Cold Florida

by Phillip DePoy

  ‘John Horse,’ I said, my voice sounding groggy. ‘Somehow it stands to reason that you’re here.’

  ‘Foggy Moscowitz,’ he said. ‘Somehow I’m not surprised to hear you say that.’

  ‘Philip brought me here?’ I asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Any idea why he bopped me in the head?’

  ‘Do you want some water?’ He held out a glass.

  I eyed it with understandable suspicion. ‘What’s in it besides water?’

  He smiled and sipped it. ‘See? Nothing.’

  ‘No,’ I shook my head. ‘That’s not good enough. I know the sort of thing you’re liable to put into your body, and I can’t take another confusing encounter with the water people at the moment. I just want to … wait. What time is it? How long was I out?’

  ‘Philip brought you down to the Jeep right after he knocked you out. He drove you here. I was waiting. We got you into bed. I went to the kitchen for this water, and you woke up. I’d say you haven’t been out for more than half an hour. You have a hard head.’

  ‘Ask anybody,’ I said, ‘and they’ll tell you the same. How did you get to my apartment? How did you even know where it was?’

  ‘I followed you and Philip and Joseph out of the swamp. I was in another Jeep when you came into town,’ he said. ‘Philip was the only one who knew I was doing that. I did it because I was afraid that something might happen to you. I didn’t know what, but I was afraid that you might be hurt. Your address was on your business card, the card you keep in your wallet. I went thought your wallet when you were at my house. I didn’t think you would mind, since I was just trying to get to know you better. So that’s how I knew where you lived. I came here and I waited. It’s a nice apartment.’

  ‘It’s a dump,’ I argued. ‘But the rent is cheap and it’s on the quiet side. I like the quiet side.’

  ‘I was sitting in the window watching the rain. You can see the ocean from here.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘that’s another nice thing about the place. I like to look at the ocean.’

  ‘I’m glad you’re not dead,’ he said, and he finished the glass of water.

  ‘Well, when it comes to that,’ I said, ‘I’m glad you’re here, for some reason. Can’t imagine why, but I am.’

  ‘You’re glad I’m here because I’m comforting,’ he said with a big smile.

  ‘You are not comforting,’ I rejoined. ‘You are, what they call, a trickster figure, as I have heard it said.’

  ‘What would you know about a trickster figure?’ he wanted to know, more than a little amused.

  ‘I know everything,’ I said, sitting up. ‘My aunt Shayna told me about a trickster tailor in Brooklyn.’

  ‘Tell me about him,’ said John Horse.

  ‘Why?’ I was trying to get more awake, but I was still feeling like I might conk out again.

  ‘If you tell me about your tailor,’ he said, like he was trying to bargain with me, ‘I’ll tell you what it means that you visited the water people. Aren’t you curious about that?’

  ‘That?’ I said, shaking my head. ‘That was just a wild ride and you know it.’

  ‘No,’ he told me very definitely. ‘It was a significant experience for both of us. But I won’t tell you what it means until you tell me about the tailor.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Remember I made you tell me what your favorite Leonard Cohen song was,’ he explained to me, ‘and when you did, it was actually important?’

  I only had to mull this for a second to realize that the song I mentioned, The Story of Isaac, could very well be a song about the evil Pascal Henderson. I got that. Plus I figured, what the hell, I couldn’t see straight at that moment anyway, so why not indulge the old guy.

  ‘OK,’ I sighed. ‘A guy comes to a tailor for a nice suit, but the tailor takes forever, and the guy gets drafted, see? In World War Two. He goes off to Europe for three years. He finally comes home to Brooklyn, he goes to the tailor, and the tailor says, “Good, I’m glad you’re here. I just finished your suit today.” And the guy says, “It took you over three years to make my suit? God made the entire world in seven days!” And the tailor says, “Yes, but look at the shape the world’s in, and wait ’til you see what a swell suit I made!”’

  John Horse didn’t laugh.

  ‘You’re making the analogy that I do things slowly, like the tailor,’ he said very studiously, ‘but when I’m done, the work is good, unlike so many things in this world today – so many things are not so good. I like the analogy.’

  ‘Or is it that the tailor is just tricking the guy into waiting forever for something that shouldn’t have taken so long at all?’ I asked.

  ‘Oh.’ He thought about it for a second. ‘Yes, that could be it too.’

  I got out of bed. I was only seeing double at this point, which was an improvement.

  ‘OK,’ I said. ‘Do you have any idea why Philip hit me in the head, or not?’

  ‘Don’t you want to know about the water people?’ he asked.

  I sighed. ‘First tell me about Philip, OK?’

  ‘He’s working with Mister Redhawk right now,’ John Horse answered. ‘Philip told me that you almost shot Pascal Henderson. That would have undone several years’ worth of legal proceedings and behind-the-scenes manipulations. Mister Redhawk thinks that he needs Henderson alive.’

  ‘I might not have shot him.’ But even I didn’t know what the truth of that was.

  I saw that I was still in all my clothes, soaked as they were, including my shoes, which were pretty messy at this point. I was considering changing when a light clicked on in my head.

  ‘Wait!’ I said, steadying myself on a convenient bedpost. ‘Henderson told us he was going to leave by his own private plane. You said I was only out for a half an hour. It could very well be that he’s still at the old airstrip, the only place for private planes to land. He might not have left yet. I mean, look at the weather.’

  ‘The airstrip,’ John Horse said, nodding.

  There was a WWII era airport close to Fry’s Bay. It was abandoned for the most part but, sometimes, small planes landed there in the summer when the rich guys came in for deep-sea fishing. Fry’s Bay was a kind of rich man’s paradise for deep-sea fishing. Personally, you couldn’t get me on a boat that far away from land, but some people liked it.

  ‘Yes,’ John Horse confirmed, ‘Henderson is probably at the airfield.’

  He stood and put on his jacket.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I asked.

  ‘I’m going to take you there. I think you’re right. I think Henderson hasn’t left yet. It’s raining pretty hard, and the visibility is terrible. If you aren’t going to change, we can go now.’

  He headed for the door.

  ‘Now you want to take me where I want to go?’ I asked, trailing behind him. ‘After having me brought here?’

  ‘Philip brought you here. I didn’t have anything to do with that. I told you that Philip is working for Mister Redhawk at the moment. I’m not. Mister Redhawk doesn’t know I’m here. I’m not working for anybody. I just want to see what’s going to happen. I have a feeling it will be surprising, and you’re an important part of that, somehow. I can’t see if it’s all going to work out well or not, but it’s going to be entertaining to watch no matter what. And I have a stake in it, of course.’

  ‘The land, the oil, the timber,’ I began.

  ‘Yes, yes,’ he said, waving his hand like what I was saying wasn’t important. ‘But I’m looking for something … grander than money.’

  ‘Such as?’ I asked.

  ‘The arc of justice,’ he said. ‘Do you know the black man who said, “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice”?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘I don’t know the man.’

  ‘It’s a good saying, though, don’t you think?’

  I pondered. I wondered if it was a good saying, or if it actually did harm by giving false hope to the hope
less. Then, out of the blue – because that’s the way it happens sometimes, sometimes you get lucky – I realized something important. I realized something so important, in fact, that I almost felt good, which was a relatively unusual phenomenon for me, anywhere, anytime.

  ‘John Horse,’ I said, ‘I just came up with the greatest idea. I am going to make two phone calls. Then you and I are going to the airfield on the edge of this crummy little town. And then you’re going to see something good.’

  ‘What’s going to happen?’ he asked. He sounded excited, like a kid.

  ‘If everything goes the way I want it to,’ I said, ‘we can watch the universe get bent in the right direction.’

  THIRTY-THREE

  The abandoned airstrip looked like something out of a horror film, especially in the rain. There was a single runway, weeds everywhere, and a spooky hangar made mostly out of rust and bad memories. There was no tower, and, if there had ever been any other buildings, they’d have fallen apart long ago. The place was originally constructed as a secret airbase during WWII to fight off the German invasion, but, as it turned out, the Germans didn’t make it all the way to Florida, for the most part, so the point was moot. Aside from being used by the aforementioned rich fishermen, and apparently Pascal Henderson, the place was deserted most of the time.

  The rain was coming down pretty hard when John Horse and I pulled up to the side of the hangar. Sure enough, there were several cars there, and some lights on inside the hangar.

  ‘This could get dicey,’ I said to John Horse. ‘You want to wait here?’

  ‘I’m going to go in there with you,’ John Horse assured me, grinning.

  ‘You’re not afraid someone might shoot at you?’ I asked.

  ‘Wouldn’t be the first time.’ He got out of the Jeep and headed toward the hangar’s giant double doors.

  I was out of the Jeep and by his side when we walked through the open doorway. All the gang was there. Henderson, Sharon, and Mister Redhawk were seated at the back end of the hangar, a couple hundred yards from the doorway. They sat at a nice little table, sipping tea or coffee out of porcelain cups. Philip and some other guy were standing about thirty feet to their right, beside a very nice airplane – the Dassault Falcon 10, a relatively new private jet. I only knew this because, at one time, Pan Pan Washington and I considered expanding our talents to boosting private planes. Turned out that an airplane, no matter how small it is, does not drive like a car, and the whole resale market was much more difficult. So we nixed the proposition, but not before having done the research. And a Dassault Falcon 10 was very nice. It had the distinction of being the first aircraft ever certified with a Honeywell engine. It wasn’t as roomy as the Falcon 20, of course, but you couldn’t have everything.

  Sharon was the first to see us come into the hangar. I couldn’t be certain, but I thought she smiled. Then she touched Henderson’s arm. He looked. He sighed. He shook his head. He said something to Mister Redhawk, who turned, shook his head too, and said something to Philip. Philip looked my way, saw me and John Horse, and waved at us like a little kid.

  ‘This is already interesting,’ said John Horse. ‘Look at that airplane.’

  ‘It’s a jet,’ I said, waving back at Philip.

  Philip was motoring toward us, and Sharon stood up. John Horse and I kept walking toward the back of the hangar.

  ‘I’m glad to see you’re OK,’ Philip said, real loud. ‘I was worried.’

  ‘You hit hard,’ I said. ‘But I got a hard head.’

  ‘Are you mad at me?’ he asked. ‘You know I was just doing what Mister Redhawk told me to do.’

  ‘John Horse filled me in,’ I told him.

  By that time, John Horse and I were halfway into the hanger. That’s when I noticed that the other guy in the hanger, the one Philip had been taking with when we’d come in, had a gun in his hand.

  Mister Redhawk stood up and headed toward us. Henderson was still seated, and Sharon stayed put as well.

  ‘John Horse,’ Mister Redhawk said, but he didn’t sound happy.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ John Horse said, ‘I’m not here to disrupt anything. I just came to say goodbye to Pascal Henderson.’

  I shoved my hands into my pants pockets to appear casual.

  ‘I’ve come for other reasons,’ I said to everyone, ‘but I do not have any intention of shooting Mr Henderson, if that’s what you’re worried about.’

  ‘But just the same,’ Philip said, ‘would you mind if I check your pockets?’

  ‘By all means,’ I told him. ‘I want everyone to feel comfortable.’

  I took my hands out of my pockets and let Philip check me out. When he found that I didn’t have a firearm, everybody seemed to relax a little.

  ‘Then why are you here?’ Mister Redhawk wanted to know.

  ‘Henderson made me an offer back at his place, and I never got a chance to answer,’ I said. ‘I’d like to speak with him about his deal.’

  Mister Redhawk was clearly suspicious of me, but, as luck would have it, Henderson overheard our conversation, and he called to me.

  ‘Of course, Mr Moscowitz, come over,’ he told me. ‘Sharon likes you, as I’ve said, and since she’s right here, and since you don’t intend to shoot me, let’s finalize the particulars of our arrangement.’

  I looked at John Horse. ‘I’m going over to finalize the particulars of our arrangement.’

  ‘I can’t wait to see this,’ he told me.

  We all adjourned to the nice little table in the back of the hangar. Mister Redhawk sat back down in his chair, but he was clearly impatient with my interruption.

  ‘How’s your noggin?’ I asked Sharon.

  ‘Hurts,’ she said.

  ‘How’s Joseph?’

  ‘He’ll be fine,’ she told me. ‘Coffee?’

  ‘Absolutely,’ I said.

  ‘Is that the only suit you own?’ she asked me, shaking her head at my appearance.

  ‘Give me a break,’ I whined, ‘I’ve had a rough couple of days.’

  Philip pulled up two more chairs to the table, for John Horse and me.

  ‘How much longer do we have to wait, Harvey?’ Henderson called out.

  Harvey, who was apparently the pilot, put his gun away. ‘They said at least another hour. But it’s letting up. We could probably try to get away in forty-five.’

  ‘God,’ Henderson mumbled, then looked at me. ‘How can you stand it here? After New York.’

  ‘Yeah, it’s a difficult adjustment,’ I admitted, ‘but it might be doing me some good. I don’t get into nearly as much trouble here as I did in Brooklyn. Of course, I’m not taking into account the past couple of days. I do eat a lot of fresh seafood, which is supposed to be good for your brain.’

  ‘But you want to go back to New York,’ he sighed, ‘and you want to see if my offer still holds, despite the fact that you menaced me with a pistol.’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Have a seat,’ he said.

  John Horse and I sat down. Sharon got coffee for me but did not offer any to John Horse, I noticed. In fact, it was like she didn’t even see him.

  ‘Now, correct me if I’m wrong,’ I began, ‘but the deal was five thousand dollars and immunity from any and all prosecution, plus first-class air fare to LaGuardia.’

  He smiled. ‘Technically inaccurate on all counts,’ he told me, amused, ‘but I think what you’re saying would be satisfactory, with the caveat that once we’re done, we’re done. Any trouble you get yourself into from now on? That’s your problem. This deal only takes care of existing legal troubles, not any future such difficulties.’

  I looked at John Horse. ‘That’s a pretty good deal.’

  ‘It’s a very good deal,’ he agreed.

  ‘I am curious,’ Henderson said to John Horse, without actually looking at him, ‘as to why you’re here.’

  ‘I’m not here,’ John Horse insisted. ‘Fifteen people in the swamp will tell you that I am in my h
ouse there at this very moment.’

  ‘Good,’ said Henderson. ‘I’d hate to have it reported that you violated the terms of your parole.’

  ‘In fact, the terms of my parole have been satisfied,’ said John Horse calmly, ‘but thank you for your concern.’

  ‘Why are you here?’ Henderson insisted.

  ‘I came to say goodbye to you, Pascal Henderson,’ John Horse said plainly. ‘I didn’t know how that was going to happen, exactly, but I was pretty sure I’d get to do it tonight. Now I’m certain. It’s important to say goodbye to the people who are big in your life, when it’s their time to go. So I wanted to come … and thank you.’

  This obviously surprised Henderson, who looked right at John Horse at last.

  ‘Thank me?’ he said to John Horse.

  ‘Yes,’ John Horse answered. ‘I wanted to thank you for standing in my way. I would not have become the person I am today without an adversary as significant as you. How does a man grow strong? He fights adversity. A small amount of adversity gives him a small fight. Fighting you has been like battling an endless pack of wolves … in a hurricane. But now, here I am. Sitting across from you at this table. And I am the person that I have become. So I say thank you.’

  ‘Famous Blue Raincoat,’ I interjected all of a sudden, without thinking.

  All eyes looked my way.

  ‘I just thought of my actual favorite Leonard Cohen song, like you asked me a while back,’ I told John Horse. ‘It’s Famous Blue Raincoat. He says to his enemy, “I’m glad you stood in my way”. This is the first time, just now, just this second, that I ever understood this lyric.’

  ‘Mazel tov,’ said John Horse to me.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said right back.

  ‘I have no idea what either of you is talking about,’ Henderson snapped.

  ‘You’re not supposed to thank an adversary,’ Sharon complained.

  ‘What are you supposed to do?’ I wanted to know.

  ‘You’re supposed to crush him.’ She looked at me like I was a dope.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Henderson, without a hint of irony.

  ‘Well, that is usually my philosophy,’ I said, nodding. ‘I fall more into your way of thinking. People like John Horse – and, of course, Leonard Cohen – they’re what I would call enlightened human beings. Who can understand what they think?’