Devil Himself by Peter Farris

Author:Peter Farris [Farris, Peter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781950994588
Publisher: Arcade Crimewise
Published: 2022-05-14T22:00:00+00:00

Maya had brought Leonard the pitcher of cold water, feeling worried as she watched him pat down with his shovel the charred earth where Gregory Grimes and William Watkins had lain a half hour earlier. An acre of grass and brush had been scorched so far. Leonard tended his burn line carefully, the smolder rising in thick ribbons. He had buried the remains of the most recent trespassers, with the hope that scavengers wouldn’t come along and dig them up. No trace of the bodies remained for now, however, nor any indication Leonard had dug the graves, either. Maya saw sweat dripping from his brow. It occurred to Maya that all this effort had been for her sake, but when he looked her way all he had to say was, “What did you do to them jeans?”

Maya smiled bashfully. The surgery she had performed with Marjean’s sewing scissors had resulted in frayed cutoffs, reasonably comfortable given the temperature and stylish, if she didn’t mind to think so herself. She bent down, picked at a scab on a kneecap, licked a fingertip, and dabbed the scratch gone bloody.

“Too hot out here to wear mama jeans, Leonard.”

“Mama jeans?”

“Kind you tuck up under your titties,” Maya said.

“You know you got legs like a bird?”

“Well, there’s men paid good money for these legs to be company for a night.”

Leonard’s face went flush.

“Don’t talk like that.”

“You know, for a badass, Leonard, you sure are a prude.”

She laughed and then took off in a sprint across the grass. Leonard watched her skip, then vault sideways into a cartwheel, all limbs and hair suddenly wild as a pinwheel, the white bottoms of her feet flashing. But she couldn’t stick the landing and bounced with a thud onto her butt.

Leonard clapped.

“Most of that was pretty impressive.”

Maya tied her hair back. Held up a finger to signal another attempt was imminent and, steadying herself, vaulted back across the grass into a double cartwheel that sent birds flying into the air. This time she ended up with a clumsy two-footed hop, her arms upflung like those of an Olympic hopeful.

Leonard applauded the effort, too.

“Where did you learn that?”

“A girl from Russia I knew,” Maya said. “Taught me gymnastics.”

“Where at?”

Maya began dancing playfully where the grass gave way to warm, chalk-colored sand.

“Place they kept us was like a dormitory,” she said. “When we had some playtime we used to somersault down the halls.”

Leonard tried to picture it but couldn’t get a grip on the arrangement she had been subject to. He watched her feet, tapping heel-toe into a twirl.

“How many girls are we talking about?”

“Ten or so,” she said. “Sometimes more. Girls came and went. Lucio moved us around a lot, too. Traveled in limousines. Even did it in the back of one.”

Lenard gestured that he had heard enough.

Maya ignored his displeasure. She pirouetted, raising her arms like a ballerina in fifth position.

“Mainly did it in hotels though,” she said. “Fancy suites. Other times just quickies in the afternoon while the wife was getting her hair done.

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