William Kennedy - Chango's Beads and Two-Tone Shoes

“What did you tell them?” Renata asked.

“I said I saw no strangers, today or yesterday. Did you see anyone when you came in your taxi?”

“There was a man hiding behind a tree,” Renata said. “He looked like Fidel Castro.”

“Don’t joke about such a thing,” Esme said. “They will arrest you.”

Renata drove Esme’s Buick in a way that Quinn decided was more dangerous than traveling with machine guns in the trunk, and more liable to get them arrested on this day of assassins on wheels.

“Let me drive,” he said. “You’re too distracted.”

“I am not distracted.”

“You’re speeding.”

“They’re not arresting speeders today.”

“Let me drive.”

“Later.”

“Later we’ll be at your house.”

“I can’t park this car at my house.”

“Are you saying we have another parking problem?”

“I cannot do anything strange that will attract the police.”

“Everything you do is strange. I hope you don’t mind me saying this, but I’m falling in love with you because of your bizarre turn of mind.”

“Thank you, Daniel.”

“Thank me? For falling in love?”

“I love it when men love me.”

“You have so many. How many is enough?”

“I don’t think of it that way.”

“How do you think of it?”

“I can’t think of it. I have Diego in my mind. I can’t think of other people’s love.”

“I don’t want to be considered other people.”

“Diego was my love.”

“He was one of them. You can lose two or three and still have loves to spare.”

“I don’t like your attitude.”

“I’m sorry for Diego but I can’t grieve as you do. He was a very, very brave man and I’m sad a warrior of the revolution was killed. Yours is another kind of sorrow from mine.”

“You must stop talking or I’ll start to hate you and I don’t want to hate someone who is falling in love with me.”

“What are you going to do with this car?”

“Esme will tell my mother I have it. But if I park at my house and the police come, Esme will be involved.”

“She’s already involved. The police came to see her. They may even think she parked Diego’s car.”

“Never. She is too close to Batista.”

“I can park it someplace.”

“Yes, you can, can’t you.”

“I can park it by my apartment.”

“Where is your apartment?”

“In the Vedado. Near the Nacional. I could even leave the car in the hotel parking lot.”

“Perfect,” she said. “Take me home — Twenty-second Street.” She stopped the car and changed seats with Quinn. They were on Fifth Avenue in Miramar.

“Did your parents know Diego?”

“They heard his name, but they can’t keep track of my life. I tell so many lies I can’t keep track myself.”

“I would like to meet them without lies.”

“They will like it that you’re an Americano. They will assume you have money. Do you?”

“I can pay my rent and still have some left over for the laundry.”

“ Pobrecito. ”

On Twenty-second Street Renata said her house was on the right. Two Oldsmobile sedans, nobody in either one, were parked in front and every light in the house seemed to be lit.

“Keep going,” she said. “Those cars are the SIM. They’re probably talking to my parents. God, how my father will hate this. He hates all politics since Machado. My mother will be dying of anxiety.”

“Which way do we go?”

“I have to talk to somebody. I know nothing. I want to see Diego.”

“Diego can’t help you. What about Max? He’ll know what’s happening.”

“Max knows nothing I want to know. But I can use his telephone, yes, good. I so want to go to Diego.”

Renata wanted to love a dead man. The living man next to her would not do. She needed love that was no longer available and she needed it now. Maybe they could find a dead man somewhere. There were many in Havana today. It impressed him that she was broiling at organ central, a woman questing to love death. If I take her to the morgue she will fall on the corpse. Usually you don’t need to die to get laid in Cuba, but tonight it would help. She’s from another dimension, perhaps nature itself, equally ready for life or death.

In the city room Max was in his cubicle, his shirt wilted. He looked weary, and bored with whoever was on the other end of the telephone. Quinn watched him stare at Renata who was sitting at a desk in a far corner, next to a tall black man he’d seen on his first visit and who now was making up pages for the next edition. Renata was on the phone. She’s close to Max and he’s red hot for her and she likes it. She likes it hot. Max would, beyond hotness, also be gallant and suave with women. Quinn didn’t trust him.

“We came for the news,” Quinn said when Max ended his call. “Renata can’t live without the small detail of what’s happening. She’s obsessed with knowing who’s dead. I think somebody from the museum may have been killed.”

“How did you hook up with her today?”

“I saved her from solitude after the attack.”

“You move as fast as a sex tourist.”

“Havana accelerates the blood.”

Max preened and said he’d had a ten-minute exclusive interview with Batista after the attack, a bit of a scoop.

“What’s exclusive in it?” Quinn asked.

“Nothing except he said it in English.”

Batista had whetted Max’s appetite for an interview with Castro. “I don’t think he’s dead and I don’t think Batista thinks so either. He’s sure the army’s going to deliver his corpse. You want to try for an interview? Matthews’ story in the Times opened him up but there’s a lot more to get.”

“Why me?” Quinn asked.

“You’re on a roll. You go someplace and things happen. Is it always like this with you?”

“I try to keep the status quo at arm’s length.”

“I have a Santiago contact who may or may not get you started. But he can pass the word and then it’s all whether they trust you. Fidel will trust an American newsman before a Cuban. Some Cuban newspapers are with Batista and the rest are monitored by censors.”

“Not this one?”

“We are sometimes independent. You’re from the Herald and you’re a Time stringer, no? Those are definite pluses.”

“Assistant stringer.”

“But you did make the connection to Time. ”

“They didn’t pay me yet and I didn’t write anything for them yet. Otherwise it’s a deal.”

Renata came weeping to Max’s office, blotting her tears.

“My friend’s entire family was arrested,” she said. “Seven people.”

“Everybody was arrested today,” Max said. “Anybody who wasn’t will be arrested tomorrow. They’re leaving bodies all over Havana, one hanging from a tree. Anybody linked to the Directorio is a target. A dozen attackers were students and they found some of their guns in an apartment near the University.”

“Did all the attackers die?” Renata asked.

“Two or three got away, so the army says. You know any?”

“I may, but I don’t know who was killed.”

“We have a few names,” he said, and he pushed a paper with six names on it toward Renata. “They’re compiling the full list. We’ll get it. What can I do to help?”

“Nothing.” She was almost weeping again.

“I can take you to dinner, with your friend here, if you like. We can even pick up your parents.”

“I couldn’t eat,” she said.