Rain Gods (Hackberry Holland 2)

Off to the right of the foyer was a lounge area, the French doors at the entranceway hanging slightly open. Through the glass, he could see the heads of trophy animals mounted on the walls, the bar top wiped clean and shi

ning, the bottles of whiskey and Scotch and gin and vermouth sparkling with the multicolored reflection of light from an antique Wurlitzer jukebox.

He pushed back one of the French doors and stepped inside the room. Somewhere in the shadows, from one corner of the lounge, he could hear an erratic sound like a hard object on a string knocking against a piece of wood. He removed his .45 from its holster and cocked the hammer, the muzzle still pointed at the floor.

A shaft of light burst through a rear hallway, and Hackberry realized Pam Tibbs had just come through a back door and was walking toward the lounge, gripping her .357 in both hands. He held up his palm so she could see the light reflect off his skin. She stopped and waited, her weapon pointed upward at a forty-five-degree angle.

The smoke from the kitchen was seeping into the lounge, the stench of burned meat different from any he could remember. Then he saw the shell casings on the floor, all .45-caliber, ejected in such profusion they could have come from only one type of weapon.

He pointed his revolver in front of him and walked around the tables and at an angle to the bar, closer and closer to the corner of the room where the erratic knocking sound continued. Now he could see the holes in the vinyl padding of the booths and the divots blown out of the wood trim and more holes stitched across the walls. He could see the glass beer steins and long-necked bottles exploded on top of the tables. He could see the men who had either been caught unawares in the first burst, or those who had been herded up against a wall and mowed down, probably disbelieving and terrified and trying to bargain all the way to the end.

?Sweet God in heaven,? Pam said behind him. Her weapon was still pointed with both hands in front of her. She looked to her right and left, then turned in a full circle before putting her pistol back in its holster. ?Who are these guys??

?I don?t know. Call it in. Tell the dispatcher to send all the medical personnel they can.?

Three men had died in a booth. The backs of their heads had burst all over the pine paneling on the wall. Two other men lay behind a poker table. Their chips were still stacked in columns, their five-card-stud hands laid out faceup on the felt. The exit wounds in their backs had streaked the wall five feet from the floor down to where they had fallen.

?What?s that knocking sound?? Pam asked.

Hackberry walked to the end of the bar. A man lay on his back in the shadows. There was one hole high up on his thigh, one in his stomach, and one in his neck. His eyes were closed, and his lips were compressed tightly in a cone, as though he were sucking on a piece of candy or trying to deal with a terrible sliver of pain working its way through his viscera. A pool of blood was spreading out from his sides into the wood floor. His face was round and white, in stark contrast to his black hillbilly sideburns and eyes that glinted like obsidian, buried deep inside the folds of his flesh.

He wore pointed ostrich boots, and his left foot was striking the side of the bar spasmodically. Hackberry holstered his revolver and knelt beside him. ?Who did this to you, partner?? he said.

The inside of the man?s mouth was red with blood, his voice hardly more than a whisper. ?Collins. Preacher Collins. Him and Bobby Lee.?

?Bobby Lee Motree??

The man closed and opened his eyes by way of an answer. He said, ?Yes, sir.?

?What?s your name??

?T-Bone Simmons.?

?Why did Collins shoot you??

?He picked up two hundred grand from Hugo. But he wanted Hugo, too.?

Hackberry looked back at where the other bodies lay. ?Hugo Cistranos?? he said.

?Yes, sir.?

?Collins kidnapped Cistranos??

T-Bone choked on his own blood and saliva and didn?t try to answer.

Pam handed Hackberry a towel she had found behind the bar. Hackberry began to work the towel behind T-Bone?s head. ?I?m going to turn your head to the side to drain your mouth. Just hang on. An ambulance is on its way. Where did Preacher and Bobby Lee go??

?Don?t know. They had a??

?Take your time, bud.?

?A woman in their car.?

?A woman was with Preacher and Bobby Lee??

?The Jew?s wife. We were supposed to pop her. She was supposed to get it in the mouth.?

?You?re talking about Nick Dolan?s wife??