When Marlin was done, Inga stared at him but didn’t reply.
He eyed the sparse traffic passing on the highway and leaned against the fender of his truck. After a moment, he said, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have unloaded that on you. It’s Tommy that needs a lecture, not you.”
“No, you’re right,” she said. “Tommy takes things a little too far. And the thing is, it can be contagious. Like me shooting Rodney Bauer’s truck. A few years ago, I never would have behaved that way. But Tommy has this way of getting me all worked up, of making me indignant about all the crappy ways people are mistreating our environment. But the other thing is, it’s gotten where I’m not sure Tommy even does all these things for”-she made quotation marks in the air with her fingers-“‘the cause.’ I think he does them at least partly because he thinks it’ll impress me. That makes me feel somewhat responsible for the things he’s done.” She reached out and caressed his bandaged forearm. “And I wanted to apologize for that.”
Marlin nodded, feeling like he may have come down on her a little harshly. He also felt somewhat guilty for enjoying the touch of her hand on his arm. “Don’t suppose you’ve seen him?” he asked.
“No, and I’m getting a little worried. After I heard the news about him escaping, I went straight to the motel and waited for him to show up. He never did.” She tilted her head to catch Marlin’s eye. “I was going to call the police if he showed up, you know.”
Marlin held her gaze a moment longer than he meant to. “Maybe we can reform you yet.”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Red woke with a start, and it took a moment for him to remember where he was: in the darkened cab of his truck, parked on an isolated county road fifty yards down from the Mamelis’ driveway. Next to him in the moonlight, Billy Don was snoring like a bloodhound with a sinus condition.
So far, the plan wasn’t working. Here it was nearly two A.M. and there had been no activity whatsoever at the Mameli house. Nobody had come, nobody had gone. Maybe Red’s phone call hadn’t rattled Mameli as much as it had seemed. Or maybe Red’s theory was all wrong and Sal Mameli had nothing to hide. Shit. Depressing thought.
The only strange thing Red had noticed was a gray sedan sitting on the gravel shoulder across from the Mamelis’ mailbox. Maybe they had house guests. Odd, though, because behind the trees that lined the street, it looked like the Mamelis owned four or five acres. Plenty of room for guests to park. The next driveway was another hundred yards beyond where Red was parked, so Red doubted the sedan belonged to neighbors.
Red amused himself for a few minutes by toying with his Colt Anaconda. It was a huge handgun…forty-five caliber. Would stop everything but a crazed elephant in its tracks. He popped the cylinder open and gave it a spin. Fully loaded with hollow-point bullets. He shuddered to think what a round like that could do to a human being.
After a while, though, he got bored. So he reached over and jostled Billy Don. “Wake up, goddammit.”
A snore caught in Billy Don’s throat and he produced a couple of phlegmy coughs. “What the hell? Time to eat?” he muttered, half asleep. A string of drool hung from his lips to the front of his shirt.
“You’re nappin’ on the job again,” Red snapped. “You ’spect me to stay up all night while you get your beauty sleep? Though I won’t say you don’t need it.”
Billy Don stretched his thick arms and yawned. “Anything?” he asked.
“Couple of trucks come by earlier. Probably poachers.”
“Hell, that’s what we should be doin’, Red. Not wastin’ our time on this wild-goose chase. Besides, I’ve gotta take a big dump.”
Red sighed, trying to remain patient. Billy Don was always so shortsighted. That’s the difference, Red thought. Why I’m vice president material, whereas guys like Billy Don end up digging ditches for a living. Red thought maybe Billy Don could learn something from this experience.
“You ever hear of a guy named Garwin?” Red asked.
“Steve Garwin? First baseman for the Dodgers back in the seventies?”
Red shook his head. “Naw, Charles Garwin. The guy what come up with the theory of revolution. See, his theory was pretty simple. Say you got two caveman hunters livin’ on the savannas of Asia. One of ’em can run real fast, and he’s good at chasin’ down antelope. He can throw his spear real hard and he hits anything he aims at, because he practices a lot. But now, the second guy, he’s kind of a slacker. He runs real slow and he don’t practice with his spear. He’s a damn lousy hunter, and he never tries to get any better. So tell me, which one of those guys is most likely to get eaten by bears?”
“Shut up, Red!” Billy Don growled, looking out the window.
Obviously, Billy Don didn’t enjoy being compared to a dumb, slow hunter. “Don’t get your panties in a wad,” Red shot back. “I was just askin’-”
“Hush, I said! I heard something. Sounded like a car door.”
Both men fell silent. In the distance, they heard the sound of a large engine roaring to life.
Maria was sleeping, but Smedley was awake. A wide-eyed, heart-fluttering, spirit-soaring, I’ll-never-sleep-again kind of awake. He turned his head on the pillow and studied Maria’s tender face in the candlelight. Such a gentle, caring soul. Smedley had never dared imagine that such a woman existed. And yet, somehow, he had chanced upon an angel. He had found a woman who overlooked the flaws-both in his physique and his character-or perhaps didn’t see them at all.
Dinner had been fantastic. An authentic south-of-the-border dish, similar to the enchiladas from Smedley’s favorite East Austin Mexican diner.
Dessert was even better.
She had taken his hand and led him to her bedroom. There, they joined together as naturally and seamlessly as a creek and the banks that it hugs. At first, she had seemed to understand his hesitance, his lack of confidence. And so she showed him the way. She guided his hands as he unbuttoned her dress, stroked his hair as he slipped her panties down her thighs. She then removed his clothes, slowly, with Smedley expecting her to pull back in disgust at any moment. But she never did.
Naked, Smedley feeling a remarkable lack of self-consciousness, they moved as one. She eased back onto the bed, and he followed, his body just inches from hers, like a shadow.
And Smedley was overcome with ecstasy as they began to make love.
For Smedley, the first stage was over abruptly, as soon as he entered her. But he was amazed at his own endurance. He never lost his stiffness, but continued, unabated, for… for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, Maria clenched his biceps with urgency, growled something beautiful in Spanish into his ear, moaned deeply, and then collapsed back onto the bedspread in exhaustion.
Just before she had fallen off to sleep, she had said, “You are very sweet man.”
Smedley had discovered that she spoke some English, though not much. He had hardly heard her speak more than a few words during his visits to the Mamelis’ house. As he lay in the dark, he was elated with the idea of learning Spanish. This wonderful creature was captivating enough, but imagine how close their bond could become when they could converse freely! It was almost more intoxicating than Smedley could bear.
He glanced at the clock on her wall. Nearly two in the morning. Thankfully, tomorrow was Saturday, and he could lounge in bed with Maria for as long as she would allow him to stay.
Smedley laid an arm across Maria’s breast, and she murmured approval in her sleep. He stroked the hollow of her throat, and then gently lifted and studied the necklace around her neck. Angela Mameli had once mentioned that Maria made her own jewelry and sold some of it to small boutiques in Blanco and Johnson City. Kitschy stuff, Angela had said. She takes all these throwaway items and makes them into something beautiful. This particular necklace featured a strand of stones, what appeared to be granite or marble. Maria had probably picked the stones up on trips around the Hill Country, then painstakingly ground and polished each nugget into a gem.