Shame the Devil Read Online Free PDF Page A

shirt-and-slacks arrangement with matching brown
     weave shoes. He had tied his hair back tightly in a ponytail and wore wire-rimmed shades that darkened in the light.
    Otis smiled when Farrow walked back into the room. “Lookin’ all Clark Kent on me now.”
    “You take your share?”
    “I took it.” Otis picked up his pack. “Too bad about that pizza boy. I know he would have talked when it got hot. Shame, though,
     we had to do him like we did.”
    “We
did
have to. Come on.”
    “Okay, amigo,” said Farrow as he and Otis reentered the garage. “Come on over here.”
    Jaime ground a live butt under his boot and followed Manuel to where the hard men stood. Farrow chin-nodded in the direction
     of two cars parked in the back of the garage.
    “That us?” said Farrow.
    “Yes,” said Manuel. “The Taurus is yours.”
    “I ask for a shitwagon?” said Farrow.
    “You asked for something that would not attract attention,” said Manuel. “The body is rough, I admit. I did not touch the
     metal.”
    “Does it run?”
    “It will run, yes. It’s a SHO. I took the identifying bumper off. It looks quiet, like an old man’s car. But it is very quick.
     Redline it if you wish.”
    “How about mine?” said Otis, looking at the two-tone brown-and-beige ’79 Mark V parked beside the Taurus.
    “The Bill Blass model,” said Manuel, a glint in his eye. “What you asked for. Under the hood is —”
    “I ain’t never gonna look under the hood, Man-you-el, you know that. Will it take me across country?”
    “Were it not for the ocean, it would take you around the world.”
    “What about the sounds? You put that unit in I was tellin’ you about?”
    “Yes. You load the disks in the trunk.”
    Otis said, “Always wanted me a box like that, too.”
    Farrow reached into the duffel bag and tossed a thick stack of bills to Manuel. “Count it with your fingers,” said Farrow.
     “Go ahead.”
    Manuel went through the money.
    Farrow looked at Jaime and said, “Now you.”
    Jaime shrugged, took the money from Manuel, licked his thumb and forefinger elaborately, and counted the bills.
    Farrow said, “It’s what we agreed upon, no?”
    Manuel regarded Farrow and nodded slowly.
    “Give it here,” said Farrow, and when Jaime handed him the money he said, “I’ll just keep this stack as a souvenir. It’s got
     your fingerprints on it — in case there’s any question of who was involved in what.”
    “We’ll keep it on file,” said Otis, “just like the FBI.”
    “But let me make this clear,” said Farrow, “in case you get the feeling you want to unburden your conscience.”
    “You don’ haf to worry,” said Manuel.
    “Let him make it clear,” said Otis.
    “Well, we all know the code. I mean, we all came up the same way. But to remind you… You and Jaime, you ever feel the need
     to talk, I want you to remember something —”
    “Let me tell this part, Frank,” said Otis.
    “Go ahead.”
    “You talk,” said Otis, “we’re just gonna have to go ahead and fuck up your families.
Comprende?
”
    “Is no problem,” said Manuel, shaking his head, his eyes closed solemnly.
    “Didn’t think it would be,” said Otis.
    Farrow tossed a new stack of money to Manuel. “That’s yours to keep. Count it.”
    “I trust you,” said Manuel, and Otis laughed.
    “The keys under the mats?” said Farrow.
    Manuel nodded. Farrow and Otis began to walk away.
    “What would you have us do with the man in the trunk?” Manuel asked.
    Farrow turned. “You keep old car batteries here, right?”
    “Yes.”
    “Do this: Drop a battery on his mouth until his teeth are busted out.”
    “Now wait —”
    “Pour battery acid on his face and fingers. Cut his head and his limbs off, and bury his pieces in different spots. Bury the
     guns and the gloves as well.”
    “But… he is your
brother.
”
    Farrow did not reply. He and Otis walked to the cars.
    “That fingerprints-on-the-money thing,” said Otis.