Deviation Page 9

  Frank sniffed the bag, frowning. “Why the fuck do these assholes have to add all these goddamn flavors nowadays?”

  Lester laughed softly. “Hey, man. That's just the way it is. It's a good strain. It will get you just as stoned as anything else.”

  “I'm sure it will. I just wish I didn't have to taste lemon every time I light my pipe.”

  “You want it or not?” He turned his head and studied Dianne again, his eyes holding on her a little too long.

  Frank moved the bag aside. “Yes, yes, I want it. What else do you have?”

  From his other pocket Lester produced a much smaller bag, this one filled with white powder. “Ounce of coke. $2,500, the best I could do. With the weed, it's $3,200.”

  Frank stared at him. “What about the meth?”

  Lester shook his head once, quickly. “Disruption in the supply, who knows? Gimme a couple days, maybe I can find it.”

  “I need it tonight!” Frank could feel his blood pressure rising.

  “I can't get it tonight. I probably can't get it tomorrow, either. That's why I brought this other stuff. It's gonna be a little bit of a wait on the meth. It's just not around right now.”

  Frank gnashed his teeth. He tried to keep his voice low enough to prevent Dianne from overhearing. “But I need it!”

  “Sorry. You and a dozen others.” He pointed at the cocaine. “That'll take the edge off. It's better, anyway.”

  “For you, maybe.”

  “Hey, I don't use any of this shit.”

  Frank looked at Lester's pocket, which was still bulging. “You've got something there. You sure you don't have any meth?”

  “I'm sure.” Lester pulled a 9mm pistol halfway out of his pocket and immediately slipped it back in. “No need for this here.” He looked at the envelope in Frank's hand. “$3,200.”

  “I've got the money,” Frank assured him. “But I really need that meth.”

  “I already told you, I don't have it. I'll call you when I find it.” He swiveled his head back to the left and resumed his study of Dianne. It was obvious he found her desirable.

  “Are you sure? Maybe you're just trying to make it seem more valuable to me?”

  Lester appeared angry now. “I'm telling you, no meth.”

  Shaking the envelope, Frank leaned closer to him. “I'll pay you double.”

  Lester's fat tongue poked out and wet his lips. He was still staring at Dianne. “I'll tell you what. I really don't have your meth, padre, but I might have a tiny sample tucked away which belongs to someone else.”

  Frank's eyes lit up at the news. “How much?”

  “Just a taste.”

  “I mean, how much do you want for it?”

  Lester's eyes hadn't strayed from Dianne. “A taste.”

  “I heard you the first time. How much money?”

  “Wake up, padre. A taste of your little friend there. Say, 30 minutes and it's yours.”

  Frank was grinding his teeth again. He had a sudden impulse to harm Lester. “Forget it. I'll pay you what you ask for it, but you're not going anywhere near her.”

  Lester shrugged. “Too bad. It's really good shit.”

  There wasn't much Frank hated more than associating with drug dealers. It seemed that Lester was no better than the rest of them. This was only the third time he'd done business with the man, and it would certainly be the last. “Give it to me.” He shook the envelope again. “Name your price.”

  “I already did.”

  “She's off limits.”

  “30 minutes. It'll be over before you know it.”

  “Give me the meth,” Frank growled.

  Lester was glaring at him. “I told you. No meth.”

  “Turn out your pockets,” Frank insisted.

  “Fuck you! Fork over that little bitch or shut up about the meth.”

  “I'm telling you, I need it!”

  “And I'm telling you, I don't have it.”

  “Cocksucker!” Frank felt betrayed. He had only the smallest little bit left in his baggie and he was already feeling withdrawal symptoms. “The meth was the whole point!”

  Lester clutched his gun, but kept it concealed within his pocket. “Give me the $3,200. Otherwise I'm taking this stuff and walking away.”

  Frank pulled at his chin, trying to think. He glanced over at Dianne, seeing that she'd moved a little closer, a troubled look on her face. “You've got to have something,” he complained. “You just admitted you did!”

  “I think we're done here.” Lester grabbed the cocaine and stuffed it into his pocket. As he was reaching for the marijuana, Frank pulled it out of his grasp.

  “Just a hit,” Frank pleaded. “A fucking gram. I'll pay triple.”

  “You don't fucking get it, do you?” He withdrew the pistol and leveled it at Frank's chest. “Give me back that weed.”

  Frank tucked the bag under his arm and pulled the sheaf of bills from the envelope. He began counting out hundreds onto the altar. “Let me have the coke. Here's the fucking money.”

  Lester watched as Frank finished counting out the $3,200. He made no move to turn over the cocaine. Glancing over at Dianne, he, too, noticed she was closer. He stared at her longingly, his eyes glowing. “One last chance. 30 minutes with the bitch.”

  The comment fueled Frank's rage. “She's not a bitch. Give me the cocaine.”

  “I never should have agreed to do business with you again. A fucking priest.” He reached over and scooped up the money, tucking it into his back pocket. “Consider this a lesson.” He kept the pistol leveled at Frank as he took several steps back.

  Frank dropped the rest of the money and the bag of dope on the altar. “What the hell do you think you're doing?”

  “Burning your ungrateful ass. It's your own fault, padre.”

  “Just give me the fucking cocaine! You don't want to burn me!”

  Lester took another step back. “Adios and vaya con dios.”

  “Give me that coke!” Frank shouted. He pulled the paring knife from his pocket and closed the distance between them.

  The sight of the little blade caused Lester to smile. “You're crazy, padre. But I guess you already know that.” His finger tightened on the trigger.

  “Don't shoot him!” Dianne yelled.

  Lester turned to look at her, alarmed. It was all the distraction Frank needed. He lunged forward, his hand cutting an arc through the air as the tiny blade tore a gash diagonally across Lester's face, his large nose severed into two sections. He screamed and fell back, blood running down over his mustache and into his mouth. He fired the pistol, but his loss of balance caused the shot to go wide and the bullet disappeared harmlessly into the far wall. As he steadied himself he fired again, and again his aim was off. He was bellowing and blowing blood out of his mouth, his eyes crossed as he tried to look down and assess the damage to his face. Frank grabbed his free arm, twisting it behind his back. In one swift motion he raised the paring knife and cut a deep gash across Lester's throat.

  Lester fired two more times as he dropped to his knees, the bullets burrowing into the rafters. He dropped his pistol then and clutched at his ruined throat with both hands in a futile attempt to stop the flow of blood.

  Frank stood over him, watching him die. “Idiot,” he snarled. He dropped the knife and bent over to retrieve the gun. He waited, watching Lester trying to breathe. His throat made wet whistling sounds as the pool of blood on the floor spread ever wider.

  “Are you okay?”

  Frank looked up to see Dianne just off to his left. Her face was pale and she looked scared out of her wits.

  “I'm fine.” He raised an arm, beckoning her closer. When she step
ped up beside him he draped his arm around her shoulders. “How are you?”

  She nodded, staring down at Lester. He had collapsed and appeared to be almost finished bleeding out. “Okay, I guess.”

  “Sorry about the drama. I refuse to allow myself to be taken advantage of.”

  “I see that.”

  He could feel her trembling beneath his arm. “It's alright, Dianne. It was god's will.”

  “You killed him.”

  “Yes.”

  “You didn't get your meth.”

  “No. Although he may have been holding out for some reason.”

  She stared down at the dying man, her emotions reeling. “I don't think meth is a good idea anyway. Maybe you're better off without it.”

  Frank nodded. “That's probably true. Would you like to help me search him?”

  He felt her stiffen. “I...”

  “It's alright.” Frank gently removed his arm. “You work on getting your bearings while I retrieve what's rightfully ours.”

  As Dianne watched, Frank stooped over Lester's corpse and dragged it across the floor several feet so that he wasn't standing in any blood. Then he got to his knees and began searching through the dead man's pockets.

  The cocaine was easy to find. He pulled it from the sweatshirt pocket and tossed it over to Dianne. “Have you ever tried coke?”

  She caught the little bundle and examined it. “Actually, I have. A few times. I never cared for it much.”

  “It can be a real treat.”

  “So I've heard.”

  Frank continued to search. He found his $3,200 in Lester's back pocket and transferred it to his own. The other back pocket contained Lester's wallet. Frank opened it and removed the cash. He counted it quickly, coming up with $273. He pocketed the money and tossed the wallet to Dianne. “Could you get rid of this? It would be safer for us if he had no ID on him.”

  She held the wallet, not liking the feel of the warm leather in her hands. “Alright.”

  Frank resumed his investigation of Lester's pockets. He found no more money, and no meth, although Lester did have a partial sheet of blotter in a plastic bag tucked into his shirt pocket. Frank studied it curiously. “Son of a bitch. I haven't seen this in years.”

  “What is it?”

  “LSD. Blue unicorns. There are eighteen hits here.”

  “None for me, thanks.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Dianne chewed her lip. “I'm pretty sure. I've never actually tried it.”

  “I think you should.” He looked down at the acid. “But not today. We've got far too much to do.” He slipped it into his pocket and stood up.

  “What should I do with his wallet?”

  “Just hang onto it for now. Actually...” He stepped over to her and took the wallet and cocaine. “I'll take care of this. Do you think you could help me move him?”

  She was still trembling. Her world had turned upside down again. “Where to?”

  “Just the basement.” He returned to the altar and set down his things. “With any luck, his death will eventually be charged to McKenzie.”

  Dianne stepped closer to the corpse. “Alright.” She wasn't sure she liked this new life of hers. She had a lot of thinking to do.

  When Frank returned, he bent over and grabbed one of Lester's ankles. “Let's just drag him. It will be easier, and we can mop up the trail later.”

  12. Preparations

  After Lester's body had been stashed in the basement alongside a pile of forgotten and deteriorating roofing material, Dianne offered to mop the sanctuary floor while Frank went out to move the man's vehicle. It was a black VW Rabbit, just starting to show rust. Frank had Lester's keys with him, and he spent a few minutes searching the trunk and glove box before moving the car. He knew there could very well be a secret compartment somewhere, but he had no idea where and didn't want to spend the rest of the afternoon searching. The only things of interest he found were a partial box of ammunition for the pistol and another, smaller bag of marijuana which was hidden inside the spare tire compartment. He pocketed both and then drove the car two blocks away, parking it in a residential area. He left the door unlocked and the keys in the ignition.

  As he was walking back to the church it occurred to him that he needed a car. He stopped momentarily and thought of going back. He couldn't decide. It all depended on whether or not Dianne was going to accompany him and how reliable her vehicle was.

  He made his way back to the church, intent upon asking her.

  When he arrived back at the sanctuary he found a clean, wet floor and no sign of Dianne. It concerned him that the door had been left unlocked and all his money and drugs unattended on the altar. He took a minute to collect his things and bring them to his room.

  Upon entering his apartment, Frank was slightly surprised to find Dianne resting comfortably on his bed. She opened her eyes and regarded him as he closed the door.

  “I hope I'm not intruding,” she said. “I just felt like taking a little rest.”

  “It's fine,” he assured her. He set the money and drugs down on his desk. “Why don't you take a little nap? You must be exhausted.”

  She propped her head up on one hand. “You must be, too.”

  “I don't sleep much. The meth... it's very difficult.”

  “You really ought to give that up. It's nothing but bad news.”

  “It's not without its problems,” he admitted. “Although I miss it terribly when I'm forced to go without it.”

  “That's because you're an addict,” she said bluntly.

  He nodded. “Perhaps. Or perhaps god intended for me to experience its effects on a long-term basis.”

  Dianne groaned and lay back on the bed. “You don't really believe that, do you?”

  “I'm not sure what to believe.”

  “I think you should quit using it. It could be a sign from god that your dealer didn't bring any.” She sat up quickly. “You didn't find any in his car, did you?”

  “No such luck.”

  “Good.” She lay back down.

  “So you're giving me advice now?”

  She stared at him, her emotions a confused jumble of contradictions. “I don't mean to. I'm just trying to help you. I think you'd be better off without it.”

  “I know I would be. It's very rough on the system.” He glanced at the newly acquired baggies on his desk. “Maybe the cocaine will be enough. At least for now.”

  Dianne muttered softly and closed her eyes again.

  Frank sat down on the edge of the bed, looking down at her. “Before your nap, may I ask you a quick question?”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you thought any more about what you'd like to do? That is, in regards to coming along with me?”

  She smiled up at him. “I can't stop thinking about it.”

  “Well? Have you reached a decision?”

  She took a moment to respond. “It scares me a lot to even consider it. You scare me, after what I saw you do to that dealer.”

  “That was highly unusual,” Frank said. “I've never killed a drug dealer before.”

  “No, but you've killed other people, haven't you?”

  He shrugged. “Not many. And they all deserved it. Just like your good friend Cliff.”

  That touched a nerve and Dianne looked away.

  “I'm sorry. I just mean that sometimes god requires us to go to extremes. It's not something that should necessarily be held against us.”

  “I see.”

  “Do you?” He stared into her eyes, worrying that he might have lost her trust.

  “I don't know. I'm so confused.”

  “Wou
ld you prefer not to accompany me?”

  “I didn't say that. I keep... going back and forth in my mind. I'm scared to go with you, because I don't know what's going to happen. But I'm scared not to, because...”

  “Because what?”

  She sighed. “If I go back to work, and back to my shitty little life... I don't know... I think I might end up doing something stupid.”

  Frank gently brushed a stray lock of hair out of her eyes. “Such as?”

  “I've always been kind of suicidal. I know for a fact I'd regret it if I didn't go with you.”

  “Then come with me.”

  She nodded. “I'm scared to do it, and I'm scared not to. If I don't go with you, I doubt I'd go back to work. I'd probably just end up staying home and drinking until... I don't know...”

  “There's nothing wrong with drinking, unless you're doing it because you're depressed.”

  “I would be depressed. I'd keep thinking about where you are and what you're doing. And I'd just be lying on the couch getting drunk. And after a few days of that I'd probably end up getting my old noose down from... where I keep it... on the top shelf of my bedroom closet...”

  Frank lay down beside her. Dianne moved closer to the wall to make room for him. He slipped an arm beneath her neck and she leaned closer, rolling onto her side and placing a hand on his chest.

  “Dianne...forget the noose.”

  Her eyes shimmered in the fading light. “I want to forget it. I've been thinking about it almost constantly for the past month or so.”

  “Come with me and you will. I promise.”

  She picked absently at his collar. “I want to come with you. I'm just... scared of what's going to happen.”

  “What do you want to happen?”

  “I don't know. I'm so confused I can't stand it.”

  “Life is what you make of it. You can do whatever you want.”

  “Life is a horror. I've always hated it and I think I always will.”

  Frank pulled her closer. “Life is not the horror, Dianne. Being forced to exist within society is the horror.”

  She thought about it. “And if I went with you...”