Cat Chaser

12

JERRY WAS READING the Sun-Sentinel. He held it up as Moran came in the office.

“You see this? Right up at Hillsboro. Guy walks out of his condo, he’s taking his morning exercise, look what he finds right out in front of his place.” The headline of the newspaper read:

The photograph that ran the full width of the page and was about five inches deep showed four naked swollen bodies lying on the hard-pack sand at the edge of the surf in early morning light. A Coast Guard helicopter hovered about twenty yards offshore.

“I’m telling you,” Jerry said, “it’s getting out of hand. People up there, they invest a lot of money in their retirement homes-this’s what they got to put up with.”

“What’s the story the officials don’t believe?”

“That they came all the way from Haiti in this rickety boat, sixty-something people. If they’re not coming from Cuba it’s Haiti now, we don’t have enough Latins here, we got all this extra welfare money laying around. Oh… there was a phone call for you. You know how many Cubans they got in Miami now?”

“Who was it called?”

“Two hundred thousand. Over half the population. Some woman… she didn’t leave her name. Plus a hundred and twenty-five thousand boat people, for Christ sake, half of them out of the Havana jails and insane asylums. They send ’em here for us to take care of… Here’s the number.”

It was Mary’s.

“When’d she call?”

“Few minutes ago. We’re different, we got us a couple Dominican freeloaders. Where you going? You just got here.”

“I’ll be back.”

Moran shoved the slip of notepaper into his jeans and walked out into the sunlight, back toward his house. He was anxious.

Nolen, coming out of Number Five, stopped him.

“George, can I talk to you?”

“I got to make a phone call.”

“Just take a minute.” Nolen, his shirt open and hanging out of his pants, got to Moran at the shallow end of the pool. “I got a request. How about letting your buddy from the D.R. stay a couple more days? He’s afraid to talk to you.”

“I hope so,” Moran said.

“He’s sorry. He said he made a mistake.”

“I made the mistake,” Moran said, “ever talking to him.” He started to move away.

“George, he can’t hurt you. Let him stay a while.”

Moran stopped. “Why?”

“Why not? He’s all right, just a little fucked up. He’s an interesting type, I can study him.”

“I know what you want to study,” Moran said.

Nolen shrugged. “I think I can get a freebee, a libretito.” His hair hung oily looking, he needed a shave, he looked terrible, forlorn, standing barefoot with his hands in his pockets. “She wants me to show her Miami Beach, all the beeg ‘otels.”

“Good,” Moran said. “You take her down there we’ll probably never see her again. Look, I don’t have time right now. Tell her to clean up the kitchen before you go and tell Rafi he’d better stay away from me, not that I’m pissed off or anything.”

“I’ll keep ’em in line,” Nolen said, “no problem.” He watched Moran hurrying away. “Hey, one other thing…”

“Later,” Moran said. He ran inside his house and locked the door.

Moran waited. As soon as he heard her voice on the phone he said, “What happened?”

“He’s still here but he’s leaving. Going out on the boat.”

“Should I call back?”

“No, it’s okay, he’s outside. I can see him.”

“What’s the matter?”

“He told me this morning he doesn’t want me to drive anymore. I can’t go anywhere alone in the car. If I go out, Corky’s supposed to drive me.”

“Why?”

“Because he knows. Or he thinks he does-it’s the same thing.”

“What’d he say?”

“He said he wants me to take the goddamn limousine, but if I insist on using my own car Corky’s still going with me.”

“I mean what reason did he give?”

“Crime in the streets, the high incidence of muggings and holdups. It’s for my own safety. I told him there aren’t any muggings at Leucadendra or the Dadeland shopping mall, but you don’t argue with him. I told you, he’s a rock.”

“Can he order you like that?”

“If I get in the car, Corky gets in with me. That’s it, or stay home. What’re we gonna do?”

“You got to get out of there, that’s all.”

There was a pause. “I had sort of a talk with him.”

“Yeah? What happened?”

“Not much. I’ll tell you about it some other time, not now,” Mary said. “God, I’m dying to see you.”

“I’ll be over in a little while.”

“You can’t come here.”

“I’ve got an excuse. I’m gonna return something.”

“What is it?”

“I’ll be there in about an hour. Why don’t you invite me to lunch?”

“God, Moran-hurry.”

Nolen caught him again, coming out of the laundry room holding a grocery sack, the top rolled tightly closed. Moran was wearing a sport coat and good pants. Nolen looked him up and down.

“The casual Holiday Inn attire?”

“There times you can say anything you want,” Moran said. “This isn’t one of ’em. I’m in a hurry.”

“Jiggs wants to talk to you.”

“You told me.”

“Give him the courtesy-what’ve you got to lose?”

“My good name, being seen with a kneecapper. There isn’t anything he can tell me I need to know.”

“I’m not asking you to go out of your way.”

“I hope not.”

“I’m not suppose to say anything,” Nolen said, “but I’ll give you a hint. It’s got to do with freedom of choice and self-respect. Like not having to sneak in the Holiday Inn anymore.”

“What I have to say to that,” Moran said, “has to do with self-control. How I’m learning to stay calm, not pop anybody in the mouth, dump ’em in the swimming pool every time I get a little irritated. But it’s hard.”

“I know, stay out of your personal affairs,” Nolen said. “But I feel I owe you something. You’ve been a buddy to me, even after we tried to blow you away with a one-oh-six. I mean it might’ve been me, though I hate to say it.”

“Let’s let bygones be bygones,” Moran said. “Long as you pay your rent on time. I’ll see you.”

Nolen said, “Hey, George?” And waited for him to stop a few feet away and look back. “You’re a beautiful guy. I just don’t want anything to happen to you.”

“Jesus Christ,” Moran said, “leave me alone.”

“Only three nights I got to recite that line,” Nolen said. “You can see why the fucker closed.”

He liked the trees in this south end of Coral Gables, the quiet gloom of the streets; the trees belonged and were more than ornamental. It was old Florida, the way he felt Florida should still look. No way for a one-time cement-finisher to think, or a man partly responsible for a half-dozen king-size condominiums with majestic names. Maybe it was guilt. Or maybe he simply liked a tangle of ripe tropical vegetation. What was wrong with that? He told himself not to argue with himself; he was one of the few friends he had. He didn’t care for what he was doing right now. It was like going to the dentist when you were in love with his nurse, but it was still going to the dentist. He turned off Arvida Parkway into the drive marked 700 on a cement column and this time followed its curve up to the house.

Mary was waiting outside. She brought him past the three members of the home guard who stood in the driveway and seemed disappointed. Moran recognized the one with the mustache. Corky. The one trying to look mean.

From the front steps Moran said, “Keep an eye on my car, okay?”

Mary took him by the arm. “Get in here.” And closed the door. “What’s in the bag?”

Moran opened it and brought out a pink negligee. “You like it? Anita de Boya’s playsuit. She left it.”

“He’s not gonna believe that’s why you came,” Mary said. “Anita lives in Bal Harbor.”

“Do you want me to care what he believes?”

“You’re right, it doesn’t matter,” Mary said. Tense today, inside herself.

She led him from the hallway that was like an arboretum of exotic plants and trees, past an almost bare living room that resembled a modern-art gallery, through a more lived-in-looking room done in rattan and off-white fabrics and out to the sundeck with its several-million-dollar view of Biscayne Bay and the Atlantic Ocean, what Miami money was all about.

Moran was impressed; but he could be impressed by all kinds of things and not have a desire to own them; he considered himself lucky. He took in the sights, the empty boat dock, the stand of acacia trees, then back again, across the sweep of lawn to the swimming pool, designed to resemble a tropical lagoon set among palm trees and terraced flower gardens. Clean that setup every day, he thought. But said, “I like it.”

“I don’t,” Mary said. “I’ve got to get out of here.”

She stood at the rail with him, wearing sunglasses now, looking out at the water. When she turned away he followed her to a half-circle of chairs with bright yellow cushions. On the low table in the center was a white telephone and the morning paper headlining the dead Haitians.

“Why don’t you leave now? With me,” Moran said. He sat down. Mary remained standing, tan in her white sundress, silent, her slim legs somewhat apart, folding her arms now; protective or defiant, Moran wasn’t sure.

She said, finally, “Rafi was here yesterday.”

“I know, I had a talk with him,” Moran said. “If that’s what’s got you clutched up, don’t worry about it. Rafi comes on strong, but he’s a twink at heart, he caves in.”

“What did he say?”

“He’s not our problem. There’s a guy that works for your husband on and off, Jiggs Scully. You know him?”

“I know who he is.”

“He’s been following you. He knows what we’re doing and wants to talk to me.”

“Oh, God-”

“Wait. Nolen Tyner-I told you about him. He says Jiggs doesn’t have his hand out, he wants to discuss something else entirely, but I don’t see any reason to talk to him. Do you?”

“I don’t know.” Mary was wide-eyed now, gathering it all in. “If he saw us together and he works for Andres…”

“Nolen says he hasn’t told Andres. You know why?”

“No.”

“He doesn’t like him. I feel like we’re back in the eighth grade. Here’s a guy-” Moran stopped. “Well, that’s beside the point. What Jiggs and Nolen are up to’s none of our business. I hope. But I don’t want to see us get dragged into it. We got enough going as it is.”

“Dragged into what?”

“I don’t know, but it’s got to have something to do with your husband and they either want to use me-I’m guessing now, you understand-or they want some information from me, or they want me to get it from you.”

“Oh-”

The way she said it, like an intake of breath, surprised him. She was thoughtful now, staring. Then took several steps without purpose, moving idly, though he could see she was concentrating, looking down at the boards as she paced toward the railing, aimless, and came back. As she turned again he stopped her.

“You have an idea what it might be?”

Mary sat down now. She eased back into the chair next to him.

“Money. What else?”

“I had that in mind,” Moran said. “But what kind of money? How do you rip off a guy like your husband? I mean it’s not like going to the bank, make a withdrawal. How do you get it? Extortion? They have something on Andres? It’s a feeling I’ve got more than anything else. I think Nolen and this guy Jiggs are putting something together. But it wouldn’t be a holdup, anything as simple as that. Nolen’s not, well, he’s a little shifty, but he’s not an armed robber. I don’t think he’d have the nerve to walk in with a gun. So it would have to be something he thinks is clever or he wouldn’t be doing it. If they’ve got some kind of scheme in mind.”

“There’s money in the house,” Mary said.

Moran waited a moment. “Is that right?” He waited again and was aware of the silence. “You mean a lot of money, huh?”

“Quite a lot,” Mary said.

Moran looked out at the bay, at the dark shape of Key Biscayne lying five miles off, on the horizon.

“Is it money he has to hide? I mean, did he get it illegally?”

“I assume it’s from his business. Andres’s investments net, before taxes, three to four million a year.”

Moran waited. If she wanted to tell him more he’d let her, up to a point.

Mary said, “Remember in Santo Domingo we were talking about Andres? You’d heard he came here in Sixty-one with a fortune. Everyone thought so-he was a millionaire general with a sugar plantation and God knows what else. But he lost all that. He had to run for his life and he came here with practically nothing.”

“I remember.”

“And I think I said something about he’s never gonna let that happen again. Have to run and leave everything behind.”

“You said he’d be ready next time,” Moran said. “But I would imagine he has money in a Swiss bank or the Bahamas, one of those numbered accounts.”

“I’m sure he does,” Mary said, “but if for some reason he’s not able to leave the country or he has to hide… All I know is he’s got quite a chunk of quick-getaway money right here… in the house.”

He could see the two of them at the deep end of the hotel pool… the wives of the winter ballplayers in a group… “I asked you, where’s he keep it, under the mattress?”

Mary was looking at him. She didn’t speak right away; she didn’t have to. Finally, in the silence, she said, “You want to guess how much?”

“I’ve got a feeling I know too much already,” Moran said. “We’ve got to get you out of here. Why don’t you pack a bag and leave him a note.”

“Not yet. I’m gonna talk to him, George, if I have to hit him over the head. Last night, I had all the words ready. ‘Andres, listen to me, okay?’ Like talking to a child. ‘This isn’t a marriage. I’m not happy and I know you’re not.’ And that was as far as I got. He gave me papers to sign. ‘Here’-like he hadn’t heard a word-‘read these and sign them.’ “

“What kind of papers?”

“Business. I’m part of his corporation, one of them. He made a business transaction out of the marriage with that prenuptial agreement and that’s all it is, a deal. I’m a member of the board.”

“Resign,” Moran said.

“Now he’s trying to use the agreement to threaten me. He’ll amend it so there won’t be a settlement if I walk out. I told him fine, I don’t care. I said, ‘I just want to talk. I want you to understand how I feel.’ “

“That didn’t impress him?”

“I’ll tell you, George, I’m scared to death. You know that,” Mary said. She seemed to clench her teeth. “But I’m also getting mad, goddamn it.”

“Good,” Moran said.

“I’m gonna write it down, everything I want to say. Then I’m gonna try once more. If he still won’t listen then I’ll hand him the papers this time and that’s it, I’m through.”

“You promise?”

“You have my word,” Mary said.

“Stay mad.”

“I am. I don’t owe him a thing.”

“If anybody owes anybody,” Moran said, and let it go at that. It would be nice to sit with tall drinks and talk about nothing and enjoy the million-dollar view. But his presence was making her nervous. He said, “Write your letter.” He touched Mary’s shoulder as he got up and left his hand there until she put her hand on his. She was looking up at him through her round sunglasses. More than anything he could think of he wanted to touch her face.

He walked away.

Jiggs Scully was in the road next to his two-tone red and white Cadillac, the car standing within a few yards of the driveway. So that when Moran swung out onto Arvida he had to brake to a stop or run into the Cadillac’s rear end. Jiggs came over to him.

He said, “George, how we doing? If you don’t have a pair of the biggest ones in town, come right to the man’s house there, I don’t know who does. You getting reckless or you just had enough of this sneaking around shit, going the Holiday Inn?”

Moran didn’t say anything. He wondered if Jiggs had slept in his seersucker coat. He wondered where Jiggs lived and wondered what he thought about when he was alone.

“I’m gonna buy you a drink, George. How about the Mutiny up on Bayshore? You know where it is there? Cross from the yacht basin.”

“Okay,” Moran said.

The room was still nearly full in the early afternoon, the tables occupied by men in disco sport shirts with dark hair and mustaches, a few in business suits, some of them wearing their sunglasses, some talking on phones brought to the tables. The waitresses, moving among them in skintight leotards, were experienced and familiar with the patrons, calling them by first names or the names they were using.

“You think it looks like a jungle, all the plants and shit,” Jiggs said, “it is a jungle. This’s where all the monkeys hang out. Jack a phone in there and make a deal, talk about the product; it’s always the product now, and how many coolers it’ll cost you. Use clean new hunner-dollar bills, George, a hunner K’s maybe twelve inches high, little less. Put a million bucks in a Igloo cooler you look like you’re going the beach. These guys kill me, all the hot-shit dealers.” He was looking over the room, pushing his glasses up on his nose. “About every fifth one you see is making believe he’s in the business and about every tenth one’s a narc. The mean-looking ones are the narcs, with the hair and the bell-bottoms. Fucking bell-bottoms’re out of style, they don’t know it. Little guy there looks like he repairs shoes, he’s the biggest man in the room. Looks like the Pan-American games, doesn’t it? Spic-and-span. They’re the spics, George, and me and you, we’re the span.” Jiggs raised a stubby, freckled hand from the table, fingers spread, and looked at it. “Distance between the tip of your thumb to the tip of your little finger, that’s your span.” He looked at the back of his hand, then turned it over and looked at the palm. “But I don’t see nothing in it, do you, George? No, it’s empty. The spics, they got the product, they got all these coolers we hear about. But we’re sitting here with our fucking mitts empty. Why is that? They don’t work any harder’n we do. Is it we let ’em have it cause we’re kindhearted or what?”

A waitress with a blond ponytail brought their beer and asked Moran what his sign was. He told her Libra and she said, “I was right,” not telling him if she thought it was good or bad. She gave him a look though and he smiled.

“You got a nice way with the ladies,” Jiggs said. “I admire that. You’re quiet, you mind your own business, don’t you? Till somebody pushes you. I notice that the night I came by your place, run the piano player off. You stood right in there.”

“I’m going,” Moran said, “soon as I finish this beer.”

Jiggs grinned; his teeth were a mess. “I get talking to my own kind I run off. You talk to these monkeys they stare at you. Subtle-you try and say anything subtle to ’em you get a blank stare. You get what I’m saying but you don’t make a big deal out of it. I don’t think anything I might say to you would even shock you; I think you been around a couple times. Tell me what you think I got in mind. I’d like to know.”

“If it’s a payoff so you don’t tell de Boya,” Moran said, “you’re out of luck.”

“Come on, George, give me some credit. That’s pussy, that kind of deal; I never stooped to that in my life. Jesus, I’m surprised at you, George.”

“Forgive me,” Moran said.

“What I do when somebody’s paying me, I don’t even think about it,” Jiggs said. “But when it’s my deal I try to be a little selective, stay away from the shlock. You have to understand there’s all kinds of opportunity out there, George.”

“I’m not looking for work,” Moran said. “I’ve got all I want.”

“All right, let me tell you a quick story.” Scully hunched in, planting his arms on the table. “Not too long ago I’m out at Calder with Mr. de Boya and a gentleman by the name of Jimmy Capotorto, you may’ve heard of. He runs Dorado, very influential guy, does a little business with de Boya. Jimmy Cap’ll send some cash over there, get it cleaned and pressed in some condo deal, but nothing big. We’re at Calder. We’re watching the races up in the lounge. I’m placing bets for ’em, getting drinks when the waitress disappears. I’m the gofer, you might say, I’m not sitting there in the party too much. De Boya wins a couple grand, it’s on the table there, and Jimmy Cap asks him what he does with his winnings, his loose cash. They start talking about the trouble with money like a couple of broads discussing unruly hair’r split ends, Jimmy Cap saying in Buffalo he used to have a vault in the floor of his basement, but there aren’t any basements here. De Boya says you don’t need a vault, there a lot of places to hide money it’ll be safe. Oh, Jimmy Cap says, like where? De Boya says oh, there lot of places. Jimmy Cap asks him what he needs to stash money for, he’s a legitimate businessman, he doesn’t deal in cash, what’s he trying to do, fuck the IRS? De Boya says no, he always pays his taxes. Then he says, quote, ‘But you don’t know when you have to leave very quickly.’ Jimmy Cap says use a credit card. I miss some of the next part, I’m shagging drinks. I come back, de Boya’s saying, ‘If I tell you, then you know.’ Jimmy Cap says, ‘You have my word.’ The guinea giving the spic his word. But it’s good. That’s one thing I have to hand ’em, George. They give their word you don’t need it written out and signed. De Boya says then, ‘Put away what takes you a year to make and have it close by, so you can take it with you.’ Jimmy Cap says, ‘That the rule of thumb?’ Like getting back to our span, George.” Jiggs looked at his hand again. “How much does it hold? How much does a guy like de Boya put away in case he has to slip off in the night and show up in Mexico as Mr. Morales? You follow me?”

“I don’t know,” Moran said, “how much does he?”

“Later on I’m talking to Jimmy Cap,” Jiggs said, “I ask him out of curiosity how much does he think de Boya makes a year-all the condos, all the land deals. Jimmy Cap says, ‘Net? Couple mil, easy.’ “

Jiggs waited.

“What do you want me to say?” Moran said.

“Tell me where he keeps it.”

“How would I know?”

“You could find out. Ask his missus.”

“Why would she tell me?”

“ ‘Cause she thinks you’re cute, George. ‘Cause she thinks her husband’s a bag of shit. ‘Cause she’d like to dump him and play house with you. ‘Cause if I knew exactly where it was I could be in and out of there in two minutes and your troubles’d be over.”

“Why would they?”

“Because Andres de Boya would be dead, George, and you and the missus could sail off in the sunset.”

Moran actually saw a picture of a red sunset, sky-red night… but put it out of his mind as he said, “What about Nolen? Is he in it?”

“I tell you the deal, Nolen dresses it up, adds a little inspiration. He’s like my p.r. man, George, get you interested. It’s the only reason I talked to him.”

Moran said, “You’ve been thinking about this for some time, uh?”

“Walking around it,” Jiggs said, “scratching my head. Then you come along and I think, here’s a chance to do something for the happy couple. If they’ll do a little something for me.”

“I think you’re crazy.”

“I know you do, George, at the moment. But what you got to do is examine your conscience. You Cath’lic?”

“Sort of.”

“You remember when you go to confession you examine your conscience? Let’s see, I had five hundred impure thoughts and I entertained the idea of killing Sister Mary Cunnagunda. Examine your conscience, George. Go ahead, and tell me if you’re doing anything wrong. It’s in the intention where the guilt is. Your intention is to give me information. What happens after that is out of your conscience and into mine and I think I can handle it.”

“You might be from New York,” Moran said, “but you didn’t learn to think like that at Fordham.”

“No, I never quite made it, George. But the inference there, what you’re driving at-well, you want to get philosophical and discuss whether a blow job from a married woman is the same as committing adultery or you want to make your life easier? I can get the guys and go in with blazing six-guns and tear the place up, we’ll find it. But that’s the hard way and I can’t be responsible if an innocent bystander, if you understand what I mean, gets in the way. Or we can make arrangements, do it quietly. It’s up to you.”

“Why’re you telling me this?”

Jiggs was patient. He sat back, pushed his glasses up, then hunched over the edge of the table again. “George, correct me. Didn’t I just tell you?”

“I mean how do you know I won’t go to the cops?”

“With what, a story? Come on, George, whatever way this goes down, you think I’m gonna be a suspect? Guy like de Boya, you make it look political. Write on his wall ‘Death to Assholes’ and sign it the PLO or some spic revolutionary party, that’s the easy part.”

“He’s got armed guards,” Moran said.

“This town you better,” Jiggs said. “No, that’s something you take into consideration. But he’s only got one guy dumb enough to stand in there with him, young Corky, and I’m taking that into account.”

Moran sipped his beer, making it last. Maybe he had time for one more. Carefully then, thinking of what he was saying: “If this money de Boya’s got, it’s like an emergency fund?”

“Right, case he has to bail out in a hurry.”

“Well, if he’s ready to do it like at a moment’s notice,” Moran said, “why don’t you spook him? Turn in some kind of false alarm.”

“Yeah?” Jiggs said.

“He runs with it and you’re waiting for him. Saves tearing his house apart.”

Jiggs didn’t say anything for a moment.

“That’s not bad, George. That’s not bad at all. Sounds to me like you’re in the wrong business.”

“Or maybe I could tell fortunes,” Moran said. He picked up his beer glass and gazed at it. “I see a guy murdered in his house. I don’t see anything about him being robbed, no money in the picture. But wait a minute. I see the police have been given information about a suspect. Ah-ha, guy runs a motel and is a good friend of the victim’s wife.” He looked at Jiggs. “That how it works?”

Jiggs said, “George, I offer you the stairway to happiness and all you gimme back’re ideas. I’m telling you, you’re in the wrong business.”