BBH01 - Cimarron Rose by James Lee Burke Read Free Book Online Page A
Authors: James Lee Burke
Department…' She shook her head.
'Because you think an accidental death takes away your right to judge
people who are evil?'
'Pete and I are fixing to fry up some fish. You're
welcome to join us.'
'You make me so mad I want to hit you,' she said.
Later that evening, I called the
sheriff at his home.
'My PI made a 911 on Garland Moon,' I said.
'So?'
'Nobody was dispatched.'
'What's the man done?' he asked.
'He was in your custody. You let him out. I don't
want him on my doorstep.'
'You think I want this lunatic on the street?'
'To tell you the truth, I'm not sure, sheriff.'
'You're a natural-born pain in the ass, Billy Bob.
Don't be calling my house again.'
After I hung up, I called a friend in
the sheriff's
department and got the address of Mary Beth Sweeney. She lived in a new
two-story apartment complex with a swimming pool just outside of town.
It was 9 p.m. when I walked up the brick pathway at the entrance, and
the underwater lights in the pool were turned on and pine needles and a
glaze of suntan lotion floated on the surface. The lawn was empty, the
portable barbecue pits left on the flagstones feathering with smoke.
I climbed to the second landing and rang her
doorbell. My right hand opened and closed at my side and I felt warm
inside my coat and wished I had left it in the Avalon.
Her face had a meaningless expression when
she opened the door.
'Sorry to bother you at home. But I heard Garland
Moon was at my office,' I said.
'Yes, is there something I can tell you?'
'Maybe. If I'm not bothering you.'
I waited.
'Come in,' she said.
Her small living room was furnished with rattan
chairs and a couch and a round glass table. A yellow counter with three
stools divided the kitchen from the living room. She was barefoot and
wore jeans and a white and burnt orange University of Texas Longhorn
T-shirt. A copy of The New Yorker was splayed
open on the glass tabletop and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses lay next
to it.
'You just happened by and saw Moon outside my
office?' I said.
'What's this about, Mr Holland?'
'I think I'm developing an ongoing problem with the
sheriff's office. I think it's because of Lucas Smothers.'
She hadn't asked me to sit down. She placed one hand
against the counter and pushed her feet into a pair of white moccasins
as though she were about to go somewhere. Her eyes were violet colored,
unfocused, caught somewhere between two thoughts.
'You shouldn't come here,' she said.
'I wonder how I should read that. Is there hidden
meaning there? I always have trouble with encoded speech.'
'If you don't like rudeness, you shouldn't keep
forcing the issue, Mr Holland.'
'My name is Billy Bob.'
'I know who you are.' Then I saw the color flare
behind her freckles, not from anger but as if she had made an admission
she shouldn't.
'You like Mexican food?' I asked.
'Good night.' She put her hand on the doorknob and
turned it.
'Tomorrow night? I appreciate what you've done for
me.'
She opened the door and I started outside. I was
only inches away from her now and I could smell the perfume behind her
ears and hear her breathing and see the rise and fall of her breasts. A
tiny gold chain and cross hung around her neck.
'Moon won't come at you head-on. He'll use Jimmy
Cole,' she said.
I felt my mouth part as I stared into her eyes.
It was sunrise the next morning when I
pulled into
the dirt drive of Vernon Smothers's two-bedroom white frame house, with
a mimosa in the front yard, a sprinkler spinning in a sickly fashion by
the wood steps, a partially collapsed garage in back, and every
available foot of surrounding property under cultivation.
I walked along the edge of a bean field to an
irrigation ditch where Lucas stood up to his knees in the water, raking
dead vegetation out of the bottom and piling it on the bank.
'What are you doing?' I said.
'My dad uses it in the compost heap.'
'He's not one to waste.'
'You don't like him much, do you?' he said. His face
and denim
'Because you think an accidental death takes away your right to judge
people who are evil?'
'Pete and I are fixing to fry up some fish. You're
welcome to join us.'
'You make me so mad I want to hit you,' she said.
Later that evening, I called the
sheriff at his home.
'My PI made a 911 on Garland Moon,' I said.
'So?'
'Nobody was dispatched.'
'What's the man done?' he asked.
'He was in your custody. You let him out. I don't
want him on my doorstep.'
'You think I want this lunatic on the street?'
'To tell you the truth, I'm not sure, sheriff.'
'You're a natural-born pain in the ass, Billy Bob.
Don't be calling my house again.'
After I hung up, I called a friend in
the sheriff's
department and got the address of Mary Beth Sweeney. She lived in a new
two-story apartment complex with a swimming pool just outside of town.
It was 9 p.m. when I walked up the brick pathway at the entrance, and
the underwater lights in the pool were turned on and pine needles and a
glaze of suntan lotion floated on the surface. The lawn was empty, the
portable barbecue pits left on the flagstones feathering with smoke.
I climbed to the second landing and rang her
doorbell. My right hand opened and closed at my side and I felt warm
inside my coat and wished I had left it in the Avalon.
Her face had a meaningless expression when
she opened the door.
'Sorry to bother you at home. But I heard Garland
Moon was at my office,' I said.
'Yes, is there something I can tell you?'
'Maybe. If I'm not bothering you.'
I waited.
'Come in,' she said.
Her small living room was furnished with rattan
chairs and a couch and a round glass table. A yellow counter with three
stools divided the kitchen from the living room. She was barefoot and
wore jeans and a white and burnt orange University of Texas Longhorn
T-shirt. A copy of The New Yorker was splayed
open on the glass tabletop and a pair of horn-rimmed glasses lay next
to it.
'You just happened by and saw Moon outside my
office?' I said.
'What's this about, Mr Holland?'
'I think I'm developing an ongoing problem with the
sheriff's office. I think it's because of Lucas Smothers.'
She hadn't asked me to sit down. She placed one hand
against the counter and pushed her feet into a pair of white moccasins
as though she were about to go somewhere. Her eyes were violet colored,
unfocused, caught somewhere between two thoughts.
'You shouldn't come here,' she said.
'I wonder how I should read that. Is there hidden
meaning there? I always have trouble with encoded speech.'
'If you don't like rudeness, you shouldn't keep
forcing the issue, Mr Holland.'
'My name is Billy Bob.'
'I know who you are.' Then I saw the color flare
behind her freckles, not from anger but as if she had made an admission
she shouldn't.
'You like Mexican food?' I asked.
'Good night.' She put her hand on the doorknob and
turned it.
'Tomorrow night? I appreciate what you've done for
me.'
She opened the door and I started outside. I was
only inches away from her now and I could smell the perfume behind her
ears and hear her breathing and see the rise and fall of her breasts. A
tiny gold chain and cross hung around her neck.
'Moon won't come at you head-on. He'll use Jimmy
Cole,' she said.
I felt my mouth part as I stared into her eyes.
It was sunrise the next morning when I
pulled into
the dirt drive of Vernon Smothers's two-bedroom white frame house, with
a mimosa in the front yard, a sprinkler spinning in a sickly fashion by
the wood steps, a partially collapsed garage in back, and every
available foot of surrounding property under cultivation.
I walked along the edge of a bean field to an
irrigation ditch where Lucas stood up to his knees in the water, raking
dead vegetation out of the bottom and piling it on the bank.
'What are you doing?' I said.
'My dad uses it in the compost heap.'
'He's not one to waste.'
'You don't like him much, do you?' he said. His face
and denim