by Unknown
"That's a good project for you. The dumpster people come on Tuesday, so I'll help you tomorrow. Most of the stuff in there is junk anyway. If we clean it up, maybe we can use it as an office again."
After Aileen left, Hoke was restless. He slapped his chest with both hands, and then he slapped his front pockets. He shook his head when he realized that he was feeling for his cigarettes, although he had no real desire to smoke one. He hadn't had a cigarette since the first day of his mid-life crisis, and he didn't really want one now, except that was what he had always done when he was bored or restless-- smoke a cigarette. To give his hands something to do he went into the kitchen and cleaned the burners with a wet Brillo pad. As the foam formed between his fingers he recalled a description of eating pussy he had read in a novel last year. The description had been exaggerated, but the fact that he was thinking about pussy again was a good sign. He would have to do something about that, as soon as he got things organized around the El Pelicano. The best place for pickups used to be the Sand-Shell Villas, in its small dark bar in Singer Island Shores. A lot of New York secretaries, usually in pairs, took a villa on the beach during the off-season at the attractive package rates, which included round-trip fare from Kennedy. They were easier to pick up with two guys, but now that he had his own apartment, he could probably break up a pair and bring one home for the night--except for Aileen. He would have to do something about Aileen soon. If she absolutely refused to go out to her mother in L.A., he would have to persuade her to go back to Green Lakes. After all, Ellita could use Aileen's help as well as her mother's when the baby came. But that was still a few weeks away. He wanted Aileen out of his apartment sooner than that--
There was a light tapping on the door. Hoke washed his hands at the sink and dried them on a dish towel as he crossed to the door to open it. Dolly Turner, clutching her wool handbag, blinked vacantly at him a few times, then took two hesitant steps inside as Hoke backed away from the door. She reached into her bag and handed him the extra key to 204.
"I want my deposit back."
"Leaving already? I thought you two were an ideal couple."
Dolly worked her tiny mouth in and out and shook her frizzed head. "He wanted me to do something."
"What did you expect? When Mr. Farnsworth didn't come up with the twelve cents, I figured he wasn't into altruism."
"What?"
"Kindness to strangers, with no strings attached."
"I don't mind the regular way, I expected that. But I'm not gonna do nothing that ain't natural."
"How're you going to get back to Yeehaw Junction?"
"I'm not going back. He didn't get me my job, and I'll just sleep on the beach till I get paid. It won't cost me nothing to eat in the hotel kitchen."
"You won't be able to sleep on the beach, Miss Turner. The public beach closes at ten, and the beach is patrolled at night. You'd get picked up for sure. Why don't you keep your key and go over to the mall till about ten or ten-thirty, and then come back. Tell Mr. Farnsworth you're afraid of catching AIDS--"
"What's AIDS?"
"Mr. Farnsworth knows. By ten-thirty, he'll probably be ready to settle for something rather than nothing. If not, knock on my door again. I'll be up till at least eleven, and I'll give you your deposit back and let you sleep in my car. But just for one night. Tomorrow you'll have to find someone else or make other sleeping arrangements."
"I wouldn't mind sleeping in your car right now."
"Do it my way. You should've thought of these things before you left Yeehaw Junction, but you can think about them now, sitting on the bench over at the mall."
"I had to leave. When my daddy died, I didn't have no place to stay." She began to cry.
"It's a hard world, Miss Turner, but it's not as bad as you think. You've got a job. You can eat, and you've got two places to sleep-either with Mr. Farnsworth or in the back seat of my car. And even if you do something unnatural with Mr. Farnsworth, you still won't actually have to sleep with him afterwards. He's got two Bahama beds in his apartment, just like I have, so you'll have a comfortable bed all to yourself."
"You've given me something to think about." She wiped her face with the back of her hand.
Hoke opened the door a little wider. "Good. As I said, I'll be up till at least eleven, so go over to the mall and think about your options."
"I think maybe I'd better go back down the hall and talk to Mr. Farnsworth again."
"Whatever."
Hoke closed the door behind her, wondering if he had handled the situation diplomatically. The girl was only twenty-one or -two, and he was no expert on giving advice to the lovelorn. Perhaps he should have returned her deposit, and let it go at that. But if he had, she would have ended up in the Palm Beach County Women's Detention Center without her new dishwashing job, and with the beginning of a rap sheet. He wondered what he would do if he were in Dolly's position--there was a double rap on the door--but he was a man, and would never be in Dolly's position. Hoke shook his head and picked up his car keys from the dining table. That was quick, he thought. I'll tell Dolly to keep her head down in the back of the car, even though the night patrol cars hardly ever check the apartment house parking lot. He would wake her at six, take her a cup of coffee, and she would be fine.
Dr. Ralph "Itai" Hurt was at the door. He wore a lightblue muscle shirt exposing stringy arms, swimming trunks, and canvas skivvy slippers.
"Good evening, Professor."
"Itai. Just call me Itai," he said with a half-smile. "You aren't eating dinner now, are you?"
"No, we finished a while ago."
Itai nodded. "That's what I figured. I'm a little embarrassed about this, Mr. Moseley, but I've got a strong sense of -locus parentis-, held over from when kids were still 'kids' at college until they were twenty-one. I still volunteer advice sometimes to eighteen-year-olds, and they're pretty quick to tell me it's none of my business. Now that kids are considered adults at eighteen--"
"I know. It's easier to put them in jail. I suppose you want your books back. They're over here on the table--"
"No, no, that isn't what I've come to see you about. I want to talk to you about your daughter for a moment. I've been thinking about it, and I know how young she is, so perhaps you won't think I'm out of line if I--what's the word--'rat' on her."
"We don't call them rats anymore. The new term is 'confidential informant.' What's your beef with Aileen, Professor?"
"None at all. There are, as you know, some hibiscus bushes right outside my window where I work--"
"How's the novel coming along?"
"Not bad. I got a page and a half today. Actually it's a page and a quarter, but that's because I stopped halfway through the last sentence. When I finish the sentence tomorrow it will be about a page and a half. Hemingway said that was the way to do it."
"It works that way on Incident Reports, too. Look, what's on your mind, Itai?"
"Incident Reports? Right. Well, your daughter's been vomiting behind the hibiscus bush. That's what I wanted to tell you."
"When?"
"The last time? Just a while ago. But she's also been down there throwing up after breakfast in the mornings. Is she sick? Has she said anything to you about being sick to her stomach?"
"No. She eats a lot for being so skinny. More than I do, in fact. But she seems healthy enough."
"She isn't healthy, Mr. Moseley. I suspect she's got bulimia--a form of -anorexia nervosa-. Remember that singer a few years back, Karen Carpenter? That's what she died from. She kept vomiting, sticking her finger down her throat until she lost so much weight she finally starved to death. It's fairly common at the university. Even Jane Fonda had bulimia as a girl, she said, although she managed to kick it later on."
"I don't see how Aileen could catch anything like that. She hasn't been around anyone with a disease like bulimia, or I'd've known about it. She's never complained about being too full, either. If anything, she seems hungry most of the time, like any other normal teenag
er."
"If you threw up everything you ate, you'd be hungry, too, Mr. Moseley. It's called an eating binge. Then they get rid of it, and they still stay thin, or get thinner. How old is Aileen now, exactly?"
"Fourteen. Almost fifteen."
"Does she menstruate?"
"I think so. I haven't noticed any of the pads and whatnot around here yet, but down in Miami, living with three females, I'd sometimes see the Carefree boxes they came in--you know, in the garbage. But I don't know for certain about Aileen."
"At fourteen, she should be. But once you develop bulimia, and stick with it, even if you've started menstruating, you'll stop again. Just like female runners stop when they get up to six miles a day. And that's what they like, you see. When they stop menstruating they consider it a good sign. Their diet's working and they're getting thinner."
"Christ, how thin does she want to get?"
"This is a psychological disease, Mr. Moseley. If they've got bulimia, they'll never believe that they're thin enough. So if that's what this is with Aileen, she needs treatment right away. I don't want to alarm you, but I thought I'd tell you what I thought. Because if I'm right, your daughter needs to see a shrink."
"Jesus Christ."
"I'll talk to her if you want me to, because I could be wrong, you know."
Hoke shook his head. "I think you may be right, Itai. I should've noticed the signs myself. She always disappears after every meal, saying she's got an errand, or she's going out for a walk--even down in Green Lakes."
"I've got some Early Times downstairs. Come down and I'll buy you a drink."
"I'd better wait for Aileen to come back."
"I know where she is. I can point her out to you from my window downstairs. After she throws up, she lies down on the bench by the parking lot. It makes you weak, you know, throwing up that way, so she always stretches out there to rest afterwards. Come on."
They went downstairs to Itai's apartment and the professor pointed through his window to Aileen. She was lying on her back on the concrete bench, with both hands clasped behind her head.
"You want to look at the vomit?" Itai suggested. "We can go outside, and I can show it to you behind the bush."
"Fuck no, I don't want to see the vomit! Where's the Early Times?"
Itai brought out the bottle and glasses, and they had two shots apiece, without water or ice.
"I feel like a bastard, Mr. Moseley. But this is pretty serious business, and if the girl doesn't get psychiatric treatment she could actually die."
"What ever happened to the brother?"
"What brother?"
"Karen Carpenter's brother."
"I don't know. But he wasn't a bad musician. I imagine he found a job playing in a cocktail lounge somewhere. But they made so much money as a couple, he might've retired. Their records still sell pretty well. You hear them on the goldie-oldie stations sometimes."
"Bulimia must be a female disease. I never heard of a man getting it, did you?"
"No way! Most men'll diet for a few days at a time, but men don't have the intestinal fortitude to starve themselves to death the way women do."
"Thanks for the drinks, Itai. I appreciate you coming to me with this--and I owe you one."
"I feel like a prick, being the informant, and I may be wrong. But it won't hurt anything to look into it."
Hoke went back to his apartment, wishing he had hit up Itai for a third drink. He made a pot of coffee instead and waited for Aileen. She returned about fifteen minutes later. He told her to pour herself a cup of coffee and to join him at the table.
"You want to play some more Monopoly, Daddy? We can play the fast game--"
"No, I want to talk to you."
"I don't want any coffee."
"Sit down, anyway. When's the last time you had your period?"
"Oh, Daddy..." Aileen blushed and looked away.
"When?"
"I haven't started yet."
"That isn't true. Ellita told me once that both of you girls were menstruating. I'd been complaining to her about all the paper products that were coming into the house. She told me then, and I remember."
"I did a few times, but then it stopped. I talked to Ellita about it, and she told me not to worry about it. Every woman's not the same, she said. Some are regular and some aren't, at least at first. Let's play Monopoly, Daddy. It's embarrassing to talk about this grungy stuff."
"I want you to change into a dress and your good shoes."
"What for?"
"Because I said so. And do it now!"
Aileen took a backless sundress into the bathroom to change, and Hoke put her canvas carryall on her bed. She wouldn't need much, but he packed the bag with underclothing, jeans, and T-shirts, taking them out of the cardboard box at the foot of the bed. He then put Aileen's sweater into the bag; she would need the sweater in L.A.
Hoke's jumpsuit was too tight under the arms for his shoulder holster, so he strapped on his stiff ankle holster instead. At least he could get his pants leg over it. He put his.38 Chiefs Special in the holster, his shield and ID case in his right front pocket, and dropped his handcuffs into his rear pocket.
"Let's go," Hoke said, when Aileen, dressed now and wearing a new pair of Mushrooms with her sundress, came out of the bathroom. He picked up her bag.
"What did you put in my bag?"
"Everything you'll need."
They went downstairs. As Hoke unlocked his Le Mans, Dolly Turner emerged from the shadows of the building and clawed at his arm.
"You said I could sleep in your car, Mr. Moseley, and now you're driving away."
The car door was open, and Hoke could see by the dome light that Dolly Turner's left eye was black and blue. It was swollen, and the discoloring did not blend in well with her birthmark.
"We're using the car right now, Dolly. You can sleep in it when I get back."
"There's 'skeeters out here," Dolly whined.
"Okay. Hold onto this bag, and hop into the back seat."
Hoke put Aileen into the passenger's seat in front, got in himself, and locked the doors. There was no release on Aileen's door; Hoke had had it removed to keep suspects from jumping out at red lights when he transported them in his car. Dolly sat in the middle of the narrow back seat, cradling Aileen's canvas bag in her ample lap.
Aileen sulked during the ride to the West Palm Beach International Airport, but after Hoke parked in the visitors' lot, and she realized she was actually being sent back to her mother, she said, "I don't want to go back to Momma, or to Miami either. Grandpa said I should stay with you!"
"I'm your father, not your grandpa. Fathers don't always know best, but they do the best they can. Let's go. You, too, Dolly."
When they got inside the airport, Hoke told them both to sit down. He handcuffed Aileen's right wrist to Dolly's left wrist. "Now you girls sit here while I get the tickets, and I'll be right back."
Hoke went to the Eastern window and used his VISA card to buy two one-way tickets on the red-eye flight to Los Angeles. There was a half-hour stopover in Houston, the clerk said, and the flight left West Palm at two A.M.
"Don't you have a flight that goes straight through?"
"Sure, but not till ten A.M. tomorrow morning. I wouldn't wait for it if I were you. The stop in Houston isn't very long, and if you're asleep you probably won't even be aware of it."
"I have a little problem. The 'D. Turner' isn't me. It's the nurse over there on the bench. She's accompanying a mental patient to L.A., and I don't want her to try and get off the plane in Houston."
The ticket seller, a long-armed young man with a fuzzy brown moustache, looked to where Hoke was pointing. He frowned when he noticed the handcuffs. "Which one's the mental patient?"
"Don't be funny. The young girl's the patient."
"I wasn't trying to be funny, it's just that I've never seen a nurse in a brown mini-skirt with a red apron. I just wanted to be sure which one so I could get word to the captain, that's all. She
won't cause any trouble on the plane, will she?"
"Of course not." Hoke showed the clerk his badge and ID case. "This is a family thing, and we want to keep it quiet. The young girl's Curly Peterson's adopted daughter, and he'll meet the plane at LAX."
"The pinch hitter for the Dodgers Curly Peterson?"
"That's the one."
"I didn't know he had a daughter. Somehow, you don't think of a rich ballplayer, with all that dough they make, being dumb enough to get married. But a lot of 'em are married, I guess."
"And they have daughters. Sometimes sons."
"Right. You don't have to worry, Sergeant. I'll see to it that the captain's informed when the plane comes in. It'll be past my shift, but I'll stick around anyway to tell him. You couldn't pick a better airline than Eastern. We really do earn our wings every day."
"I appreciate it."
Hoke returned to the bench, removed Dolly's handcuff, and then locked Aileen's wrist to the bench rail. "Come with me, Dolly. I want to talk to you for a minute."
Hoke led Dolly over to the coin lockers, out of Aileen's earshot. Dolly's black eye looked worse under the bright lights than it had in the car, and there was a smear of blood on her T-shirt he hadn't noticed before. The white of her half-closed eye looked like a piece of red celluloid, and her fat cheek was puffy.
"Mr. Farnsworth really hit you, didn't he?"
She nodded. "But I got him back in a good place."
"Okay. Here's what I want you to do, Dolly. You fly out to L.A. with my daughter, and when you get there her mother'll meet you and keep you on for a few days as a trained nurse--"
"I ain't never had no nurse's training, 'cept for the things I did for my daddy and all."
"My ex-wife doesn't know that. Just tell her you're a trained nurse, and she'll want to pay you off--probably within a day or two--and then you ask her for fifty dollars a day."
"That much?"
"That's right, including today. You've already earned fifty bucks, and you aren't even in L.A. yet. Then, after she pays you off, go to the Welfare Department in downtown L.A. and apply for emergency relief. You can't get on regular welfare till you've lived there a year, but in California all new arrivals qualify for emergency relief. They'll fix you up with a room, food stamps, or a meal ticket, and then you can look for a job out there. It's easy to get a job in a kitchen in California, and you'll have a better future there than in Riviera Beach."