The Passenger (The Passenger, #1)(74)

You’re not going to introduce me.

To my widow woman? No.

She is seventy-three?

Nah. I dont think she’s even forty. I’m just tryin to throw you off the scent. You’ve got me confused with Jerry Merchant. If they werent on social security he wasnt even interested. I walked in on him one time when he was staying with me up over the Napoleon and he had somebody’s grandmother in the bed. She tried to pull the sheets up but he just pulled em off in the floor and stood there grinnin. She looked like a goddamned bog person. She put her hands over her face. Like that was goin to help. I didnt even want to think about him puttin her through the kind of sexual indignities he was partial to. Of course the more I tried not to think about it the more I thought about it. You take care, Bobby.

And you.

He watched him as he walked down the street. Striding along in his bowling shoes. Dirty and disreputable and jaunty. When he got to the corner Western thought that he would look back and wave or something but he didnt. He turned up a street named Rue Principale Quest and was gone. Western walked back down to the truck and got in and headed back to New Orleans.





VII


She’d fallen asleep with her book open on the quilt beside her but she must have wakened in the night and turned off the lamp. When she woke again it was paling day at the window and the Kid was sitting at her desk reading. She sat up and pushed her hair back. What are you reading? she said.

New data. Fix your robe will you? Jesus.

She pulled her robe closed.

Glad you’re awake. Something’s come up. We picked up a signal. Band four. This thing has just come in. Odd history to it.

What thing?

The Kid gestured into the room. She turned to look. Under the eaves stood two men in sou’westers. On the floor between them a brassbound steamer trunk.

Who are they?

Pretty interesting. We dont know how far back we’re looking. It was pretty deep in the hold and God knows where it’s even been. Okay guys.

They set about unstrapping the trunk. The heavy brass clasps. Everything thick with verdigris. The trunk was standing on its end and they opened it sideways, bookfashion. A small man stepped out and stretched and shook himself and put one hand to the back of his neck and ratcheted his head slowly to one side and then the other. He stepped back and assumed a boxer’s stance and threw a quick series of jabs. Then he stepped forward and stood, his mouth clacking woodenly. As if he were chewing gum.

The inside of the trunk was lined in a sort of paisley material and the occupant himself was turned out in a little suit of the same stuff, coat and trousers, matching vest and cap. He wore a yellow cravat and a silver watch chain from which hung a collection of small medallions—holy medals, school awards, milagros of coinsilver. A small seal that bore the name of a milk company. She tucked her robe about her and leaned forward in the bed the better to see him. He seemed to be a dummy. Made of wood. His mouth opened and closed with a clapping sound and his eyes were bright and glassy. He crouched and put up his fists again and then stood back and smiled his wooden smile.

We dont have the program, the Kid said. There’s some jacks in the back of his coat. An access panel. We dont know what’s missing. Thought you might like to take a gander. He’s got a sort of hand-made look to him.

What do you want me to do?

I dont know. Ask him some questions. I’ll sit here and take a few notes.

What sort of questions?

Ask him his name.

The mannequin was leaning against the open trunk with one foot crossed over the other. He looked cocky and slightly dangerous.

What’s your name? she said.

Puddentain. Ask me again and I’ll tell you the same.

What’s your name?

Puddentain. Ask me again…

Okay, said the Kid. I think we got it.

What are those things on his watch chain?

Woodsmen of the World. Immaculate Conception. There’s a Phi Beta Kappa key. Probably from a pawnshop.

He keeps staring at me.

He keeps staring at you?

Yes.

He’s a dummy.

I know. He looks familiar.

She’d climbed out of the bed and was sitting crosslegged on the floor. Might be a good idea not to get too close, said the Kid.

I dont think he likes me.

So? I thought you were going to ask him some questions.

Where do you come from? she said.

The dummy cocked his head. He looked at the Kid. Who’s this dishy bitch?

The Kid whispered to her from behind his flipper. It could be a Personal Advisor program. Lots of opinions. It doesnt mean he’s got a brain.

Up yours, said the dummy.

He’s very rude.

Why dont you address your remarks to me, Blondie?

Who are the Woodsmen of the World?

Who knows? said the Kid. Something to do with trees.

It’s a brotherhood, said the dummy. You spasticlooking fuck.

He’s got screws in his head. He looks sort of screwed together. Like maybe he’s had an accident of some sort.

Probably some kid had him.

Maybe he gets in fights.

Bingo, said the dummy. He bobbed and weaved and fetched up an uppercut and then fell to chewing again. Clack clack clack.

He seems to be waiting for something.

Waiting for you, Dollytits.

Does his hat come off?

Dont know. It’s probably nailed on. I dont think you want to get too close.