Burn Marks

7

Speaking in Tongues

On my way toward the parking pasture I saw Marissa standing near the back entrance to Boots’s house. She was laughing heartily at some remark of the middle-aged man talking to her. He looked vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t place him. Maybe it was just the avid look he was giving Marissa I recognized-with her head thrown back the décolletage of her peach dress sprang into dramatic relief.

Before returning to town I’d let her know I’d done my duty by showing up and that I hadn’t laid tales of housing woes on any sensitive ears. I trotted up the path to the house.

Seen up close, her companion was older than I’d thought, perhaps over sixty, with a lot of distinguished gray in his dark hair. Tanned and still muscular, he bore his years gracefully. Probably was wealthy, too, if his camel-hair jacket and Texas boots were any sign. A good haul for Marissa.

“Great party, Marissa-thanks for inviting me.”

She hadn’t seen me come up. The smile on her dark face dimmed briefly, then glowed again. “Hi, Vic. Glad you could make it.”

She didn’t really look at me-I should have just let well enough alone. In fact, I should have followed my original impulse and stayed in Chicago. I didn’t want to see any of these people and it was abundantly clear that none of them wanted to see me.

“Bye, Marissa. Thanks for letting me participate in this wonderful civic enterprise. Just wanted to let you know I didn’t discuss housing with anyone.”

At that she did look at me. “You leaving, Vic? Why not stay until after the speeches? I know Rosalyn would love to have a chance to see you again.”

My party smile was wearing thin. “She’s got a thousand palms to press this afternoon. I’ll give her a call at campaign headquarters.”

The man in camel hair looked at his watch. “They’re talking right now-down around the other side where the pit is. Won’t take more than fifteen minutes-Boots promised me he wouldn’t go gassing on forever-come along- I should put in an appearance anyway.” He held out a well-groomed hand and flashed a bright white smile. “Ralph MacDonald.”

While I recited my name I shook his hand appreciatively-it’s not often I touch flesh worth several billion dollars. As soon as he’d said his name I knew where I’d seen the face-in the paper a zillion times or so as ground was broken for this or that project he was financing or as he presented a gargantuan check to the symphony. My only question was what he was doing here-I’d kind of assumed he was a Republican.

When I said as much Marissa looked at me with cold disapproval but MacDonald laughed. “Boots and I go back-way back. The boy’d never forgive me if I voted Republican. And he won’t forgive me now unless I listen to him blow smoke rings for a while. Marissa?” He held out his left arm. “And-Vic, is it?” He crooked the right.

Who knows, he might like to hear about some of my cases-maybe he needed a few million dollars’ worth of investigations and didn’t even realize it. Not only that, it would make Marissa steam-in itself a good reason to tag along. I took his arm and let him guide me toward the pit.

The barbecue had been installed on the far side of the house from the refreshment tent. A good-sized crowd was milling around the thick pungent smoke-I couldn’t see the poor dead cow through the throng, but assumed she was roasting away.

People were standing in an informal horseshoe around a small platform-really a large tree stump with a few boards nailed to it-where Boots stood with his left arm around Roz’s shoulders. A tall man, Boots has become majestic in late middle age-silver hair swept in leonine waves from his craggy face, broad shoulders usually encased in buckskin, and a deep hearty laugh. His head was tilted back now as he roared in amusement. It was his trademark look, the pose he affected for campaign posters, but even a nonbeliever like me found his laugh infectious, and I didn’t know what the joke was.

The crowd near him included men and women of all ages and races. After Boots stopped laughing Rosalyn called out something in Spanish and got a good-natured hand. As I’d expected, she was in faded jeans, her concession to the party a crisp white shirt with a Mexican string tie. She looked just as she used to in Logan Square, her bronze skin clear, her eyes bright. Maybe I was too pessimistic-maybe she was smart enough to figure out how to run with the regular Dems and keep her own agenda intact.

Rosalyn jumped down from a crate she’d been perched on and disappeared from view-she’s not much over five feet tall. As she and Boots began pressing hands and exchanging quips, Marissa pulled MacDonald away from me. I smiled to myself. It had to be the first time I’d ever made Marissa downright jealous, and all for a billionaire I didn’t have any interest in. At least, not much interest.

Farther back from them I caught sight of the two His panic contractors who’d been talking to Michael and the boys. They were watching me narrowly; when they saw me looking at them they smiled guardedly. I sketched a wave and thought maybe the moment had finally come when I could get back to Chicago. Before I could make an escape, though, Rosalyn and Boots materialized near me. Rosalyn caught sight of me and clapped her hands.

“Vic! How wonderful to see you. I was ecstatic when I heard you might be here.” She hugged me enthusiastically, then turned to present me to Boots. “Vic Warshawski. She used to work for you, Boots, in the public defender’s office. But you’re working for yourself now, aren’t you? They tell me as an investigator?”

I felt like a child prodigy being paraded around for the neighbors. I managed to mumble a species of response.

“What kind of investigator, Vic?” Boots poured his geniality over me.

“Private detective. Primarily financial investigations.”

Boots gave his legendary laugh and shook my hand. “I’m sorry the county lost you, Vic-we don’t do enough to keep our good people. But I hope your own work is successful.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said primly. “Good luck on the campaign trail, Roz.”

Boots suddenly caught sight of Ralph MacDonald. Genuine pleasure warmed his smile.

“Mac, you old so-and-so. Knew your contribution would double if I didn’t see your shining face, huh?” Boots stretched a hand over my head to smack Mac-Donald’s shoulder. “And of course you found Marissa Duncan-you always could pick out the best in show, couldn’t you?”

I ducked away from the arm and the hearty bonhomie. Marissa’s face was frozen in the mannequin expression most women assume when they’re getting the wrong kind of compliment. Reflexively she put a hand to pull the collar ends of her dress together. I even found it in me to feel a little sorry for her.

As I slid away from her I saw Rosalyn ahead of me talking to Schmidt and Martinez. To my surprise they were gesturing toward me. Rosalyn turned her head, saw me looking, and flashed a smile. The stainless-steel front tooth she’d acquired in her poverty-ridden childhood glinted briefly. She spoke earnestly to the contractors, then turned once more to me. She made extravagant signs for me to join her. Making a face to myself I shouldered my way through the eager hands stretched out to her.

“Warshawski! The boys and I were talking about you just now. You’ve met little Luis, huh? He’s my cousin- my mother’s sister married a German down in Mexico City and lived to be sorry ever after! You know those old love stories.” She laughed gaily. “We could use your help, Warshawski.”

“You’ve got my vote, Roz. You know that.”

“More than that, though.” Before she could continue, Boots came up with MacDonald in tow. He flashed a perfunctory smile at me and dragged Roz off to confer in the house.

“Wait for me, huh, gringa? I’ll see you in the porch swing-oh, in an hour,” she shouted hoarsely over her shoulder.

I was left glaring at her back. Because I’m a woman in a man’s business people think I’m tough, but a truly tough and decisive person would have headed back to town at that point. Instead I felt the tired old tentacles of responsibility drape themselves around me. Lotty Herschel tells me it comes of being the only child of parents I had to look after during painful illnesses. She thinks a few years with a good analyst would enable me to just say no when someone shouts “I need you, Vic.”

Perhaps she’s right-the sour thought of my parents conjured by her remembered words mingled with the smell of roasting beef and nauseated me. For a moment I felt myself identifying with the dead animal-caught around by people who fed it only to smash its head in with a mallet. I didn’t think I could eat any of it. When the head barbecuer suddenly sang out that they were ready to start carving, I hunched my shoulders and left.

I circled the house to find the porch swing Rosalyn had mentioned. What Boots treated as the back of the house bad actually been designed as the main entrance when the place was built a hundred years ago or so. A set of shallow steps led to a colonnaded veranda and a pair of doors inlaid with opaque etched glass.

The porch faced a flower bed and a small ornamental pond. It was a peaceful spot; the band and the crowd sounds still reached me, but no one else had strayed this far from the action. I strolled over to the pond and peered into it. Clouds turned rosy by the setting sun made the surface of the water shimmer a silvery blue. A cluster of goldfish swam over to beg for bread.

I glared at them. “Everyone else in this country has a fin stuck out-why should you guys be any different? I just don’t have any slush left today.”

I felt someone come up behind me and turned as Michael put an arm around my shoulders. I removed it and backed away a few paces.

“Michael, what’s going on with you today? Are you peeved because I wanted to drive myself?… Is that why you pulled that number on me at the gate and again with your pals back there? You can’t muscle me aside and then come caress me back into good humor.”

“I’m sorry,” he said simply, “I didn’t mean it like that. Ron and Ernie introduced me to those two guys-Schmidt and Martinez. They’re breaking into construction, just getting a few good jobs, and their work sites are being vandalized. The boys thought they could use some free police advice. When you came up we were in the middle of it. I was afraid you were still mad at me and I didn’t know how to handle it and not let them think I wasn’t listening to them, either. So I blew it. Can you still talk to me?”

I hunched a shoulder impatiently. “The trouble is, Michael, you belong to a crowd where the girls sit on a blanket waiting for the boys to finish talking business and bring them drinks. I like LeAnn and Clara, but they’ll never be good friends of mine-it’s not the way I think or act or live or-or anything. I think that style-the segregated way you and Ernie and Ron work-it’s too much part of you. I don’t see how you and I ever can move along together.”

He was quiet for a few minutes while he thought it over. “Maybe you’re right,” he said reluctantly. “I mean, my mother kept house and hung out with her friends and my dad had his bowling club. I never saw them do anything together-even church, it was always her taking the kids to Mass while he slept it off on Sunday mornings. I guess it was a mistake trying to see you at a function like this.” The sun had set but I could see his smile flash briefly, worried, not cocky.

The surface of the pond turned black; behind us the house loomed as a ghostly galleon. It was Michael’s ability to think about himself that set him apart from his pals. There was a time when it might have seemed worth the effort to work things out with someone who was willing to stop and think about it. But I’m thirty-seven now and no longer seem able to put the energy into dubious undertakings.

Before I could make up my mind what I wanted to say, Roz whirled up. I hadn’t expected to see her-at a function like this she’d have so many demands on her time that a desire to meet with me could easily fade from her mind. Schmidt and Martinez were with her.

“Vic!” Her voice had faded to a hoarse whisper after a long day of talking, but it vibrated with her usual energy.

“Thank goodness you waited for me. Can we grab a few minutes on the porch?”

I grunted unenthusiastically.

Schmidt and Martinez were greeting Michael in low-voiced seriousness. I introduced him to Rosalyn. She shook his hand perfunctorily and hustled me across the yard.

The lawn was smoothly trimmed; even at the pace she set we kept our footing in the dark. The porch was outlined by light coming from the other side of the opaque doors. I could see the swing, and Rosalyn’s shape when she settled in it, but her face was in too much shadow for me to make out her expression.

I sat on the top of the shallow steps, my back against the pillar, and waited for her to speak. On the lawn behind us I could make out the shapes of Michael and the two contractors as dark splotches. From the other end of the house the band was revving up to a more feverish pitch; the increased volume and the noise of laughter drifted to us.

“If I win the election I’m finally going to be in a position to really help my people,” Rosalyn said at last.

“You’ve already done a great deal.”

“No soap tonight, Vic. I don’t have time or energy for pats on the back… I’m setting my sights high. Getting Boots to endorse me-it was difficult but necessary. You do understand that?”

I nodded, but she couldn’t see that, so I gave an affirmative grunt. Anyway, I did understand it.

“This election is just the first step. I’m aiming for Congress and I want to be in a position for a cabinet post if the Democrats win in eight or twelve years.”

I grunted again. The specific shape of her ambition was interesting, but I’d always known she had the ability and the drive to reach for the top. In eight or twelve years maybe the country would even be ready for a Hispanic woman vice president. She must have been born in Mexico, though-that was why she was thinking only of the cabinet.

“Your advice would always be valuable to me.”

I had to strain to hear her, her voice had gotten so hoarse. “Thanks for the testimonial, Roz.”

“Some people-my cousin-think you might do something to hurt me, but I told him you would never do such a thing.”

I couldn’t begin to fathom what she might be talking about and said as much. She didn’t answer right away, and when she finally did I got the impression she’d chosen her words with great care.

“Because I’m working with Boots. Anyone who knows you knows you’ve always opposed everything he stands for.”

“Not everything,” I said. “Just the stuff I know about. Anyway, your cousin doesn’t know me. We just met this afternoon.”

“He knows about you,” she persisted in her raw voice. “You’ve done a lot of significant work one way and another. People who are connected around town hear your name.”

“I don’t need soap any more than you do, Roz. I haven’t said or done anything to make anyone think I’d stand in your way. Hell! I even paid two-fifty to support your campaign. What does your cousin imagine I’m doing? It may be chicken feed to a contractor, but that’s a big outlay for me-I wouldn’t do it frivolously.”

She put her hand on mine. “I appreciate you coming out for me. I know it took a lot for you to do, both the money and the function.” She gave a throaty chuckle. “I’ve had to swallow a few things, too, to be here-the sidelong looks from the party regulars. I know what they’re thinking-Boots is getting a piece of Spanish ass and giving her a spot on the ticket as payment.”

“So what is Schmidt worried about? That I’m from the Legion of Decency and I’m going to cook up a sex scandal? I’m really offended, Roz. Offended by the thought and by you thinking you had to sound me out over it.”

Her callused fingers gripped mine. “No, no, Vic. Don’t take it that way. Luis is my little cousin, my little brother, almost, the way he worries about me. Some men he was talking to told him how negative you are to Boots and he got worried on my behalf. I told him I’d talk to you, that’s all, gringa. Boots has his flaws, after all, I’m not blind to them. But I can use him.”

I didn’t know if I was hearing the truth or not. Maybe she was sleeping with Boots for the good of the Hispanic community-there was very little Roz wouldn’t do to help her people. It would turn my stomach, but I didn’t really care. At any rate, prolonging the conversation wasn’t going to buy me a copy of her thoughts.

“I don’t like you tying your wagon to Boots’s star, but I can’t afford to be picky-I’m self-employed and it’s a pretty small operation. And there’s certainly something to be said for letting Boots do your dirty work. Pulling the plug on abortions at Cook County the way he did, he owes the women in this town something-why shouldn’t it be you.”

Roz gave a husky laugh. “I knew I could count on you, Vic.” She summoned enough of her voice to call her cousin. “Hey, Luis, come on, we gotta go get a drink and shake a few more hands.”

Luis ambled over to the porch with Michael; Carl Martinez apparently had taken off. “You get everything settled, Roz?” It didn’t sound like a casual question.

“Coming up roses. You worry too much, you know-you’re just like your mama that way.”

We stood up. Roz hugged me. “I may call you yet, Warshawski. Get you to stuff envelopes or hold my hand if I freak.”

“Sure, Roz. Whatever you want.”

I followed her down the shallow steps. When Luis had hustled her around the side of the house, Furey took my arm.

“Let me meet you back at your place, Vic, get things talked out. I don’t want to have matters go completely bust between us without at least saying good-bye in a friendly way.”

I was staring at the corner of the house where Roz had disappeared, still trying to figure out what the hell that whole conversation had been about. I was so busy with my thoughts that I found I’d agreed with Furey without even realizing it.