Read Online Straight Cut by Madison Smartt Bell - Free Book Online
Authors: Madison Smartt Bell
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thing to do at the time.
“We killed Jerry Hansen,” I said.
“He killed himself,” Kevin said, and gave me a careful look.
“Hey,” he said. “I feel as bad as you.”
We sat there for a minute until Kevin thought it was time to change the subject.
“God,” he said. “I’m really in the hot seat now. I borrowed money for this deal, you know.”
Kevin was wrong. It wasn’t time to change the subject yet. I snatched him out of his seat and pinned him to the wall with my left hand and smashed three holes in the Sheetrock beside his head with my right fist. Cut hell out of my hand and if I’d hit him even once I think it would have killed him. To the credit of his nerve or foolishness, he wasn’t overly impressed, though he did go a little pale. I let him go and backed off.
“What’s that all about?” Kevin said, brushing off his shoulders.
“Tell me one thing,” I said. “On the way over. Did you see any dogs?”
Kevin didn’t answer.
“Did you see any dogs on the way over?” I said again. I was having trouble keeping my voice level.
“It’s not my fault,” Kevin said. “I don’t see why you think it’s my fault any more than yours.” And he never did answer the question. Kevin was never very much for direct lying. He always just sort of omitted things.
That was pretty much the end of me and Kevin. Up until the day before yesterday, that is. I had precious little sympathy for the spot he was in, though events seemed to prove that it really was a tight one. Kevin had borrowed money, and borrowed it from some extremely serious people. Well, at the time I thought I wouldn’t be sorry to see him get his kneecaps smashed or his fingers kicked in a drawer, so I didn’t offer any help or comfort. But in the end nothing like that happened. Kevin scuttled the picture and bankrupted Chameleon (for that part I had to sign papers) and I don’t know what else he may have had to do, but he came through it all without a visible scratch, untouched, so far as I could see, in either body or soul.
I had not touched him either, though in the technical sense I’d come quite close, and four years later I was still uncertain why I had jumped him in the first place. Certainly it had been far and away too late for me to make any useful defense of the innocence of Jerry Hansen. Maybe that was why I’d sheered off and hit the wall instead.
Because I couldn’t prove and didn’t even really know that Kevin stepped aside deliberately to let Jerry Hansen take the fall. That was only a suspicion, a feeling I had. Maybe Kevin had only had a feeling too, that something would go wrong and that it would be serious and that he would do well to step out of its way. That’s the same sort of instinct that gets you out of the path of a speeding car, and Kevin had all these reflexes refined and sharpened to a rare degree. And a reflex never stops to worry about bystanders. So it might be beside the point to accuse Kevin of any sort of deliberation at all, or give him credit for it either.
If that was the case, I reflected, sleepless on the plane to Rome, then Kevin was innocent, and could only be called innocent in any transaction he happened to be involved in. Though this innocence of his was simply a vacancy, a vacuum. And the winds which whirled around it could do all sorts of damage to anyone in the near vicinity of Kevin.
We killed Jerry Hansen. With my relentless flair for the morbid, I have often rehearsed the scene. I am confident that Kevin braced him well. Kevin made him feel and trust that fortune would favor him on this business, as it always seemed to favor Kevin’s ventures. Kevin would have made Jerry Hansen believe that he was untouchable too.
Then Jerry Hansen would have been so thoroughly convinced of it that he would not have believed in the dogs when they turned up, nor in the police or their guns or their power to harm him. So I can imagine him sliding out of the car and beginning to run,
“We killed Jerry Hansen,” I said.
“He killed himself,” Kevin said, and gave me a careful look.
“Hey,” he said. “I feel as bad as you.”
We sat there for a minute until Kevin thought it was time to change the subject.
“God,” he said. “I’m really in the hot seat now. I borrowed money for this deal, you know.”
Kevin was wrong. It wasn’t time to change the subject yet. I snatched him out of his seat and pinned him to the wall with my left hand and smashed three holes in the Sheetrock beside his head with my right fist. Cut hell out of my hand and if I’d hit him even once I think it would have killed him. To the credit of his nerve or foolishness, he wasn’t overly impressed, though he did go a little pale. I let him go and backed off.
“What’s that all about?” Kevin said, brushing off his shoulders.
“Tell me one thing,” I said. “On the way over. Did you see any dogs?”
Kevin didn’t answer.
“Did you see any dogs on the way over?” I said again. I was having trouble keeping my voice level.
“It’s not my fault,” Kevin said. “I don’t see why you think it’s my fault any more than yours.” And he never did answer the question. Kevin was never very much for direct lying. He always just sort of omitted things.
That was pretty much the end of me and Kevin. Up until the day before yesterday, that is. I had precious little sympathy for the spot he was in, though events seemed to prove that it really was a tight one. Kevin had borrowed money, and borrowed it from some extremely serious people. Well, at the time I thought I wouldn’t be sorry to see him get his kneecaps smashed or his fingers kicked in a drawer, so I didn’t offer any help or comfort. But in the end nothing like that happened. Kevin scuttled the picture and bankrupted Chameleon (for that part I had to sign papers) and I don’t know what else he may have had to do, but he came through it all without a visible scratch, untouched, so far as I could see, in either body or soul.
I had not touched him either, though in the technical sense I’d come quite close, and four years later I was still uncertain why I had jumped him in the first place. Certainly it had been far and away too late for me to make any useful defense of the innocence of Jerry Hansen. Maybe that was why I’d sheered off and hit the wall instead.
Because I couldn’t prove and didn’t even really know that Kevin stepped aside deliberately to let Jerry Hansen take the fall. That was only a suspicion, a feeling I had. Maybe Kevin had only had a feeling too, that something would go wrong and that it would be serious and that he would do well to step out of its way. That’s the same sort of instinct that gets you out of the path of a speeding car, and Kevin had all these reflexes refined and sharpened to a rare degree. And a reflex never stops to worry about bystanders. So it might be beside the point to accuse Kevin of any sort of deliberation at all, or give him credit for it either.
If that was the case, I reflected, sleepless on the plane to Rome, then Kevin was innocent, and could only be called innocent in any transaction he happened to be involved in. Though this innocence of his was simply a vacancy, a vacuum. And the winds which whirled around it could do all sorts of damage to anyone in the near vicinity of Kevin.
We killed Jerry Hansen. With my relentless flair for the morbid, I have often rehearsed the scene. I am confident that Kevin braced him well. Kevin made him feel and trust that fortune would favor him on this business, as it always seemed to favor Kevin’s ventures. Kevin would have made Jerry Hansen believe that he was untouchable too.
Then Jerry Hansen would have been so thoroughly convinced of it that he would not have believed in the dogs when they turned up, nor in the police or their guns or their power to harm him. So I can imagine him sliding out of the car and beginning to run,
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