Geezer Paradise (7 page)

             
From behind me I heard Willey say, "Oh shit."  I should have known Willey's hair-brained idea would end badly.  Willey was still thrashing around behind me.  My mind was racing, trying to come up with a reason for being there.  I looked up into the blinding light and said, "Excuse me, officer.  I can explain . . . just then the booze and the fear caught up with me and I barfed all over the cop's shoes. 

             
The cop said, "Sonofabitch."  I decided not to say anything else.

Chapter Four

THE CELLBLOCK LOOKED like something out of an old Bogart movie.  We were held overnight with three other drunks, and a large, bearded man who stared straight ahead and kept saying, "I'm gonna' kill Lucy."  I didn't sleep all night.  I was worried Mountain Man might change his rant to, "I'm gonna' kill those two stinky guys in the corner."  We each had a metal bunk with an inch thick mattress.  It was like trying to sleep on a sidewalk.  My back would be out for a week.  Willey snored like a champ all night long.  I promised myself I'd strangle him when we got out of there--if we ever got out of there.  

             
The next morning we were brought before a cranky old judge.  He leaned over the bench and asked us, "If I put a hundred dollar fine on each of you could you pay it?"

             
Willey and I looked at each other.  "I could pay it by the middle of next month," I said.

             
"That's what I thought.  Get out of my courtroom and clean up your act.  And don't come back," he warned, as Willey and I scurried out of the courtroom.  I think he might have done more except we smelled so bad.  I didn't talk to Willey all the way back to the park.  I couldn't wait to get home so I could get out of those smelly clothes and get some sleep.

****

              The next morning Willey woke up with a stiff neck.  He knew it was caused by laying on that hard bunk in jail.  He felt a little tired from last night's ordeal.  He hadn't been able to sleep a wink, what with Barney snoring and all.  He walked out to his carport and picked up the pile of smelly cloths he had dumped there the night before and walked over to Barney's shed to use the washer and dryer.  Willey didn't have that luxury. 

             
Willey thought about the night before.  Too bad they hadn't found any damning evidence against Flaherty.  And then getting caught!  Willey knew it wasn't his fault his foot got stuck in the fire escape ladder.  If Barney hadn't insisted they get drunk before they broke in, it never would have happened.  As Willey started the washer he knew Barney would hear it and come out to talk to him.  He didn't look forward to that.  He knew Barney would blame him for everything that went wrong.  He'd never hear the end of it.

             
Barney would lie down and let the world walk all over him if he, Willey, didn't keep prodding him to stand up for himself.  Barney was such a dolt.  Willey wondered how Barney ever got along before he, Willey, took him under his wing and helped him along.  Willey sighed.  You can't just turn your head and not help those around you who aren't as bright.  It was a burden he would have to bear.

****

              Later the next morning I slowly pulled myself out of bed and limped into the kitchen.  The stress of the night before had triggered an arthritis attack in my hips.  I felt like I had been run over by a truck.  I moved in a slow, lurching, movement only the arthritic can appreciate.  I sat at my kitchen table and thought about the night before.  I couldn't believe I had let Willey talk me into that mess.  We could have both end ended up in jail for a long time. 

             
I sat there looking out the windows at the other houses and the palm trees.  Eddie the egret was strutting up the street again looking for food.  Egrets were hunted for their white feathers at the turn of the last century, and almost became extinct.  Now they're all over the place.  It was a pretty site.  I wondered if I would soon be looking into an alley from the window of my rented room.

             
I heard the washing machine in my shed start up.  Each unit has a shed under the carport at the back of the driveway.  We put our washers and driers in there.  Willey was washing his clothes from the night before.  He doesn't have a washer and dryer, so he uses mine.  I forced myself to my feet, scooped up my own smelly clothes, and headed out to the carport.  I moved slowly because of the pain in my hips.  Part walking, part shuffling, part lurching and hobbling, accompanied with a lot of "ews" and "ahs."  I worked my way across the driveway.  When I reached the shed I threw my dirty clothes at Willey and started hobbling back inside. 

             
From behind me Willey said, "Hey, Barney.  Are you having trouble walking?"

             
"No," I said.  "I'm doing a kabuki dance."  I was in a foul mood.  I hobbled on toward my side door.  Willey followed me.

             
"Hey, it wasn't my fault I got my foot stuck.  It could have happened to anybody."

             
"Right," I said, and limped inside.  Willey followed me in and sat down at my kitchen table.

             
"You got any coffee?" Willey asked.  I pointed to the cabinet over the sink.  Willey put the coffee on, then he came back to the table with mugs and spoons. 

             
"There's cream in the fridge," I said.  When he sat down I said, "Well, that was a bright idea you had last night.  Do you have any more?" 

             
"Not yet, but I'll come up with something."

             
I couldn't wait.  "No more loony ideas?"

             
"Barney, why are you always so pessimistic?  Just because we had a little mishap last night doesn't mean we have to give up.  There's more than one way to skin a cat, you know."

             
"Have you ever skinned a cat?" I asked.

             
"Course not, why would I do something like that?"

             
The man didn't know sarcasm when he heard one. 

             
"I'm not going along with any more of your hair-brained ideas," I said.  "There's no way we can stop these people.  It's a lost cause." 

             
"Bullshit.  You can give up if you want to, but I'm going to fight those bastards.  All we have to do is find out how they pass along the bribe money, and who they're giving it to."

             
"How are we going to do that?"   

             
"I'm not sure yet, but it can't be that hard.  Oh, by the way, Eduardo called to thank us for helping Sofie out.  He says Darryl has been as polite as a choirboy.  He even washes the dishes for her now."  I had to smile, I was glad I was able to help her. 

             
Just then I looked out the front windows and saw a black Lincoln pull up in front of my house.  The car door opened and we saw a snake wearing a suit and tie get out.  He slithered up my driveway.  Willey opened the kitchen door and went down the two steps to the driveway.  I made it down one step and stood there. 

             
"Which of you is Mister McGee?" The reptile asked.  I raised my hand. 

             
"And you must be Mister Pulaski," he said to Willey.  Willey nodded.

             
"I'm attorney Clifford Snydely, and I represent the Flaherty Development Corporation.  It has come to my client's attention that you two gentlemen were picked up by the police last night in the alley behind my client's offices.  That, and the fact that you live in a park that my client in the process of purchasing, led our security department to wonder just what you two were doing in that alley.  Would you care to explain?" 

             
When Willey gets mad he reverts to his Cracker roots.  "We don't have to explain nothing to you, you maggot," Willey said.  "Now get outta' here before I call the cops." 

             
"Now that you mention the police," the snake said, "I must tell you that our security department has already made known to the police your connection to my client, and the possibility that your intentions may have been to break into my client's offices.  The police were quite interested.  If you do have any intentions of violating my client's property we will respond with the full force of the law."

             
Willey said, "You know, I used to have a dog as ugly as you.  I had to shave his ass and teach him to walk backwards, just so he wouldn't scare nobody."  I grabbed Willey by the back of his pants and pulled him back. 

             
"Good day, gentlemen," the snake said.  He slithered back to his car and drove off.                                                                                                                                  "Damn," I said.  "I kept expecting to see a forked tongue come sliding out of   that bastard's mouth."

             
"Don't worry," Willey said.  "He can't prove anything."  But it still worried me.  After the lawyer left we went over and sat down at the green plastic table I keep in my carport.  Willey brought our coffee out from the kitchen.  It had cooled off a little but I drank it to calm my nerves.  There was a gentle breeze blowing and the air was filled with the scent of bougainvillea.  We sat there and watched the tiny lizards skitter across the driveway.  They're only as big as your thumb, and they live under the houses.  They consider the driveways to be their playgrounds.  One of them came prancing right up to me and puffed out its neck, trying to scare me away.  I'd often seen Eddy the Egret slide one of them down his gullet.  I guess they taste better than hot dogs. 

             
"I'd sure hate to have to leave this place," Willey said.  "There's no place I'd rather be . . . at least no place I could afford.  Barney, we'll get the proof we need, somehow.  We'll find a way to stop these people.  I don't care how powerful they are."  I hoped he was right.   

              The next morning we still hadn't made any workable plan to follow Stevens around so I was running some errands. I took a short-cut down a back road and up ahead I saw an accident.  There were about a dozen cars pulled over, and a group of people were standing around looking down at the road.  I figured somebody had been hit by a car.  Poor bastard.  I didn’t want to see it so I tried to pass, but the crowed waved for me to stop. 

             
Damn.  Wasn't there anybody there who was trained in first aid?  I had gotten some first aid training when I worked for a short time as a security guard.  I had to give up the job because I couldn't adjust to the overnights.  I was afraid if I tried to help and did something wrong, I could get sued.  They could take away my . . . what?  My shoes if they were the right size?  I pulled over and got out of the Wrangler.  I worked my way into the crowd, but there was no accident victim.  What was going on with these people?  They were all looking down at the road but there was nothing there . . . except an oil stain.  Why were they looking at an oil stain?  The people seemed to be praying.  I got nervous.  No church holds services in the middle of a road.

             
"look," the woman next to me said, pointing down at the road.  I looked, but there was still nothing there except the stain. 

             
"Look at what?" I asked.  All heads turned towards me. 

             
"It's an angel," they shouted.  My feet suddenly got cold, even though the road we were standing on was hot enough to fry an egg on. 

             
"In the stain," the woman said.  "See the wings and the robe?"  I didn't.  It just looked like an oil stain to me. 

             
"Oh, yes," I lied.  "Now I see it."  The crowd seemed to relax then, now that I could see the angel.  "Isn't that amazing," I said.  Those around me nodded their heads in awe.  I slowly worked my way out of the crowd, walked kind of fast to the Wrangler, jumped in and locked the doors.  I started the engine and got the hell out of there.  Sometimes I think I'm the last sane person in Florida--and I'm not too sure of myself, either.  I'd say there must be something in the water, but I know the water is undrinkable.

              Later that day Willey came by and we sat in my Florida room drinking beer.

             
Willey said, "I still can't get over that idiot Stevens shooting a spear gun at us."

             
"They must have been pretty drunk to do something like that," I said.  "Or maybe they were doing something stronger than booze.  You'd think a United States Senator would be more careful about who he hung around with."  As I looked around the room I realized it was time I replaced some of the second hand furniture with new second hand furniture.  The people in the park tell each other where to get the best price on second hand furniture and appliances, and even where to get the best prices on eyeglasses.  But nobody has been able to find a dentist who didn't charge an arm and a leg.  Maybe that's why dentists make more money than doctors these days. 

             
The park residents don't have a lot of money, but they aren't poor.  The poor have a look all their own.  No, the park people had worked hard all their lives and taken care of their children.  They lived here and not in a luxury condo because instead of putting their money into a portfolio, they sent their children to college.  But living in the park isn't so bad.  The park has paved roads and sidewalks, lawns, shrubs, and palm trees.  The mobile homes have white concrete decorative blocks all around under the houses, so it looks like they have foundations.                They can't hold a candle to the waterfront mansions, but I'd bet the farm the people in the park are a whole lot friendlier.  The sun was just setting and it filled the Florida Room with an orange glow.  I was busy scratching mosquito bites when my doorbell rang.  It was Mary Dixon.