Kiss

30

C ARVER STOPPED AT S ANDERSON’S Drugstore on Ocean Drive, which had old-fashioned enclosed phone booths in the back where he knew he could talk confidentially and without interruption. The rows of stationery supplies, motor oil, hardware, and everything else other than drugs were laid out neat and orderly and cool. He limped toward the back of the drugstore, past a middle-aged woman with frizzy red hair who was trying to decide what kind of home perm to buy. There was a tiny prescription counter just before you got to the phones, but there was no pharmacist in sight.

Of the four booths along the back wall, one was occupied by a young black girl grinning and chomping gum as she gabbed. She gave Carver a look as if he’d interfered with her constitutional right to privacy and yanked the booth’s accordion door shut so he couldn’t overhear. He squeezed into the booth at the other end, propped his cane in the corner, and called Desoto.

“So where we at, amigo?” Desoto asked. There was tango music in the background. In Desoto’s soul.

“We got a link.” Carver told him about finding the phone number of Melba’s Place impressed on ribbon from Raffy Ortiz’s typewriter.

“You didn’t mention how you got that ribbon,” Desoto said.

“That’s right, I didn’t. Thing is, Ortiz is mixed up with Kearny Williams’s family, mixed up with Sunhaven, and if there’s anything wrong with how Kearny died he’s mixed up with that, too.”

Desoto said, “Yeah, and mixed up with Dr. Pauly.”

Carver was puzzled. “Sure. He sees him every once in a while-supposed to be a patient.”

“I mean before that, a few years ago in Miami.” Carver caught the hard edge in Desoto’s voice and knew he had something. Desoto said, “Word I got is Pauly was the one who supplied Raffy and some of his friends with designer drugs. Didn’t have much choice, because he’s an addict himself and Raffy knew it.”

Carver said, “Lots of doctors do drugs.”

“Um-hm. Too true, amigo. But Ortiz somehow found out Pauly was hooked, or maybe he even got something else on him. He’s an industrious guy for a killing machine, that Raffy. And the people he ran with down there, ones who use drugs, they’re always on the watch for a doctor they can bend. Nobody can supply like a medical man.”

“Or medical woman,” Carver said.

“A thought. Point is, he got Pauly to supply him with drugs to sell, and once that started Pauly was on the pin forever. Understand, my friend, when the operation went bust in Miami, Pauly wasn’t brought in or even mentioned, He’s clean on the deal far as the law’s concerned.”

“How good’s your source of information?”

“Top grade. Somebody I know in Miami leaned on one of Raffy’s old running mates, a guy looking at a life stretch in Raiford. He’s informed before and it’s always turned out true, and his ass is really in the wringer this time. A murder charge that’ll stick. He knows whatever he tells the law better pan out as gold. They were striking a plea-bargain deal, so I had my friend ask hard about Raffy. The informer isn’t brave or stupid enough to give us anything solid on Raffy, but the Dr. Pauly thing came out. Curiouser and curiouser, eh?”

“Sure is,” Carver said. Faintly, he could hear the girl in the other end booth screech and giggle. He said, “You should know I got a list.”

“Now I do know,” Desoto said. “List of what?”

“The deaths out at Sunhaven the last year.”

“Hmm. At this point, McGregor could have obtained that for you. You should have asked him. Why not let the bastard earn the taxpayers’ money he pockets twice a month?”

“This way McGregor doesn’t know I have the list. Neither does Sunhaven.”

“See your point. Should I ask how you obtained such a list?”

“You could say I got an ally, leave it at that.” Desoto said, “It’s left.”

Carver told Desoto he’d keep him posted and then hung up. The girl in the other booth was screeching again, enjoying life. Enjoying youth and not knowing it.

He found an aisle where no one was browsing and stood next to a display of window shades and narrow plastic blinds and looked more closely at the list Birdie had given him.

She’d copied not only names from the files, but the cities the deceased residents were from. Four of the nine, including Sam Cusanelli, were from Florida, one of the women from right here in Del Moray. The dead men had found their way into Sunhaven from a variety of places but, except for one from Iowa, all of their hometowns were in the south: Dallas, Texas; Morristown, Tennessee; Rome, Georgia. Two of the men were from Miami, Florida. Miami again. And of course there was Kearny Williams from New Orleans.

Before leaving the drugstore, Carver bought a pack of Swisher Sweet cigars at the front counter, where a couple of teenage girls were studiously taking some kind of inventory of Kodak film. One of the girls had a phone tucked between her jaw and shoulder. She giggled. He wondered if she might be talking with the girl back in the phone booth.

He smoked a cigar on the drive out to Sunhaven.

Birdie hadn’t made it in to work yet. The attendant with the Errol Flynn mustache was behind the reception counter. There were bags under his eyes today and he looked haggard, maybe hung over; ten years older than he’d appeared last time Carver had seen him. No more leading-man roles. Carver told him he wanted to see Dr. Pauly.

“Not in today,” the attendant said. He tapped a pencil point rapidly on the desk, as if impatiently wishing he were someplace else. Carver didn’t blame him.

Across the lounge, the old checker player with the hawk nose was locked in a serious game with an obese old guy Carver hadn’t seen before. The game was down to kings and hatchet face had four black ones to his opponent’s two red. The outcome was easy to predict but the fat guy, a scrapper, kept fighting, moving toward opposite corners of the board to engage in a holding action.

“Maybe they’ll let you sit and watch the next game,” the attendant said to Carver. Might have been sarcastic, but Carver wasn’t sure.

“You expect Dr. Pauly in later today?”

The attendant said, “Expected him here by now. He was due early this morning.”

“He call in?”

“No, sir. Not while I been on the desk. Wanna leave your phone number, I can tell him you were by.”

The hatchet-faced player shouted “Gotcha!”

Carver said, “No, nevermind,” and went out.

Nurse Rule, vigilant as ever, was standing with her arms crossed and her buttocks pressed against a front fender of the Olds. The sun’s glare made her broad features appear harsh and vaguely mongoloid, but the combative glint in her eye would have been there even in shadow.

When Carver got close to her he stopped and leaned with both hands on his cane. He didn’t say anything. The drone of insects was loud from the grass beyond the lot.

She said, “May I ask your business here?”

“I suppose so; you’re in charge.”

“I’m surprised to hear you acknowledge that, Mr. Carver. Doesn’t answer my question, though, does it?”

“I came to see Dr. Pauly. He isn’t here.”

She stared at him, still with her arms crossed, her blocky body motionless as a rock and firmly rooted as an oak. “Why’d you want to see him?”

“Can’t tell you,” Carver said. “Patient-client stuff.”

“You’re sure you didn’t come here to see Amos Burrel? Or Birdie Reeves?”

“I told you-Dr. Pauly. Know where he is?”

“No. He didn’t phone.”

“Maybe he’s with Raffy Ortiz.”

She shifted away from the car. Lowered her arms to her sides. She was bulky but balanced, ready to move in any direction. “Why do you say that?”

“They know each other, that’s all. How come you object to my talking to Birdie, if there’s nothing outside the rules going on here?”

“It’s for Birdie’s sake.”

“I got a good idea why you might say that. But I don’t believe it.”

“She’s an innocent young girl.”

“One you were all over until you got warned away.”

Nurse Rule stood straighter and inhaled. Stomach in, chest out, like a soldier at attention. A speech that would have made Oliver North proud was coming, Carver could sense it. “I’m not ashamed of my sexuality, Mr. Carver. When I found out Birdie was fifteen instead of eighteen I backed off. My private life’s no business of a shit-disturber like you, but for what it’s worth, I don’t molest children. And I don’t like seeing them taken advantage of, which is why I object to you and Raffy Ortiz sniffing around Birdie.”

“Raffy Ortiz bothered Birdie?”

“He did. I had a talk with him in his car and warned him about it. Warned him sternly. Since then he’s stayed away from her when he’s come to see Dr. Pauly. You damn well better follow suit.”

Carver remembered the blond woman, Melanie Star, in the Polaroid shots. The adhesive tape over her mouth, some of it over her hair. The drugged, gloomy expression in her eyes. He didn’t want to think about what Raffy might have had in mind for Birdie.

Nurse Rule said, “I mean it. Stay clear of Birdie. Don’t see her here or anyplace else.”

“What if I told you I was trying to help her?”

“I wouldn’t believe you. I can tell the type of man you are. Like the rest of your kind, like Raffy Ortiz. You think with your crotch; it’s a male trait.”

Carver said, “Well, sometimes it works out as if I did.”

“I’ll just bet.” She shifted her weight in a way that conveyed menace. “Time to leave, Mr. Carver.”

He smiled, squinting into the bright sun, and nodded. Then he limped toward the car door. No sense arguing with Nurse Rule while she was protecting her territory. And God it was miserably hot, standing here in the parking lot! Though she didn’t seem to be in any discomfort. She wasn’t even perspiring.

As he was lowering himself in behind the steering wheel, Nurse Rule, seeming a little surprised by his sudden compliance, walked around to stand near him and said, “What do you know about Raffy Ortiz?”

“More than you wish I knew.” Carver closed the door. He twisted the key to start the engine. Tapped the accelerator so the car roared and vibrated with throaty power. Nurse Rule glared at him and didn’t move.

She watched him back the Olds out of its parking slot and drive away, the expression on her face unchanging.