Read Online Mr Majestyk (1974) by Elmore Leonard - Free Book Online
Authors: Elmore Leonard
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up to you."
Renda looked up at him. "Regular vacation. You having a nice time?"
"Listen, I think I could use a rest. That stunt, hitting the fucking bus, tha t t ook some years off me."
Renda watched him turn to the refrigerator and take out a can of beer.
"Where is he?"
"You want one?"
"I said where is he!"
Lundy, about to pop open the can, looked over at Renda. "The guy? He turne d h imself in. Last I heard they're still holding him at Edna."
Wiley came in to stretch out on the opposite bunk. "Kind of tight fit, but al l t he comforts of home."
"We're not at home," Renda said. "He is."
"He's in jail, Frank." Wiley's tone was soft, approaching him carefully. "You'r e f ree. We can go anywhere you want."
"There's only one thing I want," Renda said. "Him."
Lundy opened the can and took a swig. "He gets out, we can have somebody tak e c are of that."
Renda shook his head. "Not somebody. I said I want him. I want him to see it an d k now it's me. Put the gun in his stomach and look at him. Not say anything, jus t l ook at him and make sure he understands."
"You still have to wait," Lundy said.
Renda didn't say anything. He was still picturing it, putting the gun in th e m elon grower's stomach.
"All right, let me ask you," Lundy said. "What do you do, walk in the jail, as k t hem for a visitor's pass? How do you get close to the guy?"
"You get him out of jail."
"You get him out. How?"
"Find the guy he hit," Renda said. "Tell him to drop the complaint. It was all a m istake, a misunderstanding."
"What if the guy doesn't want to drop it?"
"Jesus, I said tell him, not ask him."
"Maybe pay him something?"
"That's up to you. See what it takes."
"You mean you want me to do it? Go back there?"
"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"
"I just wanted to be sure."
"You're going to go back and set it up," Renda said. "Find the guy made th e c omplaint and get that done. Get some people if you see we need them. Call me, I come up. We go in and get out fast. No bullshit screwing around. Arrange it, I walk up to him, and it's done."
Lundy took a sip of beer, getting the right words ready in his mind. "I keep thinking though, what about the cops? They'll be looking for you, watching you r h ouse, the apartment."
"Christ, you think I'm going to go home? We'll stay someplace else. Call Harry , tell him to arrange it."
"I mean right now, why take a chance?"
"I told you why."
"I'm not against it," Lundy said. "I'm just thinking, we're this far. Why chang e y our mind all of a sudden?"
"I didn't change it. I hadn't made it up yet. But the more I think about it--I know it's what I'm going to do."
"I was going to lie on the beach," Wiley said, "and read my book."
Lundy waited a moment. "You know, Frank, there's a lot of guys'd do it. I mea n g uys the cops aren't waiting to flag."
Renda said, "Hey, Gene, one more time. I said I want him. I never wanted anybod y s o bad and I'm going to do it strictly as a favor to myself. You understand? Am I getting through to you? I'm going to do it, not somebody else. Before I tak e a ny trips or lay on any beach I'm going to walk up to that melon grower son of a b itch, I'm going to look him in the eyes, and I'm going to kill him."
Harold Ritchie was a pallbearer at his partner's funeral. Bob Almont, good gu y t o ride with in a squad car, and goddamn he'd miss him. Shot down in the stree t b y some creepy son of a bitch. Ritchie hoped it was the one he'd shot coming ou t o f the station wagon. He went to Bob Almont's house after the funeral, with Bob's close friends and a few relatives that'd come from Oklahoma. They sa t a round drinking coffee and picking at the casserole dishes some neighbors ha d b rought over, while Evelyn Almont stayed in the kitchen most of the time or sa t w ith her two little tiny kids who didn't know what the hell was going on. Afte r a couple of hours of watching that, it was a relief to get back to the post.
The deputy at the counter tore off a teletype
Renda looked up at him. "Regular vacation. You having a nice time?"
"Listen, I think I could use a rest. That stunt, hitting the fucking bus, tha t t ook some years off me."
Renda watched him turn to the refrigerator and take out a can of beer.
"Where is he?"
"You want one?"
"I said where is he!"
Lundy, about to pop open the can, looked over at Renda. "The guy? He turne d h imself in. Last I heard they're still holding him at Edna."
Wiley came in to stretch out on the opposite bunk. "Kind of tight fit, but al l t he comforts of home."
"We're not at home," Renda said. "He is."
"He's in jail, Frank." Wiley's tone was soft, approaching him carefully. "You'r e f ree. We can go anywhere you want."
"There's only one thing I want," Renda said. "Him."
Lundy opened the can and took a swig. "He gets out, we can have somebody tak e c are of that."
Renda shook his head. "Not somebody. I said I want him. I want him to see it an d k now it's me. Put the gun in his stomach and look at him. Not say anything, jus t l ook at him and make sure he understands."
"You still have to wait," Lundy said.
Renda didn't say anything. He was still picturing it, putting the gun in th e m elon grower's stomach.
"All right, let me ask you," Lundy said. "What do you do, walk in the jail, as k t hem for a visitor's pass? How do you get close to the guy?"
"You get him out of jail."
"You get him out. How?"
"Find the guy he hit," Renda said. "Tell him to drop the complaint. It was all a m istake, a misunderstanding."
"What if the guy doesn't want to drop it?"
"Jesus, I said tell him, not ask him."
"Maybe pay him something?"
"That's up to you. See what it takes."
"You mean you want me to do it? Go back there?"
"I'm talking to you, aren't I?"
"I just wanted to be sure."
"You're going to go back and set it up," Renda said. "Find the guy made th e c omplaint and get that done. Get some people if you see we need them. Call me, I come up. We go in and get out fast. No bullshit screwing around. Arrange it, I walk up to him, and it's done."
Lundy took a sip of beer, getting the right words ready in his mind. "I keep thinking though, what about the cops? They'll be looking for you, watching you r h ouse, the apartment."
"Christ, you think I'm going to go home? We'll stay someplace else. Call Harry , tell him to arrange it."
"I mean right now, why take a chance?"
"I told you why."
"I'm not against it," Lundy said. "I'm just thinking, we're this far. Why chang e y our mind all of a sudden?"
"I didn't change it. I hadn't made it up yet. But the more I think about it--I know it's what I'm going to do."
"I was going to lie on the beach," Wiley said, "and read my book."
Lundy waited a moment. "You know, Frank, there's a lot of guys'd do it. I mea n g uys the cops aren't waiting to flag."
Renda said, "Hey, Gene, one more time. I said I want him. I never wanted anybod y s o bad and I'm going to do it strictly as a favor to myself. You understand? Am I getting through to you? I'm going to do it, not somebody else. Before I tak e a ny trips or lay on any beach I'm going to walk up to that melon grower son of a b itch, I'm going to look him in the eyes, and I'm going to kill him."
Harold Ritchie was a pallbearer at his partner's funeral. Bob Almont, good gu y t o ride with in a squad car, and goddamn he'd miss him. Shot down in the stree t b y some creepy son of a bitch. Ritchie hoped it was the one he'd shot coming ou t o f the station wagon. He went to Bob Almont's house after the funeral, with Bob's close friends and a few relatives that'd come from Oklahoma. They sa t a round drinking coffee and picking at the casserole dishes some neighbors ha d b rought over, while Evelyn Almont stayed in the kitchen most of the time or sa t w ith her two little tiny kids who didn't know what the hell was going on. Afte r a couple of hours of watching that, it was a relief to get back to the post.
The deputy at the counter tore off a teletype
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