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Authors: Elmore Leonard

Bandits (1987) (21 page)

BOOK: Bandits (1987)
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But she wasn
'
t making him feel it. Not now.

He thought, Maybe you
'
re the one that
'
s different. Become something else. And she '
s the same girl who ran off to take care of lepers.

He believed he might have another vodka, one more, get ready for whatever. But then heard her behind him and looked around to see her in the lamplight holding something against her leg. She sank to her knees almost in front of him, watching him, and placed a nickel-plated revolver on the coffee table.

She said, Now I
'
m part of this.

He kept quiet, looking at the gun. It would have to be her dad
'
s. A .38 with a two-inch barrel. He wondered if it was loaded. He looked at Lucy.

Staring at him.

She said, I learned something from Jerry Boylan. Or some of him rubbed off on me. Not anything he said, but the fact of the man, what he was, and the fact of the way he died.

Did you like him?

She paused. Yes, I liked him.

Did you trust him?

No, but that
'
s part of it. Why should he want to help us? He had his own cause, and that '
s what I learned from him. You have to take sides, Jack. You can '
t stand outside and reach in for what you want. You have to commit to something. You and I were talking about what we are. Remember? In the restaurant. While Jerry Boylan was being murdered for what he was.

Do you want to know why he died?
Jack said. Because he didn
'
t look behind him. That '
s the fact of Jerry Boylan. He wasn '
t careful.

But he was there because he believed in something. And it wasn
'
t just the money.

What did he tell us? If he wasn
'
t doing this he
'
d be sweeping rubbish. And if I weren '
t here I '
d be picking up dead bodies. You '
d be giving lepers their medicine and Roy would be making drinks for tourists. . . . But if we '
re not in it for the score, what are we? How do you see us?

We don
'
t need a label, Jack, or initials like the IRA.
Sitting back on her legs, looking up at him. Or the FDN, the contras. It '
s enough to say we '
re against that, what they stand for.

He looked at the revolver. And pack a gun.

She said, There
'
s a big difference between packing a gun and taking up arms in a political, counterrevolutionary cause, and those aren '
t just words, it '
s the fact of it.
She paused and said, What happened to doing something for mankind? Remember? You said it yourself. That '
s what this is all about.

It sounds good, anyway.

It
'
s true.

But would you kill for it, Lucy?

Chapter
17

LITTLE ONE CAME OUT of the hotel kitchen to the back hall where Jack was using the pay phone, Little One saying he had a bone to pick with him, saying his good nature was being taken advantage of. Jack raised the palm of his hand to Little One while he said into the phone, If you could come right away I '
d appreciate it.

Helene
'
s voice said, You
'
d appreciate it? You '
re not talking about just a drink, are you?

We can have dinner after, if you haven
'
t eaten.

After what? You call up at
what time is it?
almost eight-thirty, and ask me if I '
ve eaten yet.

Have you?

I
'
m not hungry. I had a big lunch.

I was gonna call you earlier, but I had to go to Gulfport.

This guy takes me to Arnaud
'
s,
Helene
'
s voice said, for a job interview. By the time we '
re having our coffee he '
s telling me how important compatability is and we should stop off at the Royal Sonesta after, continue the interview in a relaxed atmosphere. Which means if I go to bed with the guy I get an office with drapes, carpeting, and a word processor. I said, Gee, what I '
ve always wanted, a word processor.

You get the job?

Listen, I was tempted. I have to be out of my apartment in ten days or else buy it; they
'
re turning the building into a condo. I '
m thirty-two years old and I don '
t have a job or a place to live.

He felt sorry for her feeling sorry for herself, the poor girl. She wasn
'
t thirty-two, she was thirty-five, at least, married once before he met her, married again for about a year while he was in prison. What had either of them learned?

I
'
ll meet you in the bar. And wear a dress, okay? . . . Helene?

You sound different. You
'
re the same, but there
'
s something, I don '
t know what it is, different.

It
'
s been a long time,
Jack said. He told her to hurry and hung up.

Little One, waiting, said, Now then.

I didn
'
t leave the key because I have to use it again. I told you I might. Remember?

And I said to you we was even, I don
'
t owe Roy nothing and I don
'
t need no unexpected shit coming down on my life.

Nothing
'
s gonna happen. There
'
s no way, I promise.

Little One said, There
'
s no way you going in the man
'
s room, neither, long as he '
s in there.

I have to work on that. . . . He have his dinner sent up?

Bottle cold wine was all, some shrimp. Man love his shrimp. Say he
'
s waiting on his car.

He
'
s being picked up?

No, the man bought a new car, brand new Mercedes. Told me he give
'
em cash for it and they had to deliver it to him tonight or no deal. Man likes to talk about himself like that.

He say he was leaving?

Uh-unh, but it look like it.

How about the other two guys?

Haven
'
t seen
'
em. They not staying here, they come by '
s all.

Can you find out if the colonel
'
s checking out?

You don
'
t think they would look at me strange at the desk? How
'
m I suppose to ask '
em that?

Jack said, I wouldn
'
t think a Dale Carnegie graduate
'
d have any trouble at all.

Little One served them drinks in the hotel courtyard, looking over Helene in her black dress with the little thin straps, giving Jack a look then but not saying anything. He walked off.

And Helene said, You
'
re out of your mind.

He was thinking this would be the place to begin an evening, let the soft glow and the sound of the fountain and a few drinks set the mood. . . . But he said, All I '
m asking you to do is get him out of the room for ten minutes.

What do I do, pull him out by his hair?

You could, he
'
s a little guy.

The little guys are the worst; they
'
re more physical.

You go up to 501.
Jack
'
s eyes raised. The top railing, that '
s the fifth floor. See the alcove right by the elevator? That '
s his suite. You knock on the door. He opens it. You say, '
yOh, gee, I '
m sorry. I have the wrong room.
'

Helene said,
'
yOh, gee, I
'
m sorry?
'

'
yI have the wrong room.
'

You
'
re practically in the tree. Why don
'
t you pull your chair out so I can see you?

I
'
m okay.

She said, You
'
re hiding, aren
'
t you?
Picked up her scotch and water and continued to stare at him. What '
re you into, Jack?

I
'
ll tell you later.

You said you quit.

I did. This
'
s something else. Okay. You say,
'
ySorry, '
you turn and walk away.

You
'
re not doing it for fun. I can tell.

You start to walk away, take a couple steps, you turn around . . . You listening?

I turn around.

You say,
'
yOh, if another girl comes, it
'
s a friend of mine. I told her I '
d meet her, but I guess I have the wrong room.
'
You understand? Then you say, '
yI '
ll watch for her downstairs. But if I happen to miss her, would you tell her I '
m down in the courtyard? Or else I '
ll be in the bar.
'

Do I have to say it word for word, Jack, or can I ad lib?

Any way you want, as long as you understand what you
'
re doing. You can
'
t just walk away. You have to let him know where you '
ll be, so he '
ll come looking for you.

What if he doesn
'
t?

He will.

But what if he doesn
'
t?

You make him want to. The way you look . . . I don
'
t mean you roll your eyes, anything like that.

Flash my tongue?

You know what to do. You have guys coming on to you all the time.

But I don
'
t do anything.

Come on, you could be in the movies, all the different looks you turn on.

The guy
'
s a Latin?

From Nicaragua.

Is he cute?

He
'
s a doll, looks like a waiter at Antoine
'
s. . . . Wears red Jockeys.

How do you know?

He comes down, you
'
re at this table. He offers to buy you a drink, you say,
'
yOh, no thank you.
'

Why would I say that?

Why? You don
'
t know this guy. But he
'
ll keep after you and finally you say okay, one. You chat about this and that, how '
re things in Nicaragua. . . . Oh, try to get into talking about cars. Find out if he just bought a Mercedes, yeah, and how long he '
s staying, when he '
s checking out. Mention Miami if you can, see what he says.

I thought I was just suppose to keep him busy.

Well, you
'
ll be talking to the guy. You
'
re not gonna do card tricks, are you?

I could do a tap routine. On the table.

I only need ten, fifteen minutes. Or till you see me up there. I
'
ll stand by the rail for a minute. You tell the guy you have to leave or go to the can, whatever you want, and I '
ll meet you across the street at the Sonesta, in the bar. . . . Okay?

But what if he doesn
'
t come down?

I can
'
t believe it
'
s you saying that, Jack said. With your looks, those big brown eyes . . .

My nose. You always liked my nose.

I love it, I love your nose.

You like my hair like this?

It
'
s you.
It was. Her frizzed red hair was beginning to look good to him. Helene, there '
s nothing I can think of that could keep the guy from coming after you.

She said, Yeah, I guess.

Colonel Dagoberto Godoy opened the door wearing his red Jockeys and a scowl that changed at once.

As Helene said, Oh, I
'
m sorry. Gee, I have the wrong room,
and began turning away.

The colonel reached out and took hold of her arm in a grip that startled her and pulled her around to face him again. You don
'
t have the wrong room. This is the room you want. You come to see a man, didn '
t you?

Helene said, I happen to be staying in this hotel.
Cool, but not quite haughty. I see now that I got off the elevator on the wrong floor. If you '
ll be kind enough to let go of my arm and behave yourself, I won '
t have to report this to the manager.

She could, Helene was thinking, knee him in the crotch. Take some of the spunk out of the arrogant little asshole. But that wouldn
'
t get her a drink, would it?

She let the colonel tell her, Oh, please, you must forgive me. You must let me show you how I
'
m a real nice guy . . .

Jack stepped from the elevator to the hall railing and looked down into the courtyard. Helene was seated at the table again. The colonel stood over her talking, bowing over her, taking her hand, kissing it Jesus Christ holding onto her hand as he sat down, talking a mile a minute.

He turned and walked back past the elevator to 501, listened at the door, and then used the key to go in.

There was the bottle of wine Little One had delivered, open in a silver bucket. A bowl of melted ice and shrimp tails. Shrimp tails in ashtrays. Letters on the desk by the TV set, the same letters he saw the last time he was here.

Two packages of clean laundry on the bed. That could mean something. The light on in the bathroom. Towels on the floor. A bottle of cologne with the top off, on the wash-basin. Next to it a blow-dryer, the cord plugged into the wall. He didn '
t want to be here.

He didn
'
t want to be here the other night when he came. But this time the urge to hurry up and get out was stronger, the feeling more intense that he was crazy to be doing this. He was too old to be doing this. He wasn '
t the same person. He could feel it walking over to the dresser, his body telling him he shouldn '
t be here. He felt slow. He had felt alive going into all those other rooms, to score but also to be doing it, to be in there look at him getting away with it. But that didn '
t make any sense at all now.

It was a show-off thing to do you could only do in front of people who were asleep.

He opened the colonel
'
s shirt drawer, slipped his hand beneath folds of soft silk, and felt the pistol and two extra magazines. He brought them out, closed his hand around the grip of the Beretta, feeling the solid heft of it as he walked over to the desk. The pink copy of a car dealer bill of sale lay next to the bank deposit and withdrawal receipts.

Helene had to pick up her scotch and water with her left hand. The colonel, hunched over the table in his black silk jacket, wouldn
'
t let go of her right hand. He held it in both of his, the one with the diamond on top. He looked like a gangster in the movies. Or a record promoter, hard rock. Except when he spoke.

BOOK: Bandits (1987)
3.36Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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