Friend of the Devil (A Henry Malone Clusterf*ck Book 4) by James D.F. Hannah

Author:James D.F. Hannah [Hannah, James D.F.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-04-16T16:00:00+00:00

20

Big Country was the only one in the HVAC shop when Woody and I walked in. The radio played an old George Jones song, and some days, that’s all you can ask out of life. Big Country stood behind the counter and let out a low whistle as I walked closer.

“Goddamn, son, but you look terrible,” he said.

“Bad haircut,” I said. “Give it two weeks and I’ll be fine.”

“Funny. I thought it was because your face got shifted around and someone forgot where to put stuff back, so they shoved everything wherever.” He looked over at Woody. “You’re that friend of Sheila’s first husband?”

“Name’s Woody.” He and Big Country shook hands. “Good to meet you.”

“Same.” Big Country gestured toward the back of the shop. “Just made a pot of coffee. Not sure if I could interest you gentlemen in a cup.”

“You don’t have to ask twice,” I said.

In back, Woody filled Styrofoam cups from an urn-style coffeepot. He took his black. I opted to go with what the cool kids were doing. It wasn’t bad. Wasn’t good, either, but there’s that thing about beggars and choosers.

Big Country planted himself behind the desk, leaning the chair back and propping his feet up. Woody and I sat in the visitors’ chairs.

“Where’s the rest of the motley crew?” I said.

“Frog and Toad are out fixing a heat pump.”

“Business is still coming, then.”

Big Country sipped at his coffee. “First call in days. Out of the county. When the news got around about Dave, all these calls started, people canceling appointments, telling us the stuff that didn’t work the day before was working fine now.”

“Miraculous how that shit works, isn’t it?”

“Goddamn divine providence is what it is. Can’t say I blame people, not wanting a business in their house when the boss man just got accused of killing a biker. Some of it, though, is the Saints laying the squeeze on us, running business to other HVAC places, and someone finally called us because everyone else was busy. Otherwise, the coffers are damn nigh empty. We’re not too far from putting up a lemonade stand outside.”

“Considered a car wash?” Woody said.

“I have, but no one wants to see Frog or Toad in bikinis. Hell, I can hardly stand to see them dressed.” He gave me a nod intended as an acknowledgment of the misshapen lump that was my face. “You get this because of poking around on the shooting?”

“Related issues. I’m toying with a rampage of bloody vengeance and I thought I’d see if you wanted in.”

Big Country nodded, looked as if he was giving it a lot of consideration. He glanced at the big calendar that covered the top of his desk and ran his finger across the page. “I will admit my social agenda is rather empty. Are there guns involved in this rampage?”

“Lots.”

“To tell you the truth, you had me at ‘rampage of bloody vengeance.’ Adding in lots of guns, that’s just the cherry on top.”

“I think it’ll be a good time.”

Woody cleared his throat.

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