CHAPTER
SIXTEEN
The second house was a mile from the first, the closest they could get from the agent who managed the Airbnb rentals. Cox, freaking out, almost drove straight to the second house. But not quite straight: she made one ice-cold stop.
A half mile out of the shooting scene, she pulled into a Shell station, took the cash in the bag she’d taken from Beauchamps’s chest of drawers, counted it—forty-two thousand dollars—and hid it in the spare tire well, along with the pistol and the box of ammo. She’d managed to save three Rolexes, two in the wooden box and the one that came off Beauchamps’s wrist. They went in the tire well, too. Cole had done the same thing with his stash in LA and had lost it all, but she couldn’t think of anything better.
She left the cash in Beauchamps’s wallet, a few hundred dollars. He had five thousand in the roll in his pocket and she peeled off two and put them in her purse.
It took only a few minutes and then she was on her way again.Cole had stayed at the second house that afternoon when Deese went out and was waiting for her. The garage was empty, and they put the Cadillac inside to get it off the street.
Cole asked, “Sure he’s dead?”
“He’s dead, he’s dead. I managed to save some stuff: his pocket money, his wallet, some of my clothes. We can’t go back there; you couldn’t believe all the noise it made, the shooting. The cops’ll be there.”
Deese got to the house five minutes after Cox, just as she was finishing telling the story to Cole. The cannibal dropped the garage door and stalked inside and asked, “What the fuck happened? Are you lying? Did you leave him hurt, bitch?”
Cox, wide-eyed: “Deese! He was dead! Santos shot him like six times in the chest, he was about this far away.” She spread her arms to demonstrate. “I got right down with him when Santos left. I tried to bring him back, but he... Deese, he was a mess. I never saw a dead person before, I mean, all the blood... Jesus.”
She suddenly sat down on the floor, really falling, her legs giving way.
“What did Marion do? Just stand there?”
“No. Marion... Deese, I think Marion started it. He brought a gun out of the bedroom and he pulled it out and he pointed it at Santos but it didn’t go off at first. I think he forgot about the safety thing. Then Santos pulled a gun out, and they both started shooting.”
She went through the whole scene, once, twice, watching as Deese worked himself into a rage, ripping off his shirt, throwing it in a corner, shouting at her as she sat there on the floor. Cole eventually cornered him, talking quietly. “Deese, it wasn’t Geenie who did it, it was Santos. And probably Smith.”
“That’s what she says,” Deese shouted at him.
“Why would she lie? She and Marion were friends.”
“Because she’s a whore and whores lie about everything.”
“I’m not a fuckin’ whore,” Cox shouted. “Marion was my friend.”
Cole eventually managed to get Deese focused on Santos and not Cox. “Do you know what’s going on?” he asked.
“You sound like you know,” Deese shouted. “So tell me,”
“Your pal back in New Orleans decided you’re too big a liability. He sent Santos out to kill you.”
Deese looked at Cox. “You said he had the money?”
“He said he did. In his car. I never saw it. When he and Marion started shooting, I think Santos tried to stop it. He yelled, ‘Wait!” but Marion had already pulled his gun out. One second before that, they were talking like old friends. It was like a cowboy movie,” Cox cried. “They stood there and shot their guns at each other. And Marion... He shot Marion, like, fifteen times, or something.”
“Fucker,” Deese said. “I’m gonna kill that motherfucker. But a real shooter wouldn’t have done it like that. If he was a real shooter, Marion never would have seen it coming.”
Cole: “Whatever. We gotta get out of here. The cops know who we are. The best thing we can do is get the hell out.”
Deese asked, “How much cash you got?”
“What we got from the raid, plus maybe ten K. So less than fifty,” Cole said. “How about you?”
“Two. I was borrowing from Marion. I had a bad run of luck.”
They both looked at Cox, who shrugged and lied. “I got Marion’s billfold and his pocket roll. I haven’t counted it, but it’s not a lot,” she said.
“Let’s see it,” Deese said.
