Part 26 (1/2)
”Where'd you get the money,” Moran said.
”Exactly. Then try to explain, beginning with Trujillo's a.s.sa.s.sination, why Andres kept two million dollars under the bed.”
”First they check you out,” Moran said, ”see if you've ever been arrested for narcotics.”
”Yeah, find out if I was using the dock that blew up to bring in cocaine and gra.s.s. 'No, I'm just a housewife-I mean a homemaker, officer. I play tennis and meet my lover at motels.' And after we get through with all that, maybe, just maybe they'll go after Jiggs and arrest him.”
”For what?” Moran said. ”He hasn't done anything we know of.”
”That's right, we have to wait till he comes in and takes it.”
There was a silence. Moran said, ”I'll talk to Nolen. See what he knows.”
”Now?”
”Tomorrow when he's hung over, in pain. Act like I don't know anything and find out what's going on. I'll call your house, see if Andres came back...You stay here, out of sight and maybe it'll work. Jiggs'll sniff around and go away.”
”I don't think I can do that,” Mary said. ”I know d.a.m.n well if I see him I'll want to walk up to him and kick him right in the b.a.l.l.s.”
”You get mad, don't you?” Moran said. ”You don't hold back.”
”Why should I hide? I haven't done anything. How long do I stay in here? A couple of days? A week?”
Her tone was great; little jabs of anger that poked at Moran and stirred him, made him feel restless.
”You've got a point.”
”Are you gonna bring me food every day? Wait till it's dark and sneak it in? While the police wait for Jiggs to do something, break a law? What is this, Moran? I've never hidden from anything in my life and it makes me pretty G.o.dd.a.m.n mad to realize that's what I'm doing.”
”You're right,” Moran said. Boy, she was good for him. ”The h.e.l.l're we doing sitting here?”
He moved away from the window, found the two suitcases in the dark and picked them up.
”Let's go over to my house and get a drink and something to eat. Christ, I'm starving.”
”Now you're talking,” Mary said.
22.
IT SEEMED LIKE SEVEN YEARS AGO, in another life, coming out to bright sunlight to see Nolen in a lounge with a beer can resting on his chest, sandals and black socks V-ed as though he was sighting on that tanker bound for Port Everglades.
Moran said, ”Well, here we are.”
Nolen said, squinting through his sungla.s.ses, ”You want me to go first? All right. I waited in the bar out by Ninety-five all afternoon and Jiggs never called, so I came home. That's my story and I'm sticking to it. What's yours?”
”I was wondering,” Moran said, ”if you had any lemons.”
Nolen waited for that to make sense to him and decided it didn't matter. ”Yeah, I got some lemons.”
”And I've got a blender,” Moran said. ”You didn't know that, did you? I'll get 'em when I pick up your trash. But I'm not gonna make your bed.” He walked off toward the office saying, ”I don't do beds.”
Jerry was behind the counter looking through the mail delivery. Moran came around and pulled a black plastic trash bag from a Hefty box, Jerry saying, ”Well, look at this.” He handed Moran a letter. ”Notice the postmark. Sosua, Rep. Dom. Is that anybody we know?”
Moran put the folded trash bag under his arm and opened the letter with a strange feeling, knowing it was from Luci Palma, the girl who used to run across rooftops . . . one page of ruled paper neatly handwritten, though each line rose on a slight angle, up and away and he thought, She hasn't changed. He read it standing there and put the letter in his s.h.i.+rt pocket when he finished. The letter made him feel good and at another time he would have read it to Jerry. But not now. He said to Jerry, ”You call de Boya's again?”
”He still isn't back. Maid says they haven't seen him since yesterday. I called the Coral Gables Police, but they wouldn't tell me anything. Kept asking who I was, so I hung up.”
”They get a lot of calls like that,” Moran said. ”How about that Trans-Am?”
”Still parked down the street.”
”Jerry, you don't have to stay around...”
He said, ”If I thought coming here was work, George, I wouldn't be doing it. I'm your police contact, aren't I?”
”You sure are. You got the number handy?”
337.
”I know it by heart.”
” 'Cause I might only say 'Jerry' but that's what it'll mean. Call 'em quick.”
”They know my voice,” Jerry said. As Moran went out he said, ”Take her easy now. Don't do nothing dumb.”
Moran said, ”I keep trying not to.”
Nolen took a sip of beer, turned his head enough to see Moran come out of the office unfolding a trash bag and go into Number Five with the pa.s.skey. Nolen yelled over, ”In the fridge! Hey, and bring a beer!”
Moran came out within a couple minutes, the trash bag hanging weighted now with beer cans and whatnot, the sack of lemons and a cold one he handed Nolen. Nolen took it and popped it open to hold the two cans now on his chest, soothing the erratic action of his heart.
He said, ”The last time I saw you, George, you stormed out of here, determination flas.h.i.+ng in your eyes. I guess you didn't get shot, did you?”
Moran said, ”No, but I bet somebody did. De Boya never came home. Hasn't been seen since he drove off in his Rolls.”
Nolen took a drink of beer. ”With police swarming all over the place.”
”I thought you didn't talk to Jiggs.”
”George, if I'm inconsistent, what's the difference? We're just gonna lie to each other anyway.” He raised his head and took a long sip from the other can.
”You drink two at once? You been putting it away lately,” Moran said, ”haven't you?”
”Jesus, you sound like my wife.”
”Is that right? I didn't know you were married.”