The Professor (McMurtrie and Drake Legal Thrillers #1)(76)
“An old friend who lives near Pulaski. He likes titties too. I’m not sure why he drove Wilma to court – I was as surprised as anyone else to see him at court – but I bet it’s got something to do with that diamond-shaped body part underneath her zipper. You ever driven four and a half hours for a piece of snatch, Tyler?” Jack paused, stepping closer. “Yeah, I bet you have. So that’s the deal. That old man didn’t prove nothing today.”
Tyler stepped away, shaking his head.
“By the way,” Jack continued. “What happened out there today, Tyler? I thought you were supposed to be the best lawyer in the state. A f*cking Jedi. Darth Fucking Vader. What in the f*ck happened?” Jack asked, spittle flying as he spoke.
Tyler said nothing.
“I tell you what happened,” Jack continued. “That old SOB whupped your ass.” Jack paused and crossed his arms mockingly. “‘I have no questions, your honor,’” he mimicked. “You choked, Tyler. First time this whole case you had to work a little bit, and you choked all over yourself.”
Tyler had had enough. He walked towards Jack, stopping when he was a foot from him.
“You may be good at handling things, Jack, but you, not me, f*cked up today. I didn’t ask any questions, because I couldn’t fix your f*ck-up.” Tyler turned to walk away, but then stopped and looked back. “And I am Darth Vader, you belligerent f*ck.”
As he walked away, Jack spoke once more, determined to get the last word.
“Then who was that old SOB? Yoda?”
“Yeah,” Tyler muttered, not turning back. Fucking Yoda.
62
JimBone answered the phone on the first ring. It had been thirty minutes since he left the courthouse, and he was anxious as hell. The whole plan had been f*cked, and he knew Jack was pissing bullets.
“Yeah, boss.”
“Good job, Bone. Come by my house next Wednesday night around 6.30 and I’ll give you the rest of what I owe you.”
JimBone couldn’t believe his ears. He doesn’t even sound mad. “Uh... OK. Your house 6.30 next Wednesday. Sounds good. What about the bitch?” JimBone asked, winking at Wilma Newton, who sat in the passenger seat of the El Camino.
“Tell her to rent a car to drive home in, and explain the deal to her. Explain what happens if she ever tells anybody. She doesn’t get the other half of the money for at least a month. We have to wait for things to die down a little.”
“Will do, boss.”
“And Bone...” There was a pause on the other end of the line, and JimBone heard the exhalation of what he knew was cigar smoke. “We have to fix some of what the old SOB messed up. Remember the photograph of the girl he showed the jury?”
JimBone smiled. “I do indeed.”
Wilma gazed out the window as JimBone completed his phone call with Jack Willistone.
“Sounds good, boss,” JimBone said. “I’ll handle it.” He hung up the phone and looked at Wilma. “Well, well. Looks like you earned your keep, Smokey the Bear.”
Wilma didn’t immediately answer, continuing to look out the window. It’s over, she thought. It’s really over. A hundred thousand more dollars. Was it worth it?
“Hey, bitch.” JimBone said. “I’m talking to you.”
No. No. Never.
“Can we go home now? I’d really prefer just going home, but I’m sure what I prefer doesn’t matter,” Wilma said, continuing to stare out the window.
“No, it doesn’t, Wilma,” JimBone said, laughing. “You’re not as dumb as you look.”
“So what are we going to do?” she asked.
“You’re going to rent a car and drive your sweet ass home, but–” he looked at his watch “–since the rental car places in T-town are probably all closed by now, I’m just going to drive you back to the hotel.”
“What are you going to do?” Wilma asked.
JimBone reached into his jacket pocket, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. He lit one, and took a long drag. Blowing smoke up into the ceiling of the car, JimBone chuckled.
“Don’t you worry about that,” he said, reaching into the backseat and retrieving a brown paper bag. “Here, I think you’ll like this,” he said, taking the bottle out of the bag and handing it to her.
It was a fifth of Gentlemen’s Jack Daniels.
“That’s a little higher quality than what we normally drink,” JimBone continued. “Go ahead, take a swig. Hell, take several swigs.” He reached across her, opened the dash, and dropped a pill box into her lap. “Just make sure you wash one of these down,” he said, laughing.
“Not tonight, please,” Wilma felt like crying. “I did what you asked me to do.”
“Relax, Smokey the Bear. The Bone has work to do tonight. I just don’t want you in the way.” He winked at her and laughed louder. “Now take one of those pills before I force them down your throat.”
She did as she was told, swallowing the pill and taking several nips from the bottle, concentrating on the feel of the liquid burning as it went down. Then she passed the bottle to JimBone.
“When am I gonna get my money?” she asked, watching him take a long swig.
“Owwww! Goddamn, that’s good!” JimBone bellowed. She had never seen him so excited, and it scared her. He gave her the bottle, and tuned the radio to a country station.