Big Al brought a forkful of enchilada to her mouth and stuffed it in.
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She chewed happily for a while, then took a hit from the Carta Blanca bottle.
She swallowed the beer and said, "That's the great thing about a free country.
Â
A man can go where he wants to go.
Â
On the other hand, a man can't assault someone for no reason at all.
Â
Look at poor Henry J.'s nose."
I looked, and in spite of the hate in Henry J.'s eyes, it wasn't easy not to laugh at his appearance.
"I have a feeling that whoever assaulted Henry J. did it for reasons of self-defense," I said.
Big Al waved her fork in the air.
Â
"Maybe.
Â
Maybe not.
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Why do I get the feeling you didn't come here to apologize?"
"Because I came here for the enchiladas?"
"Many people do," Big Al said.
I looked around the room.
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As far as I could tell, not a single person except Big Al was eating.
Â
Everyone else was drinking beer and listening to the juke box, which was now playing "Rags to Riches."
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The Tony Bennett version.
"But not you," Big Al said.
The door to the kitchen opened.
Â
Our waiter came out, followed by the white cat, which was no longer carrying the mouse.
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I wish I hadn't seen him, to tell the truth.
"No," I said as the waiter set the thick white plates in front of us.
Â
"I didn't really come here to eat, but the food does look good."
The waiter used a folded towel to handle the plates, which were very hot.
Â
The enchiladas were covered with chopped onions and jalapeno peppers.
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The chili around the enchiladas bubbled and sizzled.
"If you didn't come for the food," Big Al said, "Why did you come?
Â
Do you have a secret crush on me?"
"I'm sure there are a lot of guys who do," I said.
Â
"But I came to talk to you about a party."
"I thought we decided yesterday that we wouldn't discuss the party."
"We didn't decide anything," I said.
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"We just got interrupted."
I reached out for the picante sauce and spooned it onto the enchiladas.
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Dino watched me with a kind of horrified fascination, and I pushed the bowl over to him when I'd finished.
"I don't want any hot sauce," he said.
"Suit yourself."
I cut into the enchiladas and steam rose above the plate.
Â
I thought it might be best to wait a while before taking a bite, that is unless I wanted to incinerate the inside of my mouth.
"About that party," I said.
"Big Al said we weren't going to talk about that," Henry J. said.
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He sounded particularly nasal, like a bad country and western singer.
"I'm talking to Big Al, not you," I told him.
He pushed his chair back about six inches, and I thought for a second that he was going to come across the table for me.
Â
But Big Al put up a hand, and he sat back down.
Â
I could tell he wasn't happy about it, though.
"Assuming that I have some idea of which party you're talking about," Big Al said, "why don't you tell me why you're so interested in it?"
"You know why," I said.
Â
"A girl was killed there."
"That's enough of that shit," Henry J. said, pushing his chair back at least a foot.
"Calm down, Henry J.," Big Al said.
Â
"This is getting interesting.
Â
I suppose you think you can prove what you're saying, Smith."
I couldn't prove anything, of course.
Â
I wasn't even sure I was right.
Â
I was just guessing to try to keep her off balance and maybe get her to say something in an unguarded moment, not that I thought she ever had any.
Â
I knew damned well that
something
had happened at that beach house, however, and that everyone was lying to me about it.
Â
I just didn't know what or why.
"Her name was Kelly Davis," I said.
Â
"You might have read about her in the newspaper."
Big Al shrugged her powerful shoulders and smiled.
"I might have," she said.
Â
"It seems to me that she was found in the Gulf.
Â
She drowned, I believe."
"No," I said.
Â
"She didn't drown."
"How did she die, then?"
I started to say that I didn't know, that the cause of death hadn't been discovered, but I didn't want to give her the satisfaction.
So I said, "She was murdered."
Big Al put her fork down on her plate with an audible
clink
.
"You don't know that."
"I believe it, and I'm going to prove it.
Â
And I'm going to find out what happened to Randall Kirbo, too."
"I never heard of him," Big Al said.
Â
"And now I'm tired of talking to you.
Â
Show them out, Henry J."
I would have gone quietly, and Dino would have, too.
Â
But Henry J. must not have thought so.
Â
Instead of politely standing up and asking us to leave, he shoved the table at me and hit me in the stomach so hard that my chair toppled over backward.
I landed hard and tried to bounce up so that I wouldn't have to lie too long in the sawdust which was clinging to me like a fungus.
Â
I was afraid it might eat right through my jacket.
Â
I couldn't bounce anywhere, however, because I was tangled up with the chair.
Â
I tossed it aside just as Henry J. swung his Dos Equis bottle at Dino's head.
Dino put up his left forearm and knocked the bottle aside while throwing a short, hard right into Henry J.'s stomach.
Â
He should have known from his prior experience that hitting Henry J. in that particular spot would have about as much effect as hitting the bar.
Â
Some people are slow learners, however.
Henry J. grinned beneath his bandaged nose as if he hadn't even been touched and kicked Dino in the shin.
Â
Dino bent over, and Henry J. smashed a fist into the back of his neck.
Â
Dino crumpled, and Henry J. raised his foot to stomp him.
I was on my feet by then, and I grabbed up my enchilada platter and threw it in Henry J.'s face.
Â
The food was still hot, and the plate was heavy.
Â
The combination didn't do Henry J.'s nose any good, but it didn't stop him, maybe because of the metal nose guard he was wearing.
Â
About all it did was mess up his bandage.
Â
He wiped a hand across his face and came at me.
I jumped aside, and Big Al hit me with a solid right just under the heart.
Â
It was a little like being kicked by a horse, and I staggered backward, my feet slipping in the sawdust.
Henry J. started to move in for the kill, but Dino stood up and got between us.
Â
Henry J. tried to kick him again.
Â
Dino did a little pirouette, grabbed his foot, and turned him a flip.
Â
I heard the crack when Henry J.'s head hit the floor.
Â
The sawdust apparently wasn't thick enough to serve as much of a buffer, but I didn't feel a bit sorry for Henry J.
Â
I didn't have time.
Â
Big Al was all over Dino, hitting him with a flurry of rights and lefts that was almost too fast to follow.
Â
He put up his arms and managed to stop most of the blows from landing solidly, but he was taking some damage.
Â
I stepped over beside them and reached for Big Al's hair.
Â
It was awfully short, but I got a grip that allowed me to yank her backward.
She sounded like a snake with asthma as her breath hissed between her teeth, and she tried to twist around to hit me.
Â
She almost made it, but Dino grabbed her arm and twisted her back to face him.
Â
He was going to hit her, but he hesitated for just a fraction of a second, giving her time to drive her fist into his mouth.
He fell like a rock, and Big Al turned her attention to me again.
Â
She gave a powerful jerk of her head, and I was left with a tuft of her hair in my hand.
Â
I dropped it just as she hit me in the stomach.
I try to keep in shape.
Â
I run as often as I can, but running doesn't do much to harden the stomach.
Â
I bent double and gasped for breath.
Big Al didn't give me a chance to get one.
Â
She came on with a roundhouse punch that would most likely have killed me if I hadn't turned my head at the last second.
As it was, her knuckles scrapped along my jawline, turning me almost around.
Â
I was still breathing as raggedly as a bronchitis victim on a coughing jag.
Big Al wound up again, but she wasn't going to have to hit me.
Â
There was someone else to do that for her.
Â
The bartender was right beside her, and he was holding a regulation Little League baseball bat.
Â
He fell into a crouch that made him look a little like Jeff Bagwell and took a swing at my head.
I dropped to my knees and the bat whistled through my hair.
Â
I really didn't like the idea of lying in the sawdust again, but I liked the idea of having my brains smeared on the bartender's bat even less.
Â
I rolled under a table and looked around.
Henry J. was sitting up, staring vaguely around.
Â
His head had struck the floor hard, and he didn't seem to have any idea about where he was.
Â
Dino was wrestling with Big Al.
Â
They were scuffling around in the sawdust.
Â
The white cat was sitting by the kitchen door, watching calmly, as if he saw this kind of thing all the time.
Â
Most of the other patrons had disappeared.
Â
I wished I could.
The bartender was still after me.
Â
He yanked the table away and tossed it aside, then swung at me again, but I had my breath back, and I was able to stick a chair in his way.
Â
The bat splintered the chair back, and sent a stinging vibration all the way up the bartender's arms.
Â
He yelled and dropped the bat, wringing his hands.
The bat bounced off the sawdust.
Â
I grabbed it, stood up, and slammed it gently into the bartender's stomach, which was much softer than Henry J.'s.
Â
His eyes bugged, his tongue stuck out, and he gagged and sat down.
Â
Maybe I hadn't been as gentle as I thought.
Big Al had Dino down on the floor, pummeling his face.
Â
I gave her a shot in the kidney, and she rolled off him.
"Don't bother to get up," I said.
Â
"Dino and I will be leaving now.
Â
If we can.
Â
How about it, Dino?"
"Give me a couple of seconds," he said, sitting up.
Â
His face was already swelling a little.
Big Al measured me with her eyes, judging the chances of making a try for me.
Â
To my right, Henry J. was beginning to regain his senses.
Â
I slapped the bat lightly into the palm of my left hand, but I don't think I scared her a bit.
"I don't think you have a couple of seconds," I told Dino.
Â
"I think we should go right now."
He stood up, and I put my left hand under his arm, keeping a tight grip on the bat with my right.
Â
We backed toward the door like that, while Frankie Laine sang to us about the travails of being a moonlight gambler.
Â
The juke box seemed very loud all of a sudden, but that was probably just my imagination, plus the fact that aside from the juke box the club was almost completely silent now.
Â
Big Al and Henry J. watched us leave.
Â
I wish I could say that they bid us an affectionate farewell, but that would be a slight exaggeration.
Â
The good news was that they didn't come after us.
Â
I'm sure neither of them felt like it, however, and so they let us go quietly.
Â
I hoped that there was no one waiting outside to curry favor with Big Al by tackling us and carrying us back in, but the sidewalk was deserted.
Â
Big Al had her supporters, but none of them had been in the Hurricane Club that evening, for which I was grateful.
When Dino and I got to the truck, I opened the door and helped him get in, tossing the bat in after him.
Â
I stumbled around to the driver's side and got in.
Â
In five seconds we were on our way.
When we got to Broadway where the lights were brighter, Dino looked at the bat.
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