Luther placed the menu on the table and tucked a napkin into his soiled collar. “No, ma’am. I’m positive of it.”
“Mr. Mathers think he can free my family?”
“Mr. Mathers has been practicing law a long time.”
“How long?”
“Nearly fifty-five years.”
“How old is this son of a bitch?”
Luther looked up at the open sky from the courtyard and thought for a moment. “Figure he’s got to be close to eighty.”
“Could you at least have hired someone who won’t die on us?”
“He shore is a tough ole dog,” Luther said. “He couldn’t believe when he read that your family was flown in a real airplane. He said, ‘Hot damn, that’s somethin’.’ I mean, he was real taken with it an’ all.”
“Son of a bitch.”
“What?” George asked. Three Mexican waiters brought out platters and platters of tacos, enchiladas, refried beans, and guacamole. Cold beer for Kathryn, who ran the iced Shiner Bock across her forehead.
“Luther hired Methuselah to represent Ma.”
“Good at cha,” George said.
“Can you head back in the morning?” Kathryn asked.
“I ’spec so,” Luther said.
They all ate for a while, Flossie Mae for once showing a goddamn smile while she filled her gullet. George picked at his plate of tacos and finished off the entire bottle of tequila, Kathryn having to pin his arm to the chair so he didn’t get up and dance with the band. “That’s so beautiful,” George said, listening to them play under that old oak lit with Christmas lights. “It’s breaking my heart.”
“It might if you knew Spanish,” Kathryn said. “George, we gotta get outta Texas.”
“What have I been sayin’?”
“The heat’s too much.”
“Like I said.”
“Where to?” she asked.
“The World’s Fair,” Geraline said, speaking up loud and strong from the head of the table, a fork pointed right at George and Kathryn. “The G’ll never find you.”
“Hell of an idea, kid,” George said. “Hell of an idea.”
Kathryn nodded.
“Goody,” Geraline said, going back to eating her enchiladas.
“Oh, no,” Kathryn said. “We split ways here.”
Geraline shrugged and dug into her beans. The child thought for a moment, as she chewed, and said, “Newspaper says they’re looking for a man and a woman traveling together. A ‘rough-and-tumble couple,’ is what it read. Woman with brown hair and a ‘wicked jaw.’ Man is an expert machine gunner.”
George grinned and nodded. “Damn right.”
“What’s it to you?” Kathryn asked.
“Nobody said anything about a family,” Geraline said, playing with a loose ribbon. “I bet I could pass as your daughter.”
Kathryn looked to George, red-eyed and shiftless. George shrugged.
“We could stay a couple nights with your dear grandma and then take 66 over to Chicago,” he said.
Luther looked to Flossie Mae and Flossie Mae back to Luther, before staring down at her plate of beans and not saying a word. Luther scraped all the food on his plate into one mess of tortilla, chicken, and beans, and stuffed in a big mouthful, saying, “I shore hate to break up the family.”
Kathryn blew cigarette smoke up high into the air. “You’ll be paid.”
“Well,” Luther said, chewing and then taking a tremendous swallow, “I s’pose if it’ll help out you good people, we could part company for a bit.”
Geraline winked at George. He smiled and shot her with his thumb and forefinger before asking the waiter for a cold beer. “You sure that wasn’t Gus Jones?” George whispered into Kathryn’s ear. “I’m seeing that short bastard everywhere. Or have I gone screwy?”
32
So we’re on?” Harvey said.
“We’re on,” Alvin Karpis said.
“Been a hell of a trip to Chi with the roadblocks, train stations covered and all,” Harvey said. “We’ve been driving for the last two days without sleep, switching off at the wheel, keeping to the cat roads. I can’t stand my own smell.”
“How you doin’ back there, Verne?” Karpis asked, looking in the rearview mirror of his Chrysler Imperial convertible, spit-shined, with white leather interior. Miller grunted and blew some smoke up toward the front of the car.
“It’s worth your time, Harv,” Karpis said.
“Sawyer said it’s the biggest job he’d ever heard of.”
“It’s worth your time,” Karpis said, driving the streets of downtown Chicago, racing the El train above them, in and out of shadows, looking sharp in a white suit and straw boater, flushed with sun, health, and money. He shifted down onto Wabash and then took a hard turn onto Roosevelt, heading west over a rusted bridge and the river.
“Are we playing a game, Kreeps?” Harvey asked. “We’re pretty beat.”
“Read about Dallas,” Karpis said, smiling over at Harvey in the passenger seat. “Ten floors. How’d you pull that off?”
“I greased the wheels of justice.”
“Listen, a couple fellas from the Syndicate came to see me this week,” Karpis said. “First thing I thought was, Oh, shit, they know about the job and want a piece.”
“Who?”
“ ‘Three-Fingered’ Willie and Klondike O’Donnell. Some other fella named Deandre. They wanted to know if we’d thrown in with the Touhy brothers. You ain’t in with the Touhys, are you, Verne?”
Miller didn’t say anything.
“That’s what I told ’em,” Karpis said, heading in a straight shot through the West Side, passing the brownstones and corner markets, kids playing under the shade of oaks. “So this guy Deandre says to me to enjoy Chicago, but don’t get caught in this personal shit storm between the Touhys and the Syndicate. They’re no fans of you, Miller. Said Kansas City was a top-shelf clusterfuck. I hate to say it, but they got it in for you pretty bad, Verne. They’d love to ace you off God’s green earth. Killin’ those cops in Kansas City was bad business. I’d lay pretty low, if I was you.”
“So, what’s the job, Kreeps?” Harvey said.
“Federal Reserve,” Karpis said.
“Right downtown.”
