East City. Tel. 007.611.09
“He’ll hide up with someone without money… they always do,” Tanza said with his evil grin. If this doesn’t flush him out, we have other tricks, but I think it will.”
SEVEN
Johnny came fully awake when he heard the phut-phut of a motor boat. Lifting his head, he looked out of the open window to see Freda in a small boat, powered by an outboard motor, moving away from the houseboat. She was wearing the faded shirt and stretch pants and a cigarette dangled from her lips. The boat headed across the lake. Johnny dropped back on his pillow. He had been woken previously by the sound of the truck starting up, and only half conscious, he realized Scott was off to work.
He lay on the small bed and thought of the previous evening. They had eaten curried Black Crappie, a lake fish, with rice, onions and tomatoes. It had been a good meal, eaten more or less in silence. Scott had wanted to see something on T.V. and he had eaten fast, then leaving the other two at the table, he had gone over to the set and turned it on.
Johnny had been very aware of Freda as they sat opposite each other. He had eaten hungrily.
“You cook fine,” he said.
“Ed says the same.” The flat in her voice made him look sharply at her. “That’s all men think of… food.”
He glanced across the room to where Scott was absorbed in the lighted screen.
“Not all men.”
“Have some more.”
“I’d be nuts if I didn’t.”
She pushed back her chair.
“We live like pigs here. Go ahead. I’ve things to do,” and she left the table, going into the kitchen.
The food was so good and he was so hungry, he didn’t hesitate. He cleared the bowl, then sat back reaching for a cigarette.
After a short smoke, he crushed out his cigarette, collected the plates and carried them into the kitchen. He was surprised to see her sitting on the deck, staring across the lake.
“Let’s clear up,” he said. “You want to?”
“Sounds like you’re domesticated.” There was a slight jeer in her voice. “Leave it for tomorrow… tomorrow’s another day.”
“I’ll do it. You stay there.”
She stared at him, then shrugged.
“So I stay here.”
It took him some twenty minutes to wash the dishes and clear the table. He liked doing this. It reminded him of the safety of his own apartment which seemed far away, then he joined her on the deck and sat beside her in an old, creaking bamboo chair.
“Nice view,” he said.
“You think so? I’ve got used to it. After two years, a view gets faded. Where are you from?”
“Up north… and you?”
“Sweden.”
“I guessed that. Your hair… your eyes… you’re a long way from home.”
“Yes.” A pause, then she said, “Look, you don’t have to make conversation with me. For two years I’ve lived more or less on my own. I’m used to it. You’re our lodger. I wouldn’t have you here if it wasn’t for the money. I like being alone.”
“I won’t get in your way.” He stood up. “I’ve had a rough day. I’m turning in. Thank you for a fine meal.”
She leaned back in her chair and looked up at him. “Thanks for clearing up.”
They regarded each other, then he went into the living-room. The T.V. serial had come to an end and Scott was getting to his feet.
“Bed,” he said. “See you around seven tomorrow evening. You got all you want? The fishing tackle is in that closet there. Use my rod if you want to.”
“I’ll do that.” A pause. “Well, good night, I guess I could sleep the clock around.”
Johnny went to his room and got into bed. He lay watching the moon and the still waters of the lake and he thought of Scott and his woman. Then his mind switched to Massino. He drew in a long, relaxed breath. Here, he felt safe. This surely was the one place on earth where the organization would never think to look for him.
And now after a good sleep, with the sun up, seeing Freda in the motorboat, he became fully awake. He stripped off and plunged into the lake, swam for some minutes in the cool clear water, then returned to the houseboat, dried off, dressed and went into the kitchen. Freda had set out a pot of coffee, a cup and saucer, sugar and milk. There was a stale loaf of bread and a toaster, but he didn’t bother with that. He carried the cup of coffee on to the deck and sat down, looking at the distant pines, the reflections of the clouds in the lake, the stillness of the water and he felt at peace.
After drinking the coffee and smoking a cigarette, he explored the houseboat, finding it consisted of three small bedrooms, beside the living-room, the kitchen and a shower room. The bedroom next to his was obviously Freda’s. The room was neat and clean with a small, single bed, a chest of drawers, a closet, books and a table with a bedside light. The room next to hers belonged to Scott: not so tidy, no books and the bed also small. In one corner stood a .22 target rifle and a shot gun. Johnny eyed these two weapons, then backed out of the room, closing the door.
He collected Scott’s fishing rod and went out onto the deck. He spent the next hour trying to catch fish but he had no luck. Still, it was relaxing to sit in the sun, the rod in his hand and he thought of all that money stashed away in the left-luggage locker. If he could stay here for a week or so, he decided it would be safe to return and get the money. Surely, after six weeks, the heat would be off. In a week or so, he would go with Scott to Richville and from there call Sammy who would be able to tell him what was happening.
Another hour drifted while he thought of the moment when he would buy his boat, then he heard the phut- phut of the returning motorboat and out of the sun, he saw Freda at the tiller. He waved at her and she lifted her hand. Ten minutes later she climbed on deck while Johnny secured the boat.
“You’ll never catch anything from here,” she said, seeing the rod.
“If you want to fish, take the boat.” She had a loaded shopping basket. “Lunch in two hours. Take the boat and see if you can get something for supper.”
Johnny had stripped off his shirt and suddenly she looked at his hairy chest and pointed.
“What’s that?”
He fingered the St. Christopher medal.
“My lucky charm.” He grinned. “St. Christopher. My mother gave it to me. Know what she said just before she died? She said ‘As long as you have that nothing really bad can happen to you’”.
“You’re an Italian, aren’t you?”
“That’s right, but I was born in Florida.”
“Well, don’t lose it,” and she carried the basket into the kitchen.
Taking the rod and tackle, he got in the motorboat and started the engine. It was good to be in a boat again, and an hour later when he had landed a four- pound bass, he decided he hadn’t spent a nicer morning since he was a kid.
He felt absurdly proud of himself when he carried the bass into the kitchen and saw Freda’s look of surprise.
“You’re quite a fisherman!” she said. “Put it down there. I’ll attend to it.”
“I’ve gutted it… used to fish a lot when I was a kid: hadn’t much else to eat. That smells good.”
“Ed gets a free meal in Richville. I thought I’d spend some of your money.” She looked at him. “Beef casserole. Like to give me some rent? I’ve spent all I bad.”
“Why, sure.” He went into his bedroom, unlocked the suitcase and took out two ten dollar bills. Then returning, he handed them to her.
