Notches by Peter Bowen Page A

milk.
    Du Pré put the stew on the stove to heat and the green beans he dumped in a pan and turned the gas on under them.
    “Hey,” said Madelaine from the doorway. “You are back late. Who is your friend, here?”
    “Guy at Benetsee’s,” said Du Pré. “Hasn’t eaten in days. He is very hungry.”
    Madelaine came out into the kitchen wearing her robe. She was rubbing her eyes against the light.
    “What is your name, I am Madelaine,” she said.
    “I don’t got a name,” said the young man. “Benetsee say the name I had is no good, he will help me find another when I am ready.”
    “You don’t got a name,” said Madelaine.
    “That damn Benetsee he is some joker, you know,” said Du Pré.
    The young man nodded.
    “He learn from them coyotes,” said the young man. “They are jokers, them God’s dogs.”
    “Where is Benetsee?” said Madelaine.
    “He say he is not coming back till I catch those guys,” said Du Pré.
    “Guys?” said Madelaine.
    “There are two of them,” said Du Pré.
    “Three,” said the young man.
    “Christ,” said Du Pré, “I could have asked you.”
    “You say you want to talk, Benetsee,” said the young man. “I got to learn to listen pretty good.”
    “Benetsee say you help me?”
    The young man nodded.
    “He tell you to tell me things?”
    More nods.
    The stew was bubbling. Du Pré took it off the stove. He stuck a ladle in it and handed the young man a bowl.
    “Eat,” he said.
    Du Pré and Madelaine watched while the young man ate all of the stew and all of the green beans. A pound of cheese. A pint of ice cream. Drank a bunch of coffee.
    Du Pré rolled him a cigarette.
    They smoked.
    “There are three killers?” said Du Pré.
    The young man shook his head.
    “Two,” said the young man. “Third guy, he is … it is over, when they are all together.”
    “OK,” said Du Pré.
    “Good food,” said the young man. “I thank you.”
    “You eat here plenty,” said Madelaine, looking at him carefully.
    “Who is there, Mama?” said Lourdes from the dark little hall that led to the bedrooms in the back of the house.
    “You come here,” said Madelaine. “You meet this young man got no name.”
    Lourdes came out of the dark.
    She looked at the floor.
    The young man folded his hands in his lap and his face closed up.

CHAPTER 18
    “A GAIN?” S AID D U P RÉ . He was in the Toussaint bar. Agent Pidgeon was on the other end of the line. She was yelling.
    “Again? Again?” she yelled. “You sexist pig asshole! What do you mean, again? Just because I’m a woman the fucking cheap-ass government surrey they give me blew up again? Fuck you, Du Pré.”
    “Um,” said Du Pré. “I am just wondering, you know, that it blew up again.”
    “Fucking did,” said Agent Pidgeon.
    “So where are you this blown-up thing?”
    “Maybe forty miles south of Toussaint.”
    “You calling from a ranch?”
    “No,” said Agent Pidgeon. “This guy stopped, he’s got a phone in his van. So I am using that.”
    “What guy?” said Du Pré.
    “He does something with the combine crews. Mechanic, I guess. Lot of fucking tools here.”
    “OK,” said Du Pré. “I be there. You are on the highway.”
    “Yup,” said Agent Pidgeon. “Left side of it, way you’re coming.”
    “I be there, half an hour,” said Du Pré.
    “It’s forty fucking miles,” said Agent Pidgeon.
    “Maybe less,” said Du Pré.
    He kept the cruiser flat out, the speed close to 120 where he could see far enough ahead.
    Hope no fucking deer decides to jump out of them bushes, Du Pré thought. A magpie splattered on the windshield.
    Agent Pidgeon was looking at her watch and nodding grimly when Du Pré roared up.
    “Twenty-one minutes,” she said. “What an asshole.”
    She was sitting on her suitcases. No aluminum trunks this time.
    “Where is your friend?” said Du Pré.
    “Simpson?” said Agent Pidgeon. “He had to go on, said he had a down rig somewhere south of here.”
    Du Pré