Elmore Leonard - Cat Chaser

Nolen poured a couple more sours. “You got time.”

“Is that right? Tell me about it.”

“That was Jiggs, I phoned him. He says de Boya sent the Mendozas over cause he found out about you and his wife and had a fit. Not from Scully, from somebody else.”

Moran said, “Wait a minute-put the goddamn glass down.” He gave himself a moment, Nolen telling him it was okay, take it easy, but he could feel his heart beating against his chest and he didn’t know how to slow it down or if he wanted to.

“He’s kicking her out of the house,” Nolen said. “You got no problem.”

“When?”

“Now, today. He told her to pack and get out.”

“How does Scully know? De Boya tell him?”

“Scully gets pieces and puts ’em together. The Mendozas hear something from one of the maids-they’re sitting around the kitchen-about the wife getting beat up and they call Scully-”

Moran stopped him. “Wait now. Andres beat her up?”

There was a look coming into his eyes Nolen had never seen before and hoped it wasn’t for him.

“Take it easy, okay? She’s fine.”

“He hit her?”

“They had a heavy argument with some pushing and shoving, that’s all. The Mendozas tell Scully and he goes over to check, feel his way around; he doesn’t want any surprises when the time comes. He get there-no Mendozas. De Boya’d sent them here. They’re suppose to bring your shlong back in a Baggie so he can give it to his wife. Weird, but it’s like what Rafi was telling us, they do it with shears, man. Jesus, I get goose bumps thinking about it. The Mendozas, they don’t give a shit they’re not actually working for de Boya, it sounds like fun. Scully says it was a misunderstanding and he says he hopes you’re okay. I told him the two guys’re in the Pompano city jail and Scully says that’s all right, he was through with them anyway.” Nolen raised his glass. “So here we are.” He drank down his sour. “And I might add, today’s the big day.”

Moran walked away, Nolen’s voice following him now into the bedroom. “You gonna ask me what’s happening?” From the dresser Moran got his wallet and car keys, returned to the front room and kept walking toward the door.

“Where you going?”

Moran said, “Where do you think.”

“Wait now, you don’t want to go over there. Let her come here. Call her up.”

“I’m through calling.”

“He sees you he’ll get a gun. Honest to God, I mean it. He’ll kill you.”

Moran was still doing rather than thinking, more pumped up now than he was earlier; but Nolen’s words and grown-up wisdom stopped him with his hand on the door. He looked back at Nolen.

“What happens today?”

“We hit de Boya. That’s what happens.”

Moran came back to the counter. Nolen seemed to straighten on the stool.

“Your idea-flush him, make him run.”

“How’re you gonna do that?”

“Bomb scare.”

“A real one?”

Nolen shook his head. He had Moran’s interest now and could take his time. “One was enough. He saw his dock blown to hell, the man’s a believer. Jiggs’ll ask him about the telephone line being cut and who came to fix it. Is he sure they were from Southern Bell? Give him doubts. So when he gets a call his house’s been wired to go up he grabs his money and runs.”

“How do you know he will?”

“Because he’s been looking over his shoulder for twenty years half-expecting something like this. I mean what’s getaway money for otherwise? The man doesn’t have to get hit over the head. He’s ready to jump.”

“Maybe,” Moran said, “but he could be way ahead of you, have an idea what you’re doing.”

Nolen was shaking his head.

“Why not?”

“What convinces him it’s real is who the call comes from.” Nolen winked, feeling frisky. “The Coral Gables Police.” He grinned at Moran. “Like it? I’d think you’d wish us luck anyway, clobbering the son of a bitch.”

“That a line from a movie?”

“This is real-life drama now, George.”

“You missed the big scene last night.”

“Well, that was unfortunate, but guys like Rafi, that can happen. He overreached and didn’t look where he was going.”

“You used him.”

“I had nothing to do with that.”

“Are you drunk?”

“This’s what I’ve had, right here. One beer when I got up.”

“You were drunk I could understand you,” Moran said. “Rafi was used and you’re next, you don’t even know it.”

“Unh-unh.”

“What’s your part in it?”

“I make the anonymous call to the cops. Ready to go off around seven this evening. We want to wait’ll the rush hour’s over on the freeway.”

“Then what?”

“I wait for Jiggs to call me. Bar out by Ninety-five.”

“Go on.”

“I meet him, wherever he’s got de Boya.”

“You mean wherever he’s killed de Boya. Nolen, you dumb shit, he’s not gonna let him live. You either. He’ll take the both of you, fifty miles over to the Everglades, you’re never seen again. Just tell me, is that a possibility?”

Nolen pretended to think about it, nodded once and took a drink.

“Well?”

“There’s a certain risk,” Nolen said, “I know that. But there’s no payoff in this kind of action without risk, is there? See, I’m aware of that. You think I’m dumb. Jiggs, he uses me, yeah, for what I can do. But you’re forgetting one thing.” Nolen reached around behind him, dug under his shirttail and from the waist of his trousers brought out a Colt .45 automatic, winked at Moran and laid it on the counter.

“I was Airborne.”

Moran saw Nolen’s gleam, wet and bloodshot but still a gleam. He said quietly, “Nolen, that was sixteen years ago.”

Nolen said, “I’ve jumped out of airplanes, George, and I’ve shot at the enemy. I’ve been to war. Tell me this is different.”

“I’m going,” Moran said. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

He was at the door, pushing it open when Nolen said, “George, tell me something else and be honest.”

Moran looked around. “What?”

“Tell me you don’t want to see the man dead.” When Moran didn’t speak Nolen said, “See? It’s why I can tell you about it and expect best wishes. I know where your heart is, buddy. I’ll tell you something else too and put money on it. Here…” He dug into his shirt pocket and laid a folded bill on the counter. “Here’s ten bucks says if you go to that man’s house you’re gonna get shot in the head way before I ever do… Come on, put up.”

For another few moments Moran stared at Nolen hunched over the counter, the morning drinker with his bloodshot gleam and his slick-combed hair. He said, “Nolen, you don’t have one chance of making it.”

THREE LOUIS VUITTONfull-size suitcases-brown fabric bags that bore the LV crests like a wallpaper design-stood in the upstairs hall, at the head of the stairway.

As Mary came out of her bedroom Altagracia was mounting the suspended stairway, ascending out of the forest of plants and small trees that filled the front hall, the maid frowning now as she saw the luggage.

“Señora, you going on a trip?”

“I hope so,” Mary said.

“I take these down.”

“No.” She snapped the word and had to pause to regain her composure. “It’s all right, I have to call a cab first, a taxi.” She didn’t want the luggage standing in the downstairs foyer, waiting. “But if you’ll do me a favor-watch in front. The moment the taxi comes would you let me know?”

The maid nodded solemnly, “Yes, Señora,” and said then, hesitant, “That man call and I lie to him again that you not here.”