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Authors: Elmore Leonard

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Freaky Deaky (26 page)

BOOK: Freaky Deaky
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30

“The tricky part,”
Chris said, “you have to figure out how much wire to use. You run an exposed wire from the dynamite and hook it to the underside of the desktop in a loop. Then you run your insulated wire to the inside of the front of the drawer, staple it there and run it back through the loop, with about three inches of insulation at the end of the wire peeled off. See, then when you open the drawer it pulls the wire through till the exposed end touches the loop and completes the circuit.”

Donnell said, “You understand that, Mr. Woody?”

Woody, eating his cereal with the TV on but the sound off, said, “What?”

It was the following Sunday morning. Chris had stopped by to ask Donnell a question.

He was saying now, “There’s a little more to it. With the drawer open you lay a sheet of paper between the two wires, ’cause in that position the exposed parts would be touching. Then, it’s like this,”
Chris said, demonstrating. “You pull the sheet out as you push the drawer closed. You want, I can draw you a picture how it works.”

“No, that’s all right,” Donnell said. He poured coffee for Chris and refilled Woody’s cup, saying, “We be in the other room, Mr. Woody. Call, you need anything.”

Chris followed Donnell through the butler’s pantry.

“He has Jimmy Swaggart on but no sound.”

“Mr. Woody don’t like to hear Jimmy preach, it scares the shit out of him. But, see, ‘The Lone Ranger’ come on right after. Next hour or so he’ll call me Tonto. I said to him, ‘Mr. Woody, remember that new will me and you made up?’ Looks at me, says, ‘What new will?’ ”

They walked through the front hall to the library and stood in the doorway to look at the shattered interior, the ceiling scorched, books ripped from the shelves.

“You haven’t done anything,” Chris said.

“I’m getting bids on the work. Don’t have one yet that pleases me.”

Chris said, “I’ll bet there’s still some of Robin in there.”

“Man, she was all over the library, huh? Didn’t Skippy say something to you?”

“He opened his eyes. I think he said, ‘Oh, shit,’ but I could barely hear him.”

Donnell said, “Yeah, well. . . .” Sipped his coffee and said, “How you doing with Ginger?”

“You mean Greta. She went out to L.A., try and get in the movies. She makes it, I can say I helped finance her career. In a way, I mean. I gave her the check Woody gave me.”

“Get out.”

“I wasn’t gonna keep it and Woody didn’t have any more checks, so . . . what’s the difference?”

“The difference between being smart and dumb as shit,” Donnell said, “is what the difference is. Man, I don’t believe it. You out of work, you give money away.”

“There’s a good chance I’m going back, get in Homicide . . . after this hearing tomorrow. They want to ask me a few questions.”

“I bet they do.”

“There’s one area where I might have a problem. See, I’ve talked to them already during the investigation—you know how they go after all the little details. They want to know where I got the dynamite; I said it was in the house. They say, Okay, but why did you go there? I tell them, To pick up Greta. They say, Oh? With a gun? And I just said, without thinking, What gun?”

“Not saying you didn’t have one.”

“Unh-unh, I said, What gun?”

“I ’magine they mean the one I found blown
clear out in the yard and give to a policeman. That funny gun.”

“That’s what I was afraid might’ve happened.”

“So you have to explain why a laid-off cop is walking around with a piece, huh? Like what was your intent?”

“I kept it at work, but I never used it on duty.”

“Tell ’em you were taking it home.”

“And just happened to have it,” Chris said and thought about it a moment. “That’s not bad.”

The Extras

I.  
ALL BY ELMORE: THE CRIME NOVELS; THE WESTERNS

 

II.  
SELECTED FILMOGRAPHY

 

III.  
IF IT SOUNDS LIKE WRITING, REWRITE IT

 

V.  
MARTIN AMIS INTERVIEWS “THE DICKENS OF DETROIT”

This section was prepared by the editorial staff of HarperCollins e-books, who thank
Mr. Gregg Sutter
, Elmore Leonard’s longtime researcher and aide-de-camp, for his unstinting support and help in the assembling of this material.

Further riches await the reader at the website that Mr. Sutter maintains, www.elmoreleonard.com, and in “The Extras” sections of other HarperCollins editions of Elmore Leonard’s novels (“All by Elmore” and “Selected Filmography” come standard in each e-book).

All by Elmore

The Crime Novels

The Big Bounce
(1969);
Mr. Majestyk
(1974);
52 Pickup
(1974);
Swag
*
(1976);
Unknown Man #89
(1977);
The Hunted
(1977);
The Switch
(1978);
City Primeval: High Noon in Detroit
(1980);
Gold Coast
(1980);
Split Images
(1981);
Cat Chaser
(1982);
Stick
(1983);
LaBrava
(1983);
Glitz
(1985);
Bandits
(1987);
Touch
(1987);
Freaky Deaky
(1988);
Killshot
(1989);
Get Shorty
(1990);
Maximum Bob
(1991);
Rum Punch
(1992);
Pronto
(1993);
Riding the Rap
(1995);
Out of Sight
(1996);
Be Cool
(1999);
Pagan Babies
(2000);
“Fire in the Hole”
*
(e-book original story, 2001);
Tishomingo Blues
(2002);
When the Women Come Out to Dance: Stories
(2002).

The Westerns

The Bounty Hunters
*
(1953);
The Law at Randado
*
(1954);
Escape from Five Shadows
*
(1956);
Last Stand at Saber River
*
(1959);
Hombre
*
(1961);
The Moonshine War
*
(1969);
Valdez Is Coming
*
(1970);
Forty Lashes Less One
*
(1972);
Gunsights
*
(1979)
Cuba Libre
(1998);
The Tonto Woman and Other Western Stories
*
(1998).

As of November 2002:
Unless otherwise indicated (*), all titles are available from HarperCollins e-books. All titles are available in print form in dazzling new editions by HarperTorch paperbacks, with the exception of:
The Moonshine War
(1969);
Swag
(1976); “Fire in the Hole” (2001). “Fire in the Hole” is available within HarperCollins e-book and William Morrow hardcover editions of
When the Women Come Out to Dance
(2002).

The Crime Novels

The Big Bounce
(1969)

Jack Ryan always wanted to play pro ball. But he couldn’t hit a curveball, so he turned his attention to less legal pursuits. A tough guy who likes walking the razor’s edge, he’s just met his match — and more — in Nancy. She’s a rich man’s plaything, seriously into thrills and risk, and together she and Jack are pure heat ready to explode. But when simple housebreaking and burglary give way to the deadly pursuit of a
really
big score, the stakes suddenly skyrocket. Because violence and double-cross are the name of this game — and it’s going to take every ounce of cunning Jack and Nancy possess to survive . . . each other.

Houston Chronicle
: “[Leonard is] a sage poet of crime.”

From the novel:

She was facing him now, her cold look gone and smiling a little. Of course it’s loaded.

“You going to shoot something?”

“We could. Windows are good.”

“So you brought a gun to shoot at windows.”

“And boats. Boats are fun.”

“I imagine they would be. How about cars?”

“I didn’t think about cars.” She seemed pleasantly surprised. “Isn’t that funny?

“Yeah that is funny.”

“There’s a difference,” Ryan said, “between breaking and entering and armed robbery.”

“And there’s a difference between seventy-eight dollars and fifty thousand dollars.”

Nancy said, “How badly do you want it?”

Mr. Majestyk
(1974)

Vincent Majestyk saw too much death in the jungles of Southeast Asia. All he wants to do now is farm his melons and forget. But peace can be an elusive commodity, even in the Arizona hinterlands — and especially when the local mob is calling all
the shots. And one quiet, proud man’s refusal to be strong-armed by a powerful hood is about to start a violent chain reaction that will leave Mr. Majestyk ruined, in shackles, and without a friend in the world — except for one tough and beautiful woman. But his tormentors never realized something about their mark: This is not his first war. Vince Majestyk knows more than they’ll ever know about survival . . . and everything about revenge.

Bergen Record
: “First rate . . . an excellent thriller . . . well-plotted and smoothly written and crackles with suspense.”

From the novel:

Majestyk was running across the open scrub, weaving through the dusty brush clumps, by the time Renda got out of the car and began firing at him with the automatic, both hands extended in the handcuffs. Majestyk kept running. Renda jumped across the ditch, got to the fence, and laid the .45 on the top of a post, aimed, and squeezed the trigger three times, but the figure out in the scrub was too small now and it would have to be a lucky shot to bring him down. He fired once more and the automatic clicked empty.

Seventy, eighty yards away, Majestyk finally came to a stop, worn out, getting his breath. He turned to look at the man standing by the fence post and, for a while, they stared at one another, each knowing who the other man was and what he felt and not having to say anything. Renda crossed the ditch to the Jag and Majestyk watched it drive away.

52 Pickup
(1974)

Detroit businessman Harry Mitchell had had only one affair in his twenty-two years of happy matrimony. Unfortunately someone caught his indiscretion on film and now wants Harry to fork over one hundred grand to keep his infidelity a secret. And if Harry doesn’t pay up, the blackmailer and his associates plan to press a lot harder — up to and including homicide, if necessary. But the psychos picked the wrong pigeon for their murderous scam. Because Harry Mitchell doesn’t get mad . . . he gets even.

Chicago Tribune
: “A splendid thriller.”

From the novel:

The Gray Line sightseeing bus was approaching the foot of Woodward Avenue when Bobby Shy started up the aisle in his light-gray business suit and sun-glasses, past the thirty-six heads he had counted from his seat in the rear. They were mostly couples, out-of-town conventioneers and their wives, middle-aged or older, almost all of them wearing glasses and name tags.

“That beautiful structure on the left is the City-Country Building,” the driver was saying into the mike clipped to his lapel. “And the statue in front is the world-famous ‘Spirit of Detroit.’ Sitting there, that man is sixteen feet high and weighs over sixteen thousand pounds. Ahead of us now you see the Detroit River.”

As the bus turned left onto Jefferson, heads raised and gazes shifted to look at the river and dismal gray skyline beyond.

“Across the way, beautiful downtown Windsor, Ontario,” the drive said. “You can get over to Canada by tunnel or bridge. There used to be a ferry, but I believe he was arrested some time back. The amazing thing is that, at this particular point, Canada is south of the United States.”

At the front of the bus now Bobby Shy ducked his head to look out. Straightening again he reached inside the jacket of his light-gray business suit, came out with a .38 Colt Special and placed the barrel gently against the driver’s ear.

“Give me the mike, man,” Bobby Shy said.

Swag
(1976)

Three guys with illegal expertise, a plan to snag a tax-free hundred grand, and a taste of summertime Detroit’s sweet life. But it means committing armed robbery. And being smart enough to get away with it.

Publishers Weekly
: “An electrifying novel . . . with a murderous, well-timed suspenseful finale.”

The New York Times
: “Leonard is nobody’s follower, and he has a style of his own. “Swag” is one of the best of the year.”

From the novel:

There was a photograph of Frank in an ad that ran in the
Detroit Free Press
and showed all the friendly salesmen at Red Bowers Chevrolet. Under his
photo it said Frank J. Ryan. He had on a nice smile, a styled moustache, and a summer-weight suit made out of that material that’s shiny and looks like it has snags in it.

There was a photograph of Stick on file at 1300 Beaubein, Detroit Police Headquarters. Under the photo it said Ernest Stickley, Jr. 89037. He had on a sport shirt that had sailboats and palm trees on it. He’d bought it in Pompano Beach, Florida.

The first time they ever saw each other was the night at Red Bowers Chevrolet Telegraph when Stick was pulling out of the used car lot in the maroon ’73 Camaro. Frank walked up to the side window as the car stopped before turning out on the street. He said, “You mind if I ask where you are going?”

Unknown Man #89
(1977)

Detroit process server Jack Ryan has a reputation for being the best in the business at finding people who don’t want to be found. Now he’s looking for a missing stockholder known only as “Unknown Man #89.” But his missing man isn’t “unknown” to everyone: a pretty blonde hates his guts and a very nasty dude named Royal wants him dead in the worst way. Which is very unfortunate for Jack
Ryan, who is suddenly caught in the crossfire of a lethal triple-cross and as much a target as his nameless prey.

The New York Times Book Review
: “Remarkably ingenious . . . Will keep you on the edge of your chair.”

BOOK: Freaky Deaky
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ads

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