Maximum Bob (12 page)

Dr. Tommy listened to this thinking, Not again, please. He said to Hector, “Don’t worry about it.”

“He has your car, your gun—don’t worry about it?”

“What gun?” Dr. Tommy said. “I don’t own any guns. Listen, he could be lucky and do it. You know why? Because he’s a fool. He doesn’t see what could stop him.”

“But this was something you thought about, when, a year ago. Now you’re thinking about it again?”

“I wasn’t, until I saw that in the paper, the judge and the alligator. See, I’m beginning to entertain the possibility again and this one walks in, a convict, tells me yes, of course, he’ll be happy to do it.”

“Like Saint Anthony answering your prayer,” Hector said, in a better mood now. “But what if he’s arrested?”

“If he is, or the time comes I can’t bear the sight of him, I report my car stolen.”

Hector came over with the blender and began filling their glasses. “I wanted so much to shoot him.”

“I know you did. Listen, it could still happen.”

“But if he does kill the judge, will you pay him?”

Dr. Tommy picked up his glass. “Are you serious?”

•          •          •

T
hey were having coffee now and wondering what to do this evening. No more talk about work. Go to a movie, a bar, listen to a band. Gary asked if she liked to dance. They could go to the Banana Boat. Kathy said she’d have to go home and change. She said the only trouble with the Banana Boat, sometimes she ran into probationers and they always wanted to buy her drinks. Or they’d bother her till she’d finally have to leave. Gary said, “Oh?” stirring his coffee. “You go there alone much?”

She said, “If you want to know do I go there to get picked up, ask me. Don’t be afraid.” He used milk and sugar and stirred his coffee forever.

“Do you?”

“No, I don’t. I go with friends. You want to drive by Dr. Tommy’s house, see what it looks like?”

“Tomorrow. I’d like to check on him first.”

She thought of Elvin hanging out at a million-dollar home on the ocean. It was hard to imagine. She could see him in Dale’s house, no problem, among the longnecks and pizza cartons. Pizza from Pisa, with the drawing of the Leaning Tower. The same kind she saw in the judge’s kitchen, after…

“We could go to my place,” Gary said. “Talk, listen to music. I’m down in Boynton, right off Hypoluxo.”

Kathy raised her eyebrows as if to say, oh, that’s an idea. Talk and listen to music. Uh-huh. She said, “Well, okay,” not wanting to sound too anxious. “Drop me at the office to get my car, I’ll follow you.”

“Or I can drive you back later.”

She didn’t like that idea. “I only live about five miles from you, in Delray. You want to drive all the way up here, and then we both have to drive all the way back?”

He was stirring his coffee again. “I don’t see a problem. It’s not that far.”

“I’d have to leave my car on the street all night.”

They were looking at each other across the table as she realized what she said.

“I mean, you know, it might be late.”

He wasn’t stirring now. He said, “We can get your car whenever you want.”

18

E
lvin said to his big brother, Dale Senior, “How do I look?”

It didn’t matter Dale Senior couldn’t answer him, metal pins sticking out of his sunken cheeks, wires holding his jaws shut tight like he was gritting his teeth, which he did most of his life anyway.

Elvin had looked at his reflection in the bedroom mirror and had to grin at himself, man, in that bright blue suit from Taiwan China and a bright yellow shirt with the collar spread open, duds that had once belonged to Roland and Elvin had stored in the attic of Dale Senior’s house before going off to prison.

Dale Senior was most likely trying to tell him with his beady eyes he looked like blue shit tied in a bow, this old man big brother sitting at his kitchen table one-legged. Elvin stooped to make sure. No, that’s all was under there, just the one leg and a stump.

“Buddy, where’s your plastic wooden leg at?” No answer. “I hear you got in some trouble over to Clewiston.”

This man had worn nothing but bib overalls or state clothes all his life. Had been up to Starke on a Corrections bus, but never over to Palm Beach, forty miles away. Had thought their brother Roland was leaving this world when all he did was move down to Monroe County. Dale Senior had a jelly-glass jar of Rebel Yell bourbon he was sucking in through a straw, glaring, the booze putting words in his head he was dying to say but couldn’t. All it did was bulge his veins where he was going bald in front.

It reminded Elvin he had to get a haircut. He’d shaved off the week’s worth of beard before putting the suit on. It was driving the Cadillac last night had changed his mind about looking rough and ready. The Cadillac and the go-go whore he picked up at the bar after she was done and took to Dale’s house. He said to Dale Senior, “Bud, I was with a girl last night had her puss shaved near clean. Told me so she wouldn’t look like a female gorilla up there in her G-string. I thought of ones me and you use to take out on the lake? Man, there were some of those old girls had bushes on ‘em—I’d say I ain’t going in there without a gun and a flashlight. Remember? This one last night was like a little girl down there ‘cept she was grown.”

One of Dale Senior’s big ugly hands, all spotted and gnarled up with arthritis, was scratching at the oilcloth cover on the table, putting nicks in it, like a hound pawing on the end of a chain. Cut him loose and look out.

“This here’s a go-go rock whore I’m talking about. Does it to buy crack and get high. That’s the new thing, crack. They can get scrappy on you.”

Insulting too, this one, calling Dale Junior’s house a rat hole. This whore appraiser named Earlene, hand on her hip saying, “Drive a Cadillac and live like a nigger.” He gave her a look at the shank he’d made for Dale, sticking it up under her nose. Oh, is that right? You calling me a nigger? It changed her tune quick, eyes about to pop out of her head. He told her he had already killed a man, was about to get him another one and to watch the newspaper if she thought he was blowing smoke at her.

But she was right in a way, what she said. What was he doing in this dump if he drove a Cadillac Fleetwood only three years old and looked brand-new? Or why dress as he did and look like he stole the car?

It was the reason he came here this bright Sunday morning and pulled Roland’s trunk from the attic where it had laid ten years untouched—not counting his getting the hat and boots out of it. Animals had scratched at the trunk, but none had got in to mess up the clothes. Three suits, a bunch of shirts and ties and undies. All he had to do to complete his changeover, besides get a haircut, was move in with Dr. Tommy and that little puss Hector.

He said to Dale Senior, “You know where Ocean Ridge is at? You go on over to Palm Beach and turn south.” Elvin would catch himself talking loud, as if the man couldn’t hear as good with his jaw wired, and have to lower his voice. “I’m moving into a house over there, big one, right on the ocean. How’s that sound to you?” Dale Senior could at least nod his head. Shit, it was like talking to the wall.

He turned as Mavis came in the back door and walked right past him, looking concerned and heading straight for Dale Senior.

“I’m home,” Mavis told him, in case he didn’t see her standing there. “I come right back like I said. Can I dish you up a nice bowl of soup? It’s split pea with bacon in it, your favorite.”

Elvin watched Dale Senior swipe the jelly glass, empty now, clear off the table with that big ugly hand of his.

“I think he wants another toddy,” Elvin said to Mavis, and looked over at the cast-iron pot of soup on the stove, bubbles popping in it. He said, “I bet, thirty years with the old sweetheart, you’ve thought of adding roach powder with the bacon. Look at him. He’s afraid I’m giving you ideas.” He said to Dale Senior, “You better be careful what you suck into your mouth there, Bud.”

Mavis stopped to get the glass from the floor and came up sniffing, her nose in the air.

“What’s that smell?”

“If you mean me,” Elvin said, “it’s my suit of clothes, from being in mothballs. I think it’ll air though.”

Mavis was getting the bourbon off the sink counter.

“Where’s his leg at?”

She said, “Shhh,” putting her hand up by her mouth. “Don’t mention it.” Now she was pouring Dale Senior another three inches of whiskey and setting fresh straws in the glass, telling him, “Honey? You know I brought some soup over to Inez’s for Dale Junior? He’s still there, doing just fine.”

Elvin said, “That’s where Dale’s at?”

Mavis gave him a scared look, the kind, when you’re caught saying something maybe you shouldn’t have. Then seemed to decide it was all right and told him, “Since yesterday. They been looking all over for him, deputies have.”

“That ain’t a problem,” Elvin said. “What is, he’s going to prison tomorrow. Man, I know if I was I wouldn’t be staying over at Inez and Dicky’s, Jesus. I’d be in every bar in West Palm. No, I wouldn’t either, I’d find that little girl I was with last night.”

“I don’t know as he’s decided he’s going or not,” Mavis said.

Elvin had to grin at the woman thinking you had a choice. Just then Dale Senior began making growling sounds in his throat and blinking his drunk eyes, his way of trying to speak.

“Too bad he never learned to write,” Elvin said, watching his big brother, this old man of fifty-six struggling with himself, spit coming from between his sealed lips. Elvin raised his hand. “Buddy? Let’s see you wave bye-bye. Like this, move your fingers.” All he got were those beady eyes staring at him and veins turning blue. Elvin said to Mavis, “I think I’ll stop over and see Dale. Show him my new car.”

•          •          •

T
hey were in Michelle’s office eleven o’clock Sunday morning, her desk piled with case folders left over from the meeting yesterday. She said to Kathy, “How would you like to open one of these and see it’s a guy you used to go with?” Michelle picked up a folder. “This one.” And dropped it. “At the time I thought he was a sweet guy. He threw his girlfriend’s TV set out the window. His ex-girlfriend, her apartment’s on the fifth floor.”

“The sweet guy discovered crack,” Kathy said.

“He has to pay almost five thousand in restitution.”

“That must’ve been some TV set.”

“It hit a car.”

“You’re not taking him, are you?”

“Hardly. If you want him, he’s yours.”

“I wouldn’t mind that doctor in Ocean Ridge.”

“Dr. Vasco, another sweetie,” Michelle said, looking for his case folder. “Why do you want him?”

“Something different.”

“But you don’t do Community Control.”

“I could. I’ve been here long enough.”

“And you must love it,” Michelle said, looking up. “I got here at eight this morning and there’s your car in front. I thought you were up in your office.” Michelle acting, her expression going from innocent to puzzled. “No, wait a minute. Gary picked you up here yesterday…”

“You want to know if I left my car and spent the night with him.”

“Listen, I wouldn’t blame you, he’s a neat guy, very clean-cut, polite… I love his hair. He doesn’t come on like most cops, does he? He seems… you know, gentle.”

Michelle was waiting now to have this verified.

“He’s nice,” Kathy said, “he’s smart, likes to read. Majored in sociology at U of M. Spent eight years with Palm Beach PD, likes to work homicide… What else do you want to know? His folks live in Boca, he goes there for dinner every other Sunday. He has a younger sister, she’s there sometimes. His dad’s retired.”

Michelle said, “Really?”

Kathy said, “I know how Community Control works and you need help, right? You could let me have Dr. Vasco on a temporary basis, thirty days?”

“Yeah, I suppose, if you really want him.” Michelle had the case folder open and was glancing through it. “He’s on twenty-four-hour house arrest. Allowed two AA meetings a week. Has a houseman, Hector, who does the shopping. The doctor goes in swimming with his anklet on. It’s supposed to be waterproof but they had to replace three the first year. He bitches constantly about his phone bill, even though he’s loaded. You know an anklet adds about a hundred and twenty bucks a month.” Michelle closed the file. Handing it across the desk she said, “I like that dress. Is it new?”

“This?” Kathy pinched the front of her beige cotton knit that was like a long T-shirt with a belt. “It isn’t new and I didn’t have it on last night, but we did go to his apartment.”

That seemed to make Michelle happy. “Was it nice?”

“The apartment? It was neat, nothing lying around. He rents movies, listens to music. He likes Neil Young, The Band, Bob Dylan…”

“No new stuff?”

“Dire Straits.”

“They’re not new.”

Kathy said, “He has ten years of
National Geographic
magazines,” looking Michelle in the eye, “he keeps in chronological order in a bookcase. He has about four hundred books, all kinds, in alphabetical order by authors.”

Michelle took a moment. “He does?”

“He’s reading one about Siberia he says is a honey.”

“Siberia,” Michelle said.

“The gulags, slave-labor camps. Twenty-five million people were sent there during Stalin’s time, anybody he didn’t like. Russian soldiers captured during the war, they came home they were sent to Siberia. They shouldn’t have let themselves get captured. A man was overheard saying to an American his boots were better than Soviet boots. He got ten years. In one camp they shot thirty people a day to keep the rest of them in line.”

“That’s what you talked about, Siberia?”

“They call the convicts over there
zeks
. No, we talked about different things. Gary opened a bottle of wine.”

“Yeah?”

“I didn’t spend the night.”

“You didn’t?”

“It got late, he took me home.”

“Yeah?”

“Picked me up this morning and dropped me off, that’s all. We’re going to meet later.”

“Nothing happened last night?”

“You mean did we go to bed? No. What do you want? We just met. You go to bed with every guy you meet and happen to like?”

Michelle paused. “No, not every guy.”

“Just the ones throw TV sets out the window.”

“Why’re you upset?”

“I’m not. You want to know what happened, I told you. Nothing.”

Now Michelle seemed to be appraising her, eyes narrowed. “Are you saying he didn’t try anything or you didn’t let him?”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Like what? You’re alone in his apartment…”

“That doesn’t mean he has to jump me, does it?”

“No wonder you’re upset. What’s wrong with him?”

“Nothing. He’s a nice guy. He wants me to go with him next Sunday, meet his folks.”

“Well, I guess if you hang in there long enough… I really like his hair. He’ll never get bald.”

“And he’s clean-cut, he’s polite,” Kathy said, “and you think he’s a little weird, don’t you?”

“I wouldn’t say weird.”

“What he does with his
National Geographics
.”

“Well, that. No, but I think he
is
different. You know, maybe he’s shy. I mean with women.”

“He might be.”

“Self-conscious, afraid of being turned down. When they’re like that you have to let them know it’s okay. Bring them out, so to speak.”

“Like unzip their fly?”

“That would work. You know the old saying,” Michelle said, “once you have their balls in your hand, their minds are far from Siberia.”

•          •          •

I
nez came around from the side of the house where she was hanging wash and yelled at Dale to get back inside, what was wrong with him? Elvin waved at her and brushed through the opening in the hedge that hid the street and his black Cadillac sedan. He was only going to show it to Dale, how it told you all kinds of stuff on the dash panel when you pressed buttons; but when Inez started yelling he said, “Shit, get in the car.”

Dale was in the front seat before Elvin was even around to the other side. He yelled at Inez, “We going for a ride. Be back directly.”

Driving off he saw Inez in his rearview mirror standing out in the street, the size of her, like a man wearing a housedress. All you could say about Inez Campau, there was a big ugly woman. He said to Dale, “You don’t want to stay there no more, do you?”

“She’s making me leave by tomorrow anyways,” Dale said, “once I’m a fugitive.”

“You run, you know what they’ll do.”

“I don’t care, I’m not going to prison.”

“They’ll add on five to the five you already got.”

“If they catch me.”

Sounding like the boy had made up his mind.

Elvin said, “Prison ain’t that bad, you get the hang of it… find yourself some buddies, a little housekeeper to take care of your wants…”

Dale wasn’t talking.

They drove out of this back-end part of Belle Glade where people like the Crowes and Campaus lived in old frame houses, their pickups and boat trailers in the yard alongside rusted washing machines, car parts, skiffs past use. Old boys sitting on porches drinking beer waved at the Cadillac driving past.