Ortega explained the situation. And the price was right. Very right. Jack told Ortega he and Mavis would get on it straightaway. He hung up and turned back to his wife in the alligator tank.
?Who was that?? Mavis now had an alligator under each arm. She swung them around experimentally. She?d been working on some new moves lately.
?Louis Ortega.?
She looked up, interested. ?A job? Is the pay good??
?Pretty good.?
?Enough for us to go to Hollywood??
?More than enough.? Although Jack had no intention of going to California. Land of fruits and nuts, his old man used to say.
Mavis beamed, tossed the alligators aside, and climbed out of the tank with a squeal. She scooped Jack up, cradled him in her arms like a child. ?Let?s go back to the room.?
?Easy, old girl.?
?I?m going to fuck you silly, little man.?
17
Linda made Andrew set the table and fill the water glasses. She seemed to enjoy taking over. Keone had still been there when she?d arrived, and he?d lifted his eyebrows upon catching a whiff of the steaming lasagna. Linda had assured him there was plenty and invited the boy to stay.
Under other circumstances Mike might have telephoned the boy?s parents to let them know their son was staying for dinner. But the kid seemed to come and go as he pleased. He?d met Keone?s father only once, and the big Indian had frightened him, a hard man who seemed quick to anger and maybe a little suspicious of the white man who?d taken an interest in his son. His mother was a dour, stone-faced woman of few words. From Keone, Mike had gathered that the boy?s family lived two hills over in a shabby single-wide trailer on a few rugged acres. Keone threaded his way through the forest to show up for work. Mike didn?t pay the kid much, but Keone seemed to think it was a fortune.
Mike told all this to Linda when Andrew and Keone were out of the room. She?d been curious about the boy, had wondered how he?d fallen in with an old crank like Mike.
Mike said, ?Keone?s never told me directly, but I infer his father runs a meth lab tucked back into one of these little valleys somewhere. A lot of that in this part of the country.?
Linda sighed, shook her head, and went into the kitchen.
Mike knew what she was thinking. Linda was the kind of woman who?d want to call social services, get Keone into a home or something. Well, it was Mike?s call, and right now he decided to leave well enough alone. The kid seemed healthy, didn?t show any signs of abuse.
Linda tossed salad in the kitchen, called to Mike over her shoulder. ?You promised wine.?
?Right.? Mike lifted up the carpet in the living room, threw open the square trapdoor in the wood floor.
?What?s that?? Andrew looked into the hole.
?Wine cellar.? Mike climbed down the ladder, pulled the string for a low-watt bulb hanging on a wire.
Andrew climbed down after him, seemed impressed by the rough stone and clay walls braced by thick beams. ?Cool. How long did it take you to dig this out??
?Too damn long.? Mike scanned the racks for a good bottle. Most of this stuff was ready, but some of the bottles had probably gone to vinegar. His corking skills were still improving, and if air got into any of the bottles, it would ruin them.
Andrew spotted a wooden chest against the wall. ?What?s this?? He started to lift the lid.
Mike crossed the small cellar in two steps and slammed the lid back down. ?Do you mind? That?s hidden away down here for a reason.?
