All those precautions, Keller said. I guess a lot of people must have tried to kill him over the years.
Why? Mr. Wheelers respected throughout the state, he calls the mayor and the governor by their first names. As far as I know, theres never been a single attempt on his life.
No kidding. Where do you keep your guns?
My guns?
You know. He pointed his finger, wiggled his thumb. Bang! Your guns.
There was a locked gun rack in the den, and the key was where Taggert had said it would be and, Keller thought, right where any kid would look for it. Keller took the shotgun and slipped a few shells in his pocket. He left the rifle in the rack. He could fire a rifle but wasnt that confident of his ability to hit anything with it. With a shotgun, all you had to do was get close enough to the target. A clay pigeon might present a certain challenge, but a human being standing still would be pretty hard to miss.
Theyre for hunting, Taggert said, and if Ive gone out three times in the last ten years its a lot. Hell, if I was a hunter, you think my dogd be a corgi? I still cant believe you killed my dog.
You said that before. You must have handguns.
Just the one, in the bedside table. For emergencies.
It was a revolver, a.38 Ivor Johnson, immobilized with a cylinder lock. Keller had a vision of an intruder surprising the Taggerts in their sleep, and Taggert yanking the gun out and rushing to the den for the key. Handy.
Its hard to believe youre a pro, Taggert said. Taking my guns? You didnt bring your own?
You offered me a choice of guns in Des Moines, Keller reminded him. So Ive come to think of you as my regular supplier.
You took the revolver. Were you even planning on using it?
No, Keller said, but it came in handy later on.
You could have an AK-47 and you wouldnt have a chance with Mr. Wheeler. You know what I would do in your position?
Tell me.
Put the guns back, let yourselves out, and go home. Mr. Wheeler wont send anybody after you because hell never know you were here. Hes sure not about to hear it from me.
You can tell him you broke your leg tripping over your dog.
Jesus, Taggert said. I cant believe you killed the poor damn dog.
Lets be clear on this, Keller said. Packing up and going home, thats not on the table. So what youve got to do is come up with a way for us to get to him.
Mr. Wheeler, you mean.
Right.
You
want to use my gun, and you want me to work out how youre gonna do it.
Thats your best shot.
Its my best shot? How the hell do you figure that?
Its pretty simple, Keller told him. Thats the only way you stand a chance of coming out of this alive. Say we go up against Wheeler and we wind up dead.
Which you will.
If we do, so do you. Hell know how we got to him. Well tell him if he asks, and hell figure it out if we dont. How long do you figure hed let you live, and how far could you run with a broken leg?
And if I help you, and you get lucky? Then you turn around and kill me.
Not if you help us. Why kill you?
Shit, why kill Mr. Wheeler, for all youre going to get out of it? Why would you kill me? Because youre some kind of a psychopath, is all I can think of. Look what you went and did to Sulky.
Jesus, Dot said.
I still cant believe it, Taggert said. I cant believe you killed a poor old dog like that.
I cant fucking stand any more of this, Dot said, and went over to the door Keller had closed earlier. She opened it and made clucking noises, and Taggert turned his head in time to see the old dog waddle into the room.
My God, he said.
Its Sulky, Dot announced, back from the dead, and I bet you cant believe that, either.
39
Keller couldnt argue the point. Getting the man from the living room floor to the back seat of his Cadillac took a lot of work on everybodys part. Keller had snipped the wire from around his ankles, which made it a little easier, but security concerns had led him to leave Taggerts wrists tied together behind his back. The whole process, through the kitchen and into the garage, was difficult to negotiate, and Taggert inevitably bumped into something here and there, and yelped with pain.
Whats funny, Taggert said, is I was ready to beg you to take me in the car. Instead of killing me right there in my own house. On account of I didnt want her to walk in and find her husband dead on the floor. I figured it was bad enough shed come in and trip over the dead dog. See, this was back when I still thought the dog was dead.
Now shell trip over the live dog.
Taggert didnt seem to appreciate the line. It was hard to tell, he was in back where Keller couldnt see his face, not and concentrate on his driving at the same time. Dot would have enjoyed it, but she was in the other car, tagging along in Kellers wake. So there were no cars in the garage at 71 Belle Mead Lane, and the garage door was shut and the other doors locked, and the only signs of their visit were the absence of a shotgun and a revolver, both now in the trunk of the Cadillac, a table lamp that refused to light, and a dent in one wall where the glass ashtray had struck it.