L Is for Lawless

she said. She left the rest room, giving me a few minutes alone.
    I ran water in the sink until the hot came through, then rinsed my face and doused my head, washing out the smell of smoke. I used the harsh paper toweling to dry my hair, then used my fingers to comb the strands into place. I felt a wave of nausea rush through me like a hot flash. I put my hands on the sink, leaning on my arms, while I composed myself. Sunday night and I was stuck in some nameless Dallas suburb with an ex-con, his daughter, and a papoose of illicit cash. I let out a big breath and stared at my reflection in the dingy mirror. I shrugged ruefully. Things could (probably) be worse. So far, no one had been hurt and I had a few bucks left. I was looking forward to a meal, though I'd have to depend on my companions to pay for it. As soon as we got to Little Rock, I'd put a call through to Henry, who would come to my rescue. He could wire me money, buy the airline ticket on his credit card, or some combination thereof. By morning I'd be safely tucked in my bed, catching up on my sleep while I counted my blessings.
    I went back to the car, stuffing most of my damp belongings in the trunk beside Ray's suitcases. The blazer, though still damp, I carried with me into the cafe, unwilling to have it out of my sight. The place was largely empty and had a homely, neglected air. Even the locals must have eschewed the establishment, which had probably started as a mom-and-pop operation and been reduced some time since to its current orphaned state. I didn't see any flies, but the ghosts of Flies Past seemed to hover in the air. The front windows were swathed in dust from some half-finished construction across the street. Even the fake potted plants carried a powdering of soot.
    Ray and Laura sat across from each other in a corner booth. I slid in beside Ray, not that eager to have his bruised and battered face in view while I was trying to eat. Laura didn't look much better. Like me, she wore no makeup, but while bare skin is my preferred state, she'd been carefully camouflaging the blows Gilbert had systematically administered. I had to guess that most of her bruises had been inflicted some time ago because the darkest discolorations had washed out to mild greens and yellows. Ray, by contrast, was a veritable rainbow of abuse, scabbed and cut and restitched here and there. I kept my gaze pinned to the menu, which offered all the standard items: chicken-fried steak and chicken-fried chicken, hamburgers, fries, BLTs, grilled-cheese sandwiches, and "fresh" soups probably poured from big cans in the back. We ordered cheeseburgers, fries, and large, nearly fizz-free Cokes. Without carbonation, the soft drinks tasted like the syrups once used as home remedies for ladies' maladies. The waitress had the good grace not to quiz my companions about their injuries.
    While we ate, I said to Ray, "Just out of curiosity, once you get to Louisville, how will you figure out where the money's hidden?"
    He finished a bite of burger and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. "Don't know that yet. Johnny said he'd leave word with Ma in case something happened to him, but who knows if he ever got around to it. Deal was, I'd get out of prison and come find him in California. Then the two of us would go back to Louisville and pick up the money. He wanted things ceremonial, you know, celebrate all the wait and all the hard work went into it. Any rate, as near as I can tell, wherever the money's at, it takes a key to get to."
    "Which I have," I said.
    "What key?" Laura asked. This was apparently news to her, and she seemed to resent that I knew more than she did.
    Ray ignored her. "You still got it?"
    "With a little notice, I can lay hands on it," I said.
    "Good. I don't want you going off without passing it over."
    "You think I'm going to help you cheat Chester out of his fair share?"
    "Hey, he'd do the same to me. He'll probably cheat you, too."
    "I don't even want to get into that," I said. "You think Johnny really did what he said?"
    "I can't believe he'd put dough like that in limbo. He'd have a backup plan, some kind of fail-safe, in case he got hit by a car, something like that. What makes you ask? You got any ideas yourself?"
    I shook my head. "It's just an interesting proposition. What's your strategy?"
    "My strategy is solve that problem when I come to it," he said.
    Once we hit the road again, Ray crawled in the back to sleep while I drove and Laura took his place in