The Invisible Hand - A crime novel

Chapter 62

"And to think I was just starting to like you two."

Les is more mobile the colder is gets. His wheelchair gains traction on the frozen ground.

He's here now. Two guys with shoulders like bulls in tow. Mean looking sons of bitches. Got a couple shotguns of their own. A sneer that says they're disappointed the shooting's already stopped.

Les whips his cane out. Bends at it. Too furious to finish sentences.

"Someone want to tell me just what...what the hell...what...damn it," he says.

Les made it clear from the beginning. He owns the monopoly on violence. No fight goes unapproved. Even the little scuffles. It's where he gets his power. His authority.

I try to say something. Les cuts me off.

"There's no unapproved shooting inside the camp. Go out on the prairie if you want to shoot. It's for everyone's safety," Les says. Aims the cane at the scrawny guy. Doc is administering some unorthodox pain relief. "Because this is what happens. Now I'm down a guy. Someone explain to me what happened here."

I glance at the scrawny guy's arms. They still cradle the shotgun.

"It's pretty clear we weren't the ones shooting. Your boy here tripped and fired. The shotgun barrel was muddy. The clog blew up in his face. He's lucky to be alive," I say.

Or not. The scrawny guy wails as Doc helps him onto the tailgate of a pickup truck. Serves as the Man Camp ambulance.

Les shakes his head. Sighs.

"That shit-for-brains had it coming. Never was one to be careful," Les says.

He motions with the cane to Doc. Doc digs in the scrawny guy's pockets. Holds up a small baggie. Then another. And another. Until there's a whole pile on the ground.

"Just like I thought," Les says. "He's been buying up all my supply. Reselling it for a profit. It's fine to use, but not to sell in my Man Camp. I told him to quit it. That you'd have to be stupid to compete with me. Guess he just proved me right."

The "ambulance" drives off. It's a bumpy ride. The scrawny guy vocalizes each frozen rut.

I figure we're done here. Les doesn't agree.

"What were you two doing with him?" he says. Points his cane at us.

"Just picking up trash," I say.

"And then what? He comes over to say hi?" Les says.

"I guess so. One minute we're working. Next thing I know, the shotgun goes off," I say.

Les wheels in close.

"You weren't buying dope off him?" Les says. "Because buying dope from a reseller is as bad as crossing me to sell it. No difference."

"Never touched the stuff," I say.

Sam shakes her head.

Les aims his cane. It's pointing some place I wish it didn't.

"Prove it. Empty your pockets," he says.

"Come on, Les. We wouldn't buy meth anyway. We don't do hard drugs," I say.

Les jabs his cane at my jacket.

"Open up. Empty those pockets," he says.

Sam stays stoic as I show Les my pockets. Tug the contents out. I'm expecting him to be satisfied. But I see the opposite look on his face.

I follow his eyes to the ground. There's a small, square baggie at my feet.

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