Yardbird

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Yardbird - book excerpt

One

Old man Spiff snarled at Scratch Williams and spat in the fire. The flames rose from the mixture of gin and saliva. Scratch plucked at his glass eye uneasily, took out the black marble, and then put it back in. He couldn’t figure out whether the damn thing was making him uncomfortable or Spiff was. Regardless, the hole where his left eye used to be was twitching something awful.

A piece of paper was at Scratch’s feet. A memo addressed to Spiff and signed by his lawyer, Dan Lowery. Without bending down to pick it up, Scratch could make out only three words on the paper because of the badly lit room. Cherry Tree Hill.

“Mr Spiff,” Scratch said, wringing his hands. “I took care of Gilmore and that bunch trying to unionize…”

“Ray Gardner!” Spiff screamed. “I don… I don’t care about Gilmore and those… yo-yos in the union! I want Ray Gardner gone!”

“Mr Spiff, with all due respect, I’m a little sick of chasing your daughter’s boyfriends out of town…”

“I don’t give a shit what you do, yardbird,” Spiff pointed a crooked finger at Scratch. “I want that son of a bitch out of my town.”

“I haven’t seen the man do anything wrong…”

“He fucked my daughter!”

Scratch cringed, not just at the word, but at the old man’s use of it in terms of his own relation. He didn’t like Spiff very much. He didn’t like working for the Pinnacle board of trustees. He didn’t much like yardbirdin’ either, but it sure as hell beat working in the cotton fields – or oil fields, for that matter. Oliver Spiff owned Odarko just like he owned Reliance Oil. Reliance was one of six companies that set up shop in the Tri-county area of southwest Oklahoma.

“I think that’s just gossip, Spiff,” Scratch said.

The old man looked him up and down.

“Gossip can be gospel, yardbird,” Spiff said. He limped away from the fireplace and sat in his oversized velvet chair. He poured himself another drink, Scotch this time. “I don’t care what it is, from the mouth of babes to the pope, whores talkin’ dirty, lies or truth. I want Ray Gardner out of my town dead or alive. Do what I pay you to do, yardbird.”

Scratch made a face, and murmured: “Son of a bitch.” He placed his hat on his head and sighed. “Yes sir.”

“Gardner’s staying at the Primrose,” Spiff said. He watched Scratch pick up a yellow envelope from the end table. “There’s three hundred bucks and a one-way ticket. Put him on a train to California.”

“Three hundred bucks? You payin’ him off?”

“I ain’t payin’ him off, you moron! That’s six weeks’ wages.”

“Why not the bus? You usually throw ’em on the bus…”

“Don’t worry about what I usually do! Just get this done, yardbird. And don’t tell Shep about this.”

That was odd. Shep Howard was Spiff’s boy, and the sheriff of Odarko. Shep used to be the Yardbird for Spiff and Pinnacle back in the thirties. Doing all the dirty work for old rich assholes, everything from making oil rig boys behave to handling blackmail and spying on husbands and wives cheating on each other. Not for the faint-hearted.

That all changed when Shep caught the silver hammer killer. One of the oil rig boys went nutty and started slamming women in the head, tying up the bodies to beds with their own stockings and defiling them. Shep caught the guy in the act, shot him three times in the chest. The man died with his dick in his hands. The woman he was defiling didn’t die from her wounds but she did wake up in time to see what he was doing. Katlin Grove hadn’t been the same ever since. So Pinnacle made Shep Sheriff. He’d been at that post for 15 years. He was a trusted company man. Why wouldn’t he want Shep to know about the usual deal of running Maggie Spiff’s boyfriends out of town?

“OK, Spiff,” Scratch said. “I won’t say a word to Shep.”

The old man looked sour. “You’re damned right you won’t.” He drained his glass and smacked his lips. “Or I’ll get a new yardbird to get rid of you.”

Two

Maggie Spiff stood at the top of the stairs looking like a statue of a Greek goddess, her arms folded around her abundant cleavage. Her tangled brown hair was up in a bun, one strand hanging down past her big brown eyes. She was in a green silk nightgown that clung to the ideal body that represented bombshell beauties of those days. Her mother’s Italian features showed through in Maggie. It was a fact that Oliver Spiff had been traveling in Italy to make a deal with the powers that ran that boot land to bring his father’s custom suits there. Spiff met Maggie’s mother and practically shanghaied her to Texas.

She ran off more times the Texas Rangers or the OHP could count. Every time they’d catch up with Isabella, she was shacked up with somebody else. Which is how Maggie was born. As everyone suspected, Maggie’s real father was half-black, half-Kichai Indian. Another fact, Oliver Spiff had the Texas Rangers kill Isabella’s boyfriend.

Nine months later, Maggie was born.

Scratch looked up at her. They locked eyes. She smirked and let out a long sigh.

“You doin’ my daddy’s dirty work again?”

“I’m always doing you daddy’s dirty work,” Scratch said.

“Mmm.” Maggie nodded. “Because of little old me, I suppose.”

Scratch put his fedora on his balding head. “It’s always about you, Miss Maggie.”

She shrugged. “Can’t get through this life without raisin’ some hell.”

“Ah. Yes. That might be true.” Scratch laughed. “So, uh, Miss Maggie?”

“Yes, Mr Williams?”

“Just to let you know… that truck driver who made that record singin’?”

“What about him, Mr Williams?”

“I saw him on Ed Sullivan.”

“Is that a fact, Mr Williams?”

“That’s a fact, Miss Spiff,” Scratch said. He headed to the front door of Spiff Manor. He twisted the door knob and turned to Maggie. “He took that beating I gave him like a real man. Looks like his face healed real good.”

“I’m glad, Mr Williams,” was all she said. No conscience about getting that man into trouble or in danger of death. Just cold like. Real damn cold.

“You should’ve held on to him, ma’am. Yep. That boy has talent,” Scratch crossed the threshold and called out: “I think he’s going to make a lot of money.”

Book Details

AUTHOR NAME: Mark Slade

BOOK TITLE: Yardbird

GENRE: Crime & Mystery

PAGE COUNT: 170

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