4 Shelter From The Storm by Tony Dunbar Read Free Book Online

inside tires?”
    “That didn’t come up in our conversation. Hey, looks like I got to get back to work. We got people pouring in here from all over the world, man.”
    “Have fun.”
    “Don’t forget, I’m referring this lady to you because I like her, and I know you’ll play straight with her.”
    “Okay, Dan. Have a good Mardi Gras.”
    “I’m raking in the dough, buddy. Workers of the world unite.”
    He hung up, and Tubby went into the kitchen to look for something to drink that might clear his head.

CHAPTER VI
    Willie LaRue slept a peaceful sleep and came wide awake, with the covers tucked neatly under his chin, at seven o’clock when the first sunlight came through the crack in the curtains. He never had trouble sleeping, and he never remembered his dreams. Long ago, when his father was kicking the shit out of him because he couldn’t learn to throw a lariat around a fence post in the back yard, a skill damn important to his old man, LaRue had learned to turn his mind off and on. When it was off he felt no pain. When it was on he could burn a hole through your head, he was so focused.
    This morning, he was focused on how to rob a bank. His prisoner, Corelle, was still wrapped in the bedspread and stuffed in the closet. He had passed out quietly in the middle of the night. Assuming he was alive, Corelle remained a part of the plan.
    LaRue brushed his teeth and knocked back three 500mg vitamin C tablets, his own private tonic for staying alert. He would need any edge he could get to carry off the job, especially with the two morons from Mississippi, as he had tagged Big Top and Monk. He had begun to believe they were queer for each other. Prison will do that to you, as LaRue well knew. He took a shower and carefully washed himself.
    He was dressed and had dragged the mummy out of the closet into the center of the room when there was a knock on the door.
    “It’s me,” It was Big Top’s high-pitched voice.
    LaRue stepped over Corelle and took the chain off the door. Big Top came in bearing a cardboard tray of coffee from Tastee Donuts.
    “Morning,” he said and stopped when he saw the pile on the floor.
    “Is he all right?” Big Top did not really care. He was just curious how bad a dude Rue really was.
    “Don’t know yet,” LaRue said. He took off the plastic lid and tasted his coffee. Unimpressed, he set it down on top of the Formica dresser.
    “Let’s unwrap him,” he said.
    They had to roll the body around on the rug to get the bedspread off him. Corelle was alive enough to groan deliriously. There was a stain, blood or vomit, on the rag in his mouth, and his eyelids were wet with tears.
    “We’re gonna bring you back to life, big fellow,” LaRue said, pinching his earlobe. “Yes, sir, we are.”
    Fifteen minutes later, after administering a combination of cold water and hard slaps, they had the guard sitting unassisted in a chair. He was wagging his head from side to side and moaning softly, not yet ready to speak.
    Monk had joined them, and they were all drinking their coffee and watching the
Today Show
with Katie Couric. Big Top had a Hubig’s peach pie in his freckled hand, and he was dropping crumbs of sugar on the rug. The topic of the show was a serial killer who had buried bodies in public places all over Oklahoma. People had apparently seen him digging holes with a pick and shovel on numerous occasions, but nobody had ever questioned him or noticed that he was planting people. Or if they had noticed, nobody had thought it was worth reporting to anyone who might care more.
    LaRue laughed soundlessly.
    “Do you believe these people seen what he was doin’ and didn’t say nothing?” Big Top exclaimed.
    “You just gotta do things in broad daylight,” Monk said. “That’s when nobody sees a thing.” Monk had once robbed a used-car lot in Talladega in broad daylight and been apprehended by the Alabama State Police in about twenty minutes, but he had forgotten that.
    “Which