When the Pirate Prays. James B. Johnson

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СКАЧАТЬ hours. This is her first.”

      “You need any help?”

      “Nope—got too much already. Maybe you could figger out a ruse to get Angie Maple out of there?”

      He shook his head. “I ain’t getting involved in your love life—”

      “What should I ought to know?” I asked, irritated. If your best friend since childhood refuses to help you, what are you going to do?

      “I had a look through the windows of several vans before I found the right one.”

      “I bet Deacon didn’t like that.”

      “Not a bit. But Deacon can’t work a door handle.”

      Tapes would’ve killed the dog had it attacked.

      “And?” I prompted again.

      Tapes pulled out his tin of Copenhagen, opened it, touched a wet finger to the tobacco, and put that little taste onto his tongue. He sighed.

      “That kid in there’s going to be in first grade before you get out with it,” I said.

      “The weather’s bad and they got that dark tint on the windows.” He moved his tongue around in his closed mouth contentedly for a minute.

      “You could look through the front windshield,” I said.

      “Highbacked seats. But I did. Shortcut, there’s something weird. I saw a couple of gator hides. And there are big containers along the sides of the van. I leaned against the outside and about froze my arm off.”

      “Ice?”

      “Probably. Could be dry ice, I don’t know.”

      “Why?” I wondered aloud.

      “Beats me, but it could be poaching.” He dipped into the pocket of his jeans under the parka and took out a little six-foot tape measure made in Taiwan. He dragged about eighteen inches worth of steel out and let it retract back of its own accord, smacking eerily in the empty corridor.

      The idea had leapt immediately into my mind too.

      “Damndamndamnohshit!”

      Mary Lynn’s worried face appeared at the door. “Billy?”

      “Be right in,” I said, suddenly self-conscious.

      “Billy? Billy?” Tapes said, eyebrows raised. Nobody calls me Billy. Except women when I fall in love.

      “Don’t start,” I warned.

      Mary Lynn had disappeared back inside.

      “Don’t me start? Come on, Shortcut. You fall in love so fast and so complicatedly that—”

      “You’re going to tell me I’m on the rebound from Becky—”

      “Rebecca,” he corrected automatically, then realized, “I mean Becky. Hell, I forget what it’s supposed to be.”

      “Forget the whole thing. I ain’t on the rebound. It’s just that me and Mary Lynn are kind of alike what with our same similar circumstance and all—”

      Tapes groaned and drew the tape measure as far as it would go and released it. The damn thing snickered and crinkled for a second as it wound in.

      “We’re becoming special friends,” I said defensively.

      “DamndamndamndamnJesuspizzus!”

      “Billy!” an imperative from Mary Lynn, but I knew Sandy had a while yet.

      I looked at my gloved hands held in front of me and noticed they were kind of gunky. Well, I still had a dozen more inside. “Got to go.” Then I stopped and turned. “Remember that other freezer that Silas Smith didn’t want us to put Henry B. in?”

      “I’ll go make me a sandwich,” Tapes nodded, pocketing the tape measure. “Want anything?”

      “Nah. I’ll be busy for a while. Besides, it ain’t polite to eat in front of sick women.”

      When I got back inside, I washed up again and pulled on another pair of gloves.

      “It’s about time,” said Angie Maple.

      “You ever have any children?” I asked the old lady.

      “Nope.” She looked at me warily.

      I shook my head. “Then don’t be so goddamn sure of yourself.”

      “Well!”

      I shook my head again. “A room full of women and not one knows anything about childbirth.”

      “Damndamndamndamnsonofabitch!”

      “That’s right,” I said, “push, slow and steady. Control your breathing.” I glanced at the wall across the room. “You need a focal point. See that picture of a sailboat?” Framed, short waves, some spray, blue background, the obligatory scuttling clouds.

      “Nonononono, not that—”

      “Whatever turns you on, Sandy. How about—”

      “Sandra Dee,” said Angle Maple.

      “—that old tapestry on the wall, that crossed thing in the middle?”

      “Finefinefinefine, it hurts like bees.” Her eyes were as green as Vermont and as wide as Texas.

      “Then push at the right time.” It would still be a while. Her dilation was coming along, but not quite finished.

      “I’mumah trying.”

      “Your husband is going to be surprised,” I said, positioning a few clean towels.

      The immediate and freezing silence told me I’d stuck my foot in my mouth. Was he dead?

      Mary Lynn’s face was serious. “Sandra Dee doesn’t have a husband.”

      “Oh. Ah. Um. Forgive the intrusion, Sandy.”

      She was breathing shallowly as if in fear of another contraction. “It’s okay, Shortcut. You didn’t know damndamn. Obviously God is a man.”

      “Why do you say that?” I asked.

      “If He were a woman, women wouldn’t have to go through this shit, damndamndamn.”

      She had a legitimate point.

      Her face scrunched up in pure pain and I wished I had some kind of anesthetic for her. “Who’d want to kill Henry B.?” I asked.

      “Not me,” said Angie Maple.

      “Darn,” I said.

      “What’s СКАЧАТЬ