The Invisible Hand - A crime novel

Chapter 18

"What's your name?" Les says to me.

"Wil. With one L," I say.

"Wil, huh? OK," Les says. He points his cane at Sam. "And what's your name?"

"Sam," she says.

"Great. You two been in town here long?" Les says. Pulls out a silver flask. Takes a hit. Shakes it at Sam and me. "Little breakfast in a bottle?"

The flask catches the sun. It's like the Star of Bethlehem. Could go for an eye-opener.

Les passes it to me. I take a swig or three. Give it to Sam. She shakes her head.

"Never touch the stuff," she says.

"I suppose you like weed. Is that right, Dreadilocks? That's illegal here," Les says. Grins.

"So is drinking in a public park," Sam says.

"My park. My rules," Les says.

I wag the flask at Sam. She refuses. I pass it back to Les. His expression changes. More serious. More direct.

"It's not too early for math, is it?" Les says. "Let's see. You slept on my bench. You beat the shit out of three of my guys. You drank my booze. And you're holding my money. What do you suppose that equals?"

Then he says something about us owing him. I don't hear much. The booze goes straight to my head.

Something pops. I physically hear it inside my head. Like a knot pulling tight that explodes.

I hear my father. "Find something you're good at. Then do it every day."

I hear Joe. "Seriously."

Only I know he didn't say that. His coffee mug says that. His keychain says that. When did he say that? Did he ever?

Doesn't matter. My body burns off the short buzz. And there's a cane in my ribs.

"You still with us?" Les says.

"Yeah, yeah. What were you saying?" I say.

"Before I can offer you a job, a really good one, you need to make things right with me. You and your girlfriend owe me. But I'll make it easy for you two, show you I'm a good guy. Go around the fairgrounds. Pick up trash. Anyone asks, say you're with a church," Les says.

I study the two hay bales flanking Les. They're on edge. Ready to tackle us.

"You're hiring us to pick up trash?" I say.

"Not really. You're paying off a debt now," Les says. Laughs. "Lesson number one. Never, ever take a handout from a stranger. That's how they get you. Rope you in. Everyone knows that."

"Aren't there park people for that?" Sam says.

"You really think they keep a full-time grounds crew? Not when a person could be printing money on the Bakken. Just like every other shitty service job out here," Les says. "Someone's gotta fill in the gaps. People come from all across North America just to clean my park. Imagine that."

Sam gets up from the bench. Jerky when she does it. Like she's ready to run. Shoots me a look. Like I should join her.

The hay bales grab me. One clamps my right arm. The other takes my left. Les wheels over. Reaches into my pocket. Pulls out my truck keys.

"What the fuck?" Sam says.

She pulls the knife from her sleeve. Les is already on her. There's a crack as the cane meets her hand. It goes invisible as her hand retreats up her sleeve.

The knife drops to the ground. One of the hay bales picks it up.

"Look, I'm trying to be a good guy here. You're making it hard with that knife," Les says. He pockets the keys. "I'll give them back when you're done cleaning the park. Then you're free to go."

The hay bales toss me to the ground. Les places the tip of the cane on my throat.

"See to it you do a good job," Les says.

Sam helps me up after Les relents. Uses her good hand. The bad one slips out from her sleeve. Looks plump and purple. Like a beet.

"We'll be back later," Les says. Starts wheeling off with the others. "Oh, and you might want to stay out of sight. People around here don't like trash in their parks."

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