Page 65 of Making His Bones

Pausing to take a breath, Elektra stalked a few paces across the bedroom. She whipped a wig from one of those Styrofoam heads and shook it around. “But you’re not a woman, are you, Narcissa? You were born a man and that’s how your DNA stays no matter how many surgeries you have and how many hormones you take. You got your fucking grandmother to take the DNA test ten years ago, so you’d show up as a woman!”

“What the fuck?” muttered Wolf.

A hand tore the wig from Elektra’s hand, and a .44 magnum revolver came into view, waving around in front of her face. My hand automatically went to my own pistol grip. Narcissa, sounding more on top of things today, shouted,

“I had Bud’s wife take the test because I was afraid of some past things I’d done showing up. Little foolish young indiscretions. Maybe if you paid more attention to your kid you’d know when she was missing, you slut!” And her free hand slapped Elektra across the face.

“That’s it,” I growled, snatching one Glock from my waistband and drawing back as if to smash the window with it.

But Wolf’s hand gripped my wrist. “Wait. You stay here and I’ll find an open door.”

“No. You stay here and let me find an open door.”

But our babyish beef was soon stopped by the arrival of a box truck screeching down the one-lane street. No one inside the mobile home seemed to notice the Babel Fish truck swish to an uncoordinated stop, spewing gravel in a waterfall.

No, inside, Narcissa was too busy ordering Elektra to turn around while she snapped a long zip-tie around Elektra’s wrists. My eyes bounced back and forth between the bedroom and the fish truck, where Bud Pitchfork was now angrily slamming his driver’s door and stampeding toward the home’s front door like a cartoon character with clenched fists.

“Stay cool, bro,” said Wolf. “We need to see what happens.”

I didn’t agree. When Narcissa pushed Elektra between the shoulder blades, forcing her chest down onto a low bureau, that’s when I lost it. Elektra’s face was squished, not having the use of her hands to prop herself up, and Narcissa suddenly brandished a fucking rolling pin, a strange thing to have in a bedroom.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I smashed the window to smithereens.

Glass sprayed all over my hair, bounced off my face. I didn’t care. I reached in and mangled the feeble screen with one Hulk-like hand while Wolf Glaser squatted down to avoid the worst of it. I think I even roared as I trashed the metal frame. It felt good to take my anger out on something.

Sticking the gun back into my waistband, I hurled the screen aside into some fucking bushes, missing Wolf’s head by a mere inch.

The window, being higher than my face, was a slight deterrent. I was a fit guy, but I had to jump three times to balance myself on the jagged glass of the sill.

“Elektra!” I shouted.

“Where do I know you from?” Narcissa abandoned her prey and stalked me in hunched steps. “I know you.”

I swung my legs, so they dangled in the room, glad I’d worn jeans instead of khakis that day. “I don’t fucking know you,” I lied, “but you’ve got my fiancée all tied up, and I resent that.”

At the same moment that I removed my piece from my pants, Elektra went up behind Narcissa and gave her a giant kick to the backs of her knees.

Maybe she shouldn’t have done that.

Maybe it was a lucky break, though. I don’t know.

Narcissa shot me with the magnum just as she fell forward onto her knees. The slug hit me in the shoulder with enough force to throw me off balance, and I pitched back-asswards out the window still gripping my gun, landing on top of Wolf Glaser.

“Ooph,” said Wolf.

“Where’s my fucked-up granddaughter?” shouted Bud. “Am I in time to stop you from doing something else you’ll regret?” He slammed and opened doors in the house as I prepared to make another vault back into the bedroom.

When he entered the correct room, I had an intuition to pause and listen. “Oh, Jesus.” His voice fell about six octaves and dripped with judgment. Wolf and I just peeked over the jagged window’s edge.

“Oh, what the hell, Narcissa!” He flung something that I later determined was the wooden rolling pin. “Not again! You still fucking have this?” He turned to Elektra. “I’m sorry, ma’am. Sorry for my granddaughter’s behavior. She’s been like this her whole life. She thought changing genders would help. Well, it didn’t.”

“So you admit she killed my daughter?” Elektra wailed.

“Oh, hell, yeah,” Bud Pitchfork said plain as day. “Fact, she used that rolling pin to assault her. That’s where you’ll get the correct DNA. Now, I’m gonna leave you here as a witness, I’m sad to say. I want you to know that this lying sack of shit ran out of meth and tried to huff wasp spray.”

Wolf and I looked at each other. We mouthed ‘wasp spray?’

Elektra looked just as confused. Bud pulled an aerosol can from his waistband.