“But where do I put my piece?”

A
t half past nine they were in the Chevy on their way to Two Keys on South Limestone and talking about Delroy Lewis, Raylan thinking he shouldn’t of brought him up. Now Jackie was into it, asking about him, now as far along as:

“You think he’ll pick a spot and be lying in wait?”

“He could walk up behind me in a street fulla people, press his gun in my back. Or he finds out I live upstairs over a saloon.”

“How would he?”

“I’m big as life at the Two Keys, administering the law for my board. A snitch can live off stuff he finds out about and sells it.”

“I think you’d like what’s his name, Delroy, to find you.”

“It might be the only way to have it done. Tryin to look at all the faces in a crowd wears you out.”

“We don’t have to go to the Two Keys,” Jackie said. “Harry got me a suite at the Hilton I still haven’t used. We could stay there for a while, order room service on Harry, a bottle of champagne to celebrate.”

“Champagne,” Raylan said, “can give you a headache.”

“You don’t have to drink the whole bottle.”

“You don’t?”

“Everything in moderation.”

“And you won’t ever get in trouble?”

“I think if I were a guy,” Jackie said, “I’d be a lot like you.”

“I bet you’re like Reno.”

“Cause I gamble? I’m only somewhat like Reno. I’m smarter than he is, but he knows more about people. You know who I try to be like? Me, on a good day. I’m nice because I’m winning pots.”

“One with a million in it. You should be the happiest girl in town.”

“I don’t stop to think, Am I happy? I am most of the time, I guess. But it comes and goes.”

“But you like being up. I can tell you how to maintain that high.”

“Yeah . . . ?”

“Become a U.S. marshal.”

“You’re serious?”

“I don’t know, I may be.”

“To me,” Jackie said, “to win a mil tells me I can do it. I knew I could beat what’s his name, Moody, almost right away.”

Raylan said, “I noticed you had your checkbook out. What if you had to write one to stay in? You didn’t, cause the Dude, with five maybe six Maker’s Marks in him, tells himself you’re a girl . . .”

“
Only
a girl. But a nice one.”

“You didn’t have to write a check for seventy grand.”

“I would’ve if he made me. I knew I had him beat from the moment I saw my ace in the hole.”

“You had good cards.”

“I had great cards. When do three aces lose?”

Raylan said, “But not till an ace came bobbin up in the river.” Both smiling because they felt like it with each other.

Jackie said, “I might as well tell you now, because I know I will later. I’ve got a serious crush on you. I’m excited by how cool you are. You carry a gun and’ve used it.”

“Yes, I have.”

“But you don’t jog every morning or do anything you don’t like, and you’re not married.”

He said, “What if I was?”

“I don’t know. I’d still want to go to bed with you.”

“So when we start thrashin around under the covers, I’m not makin you do it.”

“Well, you are,” Jackie said. “We could even take a shower together, first.”

Raylan said, “Before my heart starts racing and we bang into somebody’s rear end—”

She said, “You want to stop at the Two Keys.”

“For a minute. Stick my head in.”

“You think he’s there.”

“I’m right half the time when I get the feeling. Wait in the car, all right? I don’t want to take a chance losin you before we get to the hotel.”

Was she laughing or what saying, “Tell me you can’t wait either.”

“I’ll swear to it,” Raylan said, pulling up in front of the Two Keys. He’d already thought of kissing her here in the car, but it might be something he’d think about later as a bad sign, so he didn’t kiss Jackie. He left the motor running, said, “I won’t be five minutes” as he got out.

Jackie watched him duck under the rail, go up on the porch and through the door. She took the keys from the ignition and got out to follow her new boyfriend.

D
elroy sat at a table, his back to a wall, his two dopehead homeboys watching the place for him while he sat there drinking soda, raising the glass left-handed, his right one on the shoulder bag with the Smith .357 in it.

He’d told them already, “All you two mopes have to do is get his attention when I touch my platinum head. You boys like it? I’m growin to. I get him he don’t know where to look as I take the stage. What time is it? Kennet squeeze my titties so tight I said no, I be flat-chested. I’m still like nothin nobody ever seen.” His homeboys, mopes on weed, were the same age as most of the people in here, but street in their ways, what they were wearing, easy to pick out of the crowd.

Delroy walked in, people took one look at him and began to cheer—man, look at this dude? A with-it crowd of his people. They made Delroy feel fine, like he belonged.

He watched them shooting goldfish with their water pistols. He read the signs on the walls, how much it would cost ’em to get drunk. He might be early, but would sit here an hour before giving it up.

The mope sittin with him slid out and was gone through tables toward the bar. He couldn’t see the mope now, he was too short. What he saw was the hat, over there in a crowd, the cowboy kind of hat he was waiting for.

Now the mope was on his way back, eyes open for a change, wide open. Stood long enough at the table to nod his head, face telling nothin. Now was moving toward the other mope, out of the way.

There was Raylan among the tables looking around. Delroy watched the man’s gaze move over the room, coming around to right here, Delroy wearing his platinum wig, drag queen makeup shining on him, and stopped.

C
oming in, Raylan went up to the bar for a shot of bourbon, since he was here. He saw the homeboy, out of place, staring at him. The homeboy turned, moving through the tables, and Raylan followed him up the aisle now till he saw the drag queen sitting at a table against the wall. Raylan kept walking toward the queen, the homeboy moving off to one side now but still in Raylan’s vision.

He said, “Excuse me, but if you’re not Delroy Lewis you gotta be his ugly twin sister.”