The Man With the Barbed-Wire Fists

FIVE

The banker, Milt Rosewell, daubed his forehead with a rumpled handkerchief. “As I said before, Sheriff, they didn’t really do anything… but if you’d seen them.”

Dwight patted the little man on the shoulder. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight, Milt,” he said. “About twenty minutes ago, twelve guys on motorcycles pulled up in front of the bank — ”

“Right.” The banker pointed at the entranceway. “They came right through those doors. Every one of them with a star tattooed on the back of one hand. And they didn’t actually do anything. Well… that’s not quite right. They asked several questions.”

“Like what?” Lily Pine wanted to know.

“Well… they asked if the moon would be full this evening. I didn’t answer, of course, because I didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. And then they asked if I’d even seen what a two-hundred pound timber wolf could do to a rabbit, and I have to admit that I got a little nervous.”

“So they threatened you?” Dwight asked.

“Well, it was obviously more than a question, but I’m not quite sure if I’d say that it was actually a threat.”

Lily sighed. “What are you trying to do, Sheriff? Catch these crazies on some legal technicality? You can’t handle the one you’ve got locked up. How do you expect to handle twelve more?”

“Look, Lily, I appreciate the help and all, but let me handle this by myself, okay?”

‘You want me to take my shotgun and go home, is that it?”

Dwight sighed. All right. Little Miss I-can-drive-better-than-you-can wanted an answer. Fine. He’d give her an answer.

But before he could, the bank doors swung open, and a redhead wearing a black dress, mourning veil, and sunglasses stepped into the bank. It was Angela Rosewell, the banker’s wife.

“Angela,” the banker said. “Darling… you should be resting.”

“Shut up, Milt. Speedy Gonzalez is dead and he ain’t coming back, so get used to the idea.” Mrs. Rosewell turned to the sheriff. “Are you ready for some good news, Dwight?”

“Sure.”

“I’m dropping the charges,” the banker’s wife said. “So you can let that Chihuahua-eating son of a bitch out of your jail, and maybe we can have a little peace and quiet around here.”

Dwight shook his head. “I can’t do that, Angela. Threats have been made.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Did you ever see Rio Bravo?”

“Yeah,” the banker’s wife said. “Did you ever see The Wild One Meets the Teenage Werewolf”

“There’s no such movie.”

“That’s my point, Dwight.”

Dwight pushed through the banks double doors and started down the deserted street. Things were real quiet. So quiet that if he’d worn spurs, he would have heard them jingle-jangle.

He crossed the street and stopped short in front of Liz Bentley’s barber shop. He wasn’t thinking straight. He was starting to think just as crazy as everybody else in town. Christ, if only he’d managed some sleep in the last forty-eight hours, but those two days had been just as crazy as the weeks — and months — that had come before them.

He sighed. Fine. If he was going to act crazy, he might as well go whole hog. He pushed through the barbershop door. Liz was sitting in the big chair, reading a confessions magazine.

“That silver razor of yours,” Dwight said. “Can I borrow it?”

“Take a load off,” Liz offered, standing up. “I’d consider it my civic duty to do the job for you, Sheriff. I don’t mind telling you that you look pretty shaky. I’m afraid you’d cut your own throat.”

“It’s not that,” Dwight said. “I don’t need a shave. I need some answers, and I need them fast.”

Liz nodded. “I get it. Lon Chaney, Junior kind of stuff, right?”

“Right.”

“Well, sit down for a minute just the same. Let me get this thing good and sharp for you.”

A few minutes later, Dwight hit the streets once again.

No one in sight. Not much to hear, either. No gunning motorcycles. Only the sound of his footsteps.

He passed the diner and crossed the street to the jail. The kid’s motorcycle sat in the side lot, and Dwight grinned at the sight of it.

He flicked open Liz’s straight razor. Polished silver caught the gleam of the sun. The werewolf had stood up to Vin Miller’s fists, but Dwight wondered what the kid would do when he caught sight of a silver razor. Maybe he’d sing a different tune.

Dwight didn’t like Vin Miller, and he liked Vin Miller’s methods even less, but right now he needed some answers.

And right now, he wasn’t going to let like get in the way of need.

Dwight came through the door and saw Deputies Hastings and Rutherford with their hands in the air.

Then he saw the guns.

“Shit,” was all he said.

And the next thing he knew, he was locked up in a cell.