An
Incident Halfway to Hell
By Ian De Shils (Ernest
Shields)
Chapter 6
It was late Sunday afternoon when Scotty arrived at Halfway to Hell.
He was tired, but elated the ruse in Chicago worked so well. Hoot met him
at the door and ushered him into the kitchen area where he perched on a
stool while Casey filled a plate for him. They were just sitting down for
dinner and it smelled wonderful. Baked chicken and rice,--- the kind of
food he should be eating, he noted, instead of his regular diet of grease-burgers.
"How did it go?” Hoot asked.
“No problem, except the weather. Jesus, what a mess,--- a major ice
storm. They closed the airport last night, and I had to wait until this
afternoon to get a flight. I'll tell ya, Hoot, if we're going back to L.A.
tonight, you're driving,--- I'm whipped, my body keeps telling me it's
past my bed time.”
“That's jet lag. Anyway, we've got a few hours. Eat up and go flop
down in the bedroom for awhile. I do have to get back tonight, these contracts
need to be in early in the morning.” Hoot opened the brief case and scanned
the schedule. “Looks good, Scotty. As I told you,--- just like the Army,---
moving people and equipment from one place to another. You did it exactly
right, even gave the crew a rest day now and then.”
Casey, who was silent throughout the exchange, studied McDermott as he
ate. He seemed like a nice enough fellow. His impression Scott always had
a knowing grin plastered on his face, vanished and he began to warm to
the man. Before the meal was through, all three were chatting comfortably.
Afterwards, Scott took Hoot up on the offer of a few hours sleep and retired
to the bedroom while Hoot and Casey cleaned up the kitchen.
“So what time are you leaving?” Casey asked.
“Probably around ten. I'll be back sometime Wednesday. If you have to
go anywhere, the key for the jeep is in the desk, but please, Case,--- stay
away from L.A. until I find out what's going on with Melva.”
“I'll need some clothes, your stuff don't exactly fit me, ya' know.”
Casey searched his pockets and pulled out a key ring. “Here, when you come
back, bring me some underwear, a few pair of jeans and three or four shirts.
Anything in the closet will be okay. And water my plants while you're at
it, the one's on the patio, too.”
“You still fussing with those things? I figured by now you'd have ditched
that hobby and gone with something else, like tropical fish.”
“Naw, I did that once remember? Exotic plants are just as interesting
and they don't kick the bucket as easy.”
“Ha!” Hoot responded, “The one you gave me died in a couple of weeks.”
“Well,--- you were supposed to water it, you know.” Casey replied.
“I did! Every day, and it still died.”
“Yeah, but did you talk to it?” Hoot rolled his eyes and Casey laughed.
They gabbed a bit, then watched television for awhile and finally when ten
O'clock rolled around, Hoot woke Scotty and they left. The house suddenly
seemed overly quiet without Hoot's hearty laugh punctuating the T.V. sitcoms.
After an hour, Casey turned it off and went to bed, but as he slid between
the sheets he thought about the previous night and started smiling.
They spent Saturday afternoon catching up on each other's lives. It was
like old times the two of them lounging around and talking. They even used
the pool and Hoot had shown no modesty at all, swimming nude himself when
they couldn't find trunks to fit Casey. He thought Hoot put the wet dream
incident behind him, but evidently not. At bedtime he came out of
the bathroom wearing an ugly set of paisley pajamas a size too small,---
which were so permanently drawer creased they could have been pressed by
a steamroller. Hoot tried to act nonchalant, but the second Casey saw him,
he lost it completely; he couldn't stop laughing. Embarrassed, Hoot
shoved him out of the bedroom and tossed a pillow and blanket after him,
but for some reason, that made the whole thing funnier.
Casey retired to a couch where he continued to snicker and laugh until
Hoot came charging out threatening murder and mayhem if didn't shut up. Casey
pointing a finger at him, again breaking into gales of laughter, and the
chase was on. Casey dodged about the living room furniture in a vain effort
to stay ahead of Hoot, only he was laughing so hard his nimbleness was lost.
The game of tag was also lost. It became a wrestling match in which Hoot's
pajama top lost all its buttons. Wiggling free of the big man's grip, Casey
made it as far as the bedroom before Hoot caught again and there proceeded
to tickle his victim until he begged for mercy. Grinning, Hoot picked Casey
up and tossed him on the bed, then flung the ruined pajamas, both top and
bottom in his face.
“There! Now are you satisfied?” He asked as he crawled into bed..
“Yeah,” Casey replied, still wiping tears from his eyes, “You looked
pretty damn silly in that getup.”
Hoot smiled, “I suppose. Anyway I should a' guessed it would turn you
into a laughing hyena. You have a weird sense of humor, Case.”
“Only when you act ridiculous.” Casey responded.
“Yeah,--- well,--- how about turning off the light and coming to bed.
I'm beat.”
Casey did as requested, but as he got into bed, he reached over and gave
Hoot's arm a squeeze. Hoot started slightly.
“Relax,” Casey said, “I just wanted to say 'Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For being my friend. I just realized how much I've missed you
these last few months. Remember those crazy flea markets we used visit?
We never bought much, but we sure had fun pawing through all that junk.
It just come to me though that it wasn't the junk,--- the fun came from
being with you.”
"Now don't go gettin' all mushy on me.” Hoot replied.
“I'm not, I'm just telling you the truth. You're my best friend, Hoot,
and I don't ever want you feeling self-conscious about anything concerning
me. Okay?”
“Okay, okay, you made your point. Now can we go to sleep?”
“Sure thing, but I just want you to know if you do happen to end up stuck
to my back again, I'll never tell a soul.” He snickered, and this time the
pillow hit him squarely in the face.
* * * * * * *
The sky was clear, the moon well above the horizon when Hoot pulled out
of the drive. Scotty, still sleepy, stretched and yawned. Reaching forward,
he snagged a coffee cup from the holder, took a sip and lit a cigarette
“I see you and your pal are getting along okay.” he commented, “No hassles,
no more fisticuffs?”
“Nope. Case realizes getting out of Melva's sight for awhile is a healthy
move. He's no dummy. Melva has never admitted it, but I know damn well she's
had people thumped before. Her ex-boyfriend for one. He took her to court,
but couldn't prove anything and in the end he came off looking like an ass.”
“You really think she'd try that with Casey?”
“After Friday night? I'd lay odds on it! You know, Case told me
something that really pisses me off. Either Melva is feeding me a line,
or Vitto is and I intend to get some answers. This whole thing was bullshit!
Case covered those advances, only they rejected payment.”
“Maybe it was just a mistake.”
“Paul Markey doesn't make mistakes like that.”
They rode in silence for awhile. Scotty finished his cigarette and still
feeling sleepy, said, “Maybe I'll catch some more Z's, unless you want me
to keep you company.”
“Naw,--- go ahead. Air travel always leaves me whacked out, too. Before
you go to sleep though, what have you got planned for the next couple of
days?”
“Nothing, really,--- I thought maybe the beach or just drive around
and see what I can see. You're going to be busy, right?”
“Yeah, a bunch of meetings in town and one in Vegas on Tuesday. Case
ask me to do a few things for him, but I'm gonna' be on a dead run. Do you
suppose you could drop around to his place,--- water the plants and pack
up some clothes for him? I'll bring 'em up Wednesday. Oh, yeah, he want's
his mail, too. And can you call the dealership and tell them he won't be
picking up his car for awhile?”
“That list of his seems to be getting longer by the minute, but yeah,
I'll take care of it.”
“Thanks, Scotty. There's no rush, just anytime in the next couple of days.”