Maximum Bob (13 page)

Now it crept down the main drag of storefronts, Elvin always amazed at the sight of cane cutters, hundreds of black faces on the street buying Walkman radios and little TVs to take back to Jamaica, their season almost done. Elvin said, “I ain’t gonna say nothing but, Jesus Christ, how come we bring all these people here when our own niggers could be doing the work? I know it’s a filthy dirty job and you can get hurt swinging them machetes, but they could at least try it, shit. Don’t let me get off on that, the invasion of the boogers. You think they’re gonna be happy staying only six months? Pretty soon they’ll be living here, as the Cuban and different other kinds are, taking our jobs.”

“Excuse me,” Dale said, “but when did you ever work?”

Elvin didn’t like Dale’s snippy tone of voice, but let it go, the boy scared and angry at the same time.

“I took folks for airboat rides,” Elvin said. “I even took rich boogers for airboat rides and it like to killed me. I had a mind to dump ‘em in the swamp. I got a deal on right now with a rich booger. He’s paying I mean top dollar for me to do a special kind of job. If it was only for pay, shit, I wouldn’t do it. But it turns out it’s for me and you mostly. You know the guy, Dr. Tommy, the one in Ocean Ridge. You want to guess what the job is?”

The boy didn’t answer. Not interested or too busy feeling sorry for himself.

“I understand where you’re at,” Elvin said, “facing up to a system known for not being fair.”

Dale said, “Shit, all I did was hit a cop. Why’re they any different?”

Elvin said, “I know, I’ve done it and paid. I’ve learned if you’re ever angry enough to hit somebody, don’t do it. Cool down and get yourself a pistol. There’s a cop pulled my hair I was dying to hit. Unh-unh, I’m waiting till the right time.” Elvin hunched close to the steering wheel, turning his head as he gazed up through the windshield. “Look it how they live.”

They were passing migrant housing now, two-story concrete barracks, wash hanging to dry on the upstairs rails.

“Day off, they drink rum and chew sugarcane. You go inside there, everyone of ‘em’s playing a radio. I never saw people liked radios so much.”

Dale said, “When’d you ever go in there?”

Looking for an argument in his frame of mind.

“I worked one time for a guy ran the
bolita
. You know, the numbers? I’d have to go in those places they lived, be the only white person in there, boogers looking at me like they wanted to cut my balls off with a cane knife. Ugly people but, man, did they love to play the
bolita
. They’d love this car too, wouldn’t they? They’d keep house in it.”

Out on the highway the sky to the south was full of black smoke where they were burning off the last of the fields. Trucks whipped past hauling cane stalks to the sugar house for processing. They drove their Ford tractors fast, dumped the loads off the trailers and headed back for more. It was a job Dale used to have and Elvin thought he would brag on it now, but he didn’t. That’s how mean his disposition was.

“Oh my, what to do,” Elvin said. “All right, I’m gonna make you a proposition.”

Dale didn’t even ask what it was. Didn’t say one word till they’d driven the forty miles back to civilization, took the freeway down to Boynton Beach and turned into the parking lot of the cocktail bar on S.E. 15th.

Dale said, “That’s my truck.” Not snippy at all now, more surprised than anything.

Elvin checked, didn’t see any surveillance, before saying, “Why yes it is.” The pickup still sitting where he’d left it yesterday. “And the keys are in it.”

•          •          •

T
hey sat in a booth with their drinks, Jim Beam and 7-Up, dark in here this Sunday afternoon, Elvin relaxed with something he was anxious to tell, but irritated the drinks were served in skimpy glasses. He’d wave to the waitress for two more. She’d bring them and he’d quit talking and tell her to take it from the change on the table. The waitress would poke through the pile there, car keys, bills and silver, Dale’s cigarettes and matches, and pick out what she needed.

Elvin spoke of prison for a while, about sports and movies, making it sound not too bad. Though advised Dale to get laid tonight; be his last shot at some front-door lovin’. Dale wouldn’t talk about it. So Elvin said, “All right, you made up your mind.” On their third drink by this time. “Go on get in your truck and take off. By tomorrow they’ll have detainers on you clear across the country. But if that’s what you want to do…”

On their fourth round Elvin was telling him about the deal with Dr. Tommy. Top wages to shoot the judge and he’d give Dale, let’s see, two thousand to drive for him. How did that sound? “Take off in your old beat up truck or drive a Fleetwood Cadillac while we set up the judge.”

It got Dale to fidget around some in the booth.

“I’m thinking we’ll move in with Dr. Tommy,” Elvin said. “Have a party out there tonight, huh? Get some girls. I’ll tell you one I’m thinking of having sometime, that little probation lady. I’ve had Cuban puss and it ain’t too bad. We could have us some tonight, you want. Or this go-go whore I had over to your house last night.”

“You want to kill the judge?”

The boy finally waking up.

“I call it paying back. How about you?”

“They already think it was me tried.”

“Listen, that dink, whoever it was, he’s an amateur. You’re working with a pro here. I’ve
done
it.”

“And you went to prison.”

“Hey, that’s something else entirely. We set this one up right, it’ll work slick. You take off after with some cash on you.”

Dale was quiet, looking at his drink.

“Come on, what do you say?”

“I’m thinking.”

“While you’re doing that,” Elvin said, “I’m gonna go shake the dew off my lily.”

He got up and walked to the men’s room, all the way in back. Elvin was gone maybe five minutes. He washed his hands after, for no reason, then had to hold them under one of those goddamn machines you pushed the button and it blew hot air as you were supposed to briskly, it said, rub your hands together. That’s what took the time. Then after that drying his hands on his shirttail and having to stick his goddamn shirttail in his pants again. When he got back to the table Dale was gone.

The waitress said, “He didn’t leave but a minute ago.” Elvin ran outside hoping to catch him driving off. Beat some sense into the boy if he had to. He stopped short in the parking lot, around on the side of the building. Dale’s pickup was still there, nosed against the cinder-block wall.

It was the space where he’d parked the Cadillac that was empty.

•          •          •

T
hey must have seen him drive up in the taxicab. Hector opened the door and Dr. Tommy was standing in the hall waiting for him.

Elvin said, “You know what happened?”

Dr. Tommy said, “Tell me.”

Elvin said, “Somebody stole your car.”

19

T
hey stopped a hundred feet or so from the entrance to Dr. Tommy’s, on the opposite side of Ocean Boulevard. It was dark inside the unmarked Dodge, going on ten. Through a wall of trees and sea grape they could see lights on in the house. Gary said, “I guess you know what working surveillance is like,” as she was thinking this could be the time to bring him out, if he was willing to be brought. But no grabbing. With the right words, tone of voice.

“I do it a lot,” Kathy said, “keeping track of my cases. Okay, where were you? The drugstore, had to get some medicine. Why didn’t you come in today? I was sick. The same thing over and over.”

“You’re bored.”

She wanted him to touch her and they’d kiss. She was dying to kiss him. She said, “No, this is different.”

The idea was to see if Elvin was around. He wasn’t home in Delray Beach and he wasn’t using Dale’s pickup. Yesterday he’d left it in Boynton. This morning TAC pulled off its surveillance and gave the job to Boynton PD. Well, requested they keep an eye on the truck. Elvin could be here, at Dr. Tommy’s. But if he was, Gary said, it didn’t make sense.

He had looked up Dr. Vasco. Key witness in a homicide. Almost implicated. Fingered his houseman, Sonny, who was convicted and drew twenty-five to life at FSP.

“Where Elvin was,” Kathy said.

Gary said he’d thought of that, wondering how Elvin had found Dr. Tommy. So he called the prison and what do you know. Elvin and Sonny were sweethearts. Elvin would cut anyone who even looked at Sonny with lust.

“With lust? A corrections officer said that?”

“I think it was ‘looked at Sonny’s ass.’”

“That’s more like it.”

“Sonny tells Elvin about Dr. Tommy, who fingered him and, for all we know, might have been implicated.”

“As an accessory?”

“Sonny claims he killed the girl trying to protect the doctor. They got in a fight, the doctor accusing her of blackmailing him with some home movies, and Sonny hit her over the head with an iron poker. The doctor says no, it was Sonny who wanted to blackmail him, but not with home movies, something else, writing phony prescriptions. They had him on that anyway. He said on the stand the girl told him what Sonny planned to do and that’s why Sonny killed her.”

“What were the home movies?”

“Porno stuff, the doctor and different girls. Sonny’s lawyer wanted them admitted as evidence, but the judge ruled against it. They had Sonny cold, picked him up driving the girl’s car, her body and the murder weapon in the trunk. The funny thing is, the tapes are still in our evidence room. Never returned because the doctor said they weren’t his. Sonny must’ve taken them without his knowledge.”

“Did you look at them?”

“There must be at least a dozen tapes.”

“What are they like?”

“The usual, mostly kinky sex. I only saw a couple.”

She said, “What’s kinky to some people isn’t to everybody.”

“These were kinky.”

“I’ll have to take your word.”

“Well, like in some of them the doctor had more than one girl in bed with him.”

“I thought you only saw a couple of tapes.”

“I might’ve looked at three or four, to get an idea.”

“Yeah? You learn anything?”

“I meant get an idea what they were about.”

“They turn you on?”

“You’re not serious.”

“Yes or no.”

“Is this another test?”

“Come on, I won’t tell anybody.”

He said, “Well, they weren’t bad for home movies.”

Was he smiling a little? She wasn’t sure.

“Even the kinky ones?”

“I mean the camera work.”

She said, “You’re not shy, are you?”

“I never thought I was.”

“But you’re steady, always composed?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“You don’t like to take chances. You’re cautious.”

“I suppose, up to a point.”

“Really? You let go sometimes?”

“If I know what’s gonna happen.”

“You’re safe,” Kathy said, moving close enough to take his face in her hands. She kissed him on the mouth, lingered and said, “Relax, okay?” She kissed him again, staying on it longer this time before she said, “I’ve had enough surveillance for one night. How about you?”

•          •          •

E
lvin brought the go-go whore in the front way, opening the door with a key on the ring that had the keys to the Lincoln, the car he was driving since Dale stole the Cadillac this afternoon.

Elvin’d had to argue Dr. Tommy out of reporting it. “You want police coming here while we’re working our deal? My nephew won’t hurt your car. By the time they pick him up the job’ll be done.” Then had to argue the doc into letting him use the Lincoln, a big gray one. “You want me to ride in taxicabs while I set up the judge?” Dr. Tommy had seemed nervous at the way things were going, not as cocky, but stoned and half drunk was easy to handle. He might not like it, but what could he do?

Booger music was coming out of hidden speakers and the go-go whore was moving to it on the terrazzo floor, looking around bug-eyed like she’d died and gone to whore heaven. “Mumbo on down the hall,” Elvin said. He followed her cute butt sliding side to side in a little skirt that barely covered it, no backs to her high heels clicking on the marble. She wasn’t too bad looking for a crackhead junkie. Had her G-string on under the skirt to give Dr. Tommy a show.

There he was in his den, lamps shining on the gold wallpaper that looked like stucco: the doc crapped out in a fat sofa full of pillows, swallowed up in there, his drink on the round gold-metal table: the doc a drunk prisoner among all this glitter shit, eyes closed… Elvin said to the go-go whore looking over the den, hand on her hip the same way she’d checked out Dale’s house, “See that rug? It’s the hide off a skinned zebra. Feel the wallpaper.”

Elvin noticed Dr. Tommy had his eyes open now but didn’t seem about to move, bent low in the sofa with his legs sticking out, barefoot and glassy-eyed. “Sunday night,” Elvin said, “how come you aren’t watching TV?”

The doc blinked his eyes and then rubbed them. He was looking at the go-go whore now.

“Doc, this here is Earlene. She’s gonna do her go-go number for you and then I’m on take her upstairs. You want, you can have a turn after. Hey, Earlene?”

She came over from feeling the wall, hips sliding, eyes sparkling with crack.

Elvin grinned at her. “Honey, show the doc your little G-string.”

•          •          •

I
t was good to see a guy in his underwear again, a nice guy this time, not anything like Keith. Keith, taking his clothes off, would be looking at himself in the mirror on the door to the closet. The mirror still there, full-length. Gary, taking his clothes off, looked at her taking hers off. She pulled the dress over her head and he was motionless, looking. Even when they were in bed Keith, the catalogue model, would watch himself in the mirror, very serious. Gary came over to the bed in his shorts, pushed them down and said, “I’m on the wrong side.” She said, “There is no wrong side.” There was to him. He crawled over her as she squirmed her way to the middle of the double bed and now he was on the left side. “Is that better?” She could see him in faint light, the bed close to the window. He seemed happy. He said, “From driving a car…” She didn’t ask what he meant and he didn’t say more than that because it was getting good now, doing all the things with a man she had not done in a long time, getting to the best part, letting go and letting him hear small private sounds come out of her until, finally… silence.

It was nice.

It wasn’t the kind where you get totally carried away, lost in it or quite like falling off the edge of the world. It wasn’t sweaty.

It was… nice.

He said, “When you made out in a car the guy’s on the left, because usually he drove.”

“You like to do it in a car?”

“I mean when you’re younger.”

“Or on surveillance,” Kathy said, getting out of bed. She stepped into white panties.

“Is that it for tonight?”

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?”

•          •          •

T
he 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.