Road Dogs (2009)( ) (22 page)

Chapter
TWENTY-NINE

MAYBE TELLING FOLEY HIS BUDDY WAS IN THE FREEZER WAS a mistake. He seemed to know already Cundo was dead but didn't act like he believed it, or didn't want to. He turns up in a homicide and the police look at him with hard eyes. But Foley wasn't dumb. He'd know when to talk and when not to talk. The whole thing would gradually blow over: the cloud passes and the sun comes out again to shine down on your mess, Dawn thought. Here were the problems:

She could not see giving Foley half of what she'd make from the houses. She would do whatever necessary to make him disappear instead.

But she needed him to get rid of the bodies. Both were in the freezer once she dragged Tico to the garage, had to remove bags of ice to get him to fit inside and poured loose ice over him. She could see there wasn't room for three. It was a shame the way fate was fucking with her again. But she was not going to split the take after waiting eight years to get it. He wasn't part of the job anyway, he was off playing hide the weenie with the actress. Setting her up was work. The mistake was introducing ghosts. She should've made Foley some other kind of expert. One who deals with simple hexes and can work things out on the other side.

She thought, What if she let him have the two-million-dollar house and she kept the one worth four and a half?

Why? He didn't do a goddamn thing to help. She was letting Foley in bed persuade her. He was getting better. If she wanted to she could make him a star.

Or make some other guy a star. Six million was better than four. Do a blood oath thing with Little Jimmy and let him keep the building full of business. It occurred to Dawn, if she seduced Zorro she could get him to take the two bodies out to sea. No remains of the dead, no bodies, no case. No court appearances to worry about. Foley, the simplest way would be to shoot him and dump him in the canal. Not the one that ran between Cundo's houses, a different one. Drop him in from a street that crossed the canals. In fact, all three could be dumped in different canals. It would be a kick to follow the investigations. Hmmmm, are they related? Three bodies, two gunshot victims and one that fell off a building.

The Walther was in the drawer again, the silencer screwed on. But she wouldn't be playing Cuban music for him this time. If he ever decided to come over. She could place the gun in a drawer in the kitchen. Dawn was sure she could get him out there for a drink.

Or get him in bed, her nude painting on the wall. He's having his after-the-furor cigarette. Reach into the drawer Pow, or ping, and wrap him up in the covers, Jesus, and drag him to the car.

Eight years ago she never once saw it as physical labor. Drop all three from the bridge and be in Vegas when she got the call from the police. Or Nevada deputies knocked on the door. What? You mean they drowned?

No, taking them out to sea was the only way to avoid an investigation. She'd have to come up with a way to do it. Put her three lovers in the car and take them to Marina del Rey. She had the name of the guy with the boat. Or take them out to the desert and scatter them around. All three are convicts, with enemies. Now it was starting to rain, getting dark early. She could sit here waiting for Foley to call. Or, she could put on Cundo's raincoat with the deep pockets and drop in on him.

Foley and Lou Adams were in the sitting room drinking beer, trying to decide on an ending for Lou's book, Foley asking him about actual cases he was on, one Foley might've read about.

You mean how we developed evidence?

I was thinking more of arrests, Foley said. Tight spots you were in. Like one time I was in a bank, somebody pushed a button, the cops are already outside not letting people in, hurrying the ones coming out.

And you and the five grand in the umbrella are hustled out. The cops never heard of a bank robber carrying an umbrella, the dumb fucks. That wouldn't work if I was there, I recognize the famous Jack Foley no, the infamous Jack Foley and bust his ass as he's coming out.

You know about that one?

You told me about it one time I'm trying to get you to list your bank licks. I said gimme the ones I can close and you shut up.

What page are you on?

I told you I got between five and six hundred, around in there.

You came to see me at Gun Club, Foley said, told me you're from the Big Easy. I'm suppose to tell you all the bank jobs I've pulled, since we're both from New Orleans.

Tell me for my book and I won't bother you no more. The number of banks.

A hundred and seventy-six.

Jesus Christ, in twenty-five years?

Take off for time served, it would be close to fifteen years. That's eleven and a half a year. Take off for Christmas, the Fourth of July and holydays of obligation, it's close to one a month. Five grand a month, sometimes more, spending my time at the seashore. But I miss being married and having a family. I blew that one. Unless she's still a young girl when I marry her. I should be looking at a certain age. You think? Foley said, But you're not in any of my bank jobs. You need one where you step up and do the job, a tough situation, where you could get shot.

Lou said, I was in that kind more'n once. We go in to make an arrest on a guy we know is a looney-toon believed to be armed. We confront him in the kitchen of his girlfriend's house. Her name was Louise. The guy has a drawer open and is reaching in. It looked like a knife drawer. I tell him to take his hand out of the fucking drawer. He says, I'm getting a Kleenex, I gotta blow my fuckin' nose.' His hand comes out of the drawer with a Kleenex. Lou paused. Actually it was a Puff, another kind of tissue.

Foley waited for him.

His other hand is trying to get a Smith out of his pants. He never got to blow his nose. Foley said, You saw the gun in time. Once we laid him out and went through his clothes. He looked at Foley and said, Hey, he was going for it.

I was thinking, Foley said, you could put me in one of your cases, only I never carried a gun. Once or twice I might've referred to having one, to the teller, but I never packed. It would be, you know, in a humorous way. We're gonna have to keep thinking to get you an ending.

Lou Adams got up to leave. He said, Swear you'll never rob another bank and I'm outta here.

I can't do that, Foley said. It could be years from now when I'm old and broke. Can you wait that long?

Forget it. I'll make up an ending, Lou said and left.

Foley got up from the table, the empty beer bottles, the ashtray full of butts, went to the phone on the counter and called Jimmy Rios. Zorro answered.

I'm about to see the lovely Dawn, Foley said. Tico's out of the picture, so Jimmy's safe, nothing can happen to him and he'll never see Dawn again. Tell him that and put him on.

He waited, looking out at the weather, almost dark now, fog setting in.

Jimmy's voice said, Jack, tell me how you going to handle this with Dawn.

Foley wasn't sure. In fact, he had no idea.

He said, First tell me what happened last night.

Dawn's hands were in the pockets of the raincoat, Cundo's, her right hand gripping the Walther without the silencer. It didn't fit, part of her hand would be out of the pocket. It was all right with Dawn; she wanted to hear it this time. But she'd bring it just in case, the silencer in her left hand in the pocket.

Cundo's black raincoat buttoned up came almost to her knees. Dawn stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom. She looked great in black with her dark hair and Egyptian eyes, seeing herself as Hatshepsut, the queen who became a king. The Dawn in the mirror said:

Hi, Jack, I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop in.

She said, You're kidding, right? You thought you'd drop in? Just take out the fucking gun and shoot him.

She wasn't thinking of doing it right away. She thought she might have some little girl-type fun with him first. Turn him on.

The gun was ready?

She checked it. Loaded, cocked, ready to fire.

You haven't pulled it out of the coat yet.

She brought it out. The hammer caught for a couple of seconds on the hem of the pocket. She released the hammer and drew the Walther again. Good it came right out. She'd fire without cocking it. Unless she might have a few things to say first. Then cock the gun for effect, just before she says, So long, Jack, it's been

Fun?

A ball?

It's been nice knowing you.

She said, It's been nice knowing you?

She said, It was nice taking showers with you.

She was making it hard, trying to think instead of just saying it. How about, I love you, Jack, but you're no six-million-dollar man. That wasn't bad. He'd get it.

She said to her image, Did you ever think you were greedy?

Not really.

You ever think of yourself as a cold bitch?

When I have to be. But I'm never really cold. You think? When you've put in eight long years living by yourself

Poor you.

Well, it's true. I waited eight fucking years for something to happen and had to do it myself.

Poor, poor you.

Shut up.

You ready?

Let's go, girl.

She left through the front door, hands in her pockets, one gripping the Walther, the other holding the silencer. She reached the sidewalk to go to the footbridge and stopped. A figure was on the walk across the canal, moving toward the bridge. In a light, shapeless coat. Foley. It had to be

Jack?

And knew it was a mistake. He hadn't seen her.

He stopped. He said after a moment, Dawn? What've you got on? I can barely make you out.

If she had the silencer screwed on There was still time. She said, I'm wearing Cundo's raincoat, it just fits me, turned as if modeling the coat and screwed the silencer in place. She faced him again, the Walther at her side. What she wanted to hear was a plane coming in to LAX. They heard planes all the time, the airport just seven miles south of Venice. She said, Where are you going?

I was coming to see you.

There an airliner coming in and she raised the Walther. Dawn said, And I was coming to see you, and fired, heard the BB sound, the pop, and saw him turn. Saw him stop then and look at the house behind him.

He said, What was that? Like glass breaking.

No lights on in the house, no one coming out.

Dawn said, I didn't hear anything.

It wasn't going to work, shooting at him in the dark, too foggy. No more than sixty feet away and she missed.

She said, Go home, I'm coming over.

She'd have time to unscrew the silencer and go back to the original plan. Get him in the mood looking at her navel, and shoot him.

Foley thought about the sound of the flight coming in to land, loud overhead, and the sound of glass breaking and wondered if one caused the other. He told himself to wake up, it was a gunshot. It was Dawn firing Tico's piece with a silencer, or everybody on the canal would have heard it. She missed and hit a window in the house where he was standing.

He had a gun, the Glock he took off Tiny Banger. Try to explain that: an armed convicted felon shoots a girl he said was trying to kill him.

He heard her call his name and came out from the kitchen with a fifth of Jack Daniel's and a couple of short glasses, a dish towel over his shoulder. He said to the well-mannered girl waiting in the doorway, Black's your color, you make it work.

I look good enough to eat?

If you weren't here on business. Let me have your coat.

It's all right, I won't be here long. She was unbuttoning the raincoat, both of her hands out of the pockets. Foley took the moment to pour a couple of doubles. Dawn came over, took one and drank half of it and put her glass on the table again.

Foley said, The FBI was here.

She seemed to pause. Really?

Lou Adams called off his dogs. I'm helping him think of a new ending for his book.

The coat hung open now, Dawn's hands in the pockets again holding it against her hips. Foley took a look at her slim-cut underpants and a shorty T-shirt that hung almost to her navel. He said, Tell me what it is about a girl's navel? It catches the eye and won't let go.

I suppose, Dawn said, because it's right in the middle of the playground. You didn't call. I took it to mean we won't be getting back together. But if I'm on my own, Jack, I get both houses.

How do you take over the deeds?

Little Jimmy loves me. He'll do what I ask.

I'll bet he won't.

Jack, believe me, okay?

Jimmy's changed, Foley said. He picked up her glass, offered it and she took it in her left hand.

I don't see any way you'll get the properties.

You don't know him. Little Jimmy gives me the houses and I let him keep the building.

You know what Cundo would say about that?

Dawn finished the drink and handed Foley the glass. She put her hands on her hips inside the raincoat, giving Foley pretty much the whole show. I'm his heir, Jack. I put in eight years waiting for him. He comes out and beats me up.