Harvey Porter Does Dallas (12 page)

“But what about you, Harv?”

He gave it a wave of his hand. “With my background, nobody'd think it was unusual, me talkin' to Carlos. Your record on the whole thing is still clean. Squeaky clean. Let's keep it that way. Let me talk to him.”

“How?”

“Just call him. Tell him I'll meet him on one of the benches in the plaza. Tell him I've got some information that's really prime.”

“Okay, when?”

“Just make sure it's durin' free time.”

Harvey met with Carlos two days later at three o'clock in the plaza. They found a bench that was away from other people. Carlos looked very edgy. Very much on guard.

He lit up a cigarette before he said. “My sister wanted me to meet you. Why?”

Harvey thought before he answered. “I guess to protect you, but more important, to protect
her
.”

“Protect Carmelita? What's up with that?”

“She's been hassled by the cops lots of times to give them inside info on
Los Rebeldes
.”

“Yeah, but she never knew a thing. That was a policy I had and I stuck to it.”

“I know. She told me. I didn't want her to get involved.”

“Hmmmm,” said Carlos. “I can see your point.” Carlos was a little shorter than Harvey, but very muscular. He was wearing blue jeans and an old
Bevis and Butthead
tee shirt. His skin was very dark for a Hispanic. He had tattoos of snakes and skulls and religious items (such as crosses and faces of Jesus) that covered most of his arms.

Harvey told him about Carmelita's talk with the colored guy and the info about the undercover cop that was going to be with the Klus.

“Probably some black bread gang that would like to see the Klu's get wasted.”

“Probably.”

Then Carlos asked him, “Why should I believe what you're tellin' me? Why should I trust you?”

Harvey looked at him. He had ear studs and a ring in his left nostril. Harvey remembered all the tattoos, but he couldn't remember the studs or the ring. “You don't have to trust me,” he said. “All you have to do is trust your sister.”

Carlos dropped his cigarette and stepped on it. He nodded his head several times before saying, “I think you've got a good point.”

“That's two good points. Maybe I better quit while I'm ahead.” Carlos laughed.

“I appreciate this, bro; we woulda got sucker punched.” Then he looked at Harvey's scar close up. “Man, who sewed this up? A horse doctor?”

“No, Carlos, worse than that. If I could've had a horse doctor it would probably look much better.”

Carlos lowered his head and rested his forearms on his knees. He spoke to the ground: “Harvey, I'm real sorry about cuttin' you. I shouldn'tuv come at you with my blade.”

Harvey didn't say anything.
Did Carlos want to make peace?

Carlos went on, but without looking up, “When you said you were quittin' the gang, that was too hinky. We had to hit you with some punishment. You gotta understand there was nothin' personal about it, it's just when guys get outta street gangs they usually have to take some punishment for it.”

“I know.”

“But the problem is,” said Carlos while sitting up straight again and looking into Harvey's eyes, “
I'm
the one who got the punishment. You got that cut, but I got busted ribs. I really underestimated you. I couldn't breathe for about two months and if I ever laughed, the pain damn near killed me.”

“Sorry,” said Harvey.

Carlos shook his head. “You got no apology you need to make. It was me comin' after you, so all you were doin' was defendin' yourself.”

Harvey said, “Let's just put all that behind us.”

“Works for me. Let bygones be bygones.”

“That's what I'm sayin.”

Carlos asked him, “Do you still have the wolf's tooth from when you were in the gang?”

“Yeah I do, actually. I've even got the rawhide loop I used so I could wear it around my neck.”

“I'd say keep it with you. Not in places like this, but when you're out on the streets or in the neighborhoods. If anyone from
Los Rebeldes
ever gives you any shit, just show 'em the tooth. Tell 'em I told you to carry it with you.”

“I can do that,” said Harvey. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, well thanks to you for the tip. We coulda been in some deep shit.”

“That's the way I had it scoped.”

They stood up and before heading their separate ways, they shook hands. Harvey felt a sense of relief. It was a good day.

14. WOLF'S TOOTH AND MRS. MUSHRUSH

That night, for the first time in a long time, he looked at his wolf's tooth. It was a very large canine tooth with a very small hole drilled in it so the slender rawhide strip barely fit through.

It was past midnight and Harvey was looking at it with his table lamp on. He had his back turned to Stonecipher, who lodged a complaint. “Why don't you turn your damn light off? It's keepin' me awake.”

Harvey's answer was brief: “Shut your hole or I'll shut it for you.”

He kept looking at the tooth and thinking. The tooth seemed to have some kind of extra meaning. Something mysterious. But it wouldn't come to him, so he finally gave up and went to sleep.

It came to him in the middle of the night. In a dream, caught in a net like the Cherokees call a “dream catcher”. Harvey sat straight up in bed at 3:00 a.m. and said out loud, “I've got it! It's the picture! It's the picture!” Several of the sleeping boys cursed at him, but Harvey didn't care. He went back to dreamland.
All I have to do is call Mrs. Mushrush
, he thought before falling into a deep sleep.

He was restless during his morning classes, thinking about the wolf's tooth and Mrs. M. Finally, during afternoon free time, he found Victor sitting in the lounge while reading the list book by Al Capone. “Y'know, Harvey,” he said, “this is pretty weird. The government never could get him in prison for all those gangster killings he did, so they finally got him for cheating on his income taxes. He wrote this book while he was still in prison.”

“I haven't read that one yet.” He wasn't even sure who Al Capone was. “Have you got your cell phone with you?”

“Sure. Got it right here.” He patted the back side of his belt.

“Can I use it?”

“Sure,” Victor answered as he handed over the phone.

“Thanks.” Harvey dialed the Mushrush number. Mrs. M answered the call. “Hello?”

“Mrs. M, it's Harvey.”

“Harvey, well for heaven's sake. Imagine getting a call from you.”

“Yeah I don't use the phone much.”

“But it's nice hearing from you. How are things going for you at the alternative school?”

“Real good, Mrs. M. I like it here. It's the only school I ever liked.” He did not mention anything about the Oswald list or his sixth floor snooping. He did not mention he had a huge crush on Carmelita.

“That's wonderful news, Harvey. I'm so happy for you.”

“Thanks. But I'm calling to ask a favor.”

“Go ahead and ask.”

“You remember that one picture in the scrapbook? That one from some old family reunion with the little girl on the end who looked like a half-breed?”

“Of course I remember it.”

“Well, do you think I could borrow it from you?”

“Of course you can. You can even
keep
it if you want. It's not an important picture to us because it's from some family reunion Bailey and I never went to, probably clear back to 1940. Why is your interest special?”

“Keep it? That'd be cool. I'm still workin' on trackin' down my roots. I think the picture might help.”

“Would you like me to drop it off or mail it to you?”

“No, I've got a friend here who's got his own car. I think he can bring me; wait just a second.” Harvey put the phone down and turned to Victor. “Can you give me a ride someplace?”

“Sure. Where?”

“3204 Forest Lane in Garland.”

“No problem. You got an errand?”

“Yeah, but it's just a short one. It won't take long at all.” He got back on the phone and said to Mrs. M, “My friend says he'll bring me.”

“Well, come get it then. I'll get it out of the scrapbook for you. I don't have any plans for the afternoon, so I should be here.”

“Thanks a lot, Mrs. M.”

There was a parking lot behind the building for faculty, staff, and students who had their own cars. There were only 8 or 10 students who had them. Victor Vice's car was a shiny black
Lexus
, almost like new. “Jesus Christ, Victor, how'd you ever get wheels this cool?”

“My parents are rich. Our whole family is rich.”

“That would be better'n livin' on the street,” Harvey mumbled.

Victor was pulling the luxury car into the street. “Yeah, I'm sorry I even mentioned about being rich. You survived on the street, but look how good you turned out.”

Harvey laughed. In his whole life, nobody had ever told him he was good before.

“What's funny?”

“I was just thinkin', I've been called lots of things before, but
good
was never one of them.” He started to give Victor directions, but his friend interrupted right away. “I won't need any directions, Harvey, I know right where that address is.”

“You do?”

“Yeah I do. That's one of the reasons I'm in the SAS.”

“That doesn't make any sense. You're in the SAS because you're good with directions?”

“It's not that simple. I know directions almost anywhere because I steal buses.”

“You steal
buses?
What kind of buses?”

“Any kind. Every kind. I never thought of it as stealing, though, I just thought of it as borrowing. I always brought them back, especially the city buses.”

“Okay, so how do you steal a bus?”

“Let's say
borrow
. Even though the cops and the courts never saw it my way.”

“Okay, so how do you borrow a bus?” Harvey had never ridden in such a luxury car before. The Lexus just glided down the freeway like it was floating on a cloud. It had leather seats so it even
smelled
good.

“You know how the drivers always leave the buses running when they take a break?”

“I never thought of it,” said Harvey.

“Well, whenever I see one of the buses running and no driver in it, I just get this like total urge to drive it. I can't help myself. The shrinks think I have a mental disorder.”

“That's bullshit,” said Harvey. “You're one of the smartest guys I ever knew. When you took the buses, what'd you do?”

“My favorite thing was just follow the route and let passengers on and off. It's easy because there's a colored map of the route next to the driver's seat. I always let people ride for free. That was part of the fun.”

“Did you ever get sent to juvey hall for doin' it?”

“No, I was lucky I guess. You remember I told you my parents are rich? Well they've got a real good lawyer. He always went with me when judges chewed me out or gave me probation or community service. One time I got 50 hours of community service and they made me wire brush gang graffiti off bridges and overpasses.”

“Hey,” said Harvey. “Maybe you brushed off some of my words. That would be a hoot, huh?” Both boys got a good laugh out of that one.

“But,” Victor said, “I was in juvey hall twice, each time about three months.”

“For stealin'—I mean borrowin'—the buses?”

“No that was for stealing police cars.”

“Squad cars?”

“Yeah. The cops are like the bus drivers. They always leave their engines running when they check out a crime scene.”

“Now that I
have
seen,” said Harvey.

“It was just like the buses. I had this total urge to drive them, so I did. I just drove around town. Sometimes I got behind drivers who were going too fast, and I'd turn the top flashing lights on. If the driver pulled over, I just kept going.”

“Did you ever run the siren?”

“Oh yeah, lots of times. That was part of the fun. Sometimes I'd just get next to a driver and give him the evil eye. It was a real power rush because people get scared when cops are looking them over. I always took the cars back where I found them. I'll guarantee you one thing: The cops never thought it was funny. It really does look like I have a mental disorder, Harvey. Remember what Mrs. Bert said about 'Berto's compulsion to steal garbage cans and yard flamingoes.”

Still, Harvey wasn't convinced. “No, that can't be. You're just too smart.”

Then Victor put in his favorite Jennifer Lopez CD, and with the six-speaker surround sound system, Harvey felt like he was in a concert hall.
Here I am, cruisin' on the freeway like floatin' on air, and in a concert all at the same time
.

Victor was true to his word. They pulled up in front of the Mushrush house without a hitch. While Harvey was getting out of the car, he asked his friend, “Wanna come in with me?”

“No, I think I'll just sit here and listen to J-Lo. You won't be gone long you said.”

“That's true. Just a minute or two.” Mrs. M met him at the door; she had the picture, inside a manila mailer. It was protected that way. “I don't know how to thank you,” said Harvey.

“It's thanks enough just to see you again.” She tried to give him a hug but Harvey wasn't comfortable with it. He didn't like people
touching
him. “It's the middle of the afternoon. Why aren't you at the canning factory?”

“That's the good news I have to tell,” she said. “I'm not working there any more.”

“How'd that happen?”

“Oddly enough, it was a couple of days after Bailey drove you to the SAS. He said there was no point in my working there. He said if we got real strict with the Visa and the Master Card we could get rid of our credit card debt. Then his salary would pay enough so we could all live comfortably. Isn't that something?” she asked, smiling broadly.