by Diane Munier
“He took our money,” Audie said. “He’s all bad.”
“Where do I find him?” Jules asked.
“Hot Springs,” Redver said.
“Where’s Hot Springs?” Audie asked.
“Arkansas,” Redver said, as if Audie was daft. “I doubled the money on the first two fights but placed eight hundred on Jules’s first round. The cops came before it paid out. Plus the two hundred I just gave you to make Jerry’s bail. There was nineteen thousand, give or take, in that bag.”
“How do you know it was Seth? You said you didn’t see who hit you?” Jules asked.
“It was Seth.”
“Where does this thief live?” Audie said.
“A mile from here. He won’t be there. He’s on his way to Hot Springs. Like I said. On the way home last night, he was mad at me. He said we didn’t owe you nothing over the seed money. We argued. He helped me in, and we sat and had a few drinks, and he went on about keeping some of the money. He went out to cool off, and—he came back.
“Can you get Jerry out with that?” Redver said, referring to the two hundred he’d stashed in his shirt.
Bobby and Audie left to do that, and Jules sat at the table across from Redver.
“Maybe Seth went home,” Jules said.
“No,” Redver said. “He’ll go to Hot Springs for a month, maybe longer, gamble and stay pickled. He’ll be back with just enough gas to make it here and two dimes in his pocket.”
“That’s my money!” Jules said. “You said we could trust him.”
Redver stared some. “You brought me into a fixed game. The Irish. Seth is the only reason I got out with anything. Irish cops and Irish gangsters; Irish politicians…the only difference is the uniform. You Irish?”
“Half.” Jules sat back in his chair.
He took out his new pack of cigarettes and lit one, offered one to Redver and lit it for him. “You don’t trust the Irish?”
“You know what they say, ‘You can trust three Irish men to keep a secret if two of them are dead.’”
“What about Cabhan?” Jules said. “I saw him on that platform next to you, in your damn ear. What was I looking at?”
“He wanted to know how I was heeled. He knows me…way back. He was trying to figure how it played out. You never said where you got this money. And I never asked. But when we got out of the warehouse and were followed to the truck…it wasn’t a copper. My guess is it was someone Cabhan had on us…to take our dough. If it wasn’t for Seth, I wouldn’t have made it. Seth cold-cocked that mick. He felt like he earned that money, that you put us at risk. You got to know how he’s thinking.”
“It was an illegal fight from the go! He knew that!” Jules yelled.
They sat in silence then, smoking their fags.
“Well,” Redver said finally, “I’m none the worse.”
Jules dug in the bag and counted five hundred. “Here’s your five percent of the take and extra for your head,” Jules said. He wasn’t counting the two hundred to get Jerry out clean.
Redver took the money, and they shook hands. “Fook sake,” Jules said, and they shook heartily.
Redver asked Jules to hand him a jar and Jules took one off the counter. Redver proceeded to pee in it. Jules swore and opened the door and looked out at the trees until Redver grunted in satisfaction. He sat the nearly filled jar right there on the table. But he screwed the lid on it.
“You sure it’s Hot Springs?” Jules asked, bringing the trash can and motioning for Redver to throw the jar in there.
“Yeah,” Redver said. “He lived through the war, he promised himself he’d go. He ain’t been right since he come back; drinks too much. He’s not evil, just… angry.” Redver stared some, like he wanted to say more but decided to swallow it.
“Toss the piss. I don’t want to look at it,” Jules snapped, pushing the can closer to Redver with his foot.
“It’s for the garden. Best fertilizer there is!”
“Crazy man,” Jules whispered, sitting down. “Say what you want about the Irish. They don’t piss on their potatoes. You got a map?”
They were studying the map when Jerry came home in a foul mood. He was mad at the world. That Seth took his truck made him clear the dishes off the counter. He swore he was going to track Seth down. Audie and Bobby were set to go too.
“Don’t kill him,” Redver said.
They weren’t out to kill anybody, but maybe Seth would have a long, penniless walk home.
From Redver’s, Jerry directed them around the neighborhood to anyplace Seth was known to haunt. They drove by Seth’s house. He still lived with his mother, and she said he hadn’t come home. Then they went to his work, but he hadn’t come in. And why would he, with all that money? Then, just to make sure he wasn’t still local, they drove to his girlfriend’s house. She hadn’t seen him either, and she wanted to know why they were asking and who they were. She knew Jerry, but who were the others? Finally, they checked his bar. He wasn’t there, but no one was this early in the morning. Looked like they had to drive clear to Hot Springs. Without jobs, they were up for it. Jerry wanted to go, but Jules said no. They’d bring his truck home. He argued some, and Bobby said, “Let him come.”
Jules didn’t feel it, but he gave in. He told Jerry, “You ride with us, Orangutan, you keep your mouth shut.”
Then Audie drove them to Lou’s store. The front doors were propped open, and a large paneled truck sat in the lot. Several men were bringing what looked like damaged goods into the truck using hand trucks or pure muscle. Jules went in the shop, the monkeys and the orangutan not too far behind.
Near the back where his counter was, he saw the man in charge. Sal resembled Lou. He was the better-looking one, not that he was going to win any beauty contests, but he was thirty pounds lighter, and he had a tan that made him look like some has-been gigolo.
“Now what?” Sal said, having signed a clipboard and turned toward Jules.
“I’m Jules Masen. I rent this space.” Jules gestured toward what had been an organized work space last time he saw it. Now it was a trash heap of radios knocked to the floor, parts strewn all over, his tools dumped.
“You’re Jules? The guy who…”
“Yeah, that’s me,” Jules said, unable to take his eyes off the mess that had been his business.
The whole place was turned to garbage. Looked like anything that had survived was being shuttled out the back, and the rest was going out the front.
“What happened here?” Jules said. “Did you…”
“Looters did this. Tore the place apart during the night like they were looking for the golden egg. I came in here this morning, called the police, the insurance man, and local salvage.”
“Damn.” Jules looked around. The monkeys had taken off in different directions looking at the carnage.
Jules’s bet—this was coppers.
“How’s Lou?” Jules said.
“Ain’t you heard? Lou died last night.”
Even when you knew death was on the table, it always packed a punch, even in the war where they raced to keep the bodies picked up. Jules was blinking.
“Lou’s…”
“Yeah. His wife is all tore up. And our mother…Mio Dio. All he had was in this shop and that safe.”
“I’m…real sorry.” Jules doubted this was all Lou had. His dark red Cadillac was probably still out back, and Jules didn’t get the feeling he’d lived in an outhouse.
“Yeah, about that…you did what you could, right?” Sal said, intent stare, dismissing Lou’s death, but focused on Jules.
“You act fast,” Jules said. “This is a big mess to be hauling out so quickly.”
“Why wait? I’m anxious to settle this out and get back to Florida.”
They had another stare-off.
“The cops said the safe was closed, that Lou never got the safe open. I talked to Stan, and he said different. He said that safe was opened,” Sal said.
Jules smiled. “You gonn
a tell me that guy remembers anything? He got shot.”
“Well, who fired first?”
“Why you asking? They weren’t just here to rob. They weren’t leaving witnesses.”
“So you didn’t see Lou open the safe?”
“They told Lou to open the safe. I asked for a smoke, and all hell broke loose.”
“You killed three guys. You telling me you did that with a cigarette?” Sal said.
“I tell you dat?” Speaking of, Jules dug for a smoke. He wasn’t going to belabor this point.
Sal was well-kept, oily hair and soft hands with these fingernails, shirt showing the rug on his chest. He wore jewelry. Now, what the hell was that? And cologne! Jules thought he was getting gassed.
Jules was still in his sharecropper’s clothes from the prison’s charity box. Bobby was still in his undershirt, no sleeves, tattoos on display, even half his baboon on his back. Audie was running around here in those gas station pants Redver gave him, and Jerry had spent the night in prison, and he looked and smelled like he’d been in some kind of human hovel.
“If Lou opened that safe, then you and me might have a problem,” Sal said, red lips pursed like a “tsk-tsk” face or some bullcrap.
“Oh, shit?” Bobby whispered, smiling. Jules hadn’t realized Baboon stood behind him. “He took care of your problem, fanuke,” Bobby said.
“How? What he do for me?” Sal said, the real Sal coming out now. He was going all Italian, the accent strong.
“I’m gonna get my tools,” Jules said with a long look at Sal, then walked off to gather his stuff.
He found his box and started to sort through the wreckage for his equipment. The few customers he’d had would be pissed when they came for their radios and the store was closed. He pulled tags where he could so he could call and explain.
“You can’t take anything. The insurance company sold all this to salvage,” said Sal.
“My stuff too?”
Sal didn’t answer.
“Then you pay me for it,” Jules said.
“I need receipts.”
Jules took a drag of his smoke and looked around. “How’s Lou’s wife coming out on this?”
“Don’t worry about her. She’s coming out like a rise. Gold-digging broad.”
Bobby was behind Sal, looking wide-eyed, raising his brows and mugging some. Jules felt that laugh coming. He didn’t care about anything here. He surprised himself at how quickly he could detach.
“You connected?” Sal asked out of the clear blue.
“Connected like dots and shit?” Jules said, and Baboon bent over and laughed like a punk.
“One of the coppers said you’re connected,” Sal pushed, glaring at Bobby, glaring at them both.
“Oh…that be Officer Blaise?”
“Yeah. Clark Blaise. He said you’re a thug. You were in jail this morning on another rap. He told me that. Lou know all this when he took you on—your affiliation with criminals?”
Jules made his way around the counter, around Sal, but that fathead stepped right in his path like he was waiting for an answer.
“Only criminals I’ve affiliated with are the First Army Second Division Company B. Now get out of my way,” Jules said.
“Better move, Sally,” Bobby said, all sing-song, from behind Sal. That one stepped aside.
“I got a witness says that the safe was opened,” Sal repeated as Jules walked away.
“You don’t have shit,” Bobby said, then followed Jules.
Audie was already outside talking to the guys loading the truck out there. He saw Jules and Bobby, and he moved toward the Buick.
“Where’s the kid?” he called.
Sal had followed them. He stood in the door. “If Lou opened that safe, you closed it. You were the only one who could have. The cop said it was closed when they got here.”
Jules stopped near the Buick. Audie was quizzing Bobby as to what this moog was getting at.
“Hold on, hold on,” Audie said, hands patting the air as he took some steps toward Sal. “What are you saying, fooker? You accusing Jules of something? That what this is?”
“You hold on,” Sal said, bold, one arm across his body and the other pointing straight at Audie. “That safe was low. There should have been four times that much in there. Lou just got a shipment.”
“Guess you and Lou got some arithmetic to work out,” Audie said, obviously not knowing Lou was writing on that great chalkboard in the sky. Now Gorilla pointed at Jules as he readied himself to get in the car and tried not to guffaw. “But you say anything to this man, anything at all, it’s ‘thank you.’ Hear me, fooker? Thank you for bailing out your Italian ass, and your mamas and your papas, and thank you for killing those sons of bitches who held up your store.”
Sal had folded his big hairy arms, and Audie backed away bobbing his head, then reached the Buick, opened the door, and got in with a swift, angry movement. Then they all did, Jerry running out last when Audie started the engine and getting in behind Bobby.
Audie backed out, then peeled out like a punk, and they laughed then. None of them had seen action in Italy, but still and all…this Guido should say “thank you” cause he was one of the ones milking the land of the free for all it was worth while they were over there getting their asses strafed. So they milked him a little; so what? He was nothing but a crook, a fence, him and Lou, but Lou had a heart at least.
So they roared with laughter, and Jerry was complaining about it, hands over his ears, and he’d better get used to it. Once they got done at Uncle Cabhan’s, Arkansas was a good long ride.
Audie went into Mel’s in his borrowed britches and his boots and Bobby’s shirt. Uncle Cabhan was not at Mel’s. He’d gotten called to New York on business. His boy didn’t know when he’d be back.
Audie said this as he got into the Buick. He was fuming. “I asked that moog about our money, and he said he didn’t know about that. He said no money on the fight. He said the coppers stripped the bookies.”
“Same difference,” Bobby said. “Coppers got it, Cabhan’s got it. Cabhan’s outfit owns the bookies and the cops. There’s no difference.”
“I got us this,” Audie said, holding up a few hundred dollars.
Bobby grabbed it and counted. “Four hundred eighty. You take it off that paddy?”
“Broke a chair over his head and cleaned out his wallet,” Audie said.
“You work fast as old Sal,” Bobby said, handing the money back to Gorilla.
“Tell me it was Potato,” Jules said. “We should’ve all gone in.”
“It was him.”
They hooted then.
After changing their clothes and cleaning out their rooms, and loading their meager belongings into the Buick, and after a brief stop at Audie’s so he could change and pack a bag—a literal brown paper bag—and Jules and Bobby could dump most of their stuff, they decided to make one last stop. Ma Bell’s.
Jerry voiced his disbelief over how lackadaisical they were about getting on the road. They were stopping to see broads? Even if these were three of his favorite women, Seth had enough of a head start in his truck.
But it was nearly time for the girls to get off work, and the monkeys seemed to think it was a good idea to say goodbye. Jules wasn’t going to Hot Springs unless he could see Isbe.
They were in the car waiting for them in front of their building. A sea of women exited the doors. “My damn,” Bobby whispered as they waited, because the sight of so many skirts was exhilarating. Jules had his hand on the door. The minute he saw Isbe, he’d be out, that much he knew, and that’s why he hadn’t wanted Orangutan along.
He saw Francis’s blond hair first; then she was there, his girl. He was outside quick, and she saw him, and she ran to him and threw herself against him.
He squeezed her so tight, buried his face in her hair like they’d been apart three hundred years.
He loved her—God, he was going to explode. “I’m leaving…few days.”
She looked up at him, took his breath, eyes shiny and dark, skin so pure. “How many…days?”
He kept looking at her. Oh God, it was hitting him hard…the truth.
“We can’t be apart,” she whispered, reading his gray matter. “I can’t eat…can’t think…”
“Oh yeah? Why’s dat?” He ran his finger along her bottom lip.
“You don’t call…you’re up to something…I get this feeling…”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
“But you just said…”
“I mean I ain’t goin’ nowhere permanent. I have to take this little trip…but I’ll be back…see?”
“No. No.” She picked at his shirt a little. When she looked up, he got slammed with want all over again.
“You worry too much.”
“You’ve been fighting.”
“Not with Jerry.”
“Jules. You promised.”
“Just about Jerry,” he said.
“Why are you so careless with yourself? I can’t bear it!” She hugged him tightly. “Don’t go.”
“It’s not long; couple of days, three…four.”
“No, not four.”
“Three probably.”
“Not three.”
He laughed some and squeezed her.
“Hey,” Francis called, and they looked up. Francis was speaking from the Buick’s window. “We’re going to Hot Springs!”
Had they all gone crazy? A car full of circus clowns? But he had his arms around Isbe, and he didn’t want to let her go.
“What’s she talking about?” Isbe asked him.
“I…” he swallowed, “don’t know.”
“Is that where you’re going?”
“I…”
“Isn’t that a place for gangsters?”
“We…”
“Gambling and crime? I’ve heard prostitutes ride the streets in convertibles…advertising their…wares!”
She hit him on the arm. “Jules…you don’t want me to go, do you? You’re embarrassed. More wild times…right? You have so many secrets.”
Francis was calling again, going on about Hot Springs.
“What about work?” Isbe said to Jules, like he was the one pushing for this. “One of us might get off, but not all three of us. We can’t do this. Can we? We can’t. You don’t want it…want me. You don’t have to.”
