The Devil's Code

successful New York advertising and media women. I was not only convinced, I was supportive.
    When LuEllen and Lanny came back, Lanny was complaining. “I never make copies of any faces. Weenie knows that.”
    “I don’t trust Weenie,” LuEllen said.
    Back in the car, she handed me four cards: two Texas driver’s licenses, and two credit cards. One credit card matched each license. “Will they stand up?”
    “Unless you’re busted, in which case they’ll get your prints anyway,” she said. “They’re both real people, and the accounts are real, although we don’t know the credit limits or the billing dates. We could use them in an emergency, but then they’d only be good until the guy’s next bill came in.”
    “Bobby could get us credit limits and billing dates,” I said.
    “Might be worth doing . . .”
    On the way to Lane’s, LuEllen launched a little philosophical discussion.
    “You know, Kidd, you told me once that revenge doesn’t make any sense, because the dead guy won’t know what you’re doing and won’t care, because he’s dead. So what I’m wondering is, What are we doing? Jack won’t know, and Jack won’t care.”
    “We’re not really doing it for Jack anymore,” I said. “We never were, really. We’re doing it for us. They just pissed us off by killing Jack.”
    “Not me, especially. I only met him that once. Nice guy, but . . .”
    “Then I’m pissed about Jack, and you’re coming along because of me. And I don’t have much choice. I’m involved in this somehow, and I’ve got to find out what’s going on. I don’t want that crew-cut asshole and his pal showing up at my house someday, tidying up some loose end that I don’t even know about.”
    “So I’m involved only because you’re involved—and because you say so.”
    “That’s right,” I said.
    “That’s pretty smug. What if I opted out?”
    “You won’t. You couldn’t stand not knowing what happened,” I said.
    “You’d tell me.”
    “No, I wouldn’t. I’d never say a single word about it. I’d deny all knowledge.”
    “Bullshit,” she snorted.
    “So you’re in?”
    She let her eyes float to the tops of her eye sockets, and then said, “For a while.”
    A t Lane’s, we ate Lean Cuisines—I had three of them, an appealing mix of Teriyaki Stir-Fry, Swedish Meatballs, and Mesquite Beef—and then LuEllen took Lane and the revolver down to the basement.
    “I hate the goddamn things,” Lane had said, when LuEllen showed her the gun.
    “They’re the ubiquitous tools of modern life. Even if you don’t like them, it behooves you to know how to use one,” LuEllen said.
    “Oh, boy.”
    Fifteen minutes after they went down to the basement, a single shot cracked through the house. I jumped up, peeked out the windows all around. Nothing moving. I stuck my head down the basement door, “Jesus, LuEllen . . .”
    Bang! A second one, and I nearly jumped out of my shoes.
    “All done,” LuEllen called. The smell of burnt gunpowder coursed up the stairwell, and a minute later, LuEllen appeared at the bottom of the stairs. “Had to squeeze off a round or two so she’d have a sense of the recoil.”
    “Well, knock it off, for Christ’s sakes, it’s louder than hell up here,” I said.
    “Aw, once or twice, no problem,” she said.
    They were still down in the basement when thephone rang. I picked it up and a soft male voice said, “Could I speak to Mr. Kidd?”
    “Speaking.”
    “This is Lethridge Green. I’m a friend of a friend of a man named John. I was told you have a body to guard?”
    “Yes. In Palo Alto, although there might be some travel.”
    “I get two hundred fifty dollars a day plus any expenses,” Green said.
    “That’s fine.”
    “How long would the body need to be guarded?”
    “I don’t know. Not just a couple of days, though—anything from a couple of weeks to a couple of months.”
    “Good. Don’t ask, don’t tell?”
    “Exactly,” I said.
    “I can be there in two hours, if you’d like me to start tonight.”
    “That’d be a relief,” I said. “We’re sort of afraid to leave the body alone.”
    “Then I will come directly.”
    T hen I will come directly.
    Not exactly what I’d expected from hired muscle, but then, with John, you never knew exactly what you might get . . .

 8 
    A few minutes after talking to Green, I went out and checked my cache with Bobby, to see if he’d gotten anything on the guy at the cemetery. He had.