Читать книгу Above the Waterfall - Ron Rash - Страница 17

Ten

Trey Yarbrough opened his pawnshop at 9:00 A.M. except Fridays and weekends, so on Tuesday morning I had time to stop in after confirming with Jarvis that the raid was on. Trey sat on a stool behind the counter, a silver trumpet in one hand and a rag dabbed with polish in the other. The windowless cinder-block walls, coated thick with white paint, were bare and bright as an interrogation room. Which seemed a smart move on Trey’s part. Plenty of his customers had bad memories of such rooms, as well as a desire to conduct business in places not so well lit, so were probably less likely to haggle.

On the shelf behind Trey, a twenty-gallon aquarium held a timber rattlesnake thick as a man’s wrist. Wrapped behind its wedged head was a necklace of copper wire, attached to the wire a small ring. A message taped above the tank said THIS FELLOW IS LET OUT EVERY NIGHT. I CUT THE POWER TO THE LIGHTS BECAUSE HE LIKES CRAWLING AROUND IN THE DARK. BREAK IN IF YOU FEEL REAL LUCKY.

“Interested in a trumpet, Sheriff?” Trey asked. “One of your deputies could play the cavalry charge when you take on the bad guys, like in that Apocalypse Now movie.”

“Taps would be more like it, since I’ve got less than three weeks left, though I wouldn’t mind borrowing your snake to pitch inside a trailer later today. Keep us from having to go inside.”

“Another meth bust?”

“Yeah.”

Trey stepped back and tapped the aquarium, triggering a sound like a maraca. When the tail stilled, I counted nine buttons.