Part 7 (1/2)
More than pleasant, his manner was instantly familiar, confident, the Latin lover come-on. Mary sipped her drink; she'd been there several times.
”Excuse me. My name is Rafael Amado.” He paused, giving Mary a chance to introduce herself, but she pa.s.sed. ”I think your friend should know that none of those girls could be Luci Palma.”
”He knows,” Mary said. ”He's just having a little fun.”
”Yes, that's good ...My name is Rafael, but by most people I'm known as Rafi.”
”That's cute,” Mary said.
The Dominican smiled. ”You like it? Good. I wonder if I may join you.” He brought over a chair without waiting for permission and eased into it, careful of the press in his black trousers. ”Thank you. May I buy you a drink?”
Mary raised her gla.s.s. ”I'm fine.”
He looked up, snapped his fingers and said something in Spanish that was abrupt, without the pleasant manner, though it returned instantly as he said to Mary, ”If I may have one with you.”
She wished Moran would hurry up. She wanted to see the look on his face, coming in and finding her taken care of. It might tell her something. Then immediately doubted it. Moran wouldn't make a.s.sumptions, waste time being jealous. If he were to hesitate, appear to be just a little awkward, that would be good enough.
Rafi said, ”When I heard on the radio about the return of the Marine I thought, Could it be? Then in Listin Diario Listin Diario I see the message, Cat Chaser is looking for the girl . . . and I thought, It is, it's the same one.” I see the message, Cat Chaser is looking for the girl . . . and I thought, It is, it's the same one.”
”The message,” Mary said, ”I haven't seen it yet.”
”In the newspaper personal column,” Rafi told her. ”Cat Chaser is looking for the girl who ran over the roofs of buildings and tried to kill him. Call this hotel. It's very clever the way it's said.”
”The girl named Luci tried to kill him?” Mary straightened in her chair, bringing her legs down.
”Well, she try different tricks, you know, to lure him.”
Mary wanted to be sure. She said, ”To lure lure him?” him?”
”To bring the Marines where they shouldn't be.
101.
Trick them. But that was a long time ago. It was the war.”
”You said you were sure then he was the one. What one?”
The waitress appeared with Rafi's drink. He took it from her without a word, then leaned toward Mary, his expression grave.
”I was with Luci Palma. In the group of partisans with her. I was on the roof with her.” He continued to stare at Mary before easing back in the chair. ”He didn't tell you? The Marine?”
”What? I'm not sure.”
Rafi placed his hands on his chest, fingers spread, an amber stone with a dull gleam on his little finger.
”On the roof,” Rafi said, his expression still grave, ”I'm the one he shot and almost killed.”
ALL THOSE WHITE TEETH flas.h.i.+ng at him, different scents of perfume, a couple of the Luci Palmas taking his arm and rubbing against him. At some other time in his life, not too long ago, Moran would have asked them more than how old they were, might have staged a mini-Miss D.R. pageant and chosen a winner. flas.h.i.+ng at him, different scents of perfume, a couple of the Luci Palmas taking his arm and rubbing against him. At some other time in his life, not too long ago, Moran would have asked them more than how old they were, might have staged a mini-Miss D.R. pageant and chosen a winner.
Going into the lounge he was thinking of something to tell Mary-that he was getting out of the motel business to become a movie producer; at least a casting director. He saw Mary's hair and a guy in a white Dominican dress-up s.h.i.+rt and took it a little easier going over to the table. The Dominican guy saw him now and was getting up.
Mary said, pleasantly enough, ”How did it go?”
”Well, it was different.”
”If you're through casting...”
It amazed him, how well she knew him already.
”. . . this is Rafi. I'm sorry I didn't hear your last name.”
”Rafi Amado. I'm very pleased to meet you.” Extending his hand across the table. ”I'm honored.”
Mary was looking up at him. ”Really? ...And this is Jorge Moron, Rafi. The infamous Marine.”
Moran glanced at her, taking the Dominican's slender hand, the grip not too firm.
”What did I do?”
”On your last trip it seems you shot somebody on the roof of a building,” Mary said. ”Well, Rafi's the one you shot.”
Moran stared at him now, not sure what to say, the Dominican giving him sort of a guarded look, like he wasn't sure what to expect.
Moran said, ”You're the one?” He seemed awed now.
”I believe so,” Rafi said. ”A house on Padre Billini near Carreras? Up on the roof? I was with Luci Palma.”
Moran said, ”Boy . . .” He moved his hand over his beard, still not sure what to do in this situation. He said, quickly then, ”Sit down, please. What're you drinking?”
”I have one. Thank you.”
They sat down and Moran ordered a beer. It gave him something to do, time to settle, get used to the idea that he was looking at a man he had once tried to kill.
”You had an automatic weapon. Like a grease gun.”
105.
Rafi was nodding. ”Yes, I forgot what kind. They gave out all types of guns the first day of the revolution, in the park. I had different weapons.”
”You tried for me first,” Moran said. He held up his hand. ”I don't mean that the way it sounds. But I remember you fired a burst. I was in a window across the street.”
”I believe so,” Rafi said, ”but I don't shoot too straight. Which is good for you.”
”Listen, I'm really sorry,” Moran said. ”Were you hurt bad?”
”No, not seriously. You like to see it?” Rafi leaned forward unb.u.t.toning his s.h.i.+rt, pulling it open now and thrusting out his chest, giving Mary a sly glance. He brushed at the hair covering his left breast to reveal several inches of white scar tissue. ”The bullet went this way, across me, instead of in into me, which was good, uh? It took off the nipple,” Rafi said, ”but I wasn't using it, so it doesn't matter.”
He chuckled and Mary smiled, seeing him glance over again. Mary said, ”You're a good sport, Rafi.”
Moran said, ”I thought I hit you lower and more in the side. Down around the belt.”