Authors: Reavis Z. Wortham
Unraveled (28 page)
Anna left the kids with Ike Reader and headed in the direction Mark had pointed. She stopped at the first game booth she came to. The owner of the Basketball Throw was already taking it apart and packing up the prizes. “Hey, buddy. Do you know someone named Calvin Williams who's a clown?”
The greasy-haired young man stopped and glanced at her badge, but it took a moment for him to lift his eyes. She could tell he didn't want to answer any questions from the law and was more interested in her chest than anything else. “Why?”
“Don't matter why. Hey, my eyes are up here. Doâ¦youâ¦knowâ¦Calvin Williams?”
The man raised his gaze. “No.”
“Try again.”
“I don't know no Calvin Williams.”
She grinned. “So what does he go by, then?”
The carney forgot the stuffed elephant in his hand. This time his eyes went directly to the tent. “There's a guy named Cal who mechanics here. Clowns sometimes.”
“That's the one. Cal how much?”
He immediately understood her request for a last name. “Willis.”
“And that doesn't make you think of Calvin Williams?”
“Well, maybe.”
“Do you know where he is?”
He suddenly acted like the stuffed elephant was too heavy to hold and sat it on the counter. “He might be in his trailer.”
“Where is it?”
“Turn before that titty tent, uh, the girls sideshow over yonder. His is the one with the green awning. Lives with a little hippie gal named Connie.”
Without another word, Anna drew her revolver and followed his directions, stepping between the tents and dodging the stakes and guy ropes. The dilapidated trailer was dark. Holding the pistol down beside her leg, Anna checked the area, then stood to the side and knocked on the trailer door.
She heard shuffling on the other side. The door cracked open and a young woman's face appeared. “Shhh. The baby's asleep.”
“Connie?”
The long-haired girl's expression was quizzical. “Yes.”
“Does Calvin Williams live with you?”
“No. Cal Willis does.”
“Is he here?”
Connie opened the door wider, but kept her voice low. Her black eye and bruised face spoke volumes to the deputy. “Just left. Cleaned up and took off. He's the new advance man.” She finally noticed Anna's uniform and posture. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“I need to find him.”
“Well, like I said. He's gone.”
Anna took in the puffy eye and noticed even more bruising on her neck and ear. “Are you all right?”
“I'm fine. Cal took his Indian and left.”
“Who's that?” She had a brief image of him with Tonto.
“His Indian motorcycle. He couldn't take the truck because I need it to pull the trailer tomorrow, so he took the bike.”
“How long ago?”
“Ten, fifteen minutes. He was in a hurry. He left so fast I don't even think he got all the paint off his face.”
Paint. Top had mentioned greasepaint a moment earlier and a wisp at the edge of her mind told her it was important. “Can I come in and look around?”
“I done told you the truth.”
“I know, but I need to make sure.”
The girl stepped back. “Just don't wake the baby.”
Connie held the door for her and gently took Anna's arm. “I got a lot to tell you about him.”
It was daylight by the time they got everything sorted out. Though no one was killed in the melee, half a dozen Mayfields and Clays had been transported to the hospital in funeral home ambulances. Bryce was hurt the worst, but expected to live. After being used as a battering ram, Cecil Clay had a broken arm and leg, and two dislocated knees. Royal didn't regain consciousness until he was strapped down on the stretcher. They would all eventually go to trial.
Half a dozen deputies and highway patrol officers hauled more than two dozen combatants from both sides to jail for a laundry list of charges. The midway was finally stilled. Knives, saps, and a dropped pair of brass knuckles littered the churned ground like a medieval battleground.
Ned, Cody, and John finally joined Anna beside Calvin Williams' trailer after getting the kids' and Ike's statement before sending them home. Norma Faye reluctantly rode with them, almost in shock at the thought that her ex-husband was the devil behind everything that had happened the past week.
Ned slid both hands into his pants pockets and watched the carneys break down the rest of the rides and exhibits. Some were packed and ready to go, while other rides were more complicated. They'd been inside with Connie, gathering as much information as they could about Calvin, who was long gone.
Cody scratched the stubble on his chin. “I can't believe Calvin Williams is behind all this. I never thought he had sense enough to pour piss out of a boot and here he was, a clown right under our noses.”
“I need to get my hands on 'im.” Ned lifted his hat to wipe the band. The humidity was still thick and heavy. The back of his ear was throbbing and he was feeling mean as an old sore-tailed tomcat.
John tilted his head toward the sound of the baby crying inside the trailer. “Do you think he got after Top just 'cause the boy recognized him?”
Replacing his hat, Ned grunted. “We'll find out once we catch him.”
Cody cross his arms and studied his boots, thinking. “Well, we got an APB out for him. He won't get far riding a motorcycle without somebody seeing him.”
Anna leaned against Calvin's truck. “Connie told me all about this guy. He's been going out at all hours and coming back smelling like smoke. She says she figures he's hurt some folks, but doesn't know for sure.”
Thinking hard, Cody glanced into the truck bed and raised an eyebrow. It was odd in that part of the country to see a bed so devoid of farming litter. Most every truck he'd ever seen was littered with hay, bailing wire, and feed sacks. The boards in the Ford's bed were clean except for coiled ropes they used to stake tents and a few muddy footprints.
He reached in and picked up one of the coils. “Well.”
Ned leaned in to look. “Well, what?”
John understood at once. He walked around and dropped the tailgate with a bang. “Looky here.”
Anna came around. “What? Rope, stakes, and footprints.”
“This is red clay.”
“So?”
“Red clay that looks like what might have come from under a hanging tree. This is the same kind of rope somebody used to hang Charlie Clay.”
Anna cleared her throat. “That's what's been bothering me. Connie said he left so fast he didn't get all of it off and that's what was on the hanging rope that we thought was grease or paint. It was grease
paint
. The kind clowns use to make themselves up.”
“We got him.” Cody patted his pocket to celebrate with a cigarette. There wasn't even a stick of gum in there.
We were sitting around the laminate and chrome table in Miss Becky's kitchen the next morning. Instead of bustling around, she was in her usual place, sipping her second cup of coffee, something she rarely had. I'd never seen her so still.
“This old world's gettin' so rough, I believe I'm afraid to let any of y'all go anywhere. We just need to stay at home from now on.”
Pepper frowned at her plate. “That won't be any better, now that Mama and Daddy's bought the Ordway place. It's just as dangerous as eating dinner in the middle of the highway.”
Mark grinned and picked at a piece of toast. “It wasn't nothing but the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Miss Becky studied me. “You poor kids. Y'all've been through more'n kids your age ought to have ever seen. I hate it, and I know it's hard on you. It was Calvin you been dreaming about, ain't it, hon?”
“I believe so. Everything fit. The lights, the giant lipsâ¦all of it.”
“Do you think it's over?”
“My dreams? No.”
“Why not?”
“He got away.”
Norma Faye came in from the bathroom where she'd washed her face. Her eyes were red and puffy from crying. Uncle Cody dropped her off and promised to be back as quick as he could. “Miss Becky, I'm so sorry.”
“Hush, hon. This ain't nothing you done.”
“But I was married to himâ¦andâ¦you know, that brought this trouble.”
Miss Becky's eyes cut over at us. “Well, that was then and this is now. This ain't your doin'. You're family now, so that's it. Me and you'll talk later, but you quit frettin' about it.”
Pepper glanced at the wooden kitchen door that was propped open to air the house out. There was nothing between us and the outside but wire screen held closed with an eyehook latch. “He could come walking right in here like nobody's business if he had a mind to.”
Norma Faye nearly dropped her coffee cup. She looked as scared as if she'd picked up a snake.
Miss Becky sipped again. “No he won't. Hootie's outside and I'm not afraid with that shotgun leaning in the corner.”
“One of them clowns didn't have you down on the ground.”
“Well Pepper, I don't expect to see any clowns coming up the driveway this morning.”
Mark grinned. “That's the truth. It's so hot his makeup would run off his face like ice cream.”
Still trembling, Norma Faye leaned a hip against the cabinet counter and took a long, shuddering breath. “I'm so sorry.”
“Hush, I said.” Miss Becky reached out a hand and Norma Faye took it.
Pepper gave Mark a good-natured nudge and twirled her long hair. “Well, it's too hot to do anything today. I just want to go in the living room and listen to the radio.”
“All right.” Miss Becky stood to clear the table. “Y'all get out from underfoot, but don't turn it up too loud.”
We left the table and Pepper dialed a station in until it was clear. “Take the Last Train to Clarksville” was on and Pepper made a face. “I hope they play something good after this shit.”
I limped over to the couch and laid down where I could see the south door. I didn't want anybody to come sneaking in from that way. Mark laid down on his stomach and opened
The Chisum News
on the rag rug covering the floor. He turned to the Sunday comics and I watched a fly bump the screen while Miss Becky and Norma Faye talked in the kitchen.
Ed's Tourist Cabins in Hugo, Oklahoma, was the perfect place to lay low for a couple of days. Reclined in a sagging bed in cabin number five, Calvin lit another cigarette and thought back over the past week. There was no longer any use in stirring up trouble between the Clays and Mayfields. They were already mad enough to kill each other for the next ten years. His idea of framing Cody for all of it had failed, but his string of successes was like a tonic.
He'd killed and burned out some of those who wronged him, and that was enough for now. He could even come back and finish up tomorrow, next month, or next year.
He was patient, and smarter than any lawman he ever ran into. He chuckled. Even if he had to wait another year or two, it would be sheer hell for them every time they opened their eyes in the morning, wondering if this was the day, or if he'd come tomorrow.
With the makeup gone, Clocko the Clown ceased to exist. Cal Willis was also gone. He didn't think of himself as Calvin Williams, either. He was now The Wraith, and he had business to finish.
The Wraith drew a deep breath, smelling the gas from his Indian that had barely fit through the door.
He lay there with both hands behind his head, listening to Hank Williams on the radio and remembering how he'd cut Hollis Mayfield in two with a shotgun because Hollis once dusted Calvin's back and ass with a load of rock salt one night when he and his running buddy Ron Preston snuck into Hollis' watermelon patch. The teenagers were headed for the woods carrying a melon apiece when the dim of a flashlight beam caught them two rows away from the barbed-wire fence.
Hollis hollered and cut loose with one barrel that hissed through the air behind them. Ron dropped his watermelon and ducked to the left. Calvin made the mistake of hanging onto a big melon and running straight for the fence. When they didn't stop, Hollis fired again and the load of salt had time to spread out, cutting through his clothes and setting him on fire.
Calvin remembered how he screamed at the impact, thinking he'd been shot for real. It was only after the wounds began to burn with an ungodly fire that he realized what had happened. He ran through the woods in an inferno of pain. They met up at the car parked on the other side of a strip of woods and Ron drove across the river to his uncle's house while Calvin shrieked and writhed in the backseat.
The uncle he never saw again used the point of a knife and tweezers to pick the salt from the seeping, burning wounds in his back, ass, and legs. The scars were still there, and from time to time Calvin found himself rubbing his fingertips across the thick skin, remembering.
The worst was when women asked him about them. He could never come up with a good story, instead telling the truth and waiting in embarrassment for them to laugh, which they always did.
Now he'd settled all but one of the scores that had plagued him all his life. He grinned at the stained ceiling, thinking about how he'd finish the job that night and be gone. Something up there caught his attention, and he stood to turn on all the lights. A laugh bubbled in his chest when he recognized the stain as blood splatter. He followed the dried drops from the ceiling down the wall to where it had been wiped away.
It looked as if someone had taken a baseball bat to whoever'd been sleeping in his bed. That, or the guy had blown his own brains out.
The Wraith dropped back on the bed and laughed loud and long at the irony.
Wouldn't Norma Faye and Cody be surprised when they woke up dead in
their
bed the next morning?
