Jackie Brown (22 page)

"Have a drink."

"I'm waiting for the phone."

"Good luck, that guy's been on it a half hour." Jackie said, "I'll find another one. See you."

Turned to leave and Melanie said, "I know what this gig's about, the whole thing, what you've been doing for him. Have one with me, I'll tell you a secret."

Melanie was drinking rum and Coke, she said for the past hour with guys hitting on her, creeps in tourist outfits. Jackie ordered a beer, took a sip, and a guy put his hands on their shoulders. Would they like to come over to the table, "join me and my buddy for a refreshment?" Without looking at him Melanie told him to fuck off, and rolled her eyes at Jackie.

"That's what we need, some bright conversation. Where you from? . . . Oh, really? Where are you from? . . . Ohio, huh? No shit."

Jackie said, "How long have you been with Ordell?"

"This time? Almost a year. I've known him forever.

"Why did he make you leave?"

"So you wouldn't be nervous. He wants you to think I'm only there to give him blow jobs, obviously not a security risk." Melanie laid her arms on the curved edge of the bar and her cheek against her shoulder, looking at Jackie on the stool next to her. "The day before yesterday I saved his fucking life. This Nazi was about to beat him to death and I shot the guy four times, in the heart. Today he tells me to go play in the fucking sand."

Jackie sipped her beer. "You shot a Nazi."

"One of those white-supremacy geeks. We were out there to rip off all this military stuff he's got. You know, army weapons? I was supposed to get Gerald naked so Ordell'd be sure the guy wasn't armed when he shot him. Once in a while Ordell gets into the rough stuff, but usually he plays it safe, has these crazy black kids that work for him do the heavy shit. They killed two other guys that happened to be there."

Jackie said, "Where was this?"

"At Gerald's. Out by Loxahatchee. You know Mr. Walker?"

Jackie nodded.

"Ask him about Ordell, he'll tell you. Mr. Walker's my buddy, he sends me good stuff."

"That was your coke," Jackie said.

Melanie made a face to show pain. "Oh, man, listen, I'm sorry about that. I hope they don't come down on you, Jesus, on my account. Ordell should've told you it was in your bag. You know, or at least asked if you'd mind bringing it. That wasn't right." "He said he didn't know about it."

"You believe that? Yeah, well, I guess you have to trust him. If you're in it, well, what're you gonna do, you're fucking in it, you just have to hope for the best. I'd have second thoughts, but then I know him. You get busted, they'll come down on you a lot harder than on the dope thing. I mean, forty-two grams compared to all those fucking machine guns and rockets? Come on . . . And all that cash?" Melanie raised her head enough to sip her drink, then laid her cheek against her shoulder again, her eyes not leaving Jackie's. "Having that money in your flight bag, even ten thousand, must be tempting. Fifty thousand the time you were busted?"

Jackie nodded.

"He fucks up, which he's been known to do," Melanie said, "and they get the cash, they get my dope, and they've got you hanging. It's a shame, you know it? Your next trip, you're gonna have over half a million in your flight bag." Melanie's eyes softened and so did her voice. "If you've thought of cutting Ordell out of this one, I sure wouldn't blame you."

Jackie smiled.

"You think I'm kidding," Melanie said. "Dreaming," Jackie said.

"You know how easy it would be? Because he trusts you," Melanie said, "and won't be anywhere near that mall? Pull one more switch, up front. That's it. Listen, if you're interested and you need help . . ."

"Keep it between us girls?" Jackie said.

"Why not? What's that son of a bitch ever done for us?"

"But he'll know."

"By the time he figures it out, you're gone, on your way to California, Mexico, shit, anywhere, Alaska, just go. Get someplace and then decide what to do. You don't want to think too much first and talk yourself out of it. You know, allow it to work on your nerves."

"You've done this before," Jackie said.

Melanie turned her head, as if to check if anyone was listening, and looked at Jackie again. "I've scored cash, dope, jewelry, a painting once that was supposed to be priceless and turned out to be a fake. Cars now and then-ninety miles an hour out of there one time in this asshole's Mercedes I dropped at the airport in Key West. Get clear and then take off, like to Spain. No backpacks, they'll check you for drugs. You're too old for a backpack anyway. Wear a dress, good shoes, you'll walk through Customs in almost any civilized country except here and Israel. You don't want to go to Israel anyway, it isn't safe." Jackie said, "That's it?"

"How it's done," Melanie said.

Jackie said, "Thanks," and slid off the stool. Melanie's head came up in a hurry. "Where you going?"

"Find a telephone," Jackie said.

It was close to seven by the time she got the message Nicolet had left on her machine, ran home to change, and arrived at Good Samaritan in a print dress and earrings. Nicolet brought a chair over as she spoke to Tyler, smiling, working up to touching his hair and giving him a pat on the head. Not exactly in a motherly way, though he looked about seventeen sitting up in bed with a can of beer. There were flowers on every surface that would hold them and getwell cards upright on the windowsill. Nicolet got her seated. She brought out a cigarette and lit it.

"I have something to report," Jackie said. "Two things. I deliver the money the day after tomorrow.

   Same arrangement, four thirty at The Gardens Mall. I'll be meeting Sheronda."

"The one lives on Thirty-first Street," Nicolet said to Tyler.

Tyler nodded. "She married to Ordell?"

"They live together," Jackie said, "but he's not there all the time. Sheronda has no idea what's going on. She's nice, I hope you don't have to arrest her." Nicolet said, "What kind of deal can she offer?"

"She was too scared to open the door," Tyler said. "She gives you Ordell as the man the money's for, that ought to get her off." He said to Jackie, "What's the other thing you have for us?"

"Ordell has a guy working for him named Louis Gara."

She saw Tyler look at Nicolet and she turned to him, next to her, as he said, "Have you met him?" "This afternoon, at an apartment in Palm Beach Shores. I don't think Gara lives there, but I can probably find out."

Nicolet reached down to lift a grocery sack from the floor to his lap. "You talk to him?"

"Not really."

"What's he do for Ordell?"

"I don't know yet. I suppose I could ask." "You want a beer?"

"I'd love one."

Nicolet reached in the sack, twisted a can from a six-pack, popped it open, and handed Jackie the can, wet, ice-cold. She took a sip.

"I know he just got out of prison. They seem to be pretty close for a white guy and a black guy." Tyler was grinning at her. "You're doing all right."

"Enough to get me off?"

"We know about Louis Gara," Nicolet said, "he's a bank robber. Late last night we put the house where he's staying on Thirtieth Street, West Palm, under surveillance. This morning about five thirty he comes out, walks over to a house on Thirty-first where Sheronda lives, gets car keys from her, and takes off in a Toyota parked in the drive. The car's registered to him. He's followed to a self-service storage place off Australian Avenue in Riviera Beach. You've seen them, they look like rows of garages?" Nicolet looked at Tyler. "That must've been where Cujo was going."

Tyler, nodding, said, "I know, to drop off the piece. And we thought it was the bump shop."

That went by Jackie; she let it go.

"He opened one of the doors," Nicolet said to her, "brought a cardboard box out of the trunk of his car, and put it inside. He comes out and returns to the house on Thirtieth. Three thirty this afternoon he drove to the apartment you mentioned in Palm Beach Shores."

It surprised her. "Then you must've seen me go in."

"I wasn't there," Nicolet said. "I was at the storage place with a search warrant and a locksmith. We enter-it's full of guns, all kinds, even military weapons. . . . Some of the stuff we know was taken from that farm out by Loxahatchee, where the triple homicide took place on Monday."

"One of them," Jackie said, "a white supremacist named Gerald something?"

"Yeah, it was on the news yesterday, front page of the paper. This morning too."

"I didn't see it," Jackie said. "A woman named Melanie, Ordell's girlfriend, told me she shot Gerald four times in the heart. Is that right?"

They were both staring at her. Nicolet said, "Four, yeah, but not in the heart."

"I didn't think so."

"She told you she did it? When was this?" "About an hour and a half ago at Casey's, right after I left the apartment. That's where she lives. She said some, quote, `crazy young black kids' who work for Ordell killed the other two."

Tyler and Nicolet looked at each other again and Nicolet said, "She tell you their names?"

Jackie shook her head, drawing on her cigarette. She said, "I don't even know Melanie's last name," and saw Nicolet look at Tyler again.

"You know a Melanie?"

"I don't think so," Tyler said. "What's she look like?"

Jackie said, "Well, she has very large tits. . . ." Tyler said, "Yeah?"

"A lot of blond hair. She's about thirty but looks much older."

Nicolet said, "Why'd she tell you about it?" "Because she's pissed at Ordell. She shoots a guy who's beating him up and he won't let her sit in on the Pay Day meeting," Jackie said. "Pay Day is what happens Friday. He likes to use code names. Rum Punch is his deal with the Colombians."

Nicolet said, "We used that once, Rumpunch, one word, rounding up Jamaican posses. So we can put Ordell at the scene. What about Louis, was he there?"

"She didn't say."

Nicolet was quiet for a moment.

"If Melanie's pissed off enough at Ordell . . ." "She won't leave," Jackie said. "I'm sure of it." Nicolet looked at Tyler. "You know what they say, once they've had a black guy. . . . But I want him more than I bet she does. There's gonna be a fistfight," Nicolet said to Jackie, "over who gets him now, ATF or Faron's people and the Sheriff's office. You said there's one more arms delivery coming up?" Jackie nodded. "That's what he told me."

"They've got enough there, it could go down anytime. My beeper goes off, man, I'm out of here." Jackie said, "What if Ordell's not with them?"

"I don't care if he is or not, I know it's his dump," Nicolet said. "We can show weapons there were lifted from Gerald's place and take Ordell on the homicides and the guns. It's better than what we had going before, I love it. Get him sent to Marion, that would be beautiful. You're in lockdown there twentytwo hours a day."

Jackie put her beer can on the floor; got up, crossed to the lavatory, and dropped her cigarette in the toilet. She came out and stood by the door to the hall.

"When am I off the hook?" "When it's over," Nicolet said.

She looked at Tyler. "I'm your case, not his." "That's right," Tyler said, "and I'm calling the state attorney tomorrow, get him to agree on a nofile."

Jackie said, "An A-99?"

Tyler smiled at her. "Why don't you stay a while? We'll get rid of Ray . . ."

Louis turned off Windsor Avenue to Thirtieth Street and Ordell, riding with him, said, "Keep going. I don't like that Chevy back there. Guy sitting in it.

"I didn't notice him," Louis said, looking at his mirror. "Was he black or white?"

"How do I know he's black or white in the dark?" "It's a black neighborhood," Louis said.

"I know that. But they got brothers are cops too, if you never heard of it. Look, no lights on. Too early for her to be in bed. Go 'round the block."

Louis turned on South Terrace and then on 29th and came around again to Simone's street. Now they came past the Chevy and Ordell looked back at it.

"Shit, I can't tell. Go on to Sheronda's, see what it looks like over there, Thirty-first Street."

"I know where it is."

"Man, they make it hard for you. No, forget going over there. Turn around up here at the corner and go back. Man, I have to find out right now. The house's dark . . . Guy in the Chevy could be staking out anybody. Or it's some man thinks his woman's running around on him. The cops don't know you, so how could they know you staying there?"

"Max Cherry knows."

"Hey, fuck him. We going in the house."

They parked in the drive and entered through the side door. "Not one light on in here. This ain't like her," Ordell said in the kitchen. "Well, we only have to look one place, where she keeps her Motown records. If they gone, she's gone."

Louis said from the living room in the dark, "They're gone."

Ordell said, "Shit. Well, let's look for the money." Louis said, "You know if she's gone the money's gone. It's why she's gone."

"What? You saying nine thousand dollars gonna make her run off, leave her home? Man, that hurts me. I was gonna give her two for helping me out." "She left your watch," Louis said.

"It has something to do with Max Cherry," Ordell said. "Comes in her house, it scared her."

"It scared me," Louis said. "How'd he find out I was here?"

"Man, this shit works on my nerves," Ordell said. "Tells me I should change the plans around. First thing, I have to find somebody to take Simone's place."

"Don't look at me," Louis said.

"I'm not looking at you, I'm thinking who I can use.

"You're looking at me," Louis said in the dark. "You could do it."

"Walk in the women's fitting room? How would I work that?"

"Shit," Ordell said. "Lemme think."

   Max didn't touch the phone: on the table with the lamp and digital clock, next to Jackie's side of the queen-size bed. It rang while she was in the kitchen, three times and stopped. She would have picked it up standing by the counter in a man's dress shirt she put on leaving the bedroom, nothing under it, lighting a cigarette now, talking to Ordell or Ray Nicolet about Friday, the clock reading 10:37, while she finished making their drinks. Max got a cigarette from the table on his side.