“Yeah.”
“Did you tell him about me?”
“We were on speaker.”
“So?”
“Did you hear me tell him about you?” Carlos says.
“No, but I never know what you’re up to. You’re always scheming behind my back.”
“So you say. Endlessly.”
“Oh, really?” Charlie says. “Well, for your information, this killer-for-hire business was your idea, Mr. Big Shot Mafia man!”
“Your point?”
“If we get caught, I’m turning state’s evidence.”
“You don’t even know what that means.”
“Maybe not. But that won’t stop me from cutting a deal with the feds.”
“The feds, huh?”
“That’s right. And I’ll sing like a canary! Don’t think I won’t! And then you’ll be sorry.”
Sing like a canary?
Carlos rolls his eyes.
When Charlie gets worked up like this the best thing to do is humor him. Carlos softens his tone and says, “You’ve always had a gift for song.”
“You think?”
“Absolutely.”
Charlie smiles wistfully. “In a perfect world, I could have been the next Nathan Lane.”
“Wouldn’t that be something?” Carlos says.
“I’ve been cheated out of my birthright.”
“So true. Can we get our money now?”
“After we put Kathy’s phone back.”
This is only their second job, but the twins are already operating at a high level. Carlos handled Kathy’s cell phone with a handkerchief and used her right index finger to make the call to Chris. Then touched her finger to the speaker button, and held her fingers around the phone while he spoke. Then Kathy’s finger pressed the “end call” button.
So they’ve got a nice, clean fingerprint of Kathy calling her husband, establishing the last time she was alive. The police might be suspicious, but there’ll be no phone records on Chris’s phone, no way to prove he hired someone to kill his wife. Since Chris is in the Cayman Islands, the cops can’t link him to the murder directly. They’ll huff and puff, but in the end, they’ll have to rule it a random homicide, for lack of evidence.
The twins leave Kathy’s body the way they found it, place Kathy’s phone on the kitchen counter, and head to the garage to get their money. In ninety minutes they’ll be back in their trailer, on their mom’s tiny farm outside Dayton.
“We didn’t even have to kill her!” Charlie says.
“Let’s not tell Chris.”
“Or mom!” Charlie says.
They laugh.
Charlie says, “The fingerprint on the phone was a stroke of genius.”
“I agree,” Carlos says. “Thanks for saying so.”
“Good work should always be complimented. That’s what mom says.”
They shuffle out the door, lock it, and return the key to its hiding place.
Carlos smiles. The fingerprint on the phone was a nice touch.
How could he possibly know Kathy was left-handed?
19
Maggie’s Farm.
Dr. Gideon Box.
Short term effects of heroin include intense euphoria, alternately alert and drowsy, slowed breathing, muscular weakness, depression, sedation.
Short term effects of cocaine include euphoria, arousal, increased energy, constricted blood vessels, increased heart rate. Larger doses cause tremors, vertigo, irritability, paranoia, erratic behavior, violence.
By combining the drugs, users hope to get an intense, euphoric rush while avoiding the negative effects. But mixing the depressant heroin, with the stimulant cocaine, causes confusion, stupor, diminished coordination, excessive arousal, hallucinations, intense depression, and death.
When Willow parks the car at Maggie’s farm, Bobby lets out a whoop, jumps out, and hits the ground running. My morphine’s wearing off, but I don’t dare take another dose. I’ll need my wits to survive whatever he’s got planned.
“Get out, bitches!” he yells. “I’m eating Black Toad Powder! You know what that means? It’s party time!”
I hear the unmistakable sound of a gun being fired.
“Jesus, Bobby!” Willow yells. “Be careful with that thing!”
“Get out, or the next one goes through the windshield.”
I hear the doors open, then hear them shut.
Willow says, “What are you doing?”
“Getting naked, of course!”
“Why?”
“I’m gonna show you something. Stand together with your backs against the car. No, Stringbean, facing me. Yeah, that’s right. Now check this out.”
“I’m sorry, Cam,” Willow says.
Maybe they’ll forget about me. I’m fine with that, though I need to piss.
“What about Doctor Box?” Willow says.
“Who?”
“The dead guy in the trunk.”
“Oh yeah! The guy you fucked last night. Thanks for reminding me!”
“We didn’t fuck anyone last night,” Willow says.
“Well, like I told the doc last night, after you confess, I’m gonna cut his dick off and sew it in your mouth.”
“What are you doing?” Willow says.
“This here’s called Black Toad. I’m rubbing it on my dick. You girls are gonna love this! It’s… holy shit!”
He yelps.
“What’s wrong?” Willow says.
“ Burns! It burns like fire! My dick’s on fire! Jesus, my dick’s on fire! I’m in flames! Oh, the humanity!”
“Why would you do that? What’s the matter with you?” Willow shouts.
“Shut up! Take your clothes off, both of you.”
“No way!”
“Are you kidding me? Look at the size of this cock! I’m gonna get my money’s worth out of you and Stringbean.”
He suddenly screams like he’s in excruciating pain. It makes sense the pain would come and go as the bufotenin gets absorbed deeper into his penis.
“Get naked, whores!” he yells.
“ No!” Willow says.
“I’m dead serious, bitch. Right now.”
“Fuck you!” Cameron shouts.
I hear a gunshot.
Cameron screams like she’s in pain.
Willow screams like she’s freaking out.
Bobby screams like his dick’s on fire.
The rest is hard to make out.
But when Willow screams, “She’s dying! Get the doctor out of the trunk!” it’s pretty clear Cameron’s been shot.
20
“Stay where you are!” Bobby shouts.
“Shut up, Bobby! She’s dying! Open the trunk.”
I hear him scream, “Oh, God!” then he falls to the ground and vomits violently.
Seconds later the trunk opens. It’s nearing dusk, so my eyes have no problem adjusting to the light.
“Get out!” Willow shouts. “Cameron’s been shot!”
She tries to help me, but Bobby staggers up behind her and grabs her by the hair. He pulls her backward and throws her to the ground. Tries to kick her but misses and nearly falls down. His chin and chest is covered in vomit.
There’s no avoiding his penis.
It’s black from powder and purple from pressure. It’s not only erect, but enormous, and maintaining an eighty-degree angle, which is to say, practically vertical. It’s also pulsing and throbbing, as if ready to explode.
Bobby sees me looking at him and shouts, “You bastard!”
He staggers toward me, but is forced to squat and shit a thick, wet stream that splats on the dirt beneath him, creating a little puff of steam.
“You think that’s funny?” he says.
“I think it’s hilarious! Do it again!”
As if on cue, he groans and shits a quart of black water in the noisiest manner possible.
“How’s that Black Toad working for you, fuckhead?” I say.
“I’m gonna kill you!” he shouts, seething with fury.
“Before you do, shit again, like the baboon you are.”
Still squatting, Bobby aims his gun at me and says, “You’re a dead man!”
“Maybe so, but at least my corpse will have balls.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
I point at his crotch. “Your nuts disappeared.”
He looks down and frowns.
“You’re a dead man!” he shouts.