The Bible Salesman by Clyde Edgerton Page A

there early and spend a little time on Swan Island. Nice beaches.”
    “What’s the doctor’s name — in Drain?” asked Clear-water.
    “Criddenton. Loaded. Absolutely. He’s got guys coming in from all over for face operations, bullet removal, on and on. Does abortions.”
    Henry, walking from a shower in the bathhouse, saw the Cadillac and knew it must be Blinky’s. Somebody was in the driver’s seat and somebody on Clearwater’s porch. If there was some way he could get a ride with these guys up to Jeffries, maybe . . . No, he’d better not ask about that. He needed to act right since Blinky was higher up than Clearwater. The guy in the driver’s seat didn’t seem like the FBI. He seemed like a truck driver with a suit and tie. He wouldn’t even look up.
    On the porch, Blinky grabbed Henry’s hand, reached up, slapped him on the shoulder. “So this is the young man I’ve heard so much about,” he growled. “We’re proud of all you’re doing for us. Cigar?” His lower eyelids were red, like a hound dog’s.
    “Thank you,” said Henry. “My uncle used to smoke Rum Crooks.”
    “Good cigar,” said Blinky. “Cheap, but good.” He glanced at Clearwater, slapped Henry on the shoulder again. “Right?”
    It wasn’t a question — it was a command of some sort. FBI? Blinky wasn’t what he’d pictured.
    Henry took the cigar handed him, and then the box of kitchen matches Blinky offered from his pants pocket. “Thank you,” he said.
    “I like a big match,” said Blinky. “Anybody ever show you how to light a match in a thirty-knot wind?”
    “Nosir.”
    “Well, before I leave out of here, I’ll teach you. Or if I forget, you get Bucky there to show you. Mr. Clearwater. You can still do it, can’t you, Bucky?”
    “Sure can.”
    Bucky? thought Henry. Bucky? Well, of course. They’re undercover agents.
    “We had a sergeant,” said Blinky. “Sergeant Dunlevel, that taught us, huh, Bucky?”
    “Right.”
    “Dunlevel would as soon hit you upside the head as look at you. Pull up that chair,” he said to Henry. “We’ve got a couple of unusual jobs coming up. Mr. Hoover is very interested. We’re basically dismantling the criminal element of the East Coast of the United States — from the inside. There’ll be some reward in it for you down the line — in more ways than one. And I understand you’re a Christian?”
    “Yes sir.”
    “What denomination?”
    “Baptist.”
    “Baptist. Ah, Baptist. Sweet word. Baptist. You ever heard of ‘Between the Sheets’?”
    “No sir.”
    “Add ‘Between the Sheets’ to the name of a hymn. ‘I Surrender All . . . Between the Sheets.’ ”
    Henry caught on, laughed. “ ‘Love Lifted Me Between the Sheets.’ ”
    “That’s it,” barked Blinky. “There’s some good ones.” He looked at Clearwater, who was smiling with half his mouth. “You go to church, don’t you, Bucky?”
    “Not much,” said Clearwater.
    “I was raised upstream,” said Blinky to Henry, pointing his cigar. “Come down here from North Carolina once in a while to visit the family. Mr. Hoover appreciates the work you’re doing for us, son. This is going to be big when it breaks. But listen.” He took a puff, blew a smoke ring that rolled up toward the ceiling. He looked at Henry kind of hard. “Don’t tell nobody what you’re doing. Nobody. That would be unwise.” He looked out at the Cadillac like he’d heard something. “I got to get on the road. You boys keep up the good work. It’s an important mission.” He stood, turned, looked at Henry. “This gig down in Florida — big fish, big fish. We’ve got to get the goods on this guy before we arrest him. We arrest him now, our whole operation falls through. We get his
goods
, he’ll think one of his rivals done it and then . . . well, then we’re sowing seeds of
discord
. Huh?” He raised his eyebrows, smiled. “ ‘Holy, Holy, Holy Between the Sheets’? Huh?” He lifted his hand with the