Riding the Rap

eight

Sunday, Raylan phoned Joyce from the restaurant in Delray Beach.

“The waiter remembers him. He said Harry had a few drinks, paid for the first one and then ran a tab. The reason the guy remembers him, Harry left his money on the table when he went in to use the phone.”

Joyce said, “That’s when he called and left the message. Said he’d call me later, but that was the last I heard.”

“The waiter said he kept an eye on Harry’s money.”

“I’ll bet he did.”

“No, he said he told Harry, when he was leaving, he ought to be more careful with it.”

“The guy he was meeting never showed up?”

“Doesn’t look like it. No, but there’s a lady hangs around here does tarot card readings?”

Joyce said right away, “Yes, he mentioned that,” and sounded excited about it. “Is she there?”

“Not on Sunday. The waiter said she sat down with Harry and I guess they just talked. She didn’t lay out the cards or anything.”

“But she was with him.”

“I guess. I don’t know how long.”

“Can you find out?”

“Listen, Joyce? The waiter said Harry was drinking doubles, throwing them down. I checked with Delray PD and Boca Raton, see if he might’ve been picked up.”

“He would’ve called,” Joyce said, “I’m his one phone call, his bail, his ride home…”

“Unless he didn’t want you to know he’d messed up again. He could’ve called somebody else, one of the guys used to work for him.”

“It was two days ago,” Joyce said. “Where is he? Raylan, he calls me every day for something.”

Tell me about it, Raylan thought, using his day off to look for a guy he wished would disappear from his life. Joyce, at the same time, saying how much she appreciated his help, sounding so polite, saying if anyone could find Harry… He might’ve said, What if I don’t want to find him? But didn’t and there was a silence. He was getting used to silences talking to her.

Her voice came on again, Joyce saying, “What if Harry went to see the tarot card lady and she told him… I don’t know, that he was about to take a trip, go to some exotic place. That would appeal to Harry. I think he might do whatever she said.”

“You mean made plans to see her later.”

“It’s possible.”

“Like she told him to go back to Italy, where he wouldn’t be bothering anybody.”

Joyce said, “I think it’s worth following up,” sounding so serious, sounding like that all the time lately. “Can you ask around, find out where she lives? Or get her number and I’ll call her.”

“I have her card,” Raylan said. “There’s a whole stack of them by the cash register.”

Joyce said, “You’re way ahead of me, aren’t you?”

“I’ll go see her, find out if Harry had his fortune told. Maybe, as long as I’m there, have her tell mine, see what’s in my future.”

“You believe in that?”

“I don’t know-maybe some of it.”

She said, “Well, you’re psychic yourself. You know things no one else does.”

It took him a moment to realize what she meant. Still at him. He said, “You want to go around on that again? I knew Tommy Bucks had a gun. I’ve thought about it since the other night and there’s no way I see it any different. I called him out and he knew it. If he didn’t pack his suitcase and leave he’d be packing a gun. That was his choice.”

“You called him out,” Joyce said. “What did you think, you were in a movie?”

It caught him by surprise, because he did see it that way sometimes. The idea of giving the guy twenty-four hours…

Joyce said, “What if he told you, sitting at that table, he didn’t have a gun?”

She wouldn’t let it go.

“Would you have shot him?”

“I don’t know if I would’ve or not. How’s that?”

The hell with it, let her think what she wanted.

She said, “All right,” in a different tone of voice, quieter. “I won’t mention it again.”

Was he supposed to be grateful?

Raylan said, “Honey, I shot the son of a bitch and killed him and I’d do it again, the same way. If you have trouble with that, then you don’t know me and there’s nothing I can do to help you.”

She said, after a moment, “I’m sorry,” her voice even quieter than before.

Raylan waited, looking out at the Sunday brunch crowd on the terrace, not feeling he had any more to say, and there was a silence.

When her voice came on again:

She said, “Raylan?”

“What?”

“If we knew who owed Harry money, would that help?”

Like that, back to poor Harry.

“It might.”

“When I was driving him around, he had names in a ledger he’d check off, with the amounts. Then when he called me from where you are and left the message? He said the guy would have sixteen five for him. The one who didn’t show up.”

“He mention his name?”

“No, only that he’s Puerto Rican.”

“I’ll call you after I see the tarot card lady.”

“Call me at Harry’s. I’ll go right now and look for the ledger.” She said then, “Raylan, I’m sorry. I really am.”

He said, “I am, too,” without knowing exactly what either of them was sorry about. As soon as he’d hung up, though, he felt a sense of relief.