Elmore Leonard - Bandits

Leo said, “Hey!” Stopping dead and bringing his hands up as he came in the room. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Where are they?”

“What were you gonna do, hit me?”

“Leo, where are they?”

“They had a cab waiting, they left. What’s his name, that colonel? He seemed like a nice guy.”

“I THINK THEY’RE WATCHINGthe house,”Lucy’s voice said. “We’ve been sitting at a window most of the day. Dolores and I take turns. She’s there now, writing down what goes by. There aren’t that many-the street doesn’t go anywhere. The trouble is, all the cars look alike, the new ones.”

“The one yesterday,” Jack said, “was a Chrysler Fifth Avenue, I’m pretty sure. But you’re right, they all look alike. It was black.”

“Are you working?”

“I was. I’m at Mandina’s now. I wanted to call you before, but Leo kept coming in. You know Mandina’s, on Canal?”

“I’ve passed by it. Hang on a minute.”

He heard Lucy’s voice, away from the phone, call Dolores and then heard steps on a hardwood floor. Dolores had opened the door last night when he brought Amelita: Dolores a slim black woman in a flowery print dress and high heels, not looking anything like a housekeeper. When Lucy introduced them she said, “Jack Delaney, Dolores Wilson,” and Dolores gave him a nod, closing her eyes, then gave Lucy a strange look-What’s going on here?-no doubt the first time she’d ever been introduced to company. He heard steps again on the wood floor and then Lucy’s voice.

“Jack? The black Chrysler. It drove by twice and then parked down the street, toward the river.”

“How many people in it?”

“Dolores thinks just one.”

“You could tell the police.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea. If I cause a scene I’m not sure what might happen. I don’t want the guy in the car to think I’m, you know, sitting in the window. How about you? Anyone come to the funeral home?”

“Only the colonel himself. He’s a little guy, isn’t he?”

“Jack, really? What did you tell him?”

“He was there when I got back from picking up a body. Listen, I think I might have us another guy, too.”

“Jack…”

“I told him we didn’t have an Amelita Sosa. He goes, what’re you talking about? You picked up her body yesterday, at Carville. I said no, it wasn’t us. Must’ve been some other funeral home.”

“But did you put the notice in the paper?”

“No, see, then you’re admitting you have her, or you did. Then they want to know what you did with the body. You say you had it cremated or you sent it somewhere, they can check. There all kinds of records would be involved. I’ve found it’s best, something like this, to open your eyes real wide and play dumb. You don’t know anything. Amelita Sosa? No, I’m sorry, you have the wrong place.”

“But if they check with Carville…”

“So, one of the sisters wrote down the wrong funeral home. They’re human, aren’t they, can make mistakes? I never met a sister who did, but it must be possible.”

“What’d he say, the colonel?”

“He had a guy with him. You remember the other one yesterday who didn’t say anything?”

“He stood in front of the hearse.”

“Yeah, did you get a look at him?”

“I saw him, that’s about all.”

“He’s a weird guy. You didn’t notice his hair? Like he might be part colored?”

There was a pause on Lucy’s end. “Yeah, I did notice him. He looked different.”

“His name’s Franklin. You ever hear of a Nicaraguan named Franklin?”

“Sure, it’s possible.” She paused again. “Or he’s Indian. They live along the east coast, near Honduras.”

“He looked more black.”

“Well, there’re Caribbean Creoles mixed in with the Indians. Yeah, and some have unusual names, you’re right, they got from Moravian missionaries. There was a Miskito Indian at the hospital, his name was Armstrong Diego.” She said then, “But when you told the colonel she wasn’t there, what’d he do?”

“Well, he didn’t believe me. Especially when the guy, Franklin, says I was there, he saw me. But he didn’t do anything about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I said, okay, take a look around. We go upstairs, the colonel sees Leo preparing a body and forgets all about Amelita.”

“It didn’t make him ill…”

“No, he loved it. But after a few minutes that was it, he left. Told Leo he had an appointment. See, when I first got there I thought Leo was gonna have a heart attack. He talked to Sister Teresa Victor on the phone this morning and then he and I talked and he did not know how to handle it. The colonel comes, Leo’s scared to death. Afraid to even look at him. The colonel leaves and Leo says, ‘He seems like a nice guy.’ ”

“He didn’t…”

“You have to understand, anybody that’d want to watch an embalming becomes Leo’s friend for life.”

“That was all? They left?”

“I guess he had to be somewhere. But the guy, Franklin… he was weird.”

“I have to learn how to lie,” Lucy said.

“You tell a big one. The bigger the lie, the better chance you have they’ll believe you.”

“But if they believe she’s alive and she’s not at your place, then she must be here. Bertie and his guys. He seems less of a threat if I think of him as Bertie. I found out he’s staying at the Saint Louis. You know where it is?”

“It’s in the Quarter. Very nice hotel, small.”

“Did you ever… pick up jewelry there?”

He said, “I don’t think it was a hotel back then,” picturing the open hallways on each floor that looked down into a center courtyard. Why didn’t the guy stay at the Roosevelt? “You talked to your dad, huh?”

“I called him this morning and apologized. Probably the most deceitful thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

“Yeah, but were you convincing?”

“He said, ‘Don’t give it another thought, Sis.’ I said, ‘If I decide to borrow one of your guns and shoot the son of a bitch, where would I find him?’ He thought that was funny, his daughter the nun turned reactionary. Or whatever I am, I don’t know. I put him down, criticize his business, his politics, but I used money he gave me to buy the car in León.”

“You shouldn’t have trouble with that. You don’t have to like him just ’cause he’s your dad.”

“But I do, he’s a nice guy… Except his values are all screwed up.”

“Wait’ll you meet Roy Hicks.”

There was a silence on Lucy’s end.

“If you’re having second thoughts, I can understand.”

“No, I want to meet him.”

“I might have another guy, too. The only problem is, he doesn’t have a place to live. But we can talk about that later. If the guy in the Chrysler comes to the door, don’t open it.”

“I won’t. But I’d like to get Amelita out of here tonight, if possible. There’s a late flight to L.A. with a change in Dallas. But we’d have to leave here by nine-thirty.”

“We’ll work it out. I’ll call you by eight.”

Jack had a couple of beers and an oyster loaf at the bar, talked to Mario on and off about nothing, and in between thought about the guy, Franklin, and his bluesteel automatic. That was one weird fucking guy. Jack finished eating and drove downtown.

Roy Hicks was putting together an array of pastel-colored drinks in stem glasses along the inside edge of the bar, topping them off with cherries, orange slices, and tiny parasols.

Jack watched him from the front end of the bar, near the entrance to the International Lounge, “Featuring Exotic Dancers from Around the World.”