Elmore Leonard - Maximum Bob

It gave her hope. “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.”

She went to the kitchen, turned on the light and got two cans of beer from the refrigerator. As soon as Gary mentioned being in a car, that business about the left side, she was in the unmarked Dodge again seeing the dark street, the doctor’s house-it reminded her of a British colonial building in the Bahamas. If Elvin was there it would be for one reason. If the doctor put the stuff on Sonny at his trial and Elvin was Sonny’s boyfriend and the biggest thing in Elvin’s life was paying back… Something didn’t make sense.

In the bedroom again with the cans of beer, she placed Gary’s on the nightstand and turned on the lamp. He seemed happy to see her navel looking him in the eye.

“You think Elvin wants to kill the doctor?”

“That was my first thought,” Gary said, finally looking up, reaching for the can of beer.

“Then what’s he waiting for? He’s been on the street ten days. He told me the only reason he shot the wrong guy and went to prison, he waited too long. What’s he waiting for this time?”

Gary sipped his beer. “Maybe that’s his problem. He puts things off.”

“Would he tell us he even knows the doctor if he’s going to kill him?”

“You said he’s pretty dumb.”

“Elvin’s into something, with the doctor.”

“Like what?”

The beer can was cold in her hand, but it was something to hold on to standing topless in her panties; that wasn’t planned. “You talk to Elvin, you get the feeling he’s dying to tell you something, but he can’t. You see it on his face. How did he introduce himself to the doctor? Did he walk in off the street looking for work? That isn’t Elvin. I think he came with a story, something about Sonny, or he wouldn’t have got in. Well, the doctor has a story too, doesn’t he? He wasn’t convicted of killing that girl, Sonny was. You know he could convince Elvin…” Kathy stopped. “Who presided at Sonny’s trial?”

Gary was smiling a little. “Guess?”

“You’ve thought of this, haven’t you?”

“I might’ve. Keep going.”

“I had a feeling it was Gibbs. How about Dr. Tommy’s trial?”

“Gibbs. You feel that one too?”

“I was hoping. And Gibbs put Elvin away. What do you think?”

“About what? Elvin’s always been a suspect.”

“I mean Elvin and Dr. Tommy, both in on it.”

“But you said no one’s out to get the judge.”

“I’ve changed my mind.”

“The shots were fired at his house, you said. Not at him.”

“I still think so, but I see these two guys… You don’t like the doctor in it?”

“I might. I haven’t talked to him yet.”

“He could have the same pay-back motive as Elvin. Gibbs took his license, put him on house arrest. He can’t move because of this judge and he’s a problem case, always bitching. He’s already been implicated in a homicide…”

“As a suspect, never indicted.”

“He’s an offender, Gary. They’re dirty once, they can get dirty again.”

“You sound like a twenty-year cop.”

She gave that a moment. “I do, don’t I?”

“Learn procedures, you’d make a star investigator.”

“But start out in uniform.”

“I like the one you have on,” Gary said.

Kathy hooked a thumb in her panties, getting back in the mood. “Yeah, but where would I keep my gun?”

The gold walls shimmered and the zebra moved, ready to rise from the floor. The zebra could be explained: Earlene the go-go whore doing the salsa on its skin in her G-string, topless. Sorry, Dr. Tommy said, no rock and roll. The only rock had cost Earlene twenty-five dollars. He paid her for it anxious to do crack, his first time. Elvin drank Scotch whiskey complaining there was no bourbon, while Dr. Tommy and Earlene smoked chips from the rock. When he couldn’t find a pipe she made something like a bong by cutting a hole in a beer can: an amazing, resourceful girl, too thin, arms like sticks and small breasts, never smiled, hated Elvin, slowly killing herself… But when he asked her, “What do you think it’s like?” Doing crack. She said, “Being born. Coming into the light of day.” That wasn’t bad. He told her he thought it was like doing the best coke and the best weed at the same time, because while you space out everything becomes much clearer too, yes, bright, and you want to, not so much fly, as hover above the ground. She wasn’t listening. Elvin was telling her to take off her G-string. She wasn’t listening to him either. Elvin telling her then, “Show the doc your haircut.” What? She had long limp hair. Dr. Tommy said wait, he had to go to the bathroom.

Each time he left the room he would stop by the kitchen where Hector, fluttering, afraid to come out, would have another observation to make. This time:

“What if the nephew is arrested?”

“I’m sure he will be.”

“In the Cadillac you haven’t reported stolen.”

Hmmm. “I say I loaned it to him? Listen, you may have to go out and get some more.” The trouble with crack, you were no sooner up, you were coming in for a landing, hitting the ground.

Hector said, “The man is taking over your house.”

Also, it left an unpleasant taste.

“You hear me? He’s taking over your house .”

“Hector?”

He looked away, pouting. “What?”

When he did this you had to win him back.

“The man wears an electric-blue polyester suit made in China that smells of mothballs.”

Dr. Tommy returned to the den to hear Elvin saying he was getting a haircut tomorrow. Only he was getting his on his head. Laughing as if that was funny. Laughing and now coughing while the doctor danced with the go-go whore.

Monday afternoon in his chambers Gibbs said, “I get my picture in the Sunday paper and what amounts to the story of my life… You see it?”

Kathy, in the low sofa, nodded at his head and shoulders behind the desk, the judge out of his robes.

“So this morning my courtroom’s packed, all these people come to see the judge some screwball wants to assassinate. I have standing room only and what happens?”

“I was there,” Kathy said.

It didn’t stop him.

“A defendant starts using vile, obscene, and abusive language. Tells me to kiss his ass. Calls me a racist motherfucker in front of all those people. Now I’ve been called a racist before and I don’t know why, ‘cause I got nothing against the colored. One time I was written up in the Judicial Conduct Reporter for what they considered a racist remark. I was trying a man who had shot and killed his wife when he found out she was having an affair with a colored guy. I happened to say as I was charging the jury, they had to decide if a willful act of murder was committed, but also take into consideration the infidelity involved and be willing to call a spade a spade.”

“You actually said that?”

“Just kidding, I wasn’t serious. Now, on account of what happened this morning, they want to put me in a dinky little courtroom. TAC does, so they’ll have tighter control. Here’s this defendant mouthing off, using obscenities-he’s already serving five life terms for rape, kidnapping, and robbery. He knows I’m gonna give him three more plus fifty years for good measure. What’s he got to lose. He starts yelling-bad as he is he’s got friends in the courtroom, so they get into it. ‘Right on.’ You heard ‘em. ‘Fight the power.’ All that kind of talk they use. What am I gonna do, clear the courtroom?”

“You could have called a recess.”

“Like hell. I warned the defendant, ‘One more outburst of any kind, I’ll order the bailiff to gag your mouth shut and chain you to your seat.’ Well, he found out I meant it, as did everyone in the courtroom. I give my word, I stand by it. But it’ll be in the paper tomorrow somewhat different, wait and see. ‘Maximum Bob strikes again. Lowers the boom.’ Having fun with me. Maximum Bob, that’s what Newsweek named me the time I was on their cover.”