Elmore Leonard - Up in Honey's Room

“Didn’t the name sound familiar? He’s the kid gangster with the big nickel-plate and the zoot suit, the jitterbug, the night before I left.”

“The one, his brother’s Lou Tessa?”

“Yeah, it’s another one of those brother things. What’d Narcissa tell him, I’m in Detroit, uh? Or you wouldn’t of called.”

“Yeah, I guess she did. And where you’re staying.”

“I thought she knew better.”

“He told her he was in the Seabees with you. How would he know that?”

“Every time I talk to a writer he wants to know what I did in the war.”

“The kid gangster read up on you.” Virgil said, “Wait a minute, Narcissa’s standing here listening.” Virgil came back on saying, “I told her one time shipmates stand together, and she believed the guy was a shipmate of yours. Hold it again.” This time Virgil said, “Narcissa says he told her his name, Vito Tessa. And if we talk to you, let you know Vito Tessa is coming to see you. Why’d he say that if he’s out to shoot you?”

“The brother tried to shoot me in the back.”

“This one wants to try face-to-face?”

“I’m not sure. Marvin the doorman at the Mayo said, ‘Uh-oh, the man’s got a gun,’ and I turned. Now we’re face-to-face, but he didn’t want any part of it. I don’t know what he’s doing giving you his name.”

“Showin’ off,” Virgil said.

“But it doesn’t mean he won’t try to surprise me. I’m gonna have to call Tulsa police, find out who he is and why they turned him loose. They had him for possession of a firearm. I can’t see the kid gangster with a license to pack. He might be smarter than I gave him credit, but not that different from his brother. Now I have to keep looking over my shoulder while I track the Krauts and get ’em home. One of ’em I believe took off, Otto, the SS guy, but hasn’t been gone long.” Carl said to his dad, “Well, I guess my day has started.”

He phoned Honey at seven, seven-thirty, and five of eight, each time letting it ring in case Honey was in the shower, Carl seeing her face raised in the spray, eyes closed, soapy water streaming over her sparkling clean breasts, but never got an answer. He had decided the best thing to do, keep Honey on as if she had never shown him her breasts. Though it could get tricky talking to her face-to-face, each knowing how close they came yesterday to something happening, if not adultery. He’d try not to stare at her blouse and imagine the two girls in there, thinking they were a size smaller than Louly’s, but weren’t what you’d call small breasts, either. What Honey’s had was a look of their own, one he thought of as, you know, perky, their pink noses stuck up in the air. He liked this image that came to him, but couldn’t think of anyone he could tell and admit he made it up. Maybe Narcissa.

He had stood in the bedroom doorway looking at Honey. She didn’t move or give him any kind of sexy look. She didn’t have to. She commented on what he read to her from the paper, the same as if she had all her clothes on, and asked him what he wanted to do. No, she said, “Have you decided what you want to do?”

The first thing he thought of was, You got to be kidding. But didn’t say it. He didn’t want to see her smile, encouraged. He had to be as cool about it as she was, and said let’s have supper and drive by Vera Mezwa’s, see who’s there. Honey said, “That’s what you want to do, check license numbers?” Standing there with her honkers staring at him. Honey started to smile, then was laughing, shaking her head. Carl grinned at her and at the two girls he would never see again and everything was almost back to normal. Honey got dressed.

Last night he’d said to her, “You get out of the car you’re on your own,” in a normal tone of voice, but laying it out, this is the way it is. What did she do? She got out saying she’d tell him about it tomorrow and waved her fingers at him. She was out of view trespassing around the house, appeared again on the other side, went up to the door, turned and waved to him.

What did he do after that-nothing. Came back to the hotel, had a drink at the bar, went up to his room and turned on the radio for news reports. The Russians in Vienna fighting house to house. Carl listening, Carl thinking of how to be himself with Honey without getting in trouble.

Last night Carl had stopped at the curb in front of Vera Mezwa’s house to let Honey out, Honey having her way without acting snippy about it. This morning he turned into the driveway and cut the motor. Nobody was going to drive off while Carl was visiting, not Ms. Mezwa, not her little helper and not the Kraut escape artist Jurgen Schrenk. Carl followed the walk to the front door, his hand raised in a gesture to the surveillance car across the street-not the empty one there for show-his acknowledging them saying there was no reason to call it in, we’re all friends here, aren’t we? But that’s what the agents would do, radio the office. Carl rang the bell and heard the chime inside the house, waited and rang the bell again. He wasn’t going anywhere.

The door opened and Carl said, “Bohdan Kravchenko from Odessa, a survivor of the siege. Nice going, buddy. I’m Carl Webster, here in no official capacity to see Miz Vera Mezwa, the lady of the house.”

Bo had on a green smoking jacket with black lapels, his bare chest showing, and pajama pants. He said, “I’m sorry, but Ms. Mezwa is not entertaining callers this morning.”

Carl said, “I don’t need to be entertained, Bohunk. Run upstairs and tell her I have the means to search the house if I need to.”

Bo appeared to have turned to stone. He seemed to be trying not to move his mouth as he said, “May I see it?”

Carl pulled out the leather case he carried every day of his life and opened it to show his marshal’s ID and his star.

Bo said, “That only tells me who you are.”

Carl said, “It’s all you need to know.”

“But it’s not a court order.”

Carl said, “It’s better.”

They were both on the sofa at opposite ends, but turned to each other, Vera in a greenish silk dressing gown that was loose in front and she would let come open enough to catch his eye-Carl thinking these Detroit women came right at you. They were talking about Honey Deal.

Vera saying, “Yes, you dropped her off and she went home with Walter Schoen. That is to say I believe he drove her home. I can’t presume to know his intentions. Honey, quite openly, apologized to Walter for the way she left him, rather abruptly, and I sensed he was encouraged to renew their relationship. At least to try. I noticed at one point while they were talking Walter was wiping his eyes.”

Carl said, “No kidding.”

He couldn’t imagine her getting Walter worked up on purpose unless she was playing with him. Or she felt sorry for him, the reason she was being nice. Honey was out front in her way, not the least self-conscious. Carl believed she could walk out on a stage, face an auditorium full of strangers, and give a talk off the cuff. Tell about the funny thing that happened on the way there and make up the rest. Tell a few jokes. He felt he and Honey were alike in that they could talk their way in or out of situations. She always seemed herself, didn’t need to put on any kind of act. He said to Vera, “She left with Walter. Just the two of them in the car?”

“As far as I know.”

“What about Dr. Taylor?”

“You’re familiar with everyone.”

“What was he doing?”

“Talking to my houseman, Bo.”

“I understand Joe Aubrey arrived with Walter.”

“Honey told you that? Or, there actually is someone in the surveillance car?”

Carl smiled for a moment.