"Did you know Cletus la Favor has mob ties?"
I feel like a gerbil is running around inside my colon and not the good kind of gerbil up- the-ass feeling that Richard Gere is rumored to get. I was standing in the massive passenger lobby at Travis Air Force base. My flight to Honolulu was departing in minutes. Pumping a shitload of quarters into the phone I had made the first phone call to my dad since I had blown out of town.
"What does that mean? You mean like The Godfather?" Visions of Marlon Brando having guys whacked pop into my head. I could hardly hold on to the phone my hand was sweating so bad. I change hands and wipe the sweat on to my uniform pants.
"It means, you dumb shit, that he hangs around with guys who run people who piss them off through wood chippers or give them the old concrete overshoe treatment. What the hell went on out at Mike's anyway?"
I had to whisper into the phone. "I don't have a lot of time here but the short story is la Favor busted in and beat the shit out of Mike with a pair of brass knuckles. He killed Mike, the fucking bastard! He thought we had stolen some dope from him. I hid my ass up in the attic and then I heard la Favor say that they were going to burn Mike's place down so I conked la Favor on the head with a baseball bat and got the hell out of there. What happened to la Favor anyway?"
"He had a helluva concussion but he's going to be all right. I can't say that for Mike though. By the time the fire department got that fire put out he was burnt down damn near to his skeleton."
"What about the cops? Are they doing anything?"
The old man snorted through his nose. "Those dumb shits couldn't pour piss out a boot if the instructions were on the heel. They think Mike just got stoned or drunk and fell asleep with a cigarette and burned the place down. I'm sure that la Favor has some cops in his pocket anyway."
"Does la Favor know I was there? Silence.
"Dad! Does la Favor know I'm the one that hit him with the bat?"
"He's got a good idea it was you. In fact, he's positive it was you. He was out here at the house with one of his boys asking questions about a week after Mike's funeral."
Jesus Christ! "What did you tell him?"
"I told him the truth. That I hadn't seen you for going on a week now.
"Are you going to be all right? Is la Favor going to go after you?"
There was a loud sigh. "I think I'll be cool. Cletus knows that I was good friends with his dad when we worked together at the packing plant." Peter la Favor AKA "Pighouse Pete" had been a local legend know for his incredible drinking prowess and barroom brawling skills. He once knocked out a horse at the county fair with one punch. A goddamn draft horse at that! He also was rumored to have a gigantic cock and favored black truck stop prostitutes. Pete was currently serving a life sentence at the Stillwater penitentiary for murdering his second wife - probably killed her with one punch - for screwing a Mexican short order cook. The cook also wound up dead. Out on a country road with his hands tied together behind his back with barbed wire and a bullet in the back of the head.
"Where are you at, son? It would be better if you just turned yourself into the police and let them handle this. They're world class fuckups but I don't think la Favor is going to let this go."
I gently hung the phone up.