The Take
Page 12
“Could you open the rear doors?” asked Felina.
”Sure.”
The salesman flung them open.
”This is it,” she said.
They looked inside. The vehicle was totally carpeted — floor, walls, ceiling — all the way up to, and including, the front. Right out of the greatest hits of the seventies.
“Oh, you like that customizing, do you?” asked the salesman.
“We sure do, don’t we, honey?” she said, nudging Eddie. He grunted something that the salesman took as a yes.
The salesman said, “Well, let me tell you, I’ve seen a lot of custom vans come through here, and most of them are pretty sloppy. You know, do-it-yourself jobs that look old-fashioned. But this one here, this one’s a newer model, but with a professional customizing job. It’s tip-top.”
“How much?” she asked.
“Wel-l-ll, let’s see here … this one here …” He checked the tag on the window. “Thirty-eight fifty. `Course if that’s a little more than you folks might be willing to go …”
“We’ll take it,” said Felina.
Eddie kept trying to get into the picture. After all, he was providing the money.
She took his arm, purring, “Don’t you just love this, baby? It’ll be comfortable for long trips — we can lie down in the back and everything.” She turned to the salesman. “You see, we’re planning a vacation to Disney World in Florida and this would be just perfect.”
“Why, sure. For long trips, you can’t beat it. Lotsa room, and a pretty quiet ride, too. Now, ah, you say you want this one?” He was looking at Eddie.
Eddie nodded, not too sure of what was on her mind.
Felina added, “But you’ve got to throw in a new tire.”
“Well, I guess that wouldn’t hurt none …”
“You’ve got a deal, mister,” she said. “Honey, let’s go inside and pay the man.”
They went inside and Eddie was grateful to do it. He didn’t want to spend another second out on that windswept lot. The salesman produced all the papers, Eddie paid in cash, then the tire change was made.
Finally, the salesman handed him the keys, saying, “Here you go, Mr. Garner. Thanks and good luck.”
Once they were inside the van, Eddie started it up, then turned the heat on immediately. They pulled out, with the salesman waving in the rear view mirror. Eddie maneuvered the van onto Interstate 10.
He said to Felina, “What gives? What’s so great about this van?”
She gestured toward the back. “See that carpeting? That’s where we put the money.”
“The money?”
“Spread all around under the carpeting. Then we put a mattress right over it — sheets, pillows, everything — to make it look like we’re just tourists with our own sleeping arrangements. This way we can get through the Mexican border without any trouble.”
“That Mexico thing again. Darlin’, I don’t know if we —”
“Eddie, please don’t say no. At least not until you think about it. Acapulco is … it’s … wonderful! Why shouldn’t we go there? We can afford it. And no one’s ever gonna find us there. Not Val, not even Salazar. We can give them the slip. Just disappear.”
“If we get caught with this swag in Mexico, we’ve had it. I saw this movie Midnight Express, and this guy was in prison —“
“We’re not gonna get caught. If anybody gets too close, we slip a few bucks into their hands. La mordida. The bribe. They do it all the time down there. Besides, we’re not gonna attract that much attention.”
“But it’s a foreign country! I mean, I just wouldn’t feel at home with … with … all them Mess’cans around.”
Felina brushed aside the insult. “You’ll feel right at home when we start living good. Off our money. Eddie, it’s dirt cheap to live there. You know how long a million US dollars would last? And as far as being a foreign country, well, it’s just right next door. Plus, don’t forget, I speak the language, so we’re not gonna have any problems there.”
“Well-ll … I don’t know, I guess nobody would ever find us. They’d never think to look for us there.”
They exited the Interstate. At the entrance into the French Quarter, they stopped to allow a jazz funeral to pass by as it filed into the St Louis Cemetery. Bundled-up mourners tramped downcast through the cold, twilit streets to the leaden lament of saxophones and brass.
While they were stopped, she leaned over, kissing his cheek. Her lips were soft as fresh snow.
“Oh Eddie, isn’t it great? We’re gonna be together forever, and we’re gonna have everything we ever wanted! Everything!”
Everything we ever wanted, he thought. Darlin’, all I ever wanted was you. And a few thousand to pay off my debts. I damn sure didn’t want all this.
The funeral passed, but Felina was still beaming, dreaming of a perfect life in Mexico. Finally, the dark clouds opened up, delivering the sharp, lashing rain they had been promising all afternoon.
29
“Y’all left this afternoon before I got up,” Linda said, as Eddie and Felina returned to her apartment, “so you probably didn’t see this.”
She held out the front page of that day’s New Orleans Times-Picayune. The headline hyped the Saints game that would take place later in the day. However, below the fold, there was the story:
TOURIST KNIFED TO DEATH
IN FRENCH QUARTER
It was a fairly close replica of the TV account, only with a few more details.
“The victim had been seen earlier in the evening with a party of friends at several nightspots in the Quarter, including dinner in the King’s Landing Restaurant of the Louis Philippe Hotel. An effort is underway to locate the other members of his party who may have witnessed the crime.”
“Hey, what’s this mean?” Eddie cried. “They know where we had dinner. How do they know this shit? They probably know we was at your club.”
Linda patted his shoulder. “Take it easy, little brother. They don’t suspect anything. Like it says, they’re just looking to see if the ‘other members of his party’ saw anything. They’re already writing it off to regular street crime. They’ll nose around their informants for tips, they’ll offer a crimestoppers reward, holler a little about protecting the tourists on the streets, and then forget the whole thing. It’s happened a thousand times before.”
She lounged on the sofa, entirely relaxed. Her root beer waited on the end table.
Eddie said, “So what’ll we do? We gotta be careful.”
She propped her feet up on the coffee table. “I told you, forget it. Now, when are you leavin’?”
“We have to get a mattress and sheets,” Felina answered, “then we’re gonna hide the money in the van we just bought. Once the money’s hidden, we’re gone.”
“Hide the money?” Linda looked at Eddie.
“Yeah … yeah,” he replied. “We can’t just leave it in the suitcase. Or the trash bag. We’re gonna put it under the carpeting.”
“Know where you’re going yet?”
”Well, we’re thinking about M —”
”We haven’t made up our minds yet,” Felina said. “But when we do, we don’t think you should know.”
Linda sat up straight. “Why not?”
Felina was trying to be tactful. “It’s not that we don’t want you to know. But right now, the less you know — the less anybody knows — the safer we’re gonna be.”
“Do you think for one minute that I’d put my brother’s life in danger by blabbing to anyone where y’all went?”
Felina replied calmly. “No Linda, I don’t think so. But these guys who’re after us could make you tell them if they ever found you. Believe me, for right now, it’s best you don’t know.”
Eddie walked over and sat next to his sister.
“Look Sis, she’s right. After we’re settled, and things cool off, we’ll get in touch. It won’t be long, and we’ll be in a safe spot. I promise.” He put his arm around her, as he mo
ved closer, whispering into her ear. “I don’t ever wanta lose touch with you.”
A tight hug sealed that promise.
She sighed and looked straight into his eyes.
“You’re right. Go ahead and make your plans. Eventually you got to let me know where you are, y’hear?”
He nodded. “We’re always together, even when we’re apart, you know?”
They fell silent, and their eyes locked, pulling them together. Once more, they pressed against each other in gentle embrace.
And for this brief moment, they achieved a singleness, like twins, commingling blood coursing through their veins.
30
“It’s Bert from Motor Vehicles with that information you wanted, Lieutenant. Line two.”
Joe Dunlap grabbed the phone.
“Yeah, Bert. Whatcha got? … Yeah, that’s it … Uh-huh. Right. Right. And when’d he buy it? Okay, got it. Thanks.”
He hung up, then swung his chair around to face the young detective.
“Looks like our boy’s takin’ a little vacation. Seems he traded in his Toyota for a Buick on Friday, out near Huffman. The day after Salazar got whacked. Funny a Houston boy’d go way out the old Beaumont highway — all the way to Liberty County, no less — just to trade in his car at a third-rate lot.”
“Liberty County? What’s he doing way out there?”
“I dunno. Maybe he’s on his way to Beaumont. Maybe he thinks it’s a little better for his health.”
“Or maybe he’s going past Beaumont,” the young detective said. “Maybe New Orleans, or Mobile. Shit, maybe Florida, who knows? Lieutenant, if he’s left town, we won’t have a chance …”
“We got a chance. Don’t think we don’t. Shit, for the kinda sugar he’s holdin’, we’ll make our own chances. This’s the one I been waitin’ for.”
“Waiting for?”
“Fuckin’ right. My retirement’s coming up in less’n two years. You think I can live on some shit pension of a few hundred a month?”
“But you’ve been … I mean … well, just since I’ve been with you, we’ve — well, you know, we’ve pulled down about ten thousand apiece. That’s just in the last eight or nine months. And you’ve … you’ve been … well, on the force a lot longer than that.”
Dunlap wasn’t about to reveal that he’d taken the lion’s share of their scores. He damn sure wasn’t going to say that for the young detective’s ten thousand, another hundred fifty thousand or so had found its way into his own roomy pockets. But shit, nothing’s wrong with that. They were his goddam scores to begin with. The kid was just along for the ride, just carrying a spear is all. Learning the game.
Dunlap figured the kid was lucky to be let in at all.
Matter of fact, he should thank his lucky fucking stars the day I agreed to take him along and cut him in. Yes sir, the kid’s learning the ropes so he can make his own scores later on.
Now, with a million on the line, shit, the kid might snag seventy, maybe eighty grand out of it. Yes sir, he should thank his lucky fucking stars. He’s one lucky fucking police officer.
“Chicken feed,” he snorted. “Fuckin’ chump change compared to what’s at stake here. Even after you take your share, I c’n live good in retirement. When you add it in to what I already got put away.”
The ringing phone interrupted him.
“Homicide, Dunlap.” He jerked himself up straight in his chair. “Yeah? You don’t say. Whaddya mean, what’s it worth to me? We’ll work somethin’ out. Okay, now what is it? Yeah, yeah. And you just now got this? We-e-e-ll, nothing like gettin’ the week off to a good start, I always say … Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll remember this call. So long.”
With uncharacteristic grace, he leapt out of his chair over to the halltree, where he threw on his overcoat.
“Get the car ready,” he said through a smile. “We’re takin’ a trip.”
Raymond Cannetta hung up the telephone, still transfixed by the wads of money in the envelope with the New Orleans postmark.
31
That Monday afternoon, Felina got up before Eddie for a change. As she wandered into the kitchen in search of coffee, she found Linda putting away last night’s dishes.
“Eddie still sleeping?” Linda asked.
Felina nodded. She plopped down into the chair, then poured herself a hot cup. She needed it. It had been a cold night, and today wasn’t much warmer. Her new alpaca sweater wasn’t doing the job.
Linda didn’t turn away from the dishes. “Y’all gonna be leaving today?”
“Just as soon as we get a mattress and sheets for the back of the van. The last thing we do is put the money away.”
“Oh yes, the money. Let’s not forget the money.”
Felina looked up wearily from her coffee.
“Linda, look. None of this was my idea, so don’t go jumping in my shit over it. Eddie got into a jam back in Houston. I had nothing to do with it. But now, because of what your brother did, my ass is on the line, so I’m gonna do what I have to do in order to protect myself.”
“Now why do I think your little tune’d sound different if there weren’t a million bucks right here in this trash bag?” She quit with the dishes, then drew up to the table.
“Because if there weren’t a million bucks in that bag, everybody and their uncle wouldn’t be gunning for us, that’s why.” She sipped her coffee and sighed, not having the energy to argue. “Shit, Linda, you don’t know what I been through. I know you don’t like me, but I can’t let that bother me right now. `Cause if we pull through this, Eddie and me, we’re both home free, don’t you see? We’ll both have what we’ve always wanted. A real chance at a better life. You know, if Eddie hadn’t taken this money, we’d have never gotten that chance.”
“You could’ve made your chances. So could he.”
“Bull-shit. I’d be back there right now working at that dry cleaner’s, going home and sucking Val’s dick every night, hoping he wouldn’t slap me around. And Eddie? He’d probably be in the hospital right now because of what that loan shark would’ve done to him. You say we could make our chances? Shit! We’d have been nothing. Just scramblers. Trying to hustle up whatever we could just to get through another goddam day.”
“That’s a crock of shit,” Linda said. “I started with nothing. I came from the same background as Eddie, and I’ve done all right by myself with a lotta hard work and —”
“That ain’t the same!” Felina said. “You got talent! You got something real. Something you can take and lift yourself up with. Make something out of your life. Me, I got nothing. Only my looks. And it ain’t the same, `cause I know that looks like mine only bring out the worst in other people. Men just wanna fuck me and women hate me. I’m never gonna get their best. Never, you understand? And there’s nothing I can do about it. Not a god-damned thing. How do you think that makes me feel?”
Linda faltered for an answer, and Felina’s emotions stepped up to the next rung.
“So along comes Eddie,” she said, “with the break of a lifetime, and sure, I grab for it. So did he, and I’m proud of him for that. `Cause if he didn’t, like I said, we’d both be cranking out the days and nights of our miserable fucking lives, until that big night when we close our eyes and never wake up!”
Linda sat down at the table. Relaxing her shoulders and her wrists, she conceded Felina’s point, while admiring her eloquence.
Her voice marbled with concern. “Well, if you want to keep waking up each day, you better be damn sure you go someplace where those Mess’cans can’t find you. They won’t give up easy, you know. Not when there’s that kind of money involved. They’ll be breathing down your necks for years. So you better be careful.”
“We will.”
Her tone toughened again. “I don’t ever want to find out that you fucked my brother around, y’hear? `Cause you will live to regret it.” She rose and reached for her coat. “I’m going down to the hotel right now on business. When Eddie gets up, tell him y’al
l can get a used mattress over on Magazine Street. There’s a lot of those type places over in there. I’ll be back in a little while.”
32
Linda nodded a hello to the desk clerk, as she walked through the lobby of the Louis Philippe. Entering the dim, subdued world of the King’s Landing restaurant, she saw most of the lunch business was over, with only a lingering table or two remaining.
As usual, at that time of day, AJ Frechette was having lunch at his corner table, beneath the hand-painted mural of King Louis Philippe, after whose father the city of New Orleans had been named. The royally-clad monarch held a bright blue umbrella at an odd angle in front of fawning onlookers. AJ wielded his fork at about the same angle, wading through his heaping plate of shrimp jambalaya.
“Why, hel-lo, darlin’!” he exclaimed as Linda drew near.
She bent down to hug him, returning the greeting, as she felt his pathetically thin body, nearly all bones. She couldn’t help but wonder why he never gained any weight, even though he seemed to do nothing but eat Creole food all day long.
He could always be found at his table during the daylight hours, chowing down on the five-bean-rated cuisine of the King’s Landing, long considered one of the best in the city.
At night, he moved over to the lounge. There he kept an eye on the girls, while making sure everything ran smoothly as he nibbled cashews nonstop.
AJ was actually the sole owner of the hotel, which served as a sort of presidential palace. From there, he oversaw the rest of his domain, a polyglot of bars and restaurants throughout the French Quarter. It was an empire built on the strength of his personality and his sharp perception.
He could tell the winners from the losers, the big shots from the nickel-dimers, the heavy hitters from the bullshit artists. He could always tell, ever since he was a young man. This uncanny insight never failed him, and because of it, he reaped great wealth.