by Tony Dunbar
“Because I told him I thought he was a crook. One thing led to another. I never had anything real on him. And even if I did, Marcus Dementhe did not seem to be too interested in Trapani. He’s after the other guys.”
“If they aren’t doing anything wrong, then you don’t have anything to trade.”
“That’s right. So I guess my goose is cooked.”
“Not necessarily. You were definitely set up.”
“What?” The judge’s voice was loud enough to make a curious antelope prance away and the kid who was about to feed it a peanut start to cry.
“I talked to Sultana, Al. How shall I put this? She was paid to come on to you.”
“Paid? Like with money? By whom?”
“Apparently a man named Max Finn. He paid her to go to the party at Lucky LaFrene’s house, with instructions to cozy up to you.”
“That’s unbelievable.”
“I know it must be a blow to your ego, man. If it makes you feel any better, she says she has developed a real fondness for you.”
The judge’s mouth fell open. He mopped his brow with a paper napkin.
“Do you happen to now that Max person?” Tubby asked.
“I never heard of him.”
“Too bad, because I never heard of him, either, before this week. Then the son of a bitch dies on us. You might have seen it in this week’s papers.”
Hughes shook his head.
“So that’s one promising lead that has disappeared. The really weird thing is, Max Finn was married to a woman I know, Norella Peruna. She claims to know nothing about her husband’s line of work, which to my mind would be called pimping.”
Hughes wasn’t listening. He was watching an old Galápagos turtle climb on top of another one.
“She was paid to pretend to like me?” He was indignant. “But now she says she has… what was her word?”
“She’s fond of you.”
“Holy Jesus.”
“She wants to help if she can, but she’s also afraid of the DA.”
“Why did they pick me?”
“Maybe because you’re an unsuspecting target.”
“Which is to say, dumb.”
“Could be. Maybe naive would be a better word.”
“What do you think we should do?”
“Keep hanging tough. Dementhe didn’t give me a deadline. He may just want you to wiggle and squirm. If he calls me, I’ll stall. Meanwhile, have you thought about telling the missus? Confession is good for the soul, they say.”
The noise the judge made could be called a growl, and he glared at his lawyer.
“Just a thought, Al. Let me keep working on who put Sultana up to this and why. If we figure that out, maybe you’d get your life back. Only problem is, I can’t find her. She hasn’t called you, has she?”
“Of course not.”
“Well, she picked a bad time to go missing because she’s already told all the bad stuff about you to a grand jury, but the only ones who heard her say she was paid to entrap you were me and Cherrylynn. By the way, have you got any money to pay me?”
Like two prairie creatures grazing on the same tuft of grass, the two lawyers put their heads together and got down to basics.
CHAPTER XX
The apartment that Debbie Dubonnet shared with her husband and newborn was on Zimple, near the universities. They rented the entire upstairs of a nice house with big windows overlooking the street. She came to the door with a finger to her lips.
“He just went to sleep,” she whispered, meaning Arnaldo Bertrand, or Bat, as he was called.
Grandfather and daughter tiptoed up the stairs.
He peeked into the child’s room and saw a small pink head poking out of a blue blanket. She waved him into the kitchen anxiously, afraid he might wake her papoose up.
“I think it’s safe. We can talk in here,” she said.
“Your house looks real nice,” he complimented her, since it appeared that she had tidied up for his visit.
“Thanks.” She was pleased that he had noticed. “Let’s sit at the table. I’ll just make us some coffee. What did you bring?”
“Scones, as promised.” He gave her the bag. Tubby did not really care one way or the other about scones. They were not exactly a part of his culture. Still, all of his daughters loved them.
“Goody.” She was elated.
“You look swell.”
“I’m still too big.” She handed him coffee in a white mug he recognized as a hand-me-down from her mother. “I haven’t been sleeping much. Marcos and I take turns getting up at night, but I’m the only one who can feed him.”
“Marcos is keeping up with school?”
“Pretty much. He studies in the library as much as possible just to have some peace and quiet.” She sounded jealous. “I’ll get some more help during the Thanksgiving break.”
Tubby kept quiet.
“What are you doing for Thanksgiving?” she asked.
“Don’t know yet,” Tubby said hopefully. “What about you?”
“I guess go over to Mom’s. She’s invited everybody.”
Tubby changed the subject. “And Bat? Is he doing okay?”
“Oh, he’s just fantastic. He is sweet and happy and just so cute I can hardly stand it.”
“I hope he wakes up while I’m here.”
“Do you have to leave soon?”
“Not really.” He watched her spread lemon curd on an orange and cranberry scone. He scooped up a small spoonful and sniffed at it.
“So,” said Debbie, sipping her coffee, “was there anything special you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Not really. I just wanted to see you.”
“Overweight me.”
“You look very trim. I did have one question, though.”
She raised her eyebrows.
“You know, when you got Buddy Holly, that preacher from Mississippi, to come here to help with your wedding…”
“Of course.”
“I was just wondering, how did you get to know him?”
Debbie took her time swallowing a bit of scone before she answered.
“He has a church in Bay St. Louis. I met him over there.”
“I’ve been to the place. They said you had stayed there, but they didn’t say why. I thought I should ask you.”
“It was last spring. No big deal. I just needed to chill out. I kind of bumped into those guys. It seems a long time ago now.”
He waited for about a minute, concentrating on his coffee, but she did not add any details.
“If you don’t want to tell me about it, I guess I can understand. But the place, you now, is for homeless kids with drug problems and stuff like that. I didn’t know you were there. I didn’t even know you had any problems. I’m concerned, that’s all.”
“It wasn’t drugs, I just went through a bad time.” She pulled at her bangs. “I’m over it.”
“You won’t tell me.”
“Daddy, what got me upset was I found out I was adopted.”
Her father’s jaw dropped.
Debbie stared down at her half-eaten scone.
“You know, I never think about that anymore,” the father said quietly.
She glanced at him, then away to the clock on the wall.
“Who told you?”
“Mom did. It came up when I told her I was pregnant. She thought maybe I should give my baby away, since I wasn’t married yet.”
Tubby rubbed his forehead.
“It wasn’t really a secret. We always meant to tell you, when you got older. And then it just never seemed very important. We both loved you very much, and we were a family, so… it never came up.”
“You should have told me.” Her eyes were suddenly moist.
“What difference would it have made, really?”
“My God, Daddy, don’t you think somebody should know who their parents are?”
“We are your true parents.”
“You know what I mean.”
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“And you know what I mean. You change little Bat’s diapers and wipe his runny nose for a few years and see if you don’t get pretty damned attached to him.”
“That’s different. He came from my body.”
“That’s an overrated connection, in my opinion. Look, I’m sorry you didn’t hear it from us earlier. What else did your mother tell you?”
“Not much. That you took me from the hospital and that you don’t know where my biological mother is today.”
“That’s true. I haven’t even thought about your so-called biological mother in twenty years.”
“Did you know her?”
“I met her. She was pretty, like you. She was in high school and got pregnant and wasn’t able to care for a child. I talked to her once or twice at the most. She was a nice kid.”
“Who was my father?”
“That hurts, kid. I’m your father. I was never introduced to the guy you’re talking about. He probably had to sign something. I honestly don’t remember. To me it never mattered.”
“You and mom couldn’t have a baby of your own?”
“At that time, it didn’t look like it.”
“What about Christine and Collette? Are they adopted, too?”
“Did you ask your mother?”
“She said it was none of my business.”
“She may be right for once. Anyhow, I’d want to talk to them before I talked to you. Do you care?”
She thought about it.
“Not really,” she said finally.
“So. You see why I don’t care.”
“I suppose, intellectually. I know you raised me and all, but it was just such a surprise. I mean Mom says, ‘You know, you’re adopted,’ and I’m like, ‘What?’ It was kind of weird, that’s all. And I felt very bad. I kind of lost it. Some friends took me over to Biloxi for the weekend and when they came back I just stayed. I don’t know what I was thinking about— maybe an abortion or maybe doing something to myself to hurt the baby. It only lasted a few days.”
“That’s when you met Buddy?”
“I remember I was sitting on a concrete bench looking at all the kids playing on the beach and feeling completely numb. He saw me and sat down. We talked and he conned me into going out to the farm with a promise of free food. Anyway, they were really nice, and I got over it and came home to Marcos and we decided to get married.”
“You didn’t tell me.”
“Does that make us even?”
Tubby shook his head and reached across the table to grip her hand. Then they both stood up and hugged.
They were like that, sharing a good cry, when the baby started screaming and bouncing loudly in his crib.
“Duty calls,” she said, rubbing her eyes on his sleeve.
“I’ve loved you from the first time I saw you,” Tubby said hoarsely.
Debbie nodded and composed her face. She laughed.
“Life sure is funny,” she said.
“If you’re lucky,” he said.
She led him into the bedroom.
“Look who’s here, little boy. It’s your grandpa.”
The baby took one look and wailed.
CHAPTER XXI
“What’s your vision of things, speaking spiritually?” Sapphire inquired, eyes wide.
Raisin had been around her long enough by now to know that this was a serious question. He swatted a bug on his jeans and tried to think of something relevant to say. His “vision” was off, never properly restored, in fact, since the rave concert.
A low, mournful ship’s horn sounded somewhere on the river, and he craned his neck to try to see the vessel above the trees that lined the bank. He and Sapphire were sitting on the top of a grassy levee upriver from Hahnville. Behind them were endless fields of sugarcane. In front was a wet meadow, bearing signs of recent flooding, and the potential for a glorious sunset. Mosquitoes were a problem. They were attempting a picnic, complete with wine, cheese, and a crusty French loaf as long as a baseball bat. It had been Raisin’s idea.
“Vision, let’s see.” Raisin groped for some good words. He hated questions like this.
“Can you give me an example of what you’re talking about?” he asked finally in desperation. He intently studied the plastic cup of Cabernet Sauvignon in his hand.
“Sure, like for me, the universe is this great big wide-screen TV, with pictures that keep changing, you know, like when a computer is just sitting there with nobody using it and all these images of planets and deserts and blue skies just roll across the screen.”
Raisin closed his eyes and tried to imagine, for a second, what she was talking about. “Yeah,” he commented, uncertainly.
“And it puts off an electrical charge. If you ever saw a biofeedback thing of your brain waves, that’s what I mean. And you change the universe just with the way you change your thinking. You can get more serene, or more excited, and when you do the picture changes. When you cry it gets black or purple and scary and full of flying rocks, and—”
“You don’t like the cheese?” Raisin asked.
She clenched her teeth. “That’s just like you, trying to change the subject.”
“No, it’s just that we’re out here having a picnic with a river, and a sunset, and you’re talking about biofeedback machines.”
“To me it’s all connected. That was just an image anyway.” She pouted.
“I’m sorry.”
“The world around us is just a little piece of a much bigger thing, you know.”
“Sure. I know that.”
She lay back and put her head in his lap. Her finger traced a cloud.
“When you were younger, Raisin…” She paused. He winced. “Did you ever take LSD?”
“Why sure,” he said. He did not think she believed him.
“Did you ever go to rock and roll concerts? Or get naked and run through the woods? Or count all the ants in an anthill?”
“When I was younger, baby, my biggest concern was trying to keep my ass from getting shot off in a rice paddy.”
“That seems like such a long time ago.” Her voice had a dreamy quality. Her hair was the color of clover honey, and her face was as innocent as a blue sky.
“Uh-huh.”
“When I make music, I can sometimes imagine things like wars and bombs, but I’d rather go to other places. Places where people are trying to fill in the blanks in their lives and to love each other.”
Raisin bent over to kiss her lips, but she turned away.
“You’re not going to be around for a long time, are you,” she said. It was a statement. She picked a blade of grass and twisted it around her fingers.
A little later, when they were packing up and loading stuff into the car, she told him that the picnic had been a nice date. In the twilight, Raisin felt more lonesome than he could ever remember.
***
There is a hole-in-the-wall tavern behind Moskowitz Memorial Laboratory where doctors and nurses can drown their troubles after work. Flowers found Todd Murphy in a dark corner, playing pinball by himself.
“That machine’s a real bitch,” he said companionably when Murphy tilted out.
Murphy looked up and grinned. His black plastic glasses slid down his nose. He was surprised to have somebody to talk to.
“You work for the coroner. Am I right?”
“I’m an assistant,” Murphy slurred. He raised an empty glass as if it was his excuse.
“Yeah. I think we met before. My name is Flowers. You told me some interesting stories about the bodies you cut up and all. Can I buy you a beer?”
CHAPTER XXII
Tubby was dreaming about Faye Sylvester. For some reason they were driving together on a winding road in Mississippi. He knew it was Mississippi because of all the pine trees and crows. Unexpectedly they entered the scenic perimeter of what apparently was a vast chemical plant. To his right, into the forest, a sign pointed the way to GATE 5. HYDROCHLORIC POLYMERS. “AUTHORIZED ENTRY ONLY,” it added. T
ubby had the uncomfortable sense that his movements were being recorded by a camera somewhere and he slowed down. A Jeep was trailing behind him.
He was reaching for his security in the glove box when suddenly Faye and he emerged from the restricted compound into open farmland. The Jeep turned off into the woods.
The telephone rang.
“Tubby, help me,” a hysterical voice sobbed.
“Norella, is that you?” Tubby struggled to wake up. The sounds of metal clanging and men shouting orders came from somewhere in Norella’s world.
“Yes, of course. I am in jail. These pigs have arrested me.”
“What for,” he asked, sitting up in bed.
“They say I was trying to leave the country. They put some drugs in my luggage. It is called a frame-up, I think.”
“Where exactly was this?”
“At the airport. You think the zoo?”
“But what were you doing there?”
“I was taking a trip!” she screamed. “Come get me out of here now!”
“Okay, have they set your bail?”
“How do I know? This place is disgusting. It’s crowded and dirty!” she shrieked.
“Let me speak to somebody in charge.”
“There is nobody in charge. I am on a pay phone. There are other women in here with me. They are prisoners, too, just like me. They gave us wet tuna-fish sandwiches to eat,” she bawled.
“Well, just calm down. Get off the phone. I’ll find out what’s going on and get you out as soon as I can.”
“I want you to sue them all,” she proclaimed fiercely, and Tubby hung up.
He dialed Central Lockup and got put on hold. He thought about carrying the phone downstairs and fixing himself a drink. He could justify it. He had made five weeks without any booze. Who else could say that? It would be okay to start tomorrow. According to his watch, it was already tomorrow. Tubby was struggling, soberly, with this when a tired voice said, “Jail.”
“You’ve got a prisoner named Norella Peruna Finn. Can you tell me what her bail is and what’s the charge?”
Back on hold, Tubby started toward the stairs.
“Possession of a controlled substance and attempted flight from the jurisdiction. No bail yet. She’ll go over to see the magistrate in a couple of hours.”
