***
Dicky and Inez were in the kitchen, Dicky getting a drink of water at the sink. He wished it was to chase a good belt of Seagram’s, but knew if he started drinking Inez would get on him and it would take the pleasure from it. She was snapping beans at the kitchen table where she had snapped at him all the time he was on the phone. That was what got him confused. Trying to talk and listen to her at the same time. When he told her the judge had hung up, Inez said, “I don’t wonder. You sounded like you were asking him a favor. I said tell the son of a bitch here’s the deal, whether you like it or not. He’s the one wanted the gator. We didn’t even get her hide out of it.”
Inez had been after him ever since the alligator was in the paper, like it was his fault. She’d been the one said the alligator was dead.
“You told me don’t say too much.”
“I told you don’t say your name. Let him figure it out.”
“I’m pretty sure he did.”
“Then how come he hung up on you? If you had said what I told you instead of thinking up your own words…”
Dicky, looking out the kitchen window with the glass of water in his hand, said, “Inez?”
“What?”
“They’s deputies in the yard with shotguns.”
“Well, you’re the talker,” Inez said. “Ask what they want.”
***
The first time Elvin woke up that morning he went out to the hall and banged on doors till Hector came out of one in his robe and an ugly disposition. Elvin got a couple of painkillers off him and went back to bed. No sooner was he lying there he smelled the go-go whore, her perfume, jumped up and went out to bang on Hector’s door again, wanting to know where Earlene was. Hector said, “I drove her home. You don’t remember?” Elvin said oh, yeah. Got back in bed again and let the painkillers put him under.
The next time he woke up, dying of thirst, dust blowing around in his head, it was past noon. He left the guest room this time in his undershorts and cowboy boots, a cold beer in mind, and ran into Hector standing in the hall, Hector with big eyes and a finger pressed to his mouth.
“The hell’s wrong with you?”
“A policeman is here.”
“So? I ain’t done nothing.”
Elvin made a move for the stairway and Hector took hold of his arm. “He ask to know are you here.”
Elvin pulled his arm free. “Where’s he at?” Hector gestured with his head and Elvin moved to the French doors that opened on the sun deck.
There they were by the swimming pool. Dr. Tommy, bare naked except for his anklet, hands on his hips, talking to the cop in the dark-blue suit. Elvin knew it was going to be him. The one pulled his hair, Ms. Touchy’s boyfriend.
Elvin hurried back to the guest room, his head fuzzed but feeling purpose, an urge to get it done and not let anything stop him. He saw his suit of clothes and Earlene’s G-string hanging over the back of a chair. Saw the empty Scotch bottle on the bureau, what had hung him over the way Beam never did, squeezed his skull. Was he still tanked? Some. Enough not to give a shit. What he didn’t see anyplace was his gun, the Ruger Speed-Six. He noticed Hector in the doorway watching and asked him, “Have you seen my piece?”
“What?”
“My goddamn three-fifty-seven.”
“It isn’t your gun.”
Elvin, looking through the bedcovers now, catching whiffs of the rock whore’s perfume, straightened up quick.
“You take it?”
“It isn’t yours .”
Now he was ducking out of the room. Elvin tore after him, caught the dink in a headlock right by the stairway and almost threw him down it, he wanted to so bad.
“You gonna tell me where it’s at?”
What was the guy doing, crying?
Man, this was a creepy place. The doctor out there bare naked talking to a cop and this dink whimpering like a girl, begging not to be hurt.
***
“Where’d he go?”
Dr. Tommy looked up to see Elvin at the top of the stairs to the sun deck: Elvin in his cowboy hat and underwear holding a revolver, bare legs, boots planted in a stance to keep him erect. The man still drunk.
“His beeper went off and he left.”
“He was asking about me, was he?”
“He wanted to know do you work here.” Dr. Tommy saw Hector appear on the deck, somewhat behind the assassin in his underwear. “I told him you come by now and then, work in the yard. What were you going to do, shoot him?”
“I wouldn’t mind.”
He wouldn’t mind. Dr. Tommy scratched his stomach looking up at the deck. Elvin wouldn’t mind shooting the policeman. He wouldn’t mind shooting the judge. Hector wouldn’t mind shooting Elvin, or pushing him down those stairs… What is it, Dr. Tommy thought, you wouldn’t mind? More than anything.
Right now?
Well, a twenty-five-dollar rock and a decent bong, not a beer can, to start with.
They drove out to his house in what Gibbs called “the Dodge Motorcade,” a green-and-white leading and two unmarked cars following the one they were in, Wesley the TAC cop driving, Gibbs talkative.
He said to Kathy, “I miss my pickup. You know what’s a kick? Drive over to Palm Beach for a function and have one of their cops stop me. Wait for him to swagger up to the window and then let him have it. I’ve been to places, these big condo layouts, drive up to the gate going to a cocktail party, the security guard says, ‘No trucks after five p.m.’ I look at him. ‘Boy, you happen to know who you’re addressing?’”
He said, “I’m getting too much attention of the wrong kind. What I need is a good capital felony, an open-and-shut first-degree murder. Send the defendant up to sit in Old Sparky and get my image restored.” Kathy saw Wesley’s eyes in the rearview mirror and Gibbs said, “Boy, watch the road. Never mind what’s going on back here. You TAC guys are on the ball, but I can’t say you’re fun to live with.” Two inside the house at all times, he told Kathy, another four placed around the property. The TAC guys in the cars following them would relieve the crew that was here all day. They turned into the gravel drive, Gibbs saying, “They’re quiet as mice, but you know they’re around. We’ll sit and relax, have a drink, talk of something pleasant for a change. Then I’ll show you my garden.”
“I’ve seen it,” Kathy said.
***
He told Ms. Spunky, well, you haven’t seen everything.
She was not as appreciative as Stephanie, now selling real estate, damn it, in Orlando. Steph would love the motorcade, all the attention. He might’ve misread this one. She didn’t just talk to be talking like most girls he knew. Barely spoke till they were in the garage, going in the house, then looks at the pile of trash waiting to be picked up and asks if they delivered pizzas way out here. He told her he wouldn’t know. Cops ate pizza, he didn’t.
Now they were settled on the porch with drinks and the first thing she said, looking at the patched screen:
“I was surprised, the guy on the phone mentioning the alligator.”
He should never have put that call on the speaker.
“It surprised me too. Least I won’t get any calls here, the number’s unlisted. I’ll have to play the tapes for you sometime, the ones called hoping to see me killed. You imagine the kind of person would do that?”
“He seemed to think you’d know who he was.”
“Well, last week I fined a poacher five hundred bucks. I mentioned him, Dicky Campau? Shot a gator in the Palm Beach Canal.”
“But he was talking about the one in your yard.”
Bob Gibbs saw he had to take another tack. He hated to act dumb, give this girl the wrong impression. “Well, the only thing I can think of… he’s the same one brought the gator. Put it in the yard beforehand, mad as hell, knowing he was gonna get a heavy fine. What do you think?” He saw her start to tell him and moved on saying, “The guy’s wife was in court at the sentencing. Now there’s a woman looks like an alligator, homeliest female I ever saw.” Hoping to slide off the subject.
Читать дальше