Elmore Leonard - Maximum Bob

Leanne said, “You were sent here. Did you want me to contact someone for you? A deceased relative?”

Kathy shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

“You brought a message,” Leanne said, “instructing me to stay and help Big. I feel I should give you one in return. I believe I’m suppose to. Wait now. Wanda’s telling me about someone… Who?… She doesn’t know. It’s someone who passed over recently.”

Kathy said, “I don’t know of anyone.”

Leanne said, “Shhh,” glaring at her. Then stared cockeyed again or stoned and raised her hand. “Wait, this person hasn’t passed over.” She said, “What?” And said, “Oh, my Lord. He’s passing over right now, as I speak.”

Kathy saw her eyes squeeze closed and heard her little-girl voice say, “They’s two of ‘em, Leanne.”

This was good, the woman trying to take it as a joke, but not too sure now, getting nervous, saying, “I can’t leave this man sitting here, can I?”

“Why can’t you?”

“He’s here first, with an appointment. He’s a good customer.”

The cop was staring at him not saying a word, no doubt wondering what in the hell was going on. Was he being played with or what? Meantime the woman was working on him again, scissors clicking away, trying to get it done quick.

“I know who he is,” Elvin said. “I still want you to come over here and cut my hair. I want it cut real short too, so nobody can pull on it.”

The woman said, “If you can be patient for jus’ a few minutes,” in her Hispanic way of talking, and the cop’s left hand came out from under the cloth.

He raised it to her saying, “There’s no hurry. Take your time.”

Almost just like in that book. It made Elvin think of it again: Sonny reading, getting to the part where Frank starts to put his rifle on the guy to move him out of the chair and the guy tells him if he raises it another inch he’ll kill him. With what? Elvin knew he was bluffing. Why didn’t Frank? Sonny read some more, but Elvin had lost interest in Frank, knowing he’d be dead before the end of the book, so why read it. Instead of talking, letting himself get faked out, why didn’t he use the goddamn rifle? That was the difference between a book and real life. In a book, the one who was supposed to be the bad guy always got killed in the end.

Elvin pushed out of the chair and moved behind it to a washbasin and counter, glancing at himself in the mirror. He picked up a hair dryer that looked like a Buck Rogers gun and thought of smashing the mirror with it. He could see them watching. First ask the woman if she’s ready to cut his hair. She starts to argue, smash the mirror and then say, Now are you? And the cop would be out of that chair so fast… Best not to touch anything. Keep it simple. He moved toward the opening in the lattice fence saying over his shoulder, “Seeing you’re so busy, I’ll come back later. Have Isabel cut it.”

“Is okay with me,” the woman said, “you go someplace else.”

Let her think whatever she wanted.

Elvin walked through the room with the porch furniture to the front door, opened it and let it slam closed. There were all those things you wanted to do and couldn’t, and finally there was something you could if you had the nerve, if you quit thinking about it and did it . He moved back to the lattice fence not making a sound, the Speed-Six revolver in his hand now, peeked through the slats and -Jesus, the cop was pulling the cloth over his head, shoving it at the woman, about to push out of the chair-and Elvin had to step quick to the opening. He shot Gary as he was standing up and it punched him back in the chair. He shot him again sitting in it, starting to slide out. He shot the woman as she was screaming. It knocked her off her feet and shut her up. The hair puller, Gary, was on the floor getting to his hands and knees, straightening up now-Jesus, with his gun in his hand-and Elvin shot him again and then one more time before he got out of there, that sound ringing in his head.

Tuesday afternoon Hector said to Dr. Tommy, “You believe there’s another dermatologist in the world who sunbathes?”

Dr. Tommy, lying naked on the patio in a chaise, said he was no longer a dermatologist, so it was okay.

He was no longer anything, on a crack cocaine binge, his new thing, and looked at himself in mirrors making faces, as if talking to himself. He was always a little crazy, but they had fun. Now, since doing crack with the go-go whore, he was crazy in a different way. In two days he had become a rockhead. It was all he wanted, saying, “Where have I been?” Where ? Right here doing cocaine, the best weed, Quaaludes. At least then he was aware and made sense when he spoke. Now he called the creature, Elvin, “the assassin in underwear,” knew that much, but didn’t care Elvin was taking over his home.

Hector would say, “You know he can get us in trouble. You know he isn’t going to kill the judge. It doesn’t matter to you now if he does or not. Why don’t you make him leave?”

The doctor would seem to be considering a way to do it and then say, “We need a source we can rely on. We buy it from the go-go whore, she adds her profit on top. I don’t blame her, but it isn’t the most economical way to buy it. Unless you bring her here, give her what she paid and share it with her. No, wait. If I do that I would be getting less, wouldn’t I? That would be okay, though, I like to watch her. Do you know she’s killing herself? She doesn’t know it yet, but she is. Ask her.”

“What, if she knows she’s killing herself or if she wants to come here?”

“That’s an idea. She stays here, it would save you going back and forth. We let her use a car to make the buy.”

It was all he thought about.

“Maybe she can cook,” Hector said, “and clean the house.”

“Maybe. Ask her that too.”

See? Now he was seriously crazy.

“I’m trying to get rid of the assassin,” Hector said, “and you want to bring his girlfriend here to live with us.”

“She hates him,” Dr. Tommy said.

Again missing the point. Though it got Hector to realize that, given a choice, he would prefer to have the go-go whore in the house than the creature, the animal that wore a suit. And if there was a way to get rid of him the doctor wouldn’t care.

He would like to shoot Elvin, feeling this since almost the first time he saw him, and had been thinking of ways to dispose of his enormous body. Drop it in a canal or the Intracoastal. Take it to a woods. Steal a car and put it in the trunk. If he knew how to steal a car.

The doorbell chimed.

Hector put on his silk robe and left Dr. Tommy baking on the patio. By the time he reached the front door the high-low ding-dong chimes had sounded at least ten times. He peeked through the spy hole before opening the door, saw a young woman with short dark hair waved to extend out on each side. Cute hair, a little-girl face. The beige jacket and white skirt were okay , nothing special.

She said, “Dr. Vasco?”

Hector shook his head. “He’s not in.”

“That’s too bad,” Kathy said, flipping open her ID case to show her picture, her name, and those official words, Department of Corrections . “I’m his new Community Control officer.”

“Oh, you know something? I thought he went to AA, but he’s sleeping,” Hector said. “Please, come in.” She moved past him and he said, “I like your hair. It’s much more chic than in the picture.”

His voice so delicate, didn’t go with his coarse features, a little guy with a big nose and a ponytail in a robe that touched the floor. Kathy said, “Thanks, Hector,” turning to face him and saw his eyes light up.