1 Margarita Nights (24 page)

Would wonders never cease? I opened the door and the window as the shower started to run. I swung the door back and forth to try and move in some fresh air. Then I called Marley. “Get in touch with Andy’s doctor. I can’t make that call from here.” “Sure,” Marley said.

“See if he has any suggestions. I sure as hell don’t know what to do. If he was bleeding, at least I could put a bandage on it.”

“Sherri, do you think it’s safe? You hear all the time about paranoids turning violent.”

I sighed. “I don’t know.” Hell I didn’t know anything. “Husbands turn violent, wives and parents too. I don’t know if Andy will. There’s no use in denying it.”

“At the first sign of trouble, promise me you’ll get out of there.”

I didn’t tell Marley that Andy’s condition was already bad news; I just swore an oath to run at the first sign of anything unusual, but how I’d be able to tell was beyond me.

I called Brian.

“Is there any way we can get him committed? There’s no way he should be out walking around.”

“Let me talk to a few people and get back to you.”

“It’s better if I call you. The phone ringing might set him off.”

“Sherri, I don’t like this.”

“Me either. I’ll call you.”

“Wait,” he yelled.

I waited.

“I tried to call you. I checked out all the golf clubs I could think of. Twice. No luck.” “Maybe he doesn’t play on Sundays.”

“I have to be in court tomorrow. When I finish, I’ll swing by and check them again. Call me. All right?”

“Yeah, Brian. Thanks.”

“I really don’t like this situation. Have you talked to Clay?”

“Nope.”

“That SUV was spotted by one of his agents on the south end of the island. Unfortunately that’s all there was to it. The agent had clients in the car and couldn’t follow it.”

“At least it’s here, not down in Miami or over in Orlando. Sooner or later we’re going to get him.”

Andy came out of the shower with a towel wrapped around his midriff.

“Why don’t I slip out and get you some clean clothes from your place.”

“No,” he shouted. He started hopping back and forth from one foot to the other in agitation. “Don’t go there. They’re watching that place.”

“Calm down,” I soothed. “Is Jimmy’s tape there? Only I wouldn’t want to risk losing it.” He smiled a small secret smile, looking suddenly sly.

I tried again. “The Holy Grail, is it in your apartment? Maybe I should move it.”

“I told you it’s in Casablanca.”

“Casablanca?”

He smiled, confident now.

“Not at your place?”

He shook his head.

“It’s in Casablanca?”

He nodded. “It’s safe. No one will ever find it.” And I believed him. Not even I could find it and he’d told me where to look. I watched him pull back the covers and climb into one of the double beds, pulling the towel out from beneath the sheet and dropping it on the floor beside the bed. He picked up the remote from the night table and started rolling through the channels.

I dug out the cigarettes I’d bought with the barbecue at the Firepit. At least there was still one copy of the video and when I got Andy sane I still had a faint hope of finding a way out of this mess. Casablanca. What in hell did that mean? Had he dropped the video in the mail for foreign parts? A better idea was to get a map of Florida and see if there was a town called Casablanca. Or what about a store or a nightclub named Casablanca?

“Andy,” I called softly. He looked at me. “Have you seen Jimmy?”

He shook his head.

“When did you last see him?”

He gave a soft shrug. “’Bout a week ago.” His eyes went back to the action on the television, his teeth chewing at the edge of his thumb. “Not since?”

He pursed his lips as he thought, as if the effort to remember something that only happened a week ago caused him pain. “Dunno.” “Try. It’s important.”

“When he dropped off the tape,” he got out at last.

“Last Sunday?” I asked. “Only . . . that’s when he dropped off my copy.”

“Don’t know what day,” Andy replied.

“If Jimmy wanted to hide, where do you think he’d go?” His head swung towards me. “Why would he hide?” “Suppose he owed someone big money.”

His body relaxed a bit. “He’d just take the
Suncoaster
on a trip until Dr. Travis paid up.”

“What if they’d already taken the
Suncoaster
away?”

“Did someone take the
Suncoaster
? I thought you said Jimmy had taken it on a cruise.”

Keeping my lies straight was heavy-going. “Yes, but I think he’s in trouble. The boat isn’t the best place for him. Where do you think he should go?”

He shrugged. “Jimmy knows lots of people. He’ll do all right. Don’t worry about him.” The television called. “What does Casablanca mean?” I asked.

He looked back at me. He smiled, a small teasing lift of the lips. “Don’t you remember?” he asked.

“Should I?” His eyes were already on the TV.

“If you don’t want me to go to your apartment, why don’t I go to the Tiger Discount down the street and get you some clean clothes?” How much credit did I have left on my card? If they kept it, I would be embarrassed, but it wouldn’t be the end of the world. “Okay,” he agreed.

“I’ll take those clothes with me,” I pointed into the bathroom, “And slip by my place and give them a wash.”

I hurried into the bathroom to get his clothes while his forehead furrowed as he listened to his voices. The minute I picked up the bundle of clothes I knew I’d gotten a bonus, I could feel the outline of a key under my hand.

Quickly, before he could object, I rushed to the door. “Back soon with clean clothes and pizza.” With no clothes, he was forced to stay. If he ran out naked, the police would pick him up for sure. Either way it worked for me.

I went to the Roach Motel, a creepy place even during broad daylight. Inside Andy’s place it didn’t get any better: dark and gloomy and smelling of Andy’s unwashed body and stale food.

It was really just one large room with a futon, a couple of wrecked chairs, a two-burner stovetop and a small refrigerator. A short stub wall with some cabinets below acted as an eating counter between the two spaces. Not a lot different from my place, but at least I had a proper bedroom.

To the left was a windowless bathroom. I flicked on the overhead, sending a roach scuttling across the floor for cover. The lid of the violet toilet tank was gone, the pink sink was cracked and the floor was missing half the tiles. There was no tub, only a tiny metal shower stall across one corner that dripped rust. I backed out the door.

By the window overlooking the parking lot, a television was fixed, high up on the wall. Underneath, on a battered folding TV tray, was a VCR with a wedding picture sitting on top of it, Jimmy and me with Marley and Andy on either side of us, smiling like we’d just won the lotto.

Six tapes were piled beside the photo. I knew I wouldn’t find Jimmy’s tape but I was hoping I might find a copy of
Casablanca
. I stuffed them in my bag to take with me. Perhaps Jimmy’s tape was spliced onto the end of one of them. I’d just have to go through them and see. I stuck my fingers in the tape holder. Empty.

I went through the few cupboards and drawers quickly. I didn’t find any more videos or the anti-psychotic drugs I was also searching for. I had a desperate plan to crush them and put them into his food but either Andy’s prescription had run out or he’d flushed them. It was a stupid idea anyway.

I eased back the curtains and carefully studied the few cars parked outside, all looking like they belonged there, which was to say they looked like my green wreck. There wasn’t an SUV among them. The parking lot in the middle of the horseshoe-shaped motel was as desolate and ugly as always.

At the discount store, I rushed around and picked up a couple of pairs of underwear, a navy jogging suit, toothpaste and a toothbrush, comb and deodorant. I held my breath as the anemic clerk slid my card through the register. Wonder of wonders, it worked. Bring on the debt.

At my place, I quickly stuffed Andy’s clothes in the washer.

Then I ran up the stairs and popped in the first video, pressing the fast-forward and watching Mel Gibson and Danny Glover do their thing at triple speed. There was nothing on the tape that shouldn’t have been there.

I listened to my messages. Two creditors, Ruth Ann, several friends and the bank manager . . . why did I even bother having a phone? There was also a message from Evan. Jimmy’s parents were having a memorial service for him on Thursday morning at ten o’clock. Evan said he’d pick me up. Calling my friend a murderer hadn’t broken the bond—a stronger relationship than I’d realized and something to be grateful for.

And Styles had also called. His message said he’d be in touch. A simple statement but scary: a relentless drip, drip of fear.

Back at the motel I rapped on the door with a knuckle and called “Andy” in the most cheerful voice I owned. “It’s Sherri.” Only then did I put the key in the lock. I turned the handle slowly and pushed open the door with the tips of my fingers.

I didn’t want to startle him and I wanted to have lots of time if he was going to do something crazy.

Andy was curled up in bed, pillows piled behind his head, watching Stagecoach with John Wayne. God bless AMC. His fingers were picking at the sheet and his foot jigged up and down, making the whole surface of the bed tremble.

“If I had a dollar for every movie we’ve watched together, I could pay off at least one of my credit cards,” I told him. I went to the second bed and dropped my load of plastic bags.

“I slept,” Andy said.

“Don’t you usually?”

“Not much.”

“I’ve got pizza and some goodies for you.” I pulled the clothes I’d bought out of a bag and threw a pair of boxers at him. “It always comes down to the same thing with men doesn’t? Doing their wash and bringing them food?”

“That and wild erotic sex.” His comeback delighted me.

“Do you know the difference between erotic sex and perverted sex?” I asked.

“No.”

“Well, erotic is when you use a feather and perverted is when you use the whole chicken.”

He laughed.

Hee-haw, things were looking up.

He wiggled into the shorts under the blanket and said, “Jimmy says he noticed your hooters first, then your ass and then your sense of humor. I noticed your sense of humor right away.”

“You’ve always been a gentleman, Mr. Crown.”

I stretched out on the second bed and watched him eat his pizza and somewhere between the cheese and pepperoni I fell asleep. I woke in the dim light from the silent television. Andy was leaning over me, staring into my face.

I nearly wet myself. “It’s all right, it’s all right,” I whimpered.