He said, “Listen to me,” his voice quiet, serious. “I don’t care how many people you saw get killed and you didn’t do nothing. You understand? Nobody saw what happened here. These two hardcores must’ve got so worked up, so intense reenacting, they came out here with live ammo to do it right.”
“And happened to kill each other,” Dennis said.
“Why’s that hard to believe? Same as Fish and Eugene, but for a higher cause than a dead dog. That’s the point to make. They met a few times and never got along, having opposite views of the war. They’d trade insults, put down each other’s heroes, Arlen saying General Grant was a drunk and a speed freak, Jerry saying Stonewall Jackson sucked dick, and they come to face each other as a matter of honor. That’s it, deciding the honorable thing was fight a duel, same as they would back in those days. What I’m leading up to, what we have to get ready for tomorrow or the next day, is all the press and TV’s gonna be here from all over for the story. First Annual Tunica Civil War Muster turns into shootout. The first and I bet the last. You understand what I’m saying? They gonna ask us questions once the CIB’s done asking, looking for the motive. I could say, well, I wasn’t close to Germano Mularoni but I know he hated Southerners, along with all other races. Southerners, ’cause he watched videotapes over and over of that Civil War show was on TV and came to hate what the Confederacy stood for. He hated them still flying the flag and all that shit about heritage. Now take Arlen Novis, you have a diehard Rebel-type former convict who used to be a sheriff’s deputy and packed a gun. They look Germano up and find there was a time he also packed and set off high explosives, too. They gonna say, but wasn’t this Germano’s first reenactment? Yes, it was, and you know why he never did one before? He thought reenactments were pussy, they didn’t use loaded guns.” He said to Dennis, “And that’s right off the top of my head. We get into it I’ll work all the motive shit into a routine.”
He paused, frowning a little.
“But if nobody finds these two? I mean in the next couple of days. I don’t want them turning to bones.”
Dennis, caught up in it, said, “What’s wrong with that?”
Robert said to Hector, “Listen to my man Dennis.”
It encouraged him and he said, “You were gonna put them in the bread truck and they disappear.” He wasn’t trying to help, he was getting it clear in his mind. “What’s the difference?”
“Jerry,” Robert said, “changes the situation. No, I need to have them found soon, by tomorrow. And for a good reason.”
“The missus,” Hector said.
“You got it,” Robert said. “Anne won’t stand for Jerry being missing, have to wait. How long? She don’t have the patience for that, she’d blow it, start talking.” He looked at Dennis and said, “You understand?”
No, he didn’t, and shook his head.
“The man has to be seen dead so she can collect on him, the house, the bank accounts, the insurance . . .” He looked at Hector again. “Somebody’s gonna have to make the anonymous phone call to the Tunica sheriff. You and Tonto Rey go on with Groove in the bread truck. Make the call in Memphis and hang around there, Beale Street, man, and let me know where you are. I’ll tell you when you can come back here. Hey shit, we’re in business. It just hit me. Go on, before Groove leaves on you.”
Dennis was watching Walter, down there at the edge of the trees. He said, “What about Walter?” nodding toward him as Robert turned.
“What? You think the man wants to look at a homicide conviction? Walter knows how to put on a face better than I do even.”
“What’s he doing?”
“Waiting to be called.”
Dennis said, “You gonna tell Anne?”
“A widow lady, and she doesn’t even know it.”
It was the word, as Robert said it, that made Dennis think of Loretta. She didn’t know either. He heard Robert talking about Anne, heard the words as he saw Loretta in the tent, saw her holding up her skirt and saw her outside in the chair and stayed with that one, Loretta’s face composed. He saw her look up as he walked toward her and heard:
“You listening to me?”
“You said you have to keep Anne from celebrating too soon, like throwing a party.”
“And I said I only have one worry.”
“Yeah . . .?”
“And it ain’t Annabanana.”
Dennis said, “Me?”
“You’re here, you’re in it same as I am. We not just witnesses, we conspired, we aided, we abetted. If that’s true we could be facing prison. In Mississippi. I know you don’t want that.”
Dennis shook his head, no.
“Then why am I worried about you?”
26
NEWTON HOON SAT IN HIS trailer with a jelly glass of bourbon watching the news: that little TV girl with the two last names in the woods showing where James Rein and Eugene Dean had shot each other, saying both men were from Tunica but nothing about Rose.
There she was now in the glade saying this was where Arlen Novis, former Tunica County sheriff’s deputy, and Detroit realtor Germano Mularoni staged their duel, calling them reenactors in a senseless confrontation of views that resulted in each man’s death. Oh, is that right? No mention of Walter. No mention of the smoke or the two greasers—Newton thinking of the one he’d asked that time where the nigger was and the one said he’d gone to fuck your wife. It had set him off, sure, even knowing it wasn’t true. One, Myrna wasn’t ever home, she played bingo every night of her life. And two, not even a smoke’d want to fuck her, Myrna going four hundred pounds on the hoof. Try and find the wet spot on her.
Now he was watching a helicopter view of the glades, the woods, the levee road and over to the reenactment site, the tents struck and gone, nothing to see but the barn with the muster sign still on it and empty land.
So much for believing what they tell you on the news. Hell, he’d seen the whole thing.
Phoned Walter yesterday and today and got his answering voice both times, Walter saying he was away from his desk but to leave a message. Both times Newton couldn’t think of how to say what he wanted. Let Walter know he saw him shoot Arlen and it was gonna cost him. He didn’t think he should leave that as a message, he needed to tell Walter to his face. He called Walter’s office in Corinth and was told he was at Southern Living in Tunica. Newton said no he wasn’t. They said yes he was, if he’d gone someplace else he’d have let them know.
Last night Newton had gone over to the Tishomingo, see if the smoke was still around, and there was the diver putting on his show. He had a good crowd, too, since he’d been on TV and people wanted to see him dive. Newton had nothing personal against the diver—else he’d set up in the trees with a deer rifle and pick him off the ladder. What Arlen should’ve done. He went inside the hotel to the reception desk and asked, the way Walter would say it, what room the colored fella was in. The girl desk clerk asked him who he was referring to. Newton said, “The jigaboo.” He said, “Jesus, how many you got staying here?” The girl asked him what was the guest’s name, so she could see was he registered. That was the trouble, shit, he couldn’t think of it. Newton went out to the parking lot and roamed up and down the aisles for twenty minutes looking for the black car, came back to the front of the hotel and there it was. He might’ve known. The big-shot coon had it in valet parking.
Newton saw what he’d have to do: sit in his pickup with sweet rolls and Pepsis and watch the car. Mr. Negro leaves to drive back north, pull up next to him on the highway and give him a load of double-ought buckshot. After that he’d have time to find Walter and make his deal.
Annabanana wasn’t buying the news accounts of what happened, but wouldn’t ask Robert directly how he’d made it look the way it did. She’d say things like “Four different guys shoot each other at the same time, almost in the same place, and the cops don’t have a problem with that?”
“You know why?” Robert said. “’Cause they all bad guys got shot. Sheriff’s people and the
CIB won’t have to deal with ’em no more. And what looks like happened is all they have. No witnesses, no kind of clues lying around out there to go on. Anybody look suspicious? Uh-unh, ’cause we all look alike in the uniforms, become part of the crowd. You know what I’m saying?”
Robert stood at the opening to the balcony watching the diving show, Dennis performing on the springboard at the moment, showing his stuff, Charlie making the announcements.
Anne was packing. She’d come out of the bedroom when she had something to say and Robert would catch her.
“What did John Rau ask you?”
“If I saw it developing,” Anne said. “If I thought it had anything to do with Jerry’s background, his Detroit connections. I said, ‘In the real estate business?’”
“Same kind of things they asked me, for three hours.”
“John was nice. I cried a little, sniffled, blew my cute nose. I could’ve had him on the floor.”
“You think of any other strange places?”
“The shower?”
“Girl, your next husband, get yourself a straight-up business executive thinks doing it in the shower would be a trip.” Robert put on his white voice. “’In the shower? Really?’” And said, “They gonna let you have the body tomorrow for sure?”
“John doesn’t see a problem. I’m not looking forward to the flight.”
“Baby, they won’t prop him up next to you, they’ll put him in with the luggage.”
“I don’t know why,” Anne said, “but I had a feeling he was gonna get popped.”
Robert left that one alone. She asked if he was coming to the funeral. He said he’d most likely fly up for a day or two. Anne went in the bedroom and he looked out at the show, nothing happening, Dennis getting ready for the next one, taking time, maybe getting ready for the one Charlie told him Dennis was doing for the first time here, his fire dive.
He heard Anne say, “Are you worried about me?”
Robert turned to see her in the bedroom doorway in her little bra and panties. He said, “Not with all you have at stake. There ain’t any way you’ll blow it. But you know John Rau could come at you again, pull that Columbo shit. You think you’re off the hook, he comes back and says, ‘Oh, by the way, you not sleeping with that colored fella, are you?’”
She came toward Robert in her undies. “I’ll tell him oh, once in a while, to change my luck. Shall we?”
“Baby, just another few minutes. Dennis is out there finishing his act.”
“I thought you two broke up.”
“I haven’t seen him except on TV, but we talked on the phone. Gonna get together tomorrow. Baby, come on watch this with me, Dennis gonna light himself on fire and dive off the ladder.” He looked out at the show again and said, “He’s doing it, climbing up the ladder with his cape on.” Anne came to him and he put his arm around her shoulders and felt her skin. He said, “You gonna miss me, you know it? Gonna miss the fun.” He said, “Look, see him up there? The cape’s been soaked in high-test gasoline. He wears two pair of black cotton warm-ups underneath, a hood on the sweatshirt he pulls closed with the string. He went in the pool a minute ago to get the warm-ups soppin’, wet as they can get. I think it’s his only protection.”
“He lights himself?”
“Charlie lights him. They run a line from a battery up there to a squib, a baggie with black powder in it. Charlie pushes the switch and Dennis lights up, becomes a human torch. I said to Charlie, ‘Is this symbolic? He’s the fiery cross of the Klan, he hits the water and puts it out, extinguishes racism?’ Charlie says, ‘He just calls it the fire dive.’” Robert smiled with his white teeth.
They watched Dennis, at the forty-foot level, become a ball of fire and he stood there on the perch not moving, not even seen but he was there, inside the flames, and Robert yelled from the balcony, “Jump!” And Dennis did a straight dive into the pool.
Robert said, “Man.”
Anne said, “Big fucking deal.”
Dennis walked around the rim of the tank in sixty pounds of wet clothes looking for Loretta in the crowd, the young girls screaming, but didn’t see her. Loretta hadn’t been here last night, either.
Billy Darwin, bent over and walking with a cane, Carla helping him, came around behind the tank where Dennis was getting out of the wet warm-ups and the wet suit he wore underneath. Darwin didn’t mention his injury. He told Dennis that fire dive was a show-stopper and asked if he could do it from the top perch. Dennis said he wouldn’t want to go in headfirst from eighty feet with all that weight on him, it was too steep. He said he’d jump lit up, “But how would you announce it, as the death-defying fire jump?” Billy Darwin said, “Going off the top’s tricky, but you sure get a rush, don’t you?” Carla didn’t say anything about the fire dive. She said, “You looked cute on TV, in your uniform.” Meaning when Diane and her crew caught him in the Union camp Sunday.
It was right after the shooting and he had come back through the woods with Robert, Dennis trying to decide if he should go tell Loretta what happened or wait till she heard about it, and there was the video camera in his face. All Diane asked him about was the reenactment: if he had fun, if he took it seriously, if he thought he’d ever do it again. Robert stood watching and John Rau, coming into the camp, had looked over at them. Dennis answered yes to all the questions, not having time to think with all he had on his mind. After the interview Diane said, “Are you ready to talk to me yet?” Meaning the Floyd Showers business. “Remember you said you would.” He remembered it wishing he’d never told her he was on the ladder that night—Diane using her soft eyes on him, asking if he wanted to go to Memphis. Once she found out Arlen was dead . . . Robert saved him, Robert saying, “Come on, man, we gotta go,” and Dennis told her he’d be in touch. In the car Robert said, “You notice John Rau was let out of their prison? He saw us, too, knows we weren’t someplace else.” That was Sunday, the business with Diane.
Billy Darwin and Carla left and Charlie said the TV lady was here tonight, without her crew. “I imagine you’d like to see her. She said to tell you she’s in the bar. But let me mention, Vernice’s fixing a late supper for you. She’s hoping you come right home after this. You don’t, you’ll miss a fine spread and Vernice’ll be hurt, but what do you care?”
Dennis was dressed now in his jeans and a work shirt. He said, “Wait for me. I have to go up and unhook the squib wire.” Charlie said he’d be in the bar and Dennis said, “But Diane’s in there.”
“You’re a big boy,” Charlie said. “You don’t want to talk to her, you say you have to go home and eat.”
Dennis went up the ladder to the forty-foot perch, unhooked the wire and dropped it. He stepped around to the other side of the ladder to go down, and saw the figure standing out on the lawn watching him. No one else around. He knew without seeing her face it was Loretta.
In a short black skirt and some kind of light-colored blouse. She said, “I couldn’t come yesterday, I was at the funeral parlor.”
“I looked for you.”
“I wanted to but—you know, there things have to be done.”
He said, “Do you have a car?” and saw her smile because she had asked him that.
“I do now. I have two, but don’t know where one of ’em is.”
“Can we go somewhere?”
“I won’t take you home. There’s still too much of Arlen in the house.” She said, “Did you want to get something to eat,” her voice slowing down, “or go to a bar, or a motel?”
“I know where we can go,” Dennis said, took Loretta into the hotel where they got a suite for one night and had a wonderful time.
They did. They turned on music and took their clothes off and just let loose being a man and a woman who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. They made love and had vodka drinks and calamari. Loretta said, “Sunday was the best day of my life. I don’t mean—you know, Arlen dying. I mean from the time you came in the tent to wash my back. I’m amazed I asked you to d
o it, but I’m so glad I did. I can live offa that one the rest of my life. Even with it being so hot in there. Now I have another one—whatever this day is, Wednesday? I’m gonna think of them both together.”
Dennis said, “We’re just getting started.”
She said, “Oh, God, I hope so. Did you burn yourself out there?”
“I never do.”
“God, you’re a daredevil and you’re fun. You aren’t the least bit stuck on yourself.”
He said, “I saw you standing in that black skirt and I knew it was you.”
She said, “It’s old.”
“I love your legs. I love your body.”
“How about my head?”
“I love your head. Are you hungry?”
They had room-service crawfish étouffée Dennis said was as good as you got in New Orleans. He told her about a guy named Tonto Rey who said the best he ever had was in Tucson, Arizona. How about that. Loretta said she’d never had it before but it was good. They watched each other as they ate and would touch each other’s hands. They didn’t talk about Sunday. She didn’t mention Arlen. She didn’t ask Dennis what he did after he left the tent. He asked if she watched the battle reenactment. She said no, “I sat outside in that dumb skirt and thought of you, and smelled you, and could feel my hands in your hair. You have nice hair.” She said, “Are we spending the night?”
“I was planning on it.”
“Tomorrow’s the funeral. I have to leave here early.” She said, “I hate to come right out and ask, but am I gonna see you again?”
She fascinated him. He said, “Of course.”
“You’re not running off right away?”
“This is my last week, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be here the rest of the summer. My boss has come to respect what I do.”
“You know what brought us together?”
Tishomingo Blues Page 24