Part 15 (2/2)

”Good,” Moran said. ”You take her down there we'll probably never see her again. Look, I don't have time right now. Tell her to clean up the kitchen before you go and tell Rafi he'd better stay away from me, not that I'm p.i.s.sed off or anything.”

”I'll keep 'em in line,” Nolen said, ”no problem.” He watched Moran hurrying away. ”Hey, one other thing...”

”Later,” Moran said. He ran inside his house and locked the door.

Moran waited. As soon as he heard her voice on the phone he said, ”What happened?”

”He's still here but he's leaving. Going out on the boat.”

”Should I call back?”

”No, it's okay, he's outside. I can see him.”

”What's the matter?”

”He told me this morning he doesn't want me to drive anymore. I can't go anywhere alone in the car. If I go out, Corky's supposed to drive me.”

”Why?”

”Because he knows. Or he thinks he does-it's the same thing.”

”What'd he say?”

”He said he wants me to take the G.o.dd.a.m.n limousine, but if I insist on using my own car Corky's still going with me.”

”I mean what reason did he give?”

”Crime in the streets, the high incidence of muggings and holdups. It's for my own safety. I told him there aren't any muggings at Leucadendra or the Dadeland shopping mall, but you don't argue with him. I told you, he's a rock.”

”Can he order you like that?”

”If I get in the car, Corky gets in with me. That's 193.

it, or stay home. What're we gonna do?” ”You got to get out of there, that's all.” There was a pause. ”I had sort of a talk with him.” ”Yeah? What happened?” ”Not much. I'll tell you about it some other time, not now,” Mary said. ”G.o.d, I'm dying to see you.” ”I'll be over in a little while.” ”You can't come here here.” ”I've got an excuse. I'm gonna return some thing.” ”What is it?” ”I'll be there in about an hour. Why don't you in vite me to lunch?” ”G.o.d, Moran-hurry.”

Nolen caught him again, coming out of the laundry room holding a grocery sack, the top rolled tightly closed. Moran was wearing a sport coat and good pants. Nolen looked him up and down.

”The casual Holiday Inn attire?” ”There times you can say anything you want,”

Moran said. ”This isn't one of 'em. I'm in a hurry.” ”Jiggs wants to talk to you.” ”You told me.” ”Give him the courtesy-what've you got to lose?” ”My good name, being seen with a kneecapper. There isn't anything he can tell me I need to know.”

”I'm not asking you to go out of your way.”

”I hope not.”

”I'm not suppose to say anything,” Nolen said, ”but I'll give you a hint. It's got to do with freedom of choice and self-respect. Like not having to sneak in the Holiday Inn anymore.”

”What I have to say to that,” Moran said, ”has to do with self-control. How I'm learning to stay calm, not pop anybody in the mouth, dump 'em in the swimming pool every time I get a little irritated. But it's hard.”

”I know, stay out of your personal affairs,” Nolen said. ”But I feel I owe you something. You've been a buddy to me, even after we tried to blow you away with a one-oh-six. I mean it might've been me, though I hate to say it.”

”Let's let bygones be bygones,” Moran said. ”Long as you pay your rent on time. I'll see you.”

Nolen said, ”Hey, George?” And waited for him to stop a few feet away and look back. ”You're a beautiful guy. I just don't want anything to happen to you.”

”Jesus Christ,” Moran said, ”leave me alone.”

”Only three nights I got to recite that line,” Nolen said. ”You can see why the f.u.c.ker closed.”

He liked the trees in this south end of Coral Gables, the quiet gloom of the streets; the trees belonged 195.

and were more than ornamental. It was old Florida, the way he felt Florida should still look. No way for a one-time cement-finisher to think, or a man partly responsible for a half-dozen king-size condominiums with majestic names. Maybe it was guilt. Or maybe he simply liked a tangle of ripe tropical vegetation. What was wrong with that? He told himself not to argue with himself; he was one of the few friends he had. He didn't care for what he was doing right now. It was like going to the dentist when you were in love with his nurse, but it was still going to the dentist. He turned off Arvida Parkway into the drive marked 700 on a cement column and this time followed its curve up to the house.

Mary was waiting outside. She brought him past the three members of the home guard who stood in the driveway and seemed disappointed. Moran recognized the one with the mustache. Corky. The one trying to look mean.

From the front steps Moran said, ”Keep an eye on my car, okay?”

Mary took him by the arm. ”Get in here.” And closed the door. ”What's in the bag?”

Moran opened it and brought out a pink negligee. ”You like it? Anita de Boya's playsuit. She left it.”

”He's not gonna believe that's why you came,” Mary said. ”Anita lives in Bal Harbor.”

”Do you want me to care what he believes?”

”You're right, it doesn't matter,” Mary said. Tense today, inside herself.

She led him from the hallway that was like an arboretum of exotic plants and trees, past an almost bare living room that resembled a modern-art gallery, through a more lived-in-looking room done in rattan and off-white fabrics and out to the sun-deck with its several-million-dollar view of Biscayne Bay and the Atlantic Ocean, what Miami money was all about.

Moran was impressed; but he could be impressed by all kinds of things and not have a desire to own them; he considered himself lucky. He took in the sights, the empty boat dock, the stand of acacia trees, then back again, across the sweep of lawn to the swimming pool, designed to resemble a tropical lagoon set among palm trees and terraced flower gardens. Clean that setup every day, he thought. But said, ”I like it.”

”I don't,” Mary said. ”I've got to get out of here.”

She stood at the rail with him, wearing sungla.s.ses now, looking out at the water. When she turned away he followed her to a half-circle of chairs with bright yellow cus.h.i.+ons. On the low table in the center was a white telephone and the morning paper headlining the dead Haitians.

”Why don't you leave now? With me,” Moran 197.

said. He sat down. Mary remained standing, tan in her white sundress, silent, her slim legs somewhat apart, folding her arms now; protective or defiant, Moran wasn't sure.

She said, finally, ”Rafi was here yesterday.”

”I know, I had a talk with him,” Moran said. ”If that's what's got you clutched up, don't worry about it. Rafi comes on strong, but he's a twink at heart, he caves in.”

”What did he say?”

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