Maude Brown's Baby (15 page)

“Are you still worried about Beno?”

“Yes. And it bothers me that my cousin had something to do with Elton’s beating.”

“Do you think Sergio knows more than he told you?”

“I’m sure of it.”

“Good morning,” Donald said, opening the screen door into the kitchen. Clara noticed the hinges no longer squeaked.

“Donald! Thank you for clearing the weeds! It was a big mess back there.”

“There’s more to do, but it looks better now.” Donald fastened the top two buttons of his shirt and tucked the shirttail into his pants. “I hope you don’t mind. There were tools in your shed. I trimmed the oleanders and cut the weeds that were growing through the bricks. Did you know you have a nice little patio?”

Clara laughed. “Yes, my brother Henry laid it after the house was raised to the new grade. Mama asked a carpenter friend to make a couple of Westport chairs she’d seen in a magazine. We loved sitting there in the evenings. Of course the trees were still saplings, but the garden was so lovely. Mama and I gathered fresh flowers for the house every week.”

“Your vegetables look well-
tended,” Donald said, gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb.

“I planted a victory garden like everyone else, but the vegetables need so much attention
that I don’t have time for the flower beds and the patio. With Mama gone and my brother in France, I’m afraid the weeds took over. I’d like to see the work you did. Were you …”

“Don is a handy fellow,” Jake said, already tired of the conversation.

Clara looked at Jake, then back to Donald.

“Donald, Jake thinks his cousin knows more about Elton than he told you yesterday.
”

“Oh?” Donald said, washing his hands at the sink and drying them on his pants.

“Yes. Sergio has changed in the last few years. It struck me yesterday how different he is from when we were kids. Now I don’t know …”               Jake stopped short. He spread the fingers of both hands and moved them slowly across the newspaper in front of him. “Draft Registration Day, September 12,” he read out loud.

“Did you notice the fresh cigarette butt in Sergio’s ashtray?” Donald asked, refusing to let Jake off. He took the chair at one end of the table. “I think someone else was in the room just before we came. And what a strange door! If you didn’t know where to look, you wouldn’t see it at all.”

“I missed the cigarette,” Jake admitted. “Sergio probably keeps a bodyguard now. It wouldn’t surprise me if someone was behind another door, listening to everything we said.”

When Donald recalled Sergio’s hired thug in the bar, his right hand twitched. He covered it with his left hand, pretending to have an itch.

“Would you like some coffee?” Clara asked, rising from her chair to face him.

“I’ll have some of this milk, thanks.”

She turned toward the cupboard for a glass.

“Are you two going over there again?”

“Yes, this afternoon,” Jake answered. “I have to know if Beno is looking for me or not. Don, I’d feel better if you stayed here with Elton and Clara.”

Clara returned with an empty glass and a full plate of cookies.

“If you insist,” Donald said, reaching for the bottle of milk.

Jake
was restless as he pieced together what he knew. Going to the police would be useless. If he accused Beno of beating Elton, they’d say he had it coming for being caught with Beno’s wife.

He was sitting alone on Clara’s front porch swing when the
Beacon Club’s Buick pulled into the shell driveway with Jennifer and Rebecca in back. They waited while the uniformed driver walked around to open the door. It was clear the women were dog-tired, with none of the glitter they’d had when the car picked them up twelve hours before.

“Good morning ladies,
” Jake said, touching the brim of his hat. “Unusually late night?”

“Three oil men from Houston were in town and they needed to get rid of some money,” Rebecca said.

“We helped them,” Jennifer added, laying one outstretched arm casually over Jake’s shoulder, “but now I could sleep for a week.”

“We did so well for the club that we have tonight off,” Rebecca added. “We earned it.”

Jake could smell the whisky on her breath, and watched as the two club hostesses wobbled toward their rooms in the carriage house.

“We found Elton,” Jake called to their backs. Both women stopped and turned. Rebecca spoke first.

“Is there any news about Maye?”

“No, why?”

“We heard Beno k
nocked her around. He’s done it before, but this time nobody knows where she is.”

“Beno’s wife is missing?”

“Yes, since last Thursday.”

“Sergio told me Beno had been rough with her, but that she was going to be all right. He must not have known she was missing.”

“Jake, believe me, everyone knows.”

“Show me what you’ve done in the garden,” Clara said when Donald had finished his milk and third cookie.

“You bet.” Donald held open the screen door for Clara.

“And you fixed the hinges,” she said.

“They just needed oil. I found some in the shed.”

Even with the carriage house covering part of the land, Clara still had a generous back yard. She briefly took Donald’s hand to step down from the arbor onto the brick path that led past her victory garden toward the rear picket fence. As they passed the last row of okra, Clara could see the freshly-cleared space near the back of the property. She left Donald’s side and skipped ahead onto the patio.

“Oh, Donald, this is better than I remembered!” She whirled slowly with her arms wide to take it all in. “And you found the Westport chairs!”

“They were overgrown with weeds. I didn’t see them when I first came out. Here, Clara, have a seat.”

Donald pulled up the second chair and sat beside her, with a view of the gardens and rear of Clara’s house. He’d trimmed the oleanders into a high arch that left dappled shadows on the red brick at their feet and shaded the two sitters from the late-morning sun. A male blue jay darted
away into the pecan tree and began scolding the intruders.

“This is wonderful,” Clara said, easing farther back in her chair and pointing her toes toward the yard. She rolled her fingertips over the
wide, flat arms of the chair. “Just wait until you see the light at sunset.”

Seeing the joy in her face, Donald was sure it couldn’t be any better. The moment passed when he heard footsteps on the garden path, just before Jake rounded
the back corner.

“Ah, there you are,” he said. “Jen and Rebecca are back. With news. If anyone is in the seawall, I know who it is.”

“Who?” Clara and Donald said together.

“Maye.” Jake took a deep breath. “She’s been missing since Thursday. Beno could have dragged her to the same place he dumped Elton. I think he wanted to kill them both, but Elton got away.
”

“Oh dear.” Clara said through the fingers of both hands.

Jake turned and headed for the driveway. “I’ve got to talk to Sergio,” he said.

“Wait,” Donald called. “It’s broad daylight. There are people on the streets. Beno’s not likely to cause a disturbance now. Let’s go together.”

He turned to Clara. “Do you need help with Elton?”

“Go,” she said, “I'll be fine.”

“Elton’s back, that’s what counts
.”

“Did you let Mr. Foley know?” Donald said.

“I sent a telegram first thing this morning.”

Walking to the trolley gave both of them time to think, but Jake was surprised he couldn’t concentrate on Beno.

“Are you afraid of your cousin?” Donald asked suddenly.

“No. But, I didn’t like what I saw yesterday.”

“You’ve known Sergio all your life. You said he’s changed.”

“
I still think of him the way he was ten years ago, when he took over his family’s restaurants in Houston. I was glad to see him expand so quickly, then open a place here in Galveston. I want to be like that.”

“You want to open a restaurant?”

“No, I just want to do more than earn a salary. When Sergio started, he was as poor as me. Now look at him! He owns three successful clubs. All the people who work for him call him ‘Mr. Leone,’ and say ‘Yes, sir!’ Hell, he’s even got a driver, while I’m still wearing out my shoes hustling newspapers.”

“You’re doing all r
ight, Jake.” This was fresh, Donald thought, Jake questioning himself. “Sergio sounds like a go-getter. Some people are just that way. It doesn’t mean you have to be like him.”

“I don’t want to be
like
him, Don, I just want to be
rich
. Don’t you?”

“Never thought of it. I can’t imagine being rich.”

“Oh, come on, Don, aren’t there things you want? A car, maybe? Nice clothes? A house?”

“Someday, I suppose. Right now I’m learning my way around. I’m happy enough.”

Jake rested his hand on Donald’s shoulder as they matched strides. “My boy,” he said, “you have got a lot to learn.”

Jake and Donald paused for several buggies and a motor car, then crossed the s
treet and entered the Flamingo. Donald’s eyes went straight to the bar where the rat-eyed man had sat watching them the night before. He was relieved to find the stool empty.

A lone bartender was polishing glasses and hanging them one by one in the overhead rack. In the dining room, chairs normally filled with patrons were still upside down on the tables. Donald’s hand twitched. He inhaled deeply to calm himself, but the damp smell of tobacco and stale beer felt like a warning to keep out.

“This sure doesn’t look like it did last night,” Jake said. He braced one hand on the wall and leaned around a corner to peer deeper into the bar. The bartender ignored him.

“At least I don’t see Tuxedo and his watchdog,” Jake added, looking across the room. “With all the electric lights on, this place is not so fancy.”

“Candles and soft music make a lot of difference,” Sergio said.

Donald jumped. Sergio smiled with his mouth but not his eyes.

“Were you looking for me?”

“We found Elton,” Jake said, “or rather, he found us.”

“Bene, molto bene,” Sergio said. “And he is well?”

“Not well, but he’ll survive. Beno was pretty rough on him.”

“Your friend is very stupid.”

“I’m sure he didn’t understand
the situation, Sergio.” Jake braced himself. “We just heard that Beno’s wife disappeared the same time as Elton.”

“No,” Sergio said, “Maye is here. Do you want to see her?”

Jake was lost for words, so Donald answered for him.

“Please, yes, we’d like to see her.”

“Certainly. This way.”

Sergio led them f
rom the bar to one of the privacy booths. In cold climates, the tall sides and heavy drapes across the open end kept customers warm. In Sergio’s club, they kept conversations from being overheard. Sergio stopped in front of the last booth, its curtain half drawn.

“Maye?” Sergio said gently, “You have visitors.”

Maye’s knee-length silk dress revealed more than Donald had ever seen of a grown woman’s legs. They were crossed, and her left thigh showed a bit of the garter and yellow ribbon that Donald suspected held up her stockings. She made no effort to cover herself when Jake spoke.

“Maye? Do you remember me? It’s Jake.”

“Foots? Sure. Have a seat.” She patted the cushion beside her, but slid only a few inches deeper into the booth.

“I’ll leave you,” Sergio said. “Maye, call me if you need anything.”

Sergio made a move to go, then turned back to Jake. He gave him a quick open-handed pat on the cheek. “Everything is fine, cousin. Have the bartender show you to my office when you finish.”

Jake nodded, then pulled away the curtain. The brass rings slid easily on the overhead rod. He sat next to Maye. She turned her head to the rear of the booth and held one hand toward the bright room.

“Too much light,” she said. “Pull the curtain back.”

“There,” Jake said, giving the drapery two quick tugs until the booth was completely enclosed. The brass rings clicked. Like everyt
hing else in the room, the fabric reeked of tobacco and beer. In the dim light, Maye turned back to face Donald across the table. She rested her hand on Jake’s knee.

“Who is this handsome fellow?” she asked, tipping her cigarette toward Donald.

“This is my friend, Don Brown,” Jake said. “Don, this is Mrs. Maybelle Benebeota.”

“Don’t mention that bastard’s name!” she spat, jabbing the stub of her cigarette as if to punish the ash tray.

Only once had Donald se
en a lady smoking in public. He‘d never heard one swear, and he had never seen a woman with a black eye.

“Pleased,
uh, I mean, nice to meet you …”