Elmore Leonard - Gold Coast

“Hot in the day, cool in the evening,” Roland murmured to himself. Dink lawyers, you never knew what they were talking about.

Another tape. Another conversation with Ed Grossi. Ed back from his trip. That would have been yesterday. Roland paid attention, listening carefully as Karen asked Ed about a trust fund, wanting to know what bank it was in. Ed told her.

KAREN: You said in bonds, I know, but I’ve forgotten the name.

ED: Miami General Revenue, at six percent.

KAREN: Don’t I get records, something on paper? How do I prove they’re mine?

ED: Well, as I told you, the bonds are in the name of the administrator of the estate, Dorado. The yield, the interest-what’d I say, two and a half?

(“Here we go,” Roland said.)

KAREN: Two hundred and forty thousand.

ED: Yeah, goes into the trust and the bank deposits it, or they credit it to your account, twenty thousand a month. Yeah, that’s it.

(ROLAND: “That’s it all right. Man, that is it. ”)

KAREN: But I don’t have anything that describes me as the beneficiary, or whatever I am.

ED: You’re getting the money, aren’t you?

KAREN: Yes, but I’d like something on paper.

ED: I’ll have Vivian get you a copy. We’ll get you something, don’t worry about it. How’s everything else? Clara says she wants to get together with you sometime.

KAREN: That’d be fine. (Long pause) Ed… look, we’re going to have to talk about this other thing. When can I come to your office?

(Roland, writing figures on a pad of paper, looked up.)

ED: What other thing?

KAREN: Ed, for God’s sake. Maybe this happens in India or Saudi Arabia, but not Fort Lauderdale, Florida. You can’t simply ignore it.

ED: Karen-

KAREN: You’ve got to stop it, that’s all. If you won’t, I’ll take you to court. I’ll do some thing-leave here if I have to.

ED: Karen-

KAREN: If you think I’m going to live like this you’re out of your mind.

ED: All right, we’ll have a talk. How about tomorrow, my office? Come on up, we’ll go to lunch.

(ROLAND: “That’s today.”)

KAREN: I’ll meet you at Palm Bay.

(ROLAND: “Shit.”)

He looked at his figures again, scratched them out and started over, multiplying, dividing, trying different ways, finally, finally then, coming up with the answer, what twenty thousand a month was six percent of. Jesus Christ, four million dollars the woman had!

LUNCH AT PALM BAY.Ed Grossi used a Rye Krisp and a spoon on his bowl of cottage cheese. Karen listened, sipping her Bloody Mary, picking at her shrimp salad, every once in awhile shaking her head. Unbelievable. Having to threaten, almost hit him with something to get him to talk about it.

“You serve me with some kind of cease and desist order. From doing what? Karen, this is a very personal matter. You want to get something like this in the papers?”

“If I have to. Ed, this is my life we’re talking about.”

Almost to himself: “People wouldn’t understand it.”

“Of course they wouldn’t. It’s something out of the Middle Ages.” Karen leaned closer, staring at the quiet little man across the table. “He told you this in the hospital? Was he lucid? How do you know he was even in his right mind?”

“It was before that,” Grossi said, “in my office. Before a witness.”

“Who, Roland?”

“No, not Roland. I said to Frank, you’re kidding. He said no, very serious. I know his voice, his tone. Nobody goes near her. I asked him why. He said I didn’t have to know that. Then Vivian came in, took some dictation. She witnessed my saying yes to him, it would be done.”

“Vivian, your secretary?”

“She’s more my assistant.”

“And Roland?”

“Somebody to carry it out, do the work.”

“You trust Roland?”

“He does what he’s told and keeps his mouth shut,” Grossi said.

You don’t know him, Karen thought, but held back from saying it. “Who else knows about it?”

“Well, Jimmy Capotorto. I told him a little, but not everything.”

Karen frowned. “Who?”

“Capotorto. Frank knew him. He’s been with Dorado for years; one of the associates.”

“Who else?” Karen said.

“That’s all.” Grossi paused. “But there are some stipulations I didn’t mention the other day that I didn’t want to get into all at once.”

“Like what?” Karen said.

“Well, if you move, the payments stop. You have to live in Frank’s house.”

“Frank’s house,” Karen said. “And if I marry again-I asked you that the other day, you said you weren’t sure.”

“For some reason it’s not a stipulation. I guess Frank assumed we’d see nobody got close to you.”

“But there’s nothing in the agreement that says I can’t take the entire amount.”

“Not in writing, no, but in the spirit of it, you might say.”

“Sign the bonds over to me and let’s forget the whole thing,” Karen said.

Grossi said nothing, looking at Karen, then at his cottage cheese, touching it tentatively with his spoon.

“Do you know why he did it?” Karen said. “Because he was having an affair and I found out about it. With a real estate woman.” A hint of amazement in her tone. “I told him-I wasn’t even serious, I was mad-I told him if he was going to fool around, I would too.”

“Well, he took it at face value and here we are.” Grossi seemed hesitant, working something out in his mind as they sat at his regular table in the corner of the grill room. He said, “Karen, I’ll tell you, something like this, I agree, it sounds like we’re back in the old country.”

“But we’re not,” Karen said; firm, knowing how far she was willing to go. “Ed, you’re aware of the people in here, how they keep looking at us?”

“You get used to it.”

“I go to the john I get looks, I hear my name, Mrs. Frank DiCilia, yes, that’s her, people talking about me, not going to much trouble to hide it.”

“Sure, you’re like a movie star.”

“All right, what if I stood up right now and made a speech,” Karen said. “Tapped my glass with a spoon-‘May I have your attention, please? I want to tell you something you’re not going to believe, but it’s the honest-to-God truth, every word.’ ”

“Karen, come on.”

“Come on where? Goddamn it, I’m not going to play your game. I’m not in the fucking Mafia or whatever you don’t call it. What do you expect me to do?”

“Keep it down a little, all right? I understand how you feel.”

“Like hell you do.”

“Yes, I do.” Grossi nodding patiently. “Listen to me a minute. I acknowledge his wish, I’m thinking, Jesus Christ, nobody ever wanted something like this before. I try to remember. Maybe a long time ago, I don’t know.”

“But it doesn’t matter, because you do whatever he says.” Karen holding on, refusing to let go. “He tells you to kill somebody-what’s the difference?”

“Karen”-the tired voice-“what is that? You think it’s a big thing? Maybe sometimes it is, but there’s a reason for everything. The man has a reason, I don’t have to ask him why.”

She leaned close to the table. “I told you why. Because he has this thing in his head about paying back.”

“Listen to me and let me finish,” Grossi said. “Even when I don’t want anything to do with it, I have to satisfy my conscience I’ve done something, I’ve acknowledged, I’ve gone through the motions. You understand? Then I say to myself, okay, that’s all you can do. You can’t watch her the rest of your life. I say to myself, did he mean that long? Forever? I answer no, of course not. I get a heart attack, cancer, I’m gone. Who continues the agreement? Jimmy Capotorto? Well, if I tell him to, but what does he care? He’s got enough to think about. So how can it be forever? I say, Frank wanted to teach her a lesson. All right, there’s the lesson. Did she learn it? I don’t know. Like a teacher-did the student learn it? What can the teacher do? So, I say, it’s up to her, she knows what’s going on. She knows his wish, stay away from men even after his death. Does she want to honor his wish? I say to myself, not to you, not to anybody else, only to myself. Maybe it should be up to her now. Something between her and her husband.”