25
“You won’t believe this,” Ordell said to Mr. Walker on the phone.
“I just seen a palmetta bug walk up Raynelle’s leg. She kind of lying on the sofa. The palmetta bug went up her leg, went under her dress, and she never moved. In her nod, today and all day yesterday. I got her a package of needles and enough shit for a week. Now she moved her knee, touched herself . . . Wait now. I hear the palmetta bug saying something. Yeah, saying, ‘Ouuu, it’s nice here. I don’t believe this woman washes herself, yeah.’ You see palmetta bugs on the stove. They climb up there, break their teeth, man, on the grease been there for years. Mr. Walker? You have to get me out of here, man. When you come get your boat, drive up to the Lake Worth Inlet.”
Ordell waited, listening.
“No, not today. I won’t be ready. I told you, I have to see Jackie. Night before last I went in her apartment, she never came home. Watched her place all day yesterday—I’m gonna have to call this Max Cherry, I think that’s where she’s at, or in a motel someplace. See, I don’t think she’d run this soon, get the feds suspicious of her.”
Ordell listened again and said, “Maybe tomorrow, or Monday . . . I can’t
Ordell looked at the glassy-eyed woman on the sofa.
“You believe it? Hung up on me. Do things for people and that’s how they treat you. Man has a boat thirty-six feet long and I’m stuck in this privy.” He said, “Girl, how can you live like this?”
Raynelle said, “Like what?”
Ordell had Max Cherry’s business card, GENTLEMEN PREFER BONDS written on it. He dialed the number. The voice that answered sounded like Winston’s, telling him Max wasn’t there.
“He leave town?”
“He’s around.”
“Give me his home number.”
“I’ll give you his beeper.”
Ordell left the little stucco house that looked like it was rusting out, the screens broken, walked two blocks east and around the corner to the bar on Broadway where he dialed Max Cherry’s beeper number and left the number in the phone booth for him to call. Ordell had a rum collins while he waited. The bartender was the one he’d asked Thursday night what was the name of the woman came in here did heroin and tricks on the side. Was it Danielle? The bartender said heroin was the dope of choice again with many. This one, Ordell said, was kind of redheaded, tall, had real skinny legs. The bartender said, Raynelle? That was it, Raynelle. Ordell found her that same night, bought her rum collinses till 1:00 A.M.—the woman a disappointment, losing it fast, had that same rusted-out look as her house.
The phone rang in the booth.
Ordell went in and closed the door.
Max Cherry’s voice said, “I’ve been looking for you.”
The first thing Max did, after he looked at the number on his beeper, he called the Sheriff’s office and spoke to a buddy of his named Wendy, who ran the Communications Section. Wendy put him on hold and was back in less than a minute. She told him the number belonged to Cecil’s Bar, on Broadway in Riviera Beach.
The next thing Max did, at his desk in the office now, was ask Winston if he’d ever been to Cecil’s. Winston said he’d picked up FTAs there; it was lowlife but sociable, they knew him. Why? Max asked him to wait.
He dialed the number, fairly sure it was Ordell who’d called. So when his voice came on the line Max said, “I’ve been looking for you.”
“You know who this is?”
“Mr. Robbie, isn’t it? I have that ten thousand you put up. Isn’t that why you called?”
There was a silence on the line.
“The bond collateral on Beaumont Livingston you moved over to cover Ms. Burke. Remember?”
“She got off, huh?”
“They decided not to file. Tell me where you are and I’ll bring you your money.”
Silence again.
Max waited.
“You still there?”
“Let’s cut to it,” Ordell said. “I know you helped her and you know what I want. Jackie can tell me a story, why she had to hang on to the money. Understand? I’ll listen. I’ll tell her yeah, that’s cool, now please hand it over while we still friends. That’s all has to happen. Understand? She don’t want to be friends—tell her to think of Louis, where he’s at right now. Tell her, she turns me in, I’ll put it on her she’s my accessory and we’ll go upstate, man, hand in hand cuffed together. Understand? That’s how it is. Tell her that and I’ll call you after a while.”
Max sat back in his chair, Winston, hunched over his desk, watching him. “That was Ordell,” Max said, “calling from Cecil’s. You have time, you think you could find out for me where he’s staying?”
“Cops can’t locate him, huh?”
“They don’t have your personality.”
“If it’s what you want,” Winston said. “I don’t have to know what you’re doing, long as you know.”
“I think I do,” Max said. “Is that good enough?”
“You quit the business or not?”
“I’m giving that second thoughts.”
Winston pushed up from his desk. Walking out he said, “You make up your mind, let me know.”
Jackie said, “You know how to make a girl happy, don’t you, Max?” slipping her arms around him and kissing him. He handed her the bottle of Scotch he’d brought and watched her walk over to the low dresser, where there were opened cans of Diet Coke and a plastic ice bucket, to make their drinks. He had felt her body in the T-shirt that hung loose covering her hips and a pair of white panties: nearly forty-eight hours in this room in a Holiday Inn, clothes and a towel on the double bed closer to the bathroom. On the phone a little while ago she’d said, “I’m going nuts,” sounding tired, bored, until he told her Ordell had called and he’d be over.
Taking the chair by the window Max said, “I know where he is.” She turned to look at him and he said, “All Winston had to do was ask around. Ordell’s living in Riviera Beach with a woman, a junkie. He has a maroon Volkswagen parked in front of the house. It’s his disguise.” Max was seated in late afternoon light, the draperies open enough to show the room. Jackie came over with their drinks to sit on the edge of the bed next to his chair, her bare legs in light. She reached over to put her drink on the table and took a cigarette from the pack lying there.
“How does Winston find him if ATF and all the local police around here aren’t able to?”
“People talk to Winston,” Max said. “He’s street, the same as they are and they trust him. They get busted, they know a guy who can bond them out.”
“You haven’t told anyone, have you, where he is?”
“The police? Not yet. I thought we should talk about it first. What I might do is drop in on him,” Max said. “He’ll no doubt be surprised to see me. . . .”
“He’s liable to shoot you.”
“On the phone I told him I owe him the ten he put up for your bond. He’d forgotten about it, or had something else on his mind. I could bring the money and the papers for him to sign. . . .”
“Why do that?”
“I doubt if he’d come to the office.”
“He might,” Jackie said, and seemed to like the idea.
Max wasn’t sure why. He said, “The simplest way to work it, I go see him with the bond refund. To make sure he’s there, that’s the main reason. Come out and call the Sheriff’s Office. Or the TAC unit’s already standing by and they go in.”
Jackie was shaking her head. “Ray wants him.”
“Everybody wants him, he’s a homicide suspect. What you have to think about,” Max said, “it doesn’t matter who takes him, you could have a problem. As soon as he’s brought up he’s liable to name you as an
