Pronto (27 page)

Joyce said to him, "You haven't seen Raylan since Rapallo."

"I nodded, I acknowledged him. Excuse me, but I got something on my mind here." Harry turned to Raylan to say, "How you doing?" and that was that.

Joyce gave him kind of a worried look and Raylan shrugged. They got ready to eat then, serving themselves out of the cartons on the table. Raylan liked the looks of the Mongolian Beef. Harry said, "Sit where you want," taking his plate over to the sofa where a drink was waiting on the coffee table. Joyce sat down next to him, looking at the drink. Raylan stayed at the table with the takeout cartons. He tried the chopsticks and picked up a fork. He could watch Joyce using hers and not have to pay close attention yet to what Harry was saying. It sounded like he was taking credit for the phone call and bragging on himself. It was hard to tell how much he'd had to drink. Joyce was with him earlier in the afternoon and she said he was fine then.

"You have the urge," Harry said, "you want to tell him, 'You moron, this isn't a dispute. Somebody set me up and you guys bought it. You took the word of a colored guy you don't even know over mine. Why, because you won't accept even the possibility somebody skimmed you and got away with it. So I sit down with the Zip, this Sicilian hard-on, and act grateful to be there. Kiss his ass in front of a hundred people, the contract's forgotten. And if I want to run the book again, like it's an afterthought, fine. In other words if I want, I can start skimming on them again Monday. Back in the saddle again. You know that one, Tex?"

"Out where a friend is a friend," Raylan said.

"Where's your hat?"

"I didn't wear it this evening."

"That was it, I didn't recognize you. You come in, I'm thinking, Who's this guy with my girlfriend?"

Joyce, sitting over there next to Harry, gave Raylan that worried look again.

He let it go.

"Harry, where you meeting him?"

"The Terrace, the cafe at the Esther."

"That's where he lives."

"So? It's only a block up the street."

"What time?"

"One. Have a bite while we settle our dispute, as he calls it."

"Phone him a few minutes after one," Raylan said, "and tell him you'll meet him someplace else. Like across the street, the Cardozo."

"You think he's setting me up?"

"Why take a chance?"

"He let me name where we're meeting."

"And you picked his hotel?"

"We talked about different places, he mentioned that one, and I said okay. I didn't pick his hotel."

"Harry trusts him," Joyce said, "because he thinks they need him."

"I'll bet money on it," Harry said. "I pick the place, I can pat him down if I want. These are his inducements."

"So you do trust him."

"Not ordinarily, no."

"He wants to," Joyce said, "more than anything."

Raylan said, "What about guys that work for him? Or some gun thug he's hired to come by while you're talking? You're outside there, they could drive by and do it."

Harry started eating again. He didn't seem worried.

"If you phone him at his hotel and he goes in to take the call," Raylan said, picturing it from across the street, "he could call whoever's doing the job while he's in there, tell his guy or this gun thug where to go. So you don't want to call. There has to be another way to do it."

"Send somebody," Joyce said.

"Yeah, with a message for the Zip." Raylan thought about it, Joyce watching him and Harry eating, unconcerned.

"Use one of the bellhops from the Cardozo. Give him five bucks to run up the street. Wouldn't take him but a couple of minutes. Once he delivers the message," Raylan said, picturing it again, "if the Zip goes in the hotel, where he could be making a phone call, then the meeting's off. You go home right away."

"I'm at the Cardozo?" Harry said.

"That's right."

"Well, if he's up the street at the Esther, how do I know if he goes in his hotel?"

"I'll let you know."

"Yeah? Who invited you? I know I didn't."

"I told the Zip I might see him," Raylan said, "around two-fifteen."

Harry left them to visit the bathroom. Raylan said, "He hasn't gotten any sweeter, has he?"

"It's you," Joyce said. "Or me talking about you this afternoon, saying nice things. I could feel him closing up."

"You tell him about Robert?"

"He said it was too bad."

"What's wrong with him?"

"He doesn't like to be wrong. Listen, why don't you leave pretty soon. He'll expect me to stay the night, so I'm going to have to explain what's going on. You and I are what, seeing each other?"

"I guess you could call it that. It's going to tear him up, though, isn't it?"

"At first he won't believe it. Then he'll act hurt, he'll use it as an excuse to get drunk. He'll use it whatever way he can. He might even start smoking again. Wait for me downstairs, okay? In the park?"

That's what he did: sat on the low stone wall separating Lummus Park from the beach and watched the two-lane bumper-to-bumper Saturday-night traffic on Ocean Drive. He'd read that movie stars had bought condos here, but had never seen any of them. There were quite a few homosexuals, though, all neat-appearing young fellas with haircuts. Raylan had nothing against homosexuals; he wasn't sure if he had ever met one. Not just some of them but others down here wore clothes Raylan had never seen in any stores. Where did they buy their outfits? A guy in a regular suit of clothes, like the one in the seersucker suit coming along the walk, was from another planet... Jesus, or the Miami Bureau office. The guy coming this way in the suit, sport shirt open at the neck, hands in his pockets and looking kind of aimless, was Special Agent McCormick. He looked this way. Raylan didn't move. McCormick looked again, no recognition on his face. He seemed about to walk past when he stopped.

"I thought that was you. I don't believe I've seen you around lately."

"I took leave."

"What was your name again?"

Raylan stood up as he told him.

"Right, you're the one wears the cowboy hat."

"It's western, yeah."

"You probably haven't heard, we shelved the Capotorto investigation. Turns out Jimmy's small potatoes, the kind you can take to a grand jury, but is it worth the effort?" He said, "Well," starting to edge away, "I'm meeting one of my favorite snitches for a drink. Nice talking to you, Raymond."

Joyce walked up as McCormick left.

"Who was that?"

"Just some guy."

"He looked lonely."

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"You have to watch yourself around here," Joyce said, "you never know who you're talking to." She slipped her arm through his and squeezed it, telling Raylan, "Don't worry, I'll take care of you."

Chapter
Twenty-Seven.

Nicky said after, if Jimmy wasn't in the middle of his breakfast he would've gotten up from the table and slapped her around, her talking to him like that.

Eleven-thirty, he was having his usual Sunday morning breakfast of runny fried eggs on waffles with bacon and a few English muffins after with apple butter. Gloria was having a Coke with her toast. Nicky was serving, because the Cuban guy who usually did it was off Sundays. The cook fixed the stuff and then he left too. What happened: Jimmy said, "We're going to Butterfly World today." Gloria said, "Gee, I'd love to but I can't." Jimmy said, "Oh? You going to see your mom again?" Gloria could tell by his tone what he was getting at. She said, "I did go see my mom yesterday," beating him to it. "On the way back I drove through South Beach, see if there was anything new. You know how it changes all the time? And Tommy saw me. I was stuck in traffic and he asked would I have an iced tea with him. That's all."

Jimmy said to Nicky, "Take that hot coffee and pour it on her fucking head for lying to me."

"I'm not lying."

"You told Nicky before you left you were going to see Tommy."

"I was putting him on. Why would I see Tommy?"

"That's what I'm asking you."

"It happened that I did see him. Or he saw me. I can't help that, can I?"

"You say you stopped on the way back from your mom's?"

"That's right."

"Only it isn't on the way. Is it, Nicky?"

Gloria said, "It is if you take the MacArthur, South Beach is right there, you go through it. Jimmy, you don't drive, so you have kind of a weird sense of direction."

"What I have," he said with his mouth full, "is a sense of when somebody's bullshittin' me. We're going to Butterfly World."

Gloria said, "You're going to make me look at butterflies when my mom's dying of terminal cancer and it may be the last time I see her?"

Jimmy Cap said, "You're in the car when we leave or hit the fucking road. I'll get a replacement for you."

Gloria shined her eyes at him. "You don't mean that, do you?"

Jimmy said, "Try me." Maple syrup on his chin.

He finished and left the dining room. Gloria sat at the table looking at Tropic, the Herald's Sunday magazine, while Nicky cleared. He asked what she was going to do and she said without looking up, "Where were you? You didn't hear what I told him?"

"Yeah, but he'll throw you out."

"You think I'm going to turn the Zip down to go see some fucking butterflies?"

"You could've told Jimmy that."

"The Zip doesn't want Jimmy to know till after; so don't tell him. Look at the butterflies and keep your mouth shut."

"I've never been out there."

"You walk through like screened-in jungles, natural settings, full of all kinds of butterflies. Jimmy's favorite, they have a giant moth that's about six inches wide and doesn't have a mouth. Jimmy kept staring at it. He goes, 'How'd the fucker get so big if it can't eat?' You could see Jimmy thinking, Jesus, not have a mouth."

Nicky said, "Well, how's it stay alive?"

"It doesn't. It only lives a few days."

"Shit," Nicky said, "I don't want to go look at butterflies. I want to see what the Zip does."

"So tell Jimmy you can't go," Gloria said. "Make up a story." She shrugged in her tank top. "Tell him you made plans, you're going to whack out the Zip."

He'd wear his hat today for sure, so he put on his navy-blue suit -- he liked the way the light-tan Stetson went with it -- drew his Beretta nine out of its holster and slipped the pistol into his waist, tight against his belly, and buttoned his suit coat. It would work.

At 8:45 A. M., early enough to find a place on Ocean Drive, he parked the Jaguar across from the Esther and walked to Joyce's on Meridian. He had left there two hours earlier to go home and get dressed for today. Joyce fixed grits and hot biscuits for breakfast, to please him, and they grinned at each other. He had worked out a part for Joyce in this business, but didn't plan on telling her about the deadline, 2:15 p. M., until last night they were in bed holding each other in the dark and he changed his mind.

He told her and she said, "But you can't do that," was silent a few moments, and said, "Can you?" He said it made sense to him, telling a gun thug to leave town.

She said, "But if he's meeting Harry at one--"

"If he shows up he doesn't think much of the deadline, that I was only trying to scare him."

She said, "When he finds out you're serious--"

"I doubt he'll run," Raylan said. "A person like him, they back down they're out of business."

"But he'll be unarmed. He told Harry he can search him."

"Don't worry, he'll have a gun," Raylan said, "or somebody'll bring him one." He said, "Get a table inside against a wall and sit down across from Harry."

In the dark she said, "Maybe I still don't understand you."

He said, "You didn't see him shoot Robert."

By 12:45 Raylan had returned to the Jaguar and was sitting behind the wheel. All the tables on the hotel porch, the Terrace, and along the sidewalk appeared to be occupied. He didn't see the Zip.

At 1:10 Joyce came up the street in a pair of white slacks, a navy top; she walked up on the porch looking around, was out of sight for a minute or so, and reappeared, the Zip with her, coming from the Fourteenth Street side of the porch. The Zip said something to Joyce and she waited on the sidewalk in front while he went over to the dark-haired maitre d', peeled a bill from a roll, and handed it to him. After that the Zip and Joyce started down Ocean Drive toward the Cardozo.

Raylan waited.

Not long. At 1:25 Gloria Ayres came around the corner from Fourteenth. She carried a straw beach bag with a big blue flower on it, went up the steps, and stood looking around the Terrace. Raylan watched the dark-haired maitre d' approach her. He said something. She said something. He said something else, touched her bare shoulder in the tank top, and she walked off with her beach bag.

Raylan got out of the car. He followed Gloria down Ocean Drive to the Cardozo as people crossed the street going to the beach. It was a beautiful day.