The Contract

by JM Gulvin

  *

  When he was gone Quarrie checked the time on the hall clock. Conscious of the phone call he’d made before Gigi got back, he glanced at Pious where he came in from the balcony. ‘I’ll drive you out to the Lakefront,’ he said. ‘What time are you fixing to leave?’

  ‘Just as soon as I talk to Mama and let her know we’re coming.’

  ‘John Q,’ Gigi interrupted them. ‘What about the DA’s office? You told me you spoke to Earl.’ She lifted the phone from its cradle. ‘There’s one way to find out if it was him or not. Let me give him a call.’

  Taking the receiver from her Quarrie put it down. ‘Not from here,’ he said. ‘If anybody’s checking the only connection they’ve got to this line right now is a man’s voice and a wrong number. Where’s the nearest payphone?’

  They walked to the corner and made the call and it was her boyfriend all right. He seemed surprised to hear from her but Gigi told him she’d run into someone downtown who said he worked for the district attorney. She told him she wanted to see him as soon as possible and he suggested they meet in Lafayette Square. She hung up the phone and walked back to the apartment with Quarrie watching the sky as the wind picked up and the first drops of rain began to fall.

  *

  When Earl put down the phone he sat for a moment with his hands in his lap and his brow cut in narrow lines. Glancing up he saw Gervais in the corridor talking to one of the ADAs. Gervais caught his eye and Moore looked back. Then he got up and walked the corridor to the coffee room. He stood with his back to the worktop and stared at the linoleum floor. He poured a cup of coffee, took one sip then put it down and went out to the landing where he looked down on the melee of newsmen that filled the foyer below. Taking the stairs he pushed his way through the gathering and walked a block in his shirt sleeves to a payphone on the corner. A breeze in the air, he glanced at the sky where it was rippled with bruise-colored cloud.

  ‘This is Earl,’ he said, when he was put through. ‘Gigi Matisse just called. I don’t know how she knew where to get hold of me but you told me to let you know if she called.’

  ‘What did she want?’ the voice said.

  ‘To see me of course, what else would she want?’ Earl looked up and down the street. ‘I told her I’d meet her.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘Lafayette Square at noon.’ Again he glanced at the sky. ‘Though with the way the weather’s looking right now that might not be such a good idea. You need to know something,’ he stated, his tone a little more confident. ‘This is the last piece of business I do for you. I’ll find out what she wants and report back. After that it’s over. You told me I needed to consider the nature of our relationship. Well, I’ve done that. Right now there’s nothing you can do to me that I can’t bring back to you. You got that? I’ll talk to her and I’ll tell you what she said. After that we’re through.’

  *

  On the far side of Tulane Avenue Franklin sat in his cab outside a bail bond company. He watched Earl in the phone booth getting animated, saw him hang up and then gaze the length of the road. He looked on as he walked back to his office past the crowd of reporters camped on the courthouse steps. Picking up the radio he pressed the transmit button. ‘I’ve got Earl Moore in a phone booth. If it’s us he’s talking to I want to know what was said.’ Clipping the handset back on its housing he sat watching till the investigator disappeared inside the building. A couple of minutes later the radio crackled and the woman’s voice lifted from the speaker. ‘Are you out there, Franklin? Pick up.’

  ‘Gotcha,’ he said, lifting the transmitter.

  ‘That was him all right. There’s a meeting set for Lafayette Square.’

  *

  As they went down to the station wagon Quarrie handed Pious the envelope containing the photograph he had taken from Anderson’s apartment. ‘I want you to hang onto this for me, bud,’ he said. ‘Take good care of it, will you?’

  ‘Sure,’ Pious said with a grin. ‘I’ll put it under my pillow.’

  Quarrie drove them out to the Lakefront with Gigi sitting next to him and Pious in the back with the shotgun. When he pulled up outside the freight entrance Quarrie got out and walked them to the plane. Pious helped Gigi into the co-pilot’s seat then handed Quarrie the gun.

  ‘So what’re you going to do?’ he said.

  ‘When I’m done with Earl I’m going to hunt down that blond-haired cab driver.’

  The storm broke as Quarrie drove back to the city. By the time he hit Canal Street the rain was coming down in stair rods; with the wind gusting off the river it swamped the windshield to the point where the wipers could barely cope. The dashboard clock read ten minutes to twelve already and the meeting was set for noon. He drove along St Charles with not much traffic on the road and hardly anyone braving the sidewalk. As he got to the square he drove past Colback’s office and looked up to see the lieutenant in the second-floor window talking to his secretary. Concentrating on the road again, he made the turn in front of the Old Post Office.

  *

  Franklin saw the pale blue station wagon as he opened the trunk of his cab. Parked on the corner of Girod Street, he spotted Quarrie behind the wheel but Quarrie did not see him. Franklin retrieved a flat, aluminum case from the trunk and walked to the fire escape. Flight after flight he climbed until he came to a broken window and used the edge of the case to punch out the remaining shards.

  He made his way through the empty corridors and every step he took seemed to echo off naked walls. He walked to the stairs and climbed to the next floor and the floor after that. He kept climbing until only the stairs to the roof remained. At the top he paused with the door to the rooftop open and placed his case on the concrete floor. Popping the catches he rocked back on his heels and hummed to himself as he began to assemble the sections of rifle from compartments of closed cell foam.

  *

  At street level the rain beat against the roof of the car. Quarrie drove the length of the post office and pulled up at the stop sign. The road clear, he made another left and was on the far side of the square from Colback’s office. He drove that street then turned right and parked the car. Then he killed the engine, checked the pistols under his jacket and reached for his hat where it lay on the seat.

  *

  His rifle ready, Franklin checked the scope then made a couple of tiny adjustments with a screwdriver before closing the case and leaning it against the wall. Still humming he pushed open the door to the rooftop and walked out into the rain. At the parapet wall he gazed across the haze of gray where the storm clouds wrapped the tops of the taller buildings. For a moment he stared, then his gaze fixed on the park below where the grass was bisected by concrete footways that broke from the cover of trees. Settling the weapon he put his eye to the scope to test the distance then he adjusted the sights once more.

  *

  Quarrie strode into the tree-lined square. Hands in his pockets he walked with the brim of his hat pulled low. He kept walking until he came to the middle and stopped where the paths converged. Briefly he looked back the way he had come but there was nobody there. He glanced to his left, taking in the trees, then he gazed towards Old City Hall. A movement to his right caught his eye and he picked out a young man in a tan-colored raincoat and short-brimmed hat standing thirty yards away. He was looking at his watch. He was looking over his shoulder. He was looking up and down the square.

  *

  Franklin had Quarrie in his rifle sights all the way from the station wagon to the footway, only losing him for a second in the trees. He picked him up again as he walked the path to the middle of the square.

  *

  Earl faced the Old Post Office Building and Quarrie looked him up and down. The investigator considered him for a moment then his gaze shifted to the path behind.

  ‘She’s not coming,’ Quarrie told him. ‘I’m a Texas Ranger, but I figure you know that already. You need to talk to me, Earl. You need to tell me who it was had you tell Gigi to a
void me. You need to tell me why you stole a bottle of meds and gave them to that blond-haired guy.’

  *

  High above them Franklin had Quarrie in the crosshairs and his breathing was shallow in his chest. He kept his eye to the scope then eased his head back a fraction and worked the muscles in his neck. He sighted again and there was no waver from the barrel at all. Exhaling very softly, finger to the trigger, he squeezed.

  Twenty

  Pious got the plane airborne and they flew low into the west under a mass of puce-colored cloud. In the co-pilot’s seat Gigi had a set of headphones over her ears and a smile on her face as she watched him handle the instruments.

  ‘Pick Feeley paid for me to get the hours in,’ Pious explained through the phones. ‘He’s the feller used to own the ranch where we’re going only he passed away a couple of years ago. When I got out of Leavenworth John Q got me a job and my momma and sister had already come out from where we used to live at in Georgia. I kept all the vehicles running and I guess the old man was impressed enough with the work that when the notion of a plane come around, he figured someone better learn how to fly.’

  ‘He didn’t want to do it himself?’ Gigi said.

  ‘No, mam, I guess he figured he was too old by then and Mrs Feeley wouldn’t have allowed it besides.’ Lifting a palm he smiled. ‘Anyways, that’s how I got my license and one of these days I’ll quit the ranch and start flying freight or something on my own.’

  Gigi was gazing out of the window at the ground below. ‘You know,’ she said, ‘this is the first time I’ve ever been in an airplane.’

  ‘Ain’t so many folks like us ever gets the chance.’

  ‘No kidding.’

  ‘The only way to travel,’ Pious said. ‘Just a few years back it’d take thirty hours on the railroad from Dallas to Chicago. Now, if you leave by ten you’re there by noon on a plane.’

  Gigi looked a little troubled. ‘Pious,’ she said, ‘just now you said how you’d gotten out of Leavenworth. Are you talking about the federal pen?’

  Pious nodded. ‘Back in ’51 me and John Q served in Korea. I was accused of being a coward after I brought what was left of my platoon down off a hill. We were under so much fire it was suicide to stay there, but nobody wanted to hear that so I was court-martialled for disobeying an order. They’d have shot me if John Q hadn’t written President Truman. The letter appeared in The New York Times, a bunch of lawyers got involved and in the end I only did a five-spot.’ He looked a little bitter then. ‘That’s still five years of my life they took away and there ain’t no getting them back.’

  *

  De La Martin was sitting behind his desk reading a report and listening to the rain on his office window when one of his colleagues came through with a teletype.

  ‘This just came in from the NCIC,’ he said and placed the sheet of copier paper before him. The detective studied the page for a few moments then got up and lifted his jacket from the back of his chair. Folding the paper he tucked it into a pocket and made his way out onto Chartres Street where he splashed through the puddles to his Ford.

  *

  The rain hit the north shore ten minutes after it swept New Orleans. The wind lashing the chalet-style roof of Moore’s house, his wife was sitting at the kitchen table with the phone to her ear as she arranged a flat-pack box with an assortment of candy.

  ‘Yes, he seems a little different now,’ she said. ‘Just this morning he was talking about the pressure he’s been under at work and that’s what was keeping him in the city.’ She listened for a moment then she said, ‘No, it was nothing like that. I admit I did begin to wonder, but it’s the pressure of work as well as those night classes he’s been taking since last fall.’ As she spoke she placed a bar of Turkish Taffy in the box then arranged two bags of Boston Baked Beans. ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m fine, really. Like I said, I was worried for a while but he was lovely to me this morning. He sort of swept me up in his arms and he hasn’t done that in months.’ Again she paused. ‘Come over? No, I can’t right now. I’m putting together a candy box for Simon’s birthday.’

  After she hung up she added more candy to the box till it bulged like a store display. The phone rang again and she lifted the receiver. ‘Hello?’ she said. ‘This is Jean Moore.’

  ‘Mrs Moore, I’m glad I caught you, just a quick call from your husband’s office. He’s had to go out of town for a few days, Baton Rouge and then Shreveport. It’s a case he’s working and he asked me to call and tell you if he doesn’t phone tonight you’re not to worry.’

  Mrs Moore sat up a little straighter. ‘I had no idea a trip was coming up. He didn’t say anything to me.’

  ‘That’s because he didn’t know. It just came up this morning and the DA wanted Earl on it. He didn’t have time to call before he left, so I said I’d let you know. When he checks in with the office I’ll tell him we spoke.’ The phone clicked to the dialling tone and Mrs Moore let the receiver hang in her palm for a moment before returning her attention to the box of candy.

  *

  The rain fell, the wind howled across the park and Quarrie saw Earl’s legs buckle. His hat came off and his coat flapped open to reveal a holstered automatic. He was on his side in the soaking grass with one arm thrown out, the fingers stretching briefly before he was still.

  *

  There was barely any sound from the silenced barrel and hardly any kick. For a moment Franklin kept his eye to the sights then lowered the rifle and stepped away from the parapet. Bending to retrieve the spilled cartridge case he slipped it into his pocket and walked back to the stairwell door. Inside he took a cloth from the gun case to wipe away the water then he disassembled the weapon and packed each component away.

  When he was finished he retraced his steps through the building until he came to the window that overlooked the fire escape. There he paused and took a look at the watch on his wrist before crouching with his back to the wall. Outside the rain still fell and all he could hear was the rattle against metal rungs. After a while he got to his feet and peered outside, but instead of climbing onto the fire escape, he went back to the stairs. He took them all the way to the ground floor and the rear of the building where he passed through the old restaurant kitchens and pushed open the fire exit doors.

  *

  On the ground Quarrie took cover. Ducking into the shelter of some trees he looked up at the Old Post Office before scanning the alley that ran alongside. Pistol drawn, he sprinted across the road and cut down the alley towards Girod Street. To his left was a fire escape where metal steps climbed the wall in a zigzag with balconies fixed in between. He started up the steps, the soles of his boots slipping on iron that was polished with so much rain. Passing a broken window he kept on climbing till he made it to the top of the building and could see how the roof was shaped in sections like a series of staggered steps.

  The Old Post Office was not square or oblong even, it formed a sort of C shape and he moved from the top of the fire escape to the parapet that overlooked the square. From there he could see the middle of the roof and the left-hand tower. Nobody was down there and he could see no way to get down unless he jumped and that was two full floors. Visibility was poor with so much rain. The world was gray and the city grayer still. He looked back to the street and glimpsed a panel truck making its way down St Charles in the direction of the French Quarter. Turning to the park once more he sought Earl’s body but it was nowhere to be seen. The patch of grass between the trees was bare and for a long moment he just stared. It didn’t make any sense. And then it did. That truck just now. A couple of men with hessian sacks: as soon as he left they were there.

  Twenty-one

  Mama Sox and Eunice were up on the dust-blown plateau to greet the plane. Banking sharply Pious made a pass above the ranch buildings before setting the Piper down. Gigi climbed from the cockpit and Eunice slipped an arm through hers as if she was an old girlfriend that she hadn’t seen in a while. Together they walked down to t
he house. James was home from school and he came out of Quarrie’s cottage and Pious introduced him to Gigi. They all went into the Noons’ house where Mama Sox had lemonade on ice. She poured a glass for each of them and fetched a plate of chocolate brownies. After that she left them to it while she crossed to the bunkhouse to start preparing supper for the ranch hands. Eunice showed Gigi to her bedroom, making sure she knew that she wasn’t putting anybody out because whenever John Q was away Eunice slept over at his house.

  Left alone, Gigi sat down at the dressing table. A little tremor in her shoulders she studied her face as tears slipped onto her cheeks. For a while she cried with no sound then she lay down on Eunice’s bed, drawing her knees to her chest and hugging them until she was coupled in the fetal position.

  That’s where she was when Pious knocked on the door a little while later to tell her she was welcome to take a shower if she wanted. He saw the way she was curled on her side with tears spilling soundlessly and for a moment he just stood there. She didn’t send him away. She looked up and there was fear in her face and panic in her eyes and quietly Pious sat down. ‘Is there anything I can do?’ he said. ‘Anything I can get you?’

  Gigi tried to wipe the tears away. ‘Just hold me, Pious. Just hold me.’

  *

  Quarrie got back in the car with his breath steaming like a newborn calf. He didn’t start the engine; he just sat there staring at a windshield opaque with running water. Cracking the window a fraction, he tried to get his head around what had just happened. Earl shot dead when the shooter could’ve taken him. Why didn’t they do that? Why not just take him out and be done with it? What was it the investigator could’ve told him that they could not allow him to know? In his mind’s eye he could see Wiley on that dirt road with a shotgun wedged to his hip and an M1C in the duffel. He could see Scott Henderson across the table in the interview room swearing before God that he didn’t know any more than he’d already said. He thought about that and he thought about the photograph he had found and the date Anderson had underscored in red.