leaned out the door and looked past me at his short driveway. Seeing only my beat up Escort beside his truck, he said, "Yeah."
"I was wondering if I could talk to you."
"About what?"
"About Alexis Kravitz."
Dumb eyes glared at me from beneath a heavy, white-slashed brow.
I smiled and nodded. "Mind if I come in and talk? Only take a minute."
He rubbed his split chin with his thumb and glanced out at the driveway again. Then he said, "Alright."
I stepped inside.
The place was dark. All the windows were covered, and covered as if there would never be a need to uncover them. The trailer smelled of smoke and booze and sweat and cheapness.
A cockeyed fat girl sat on a sofa smoking cigarettes. Maybe twenty or so, she wore cutoff jeans and a green pocket T-shirt. When I came in, she glanced at me and then turned her attention back to the television on the other side of the room.
On the screen played one of those gruesome video compilations of real-life death scenes caught on tape—the kind of underground movie that splices together footage of fatal accidents and suicides and murders. As Evan closed the door behind me, a woman onscreen was being mauled to death by a grizzly bear.
Evan told the girl, "Go on in the back while me and this one talk."
Without a word, the girl stood up and left the room. Her footsteps clomped down the thin floor of the hallway, then somewhere a door closed.
I asked, "Does she do tricks, too?"
Evan sat down in a La-Z-Boy next to the sofa. On the walls hung knives. Long ones and short ones. Dozens of them. There was something that looked like a samurai sword over the entrance to the hallway. Knives appeared to be the only form of decoration in the trailer.
Evan said, "Why you coming around asking me about Alexis?"
I sat down on the sofa where the girl had been. "You know her."
"So?"
"She's not here now is she?"
"Nope."
From a little TV-dinner tray in front of him, he picked up a hunting knife with an eight-inch blade and slid it along a sharpening steel with a black handle.
"She come back here after she got out of prison?" I asked.
"What do you know about her being in prison?"
"I was inside with her."
"Is that right?"
"That's right. Ellie Bennett. She might have mentioned me. We were in the same block. I got out and now I'm looking for her. I heard she might have come back here after she got out of Eastgate."
He sliced the knife down the steel. I noticed scars on both of his hands. His gut rose and fell against his lap as he asked, "What were you in for?"
"Assault."
He grinned. "Who'd you assault?"
"I heard Alexis was here for a while …"
"Heard wrong."
"You sure about that?"
He stopped to fix me with a scowl. When I didn't flutter my eyes or run for my life, he said, "Well, Alexis ain't much for sticking around places. Especially if she thinks she's got somewheres better to go."
"Where'd she go?"
"Her momma died. You hear about that?"
"No. When was that?"
"A month ago. Something like that. They wasn't close or nothing, but her momma was taking care of Kaylee. Lived down in Texas somewheres, so Alexis went down there to settle things and pick up the kid."
"You go with her?"
"Just as a matter of principle, I generally try to avoid Texas."
"But she came back, right?"
"Yeah, but it wasn't long before she run off again. Got involved with that preacher and skipped out."
"Preacher? What preacher?"
He nodded at the television. Onscreen a small, dead girl was being pulled out of a swimming pool, but I caught on that he meant television in general.
"A preacher on TV?" I asked.
"Yeah that dude that's running for … politics, you know …"
"Jerry Kingston? The guy running for Congress?"
"Yeah."
"What do you mean she got involved with him?"
Evan scowled at me and sliced the blade across the steel. "I don't know."
"But, involved with him how?"
He flicked his tongue across his teeth and pointed the knife at me like a finger. "It ain't too polite to come into a man's house
"I was wondering if I could talk to you."
"About what?"
"About Alexis Kravitz."
Dumb eyes glared at me from beneath a heavy, white-slashed brow.
I smiled and nodded. "Mind if I come in and talk? Only take a minute."
He rubbed his split chin with his thumb and glanced out at the driveway again. Then he said, "Alright."
I stepped inside.
The place was dark. All the windows were covered, and covered as if there would never be a need to uncover them. The trailer smelled of smoke and booze and sweat and cheapness.
A cockeyed fat girl sat on a sofa smoking cigarettes. Maybe twenty or so, she wore cutoff jeans and a green pocket T-shirt. When I came in, she glanced at me and then turned her attention back to the television on the other side of the room.
On the screen played one of those gruesome video compilations of real-life death scenes caught on tape—the kind of underground movie that splices together footage of fatal accidents and suicides and murders. As Evan closed the door behind me, a woman onscreen was being mauled to death by a grizzly bear.
Evan told the girl, "Go on in the back while me and this one talk."
Without a word, the girl stood up and left the room. Her footsteps clomped down the thin floor of the hallway, then somewhere a door closed.
I asked, "Does she do tricks, too?"
Evan sat down in a La-Z-Boy next to the sofa. On the walls hung knives. Long ones and short ones. Dozens of them. There was something that looked like a samurai sword over the entrance to the hallway. Knives appeared to be the only form of decoration in the trailer.
Evan said, "Why you coming around asking me about Alexis?"
I sat down on the sofa where the girl had been. "You know her."
"So?"
"She's not here now is she?"
"Nope."
From a little TV-dinner tray in front of him, he picked up a hunting knife with an eight-inch blade and slid it along a sharpening steel with a black handle.
"She come back here after she got out of prison?" I asked.
"What do you know about her being in prison?"
"I was inside with her."
"Is that right?"
"That's right. Ellie Bennett. She might have mentioned me. We were in the same block. I got out and now I'm looking for her. I heard she might have come back here after she got out of Eastgate."
He sliced the knife down the steel. I noticed scars on both of his hands. His gut rose and fell against his lap as he asked, "What were you in for?"
"Assault."
He grinned. "Who'd you assault?"
"I heard Alexis was here for a while …"
"Heard wrong."
"You sure about that?"
He stopped to fix me with a scowl. When I didn't flutter my eyes or run for my life, he said, "Well, Alexis ain't much for sticking around places. Especially if she thinks she's got somewheres better to go."
"Where'd she go?"
"Her momma died. You hear about that?"
"No. When was that?"
"A month ago. Something like that. They wasn't close or nothing, but her momma was taking care of Kaylee. Lived down in Texas somewheres, so Alexis went down there to settle things and pick up the kid."
"You go with her?"
"Just as a matter of principle, I generally try to avoid Texas."
"But she came back, right?"
"Yeah, but it wasn't long before she run off again. Got involved with that preacher and skipped out."
"Preacher? What preacher?"
He nodded at the television. Onscreen a small, dead girl was being pulled out of a swimming pool, but I caught on that he meant television in general.
"A preacher on TV?" I asked.
"Yeah that dude that's running for … politics, you know …"
"Jerry Kingston? The guy running for Congress?"
"Yeah."
"What do you mean she got involved with him?"
Evan scowled at me and sliced the blade across the steel. "I don't know."
"But, involved with him how?"
He flicked his tongue across his teeth and pointed the knife at me like a finger. "It ain't too polite to come into a man's house
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