Generations in Agony...Texas: Chapter Eighteen

18) Solo…

The dark Buick was so filthy that it looked beige. Weeks worth of road grime and dust had made it nearly unrecognizable to Solo. Two months ago, he would have driven a hundred miles to find a car wash. Now, he was busy following the next killer sent by Doyle. As he had figured, they were pretty predictable, and he intended to use every advantage.

So far as he knew, the Doc still had no idea that one killer had already come and gone. Solo figured that Entwhistle had already had the Doc come by the office to take a look at the body, pronouncing it a simple, albeit accidental, death by snakebite. Whether or not the Doc had noticed the suit, Solo could not know.

He had picked this new arrival’s trail up from a parked position, just to one side of the Motel near the Sonora turn-off. Easy to spot, the new rental screamed ‘Look! I’m a killer from Chicago!’.

Watching the dark-suited man as he spoke with an old cowboy in a pickup and horse- trailer rig, Solo could almost hear the conversation inside his own head. He knew the button man was asking about the Doc. What else could he do? Other than the name of the town, Doyle had little information; Solo had made sure of that when he had the last guy under the effects of his powder.

Something told him that this one would not be so easy…

He followed the rental into town and right into the parking lot of the Doc’s office. Solo tensed as he pulled into a parking spot and watched. The rental sat there, windows up, AC blowing, and inside, Solo could see the guy scanning the surroundings. It was not the way he would have done things; Solo liked to go by a place that held a target, get the layout, feel for unwanted witnesses. He doubted this guy was going to just jump out and run in with guns blazing, but he sat, none-the-less, with his .45 cocked and ready, just in case Doyle had decided to toss caution to the wind.

After a few minutes, the rental backed out of its space and pulled back out onto the street. It rolled down a half block and parked in front of the General Store. There, the dark-suited killer got out and crossed the street, going into Lutz’s.

“That’s it, go right in, try the meatloaf, mutherfucker,” Solo said to his windshield. “I hope you choke on it.”

Solo lit a cigarette and relaxed, still sitting in Doc’s parking lot.
*

Mildred watched the stranger walk in. He wore a dark suit, which set him apart from just about everyone in Southwest Texas. After he sat down at the counter, Mildred got up from her stool at the cash register and walked over, sliding a menu in front of the man. “What brings a spiffy-lookin’ fellow like yourself to Agony?”

The man looked up; his face turned a little sour. “Oh, I’m uh, here on business.”

Mildred nodded. “I figured that much. You want a little lunch?”

The man nodded, “yeah, what’s good?”

“Gotta meatloaf special…”

“I’m not so much on d’meatloaf, dese days.”

“There’s always a good ole chicken fried steak.”

“Chicken fried?”

Mildred nodded. “That’s right, one of the dishes just about any decent place will serve in this state.”

“You say it’s chicken fried?”

“Just like you would a chicken, sir. Battered, then deep-fried. We put milk gravy over it and serve it with your choice of two sides.”

“Sounds good, then. I’ll try it.”

“What two sides would you like, sir?” Mildred was starting to look at the guy closer. She wondered if he might be a candidate for her dungeon.

“You got some sorta potatoes?”

“Mashed, or hashbrown?”

“Let’s go with mashed, I guess.”

“Okay, want some green beans, or collard greens?”

“What’s a collard green.”

“I’ll toss them in no charge sir, along with some of our corn bread. You’ll like it, promise.” Mildred smiled.

“You’re making me hungry here…” the man managed a smile. “You guys have a doctor in this town?”

Mildred glanced at the man sideways. “You went right by his office on the way in my parking lot.”

“Is he good?” The killer asked.

“Sure, I go to Thurmond all the time. He’s okay in my book.”

“I’m having a little trouble…was just thinking I’d ask a doctor about it.”

“Long as it’s not surgery, Thurmond is your man. Then again, he even fixed up a gunshot wound, not hardly seven weeks ago.”

“Gunshot, huh? Youse guys still have shoot-outs down here?”

“Now and then…” Mildred said this as if it were no big deal. She was enjoying getting the best of a Yankee. Lots of folks, she knew, still thought this was the Old West, with six guns blazing, shoot-outs at high noon. She set a glass of iced tea in front of the man in the suit. “You must watch a lot of movies?”

“I’ve seen a few.”

“Well, when they talk about the Old Wild West, this is part of where it happened.”

“I seen the sign when I came into town,” the killer chuckled. “You really hang horse thieves around here?”

“Had one hung not long ago, matter o’fact.”

“Really? No kidding? I didn’t think that sorta thing still went on.”

“Hangings and shoot-outs are well documented in this town, mister.”

“Same where I come from.”

“Where would that be?”

“Chi…up north.”

Mildred smiled, having almost gotten the city out of the man. “We have a new family moved in a few weeks back. They come down from Chicago.”

“I know a few people from up there…”

“You talk like them.”

“It’s regional. Hear the same accent all around the lakes, ya know?” Without pausing, the man drained his tea.

“I’d imagine so,” Mildred poured him another glass. “I’ve lived here all my life. Never met anyone from up yonder until the last few weeks. Funny.”

“Who else’s been in from up there?”

Mildred shrugged, feeling that she had the man in her pocket now. “Had a fella just the other day was found out in the desert. Died of snake bite, Thurmond said. He wore a suit like yours; only it was all tore up. He musta been stumbling through the brambles, near as anybody could tell.”

The killer mentally crossed off ‘finding his associate’ from his list of shit Doyle wanted done while he was down here. “What did they do with the guy?”

“Sent the body up to Austin. See if the state police can figure out anything about it. Poor fella.”

“Does the doc live here in town?” The killer asked as he took another sip of tea.

“Sure does…well, his place is not directly in town. But he ain’t all that far either.”

*

Solo waited until the killer came out of Mildred’s. The man walked to his car, stopped and looked around the town center, such as it was. Solo suspected the guy wanted to find a pay phone, but there was not one in the area, besides the one hanging on the wall in front of the Esso station. There was another just before the entrance to Indian Town, right by the tribal office, but he would have to fight with practically every Apache woman in the area to get on it; there was always a long line.

Going into action before he had even thought much about it, Solo drove over and stopped right beside the man. “You look lost, sir. Need any help finding something?”

“Ah…yeah…the doctor’s office is closed. I needed to see about a prescription refill.”

“He’s probably at home by now. I can show you where he lives if you want.”

The suited killer leaned down and looked into the car at Solo. What he saw reminded him of the Indians by the little store. This guy might be Mexican; he had a hard time telling the difference. The dark-skinned man was smiling in a friendly way; he wore a straw hat that was sort of the worse for wear. His clothes looked dirty; like he had been working in someone’s field. “That’d be great. I owe ya, guy.”

“Think nothing of it, sir. We’re a pretty friendly people here. You want to follow me?”

“Exactly what I was thinking.”