Road Dogs

TWENTY-NINE

MAYBE TELLING FOLEY HIS BUDDY WAS IN THE FREEZER WAS a mistake. He seemed to know already Cundo was dead but didn't act like he believed it, or didn't want to. He turns up in a homicide and the police look at him with hard eyes. But Foley wasn't dumb. He'd know when to talk and when not to talk. The whole thing would gradually blow over: the cloud passes and the sun comes out again to shine down on your mess, Dawn thought. Here were the problems:

She could not see giving Foley half of what she'd make from the houses. She would do whatever necessary to make him disappear instead.

But she needed him to get rid of the bodies. Both were in the freezer once she dragged Tico to the garage, had to remove bags of ice to get him to fit inside and poured loose ice over him. She could see there wasn't room for three. It was a shame the way fate was fucking with her again. But she was not going to split the take after waiting eight years to get it. He wasn't part of the job anyway, he was off playing hide the weenie with the actress. Setting her up was work. The mistake was introducing ghosts. She should've made Fo-ley some other kind of expert. One who deals with simple hexes and can work things out on the other side.

She thought, What if she let him have the two-million-dollar house and she kept the one worth four and a half?

Why? He didn't do a goddamn thing to help. She was letting Foley in bed persuade her. He was getting better. If she wanted to she could make him a star.

Or make some other guy a star. Six million was better than four. Do a blood oath thing with Little Jimmy and let him keep the building full of business. It occurred to Dawn, if she seduced Zorro she could get him to take the two bodies out to sea. No remains of the dead, no bodies, no case. No court appearances to worry about. Foley, the simplest way would be to shoot him and dump him in the canal. Not the one that ran between Cundo's houses, a different one. Drop him in from a street that crossed the canals. In fact, all three could be dumped in different canals. It would be a kick to follow the investigations. Hmmmm, are they related? Three bodies, two gunshot victims and one that fell off a building.

The Walther was in the drawer again, the silencer screwed on. But she wouldn't be playing Cuban music for him this time. If he ever decided to come over. She could place the gun in a drawer in the kitchen. Dawn was sure she could get him out there for a drink.

Or get him in bed, her nude painting on the wall. He's having his after-the-furor cigarette. Reach into the drawer… Pow, or ping, and wrap him up in the covers, Jesus, and drag him to the car.

Eight years ago she never once saw it as physical labor. Drop all three from the bridge and be in Vegas when she got the call from the police. Or Nevada deputies knocked on the door. What? You mean they drowned?

No, taking them out to sea was the only way to avoid an investigation. She'd have to come up with a way to do it. Put her three lovers in the car and take them to Marina del Rey. She had the name of the guy with the boat. Or take them out to the desert and scatter them around. All three are convicts, with enemies.

Now it was starting to rain, getting dark early.

She could sit here waiting for Foley to call. Or, she could put on Cundo's raincoat with the deep pockets and drop in on him.

Foley and Lou Adams were in the sitting room drinking beer, trying to decide on an ending for Lou's book, Foley asking him about actual cases he was on, one Foley might've read about.

"You mean how we developed evidence?"

"I was thinking more of arrests," Foley said. "Tight spots you were in. Like one time I was in a bank, somebody pushed a button, the cops are already outside not letting people in, hurrying the ones coming out."

"And you and the five grand in the umbrella are hustled out. The cops never heard of a bank robber carrying an umbrella, the dumb fucks. That wouldn't work if I was there, I recognize the famous Jack Foley-no, the infamous Jack Foley-and bust his ass as he's coming out."

"You know about that one?"

"You told me about it one time I'm trying to get you to list your bank licks. I said gimme the ones I can close and you shut up." "What page are you on?"

"I told you I got between five and six hundred, around in there."

"You came to see me at Gun Club," Foley said, "told me you're from the Big Easy. I'm suppose to tell you all the bank jobs I've pulled, since we're both from New Orleans."

"Tell me for my book and I won't bother you no more. The number of banks."

"A hundred and seventy-six."

"Jesus Christ, in twenty-five years?"

"Take off for time served, it would be close to fifteen years. That's eleven and a half a year. Take off for Christmas, the Fourth of July and holydays of obligation, it's close to one a month. Five grand a month, sometimes more, spending my time at the seashore. But I miss being married and having a family. I blew that one. Unless she's still a young girl when I marry her. I should be looking at a certain age. You think?" Foley said, "But you're not in any of my bank jobs. You need one where you step up and do the job, a tough situation, where you could get shot."

Lou said, "I was in that kind more'n once. We go in to make an arrest on a guy we know is a looney-toon believed to be armed. We confront him in the kitchen of his girlfriend's house. Her name was Louise. The guy has a drawer open and is reaching in. It looked like a knife drawer. I tell him to take his hand out of the fucking drawer. He says, 'I'm getting a Kleenex, I gotta blow my fuckin' nose.' His hand comes out of the drawer with a Kleenex." Lou paused. "Actually it was a Puff, another kind of tissue."

Foley waited for him.

"His other hand is trying to get a Smith out of his pants. He never got to blow his nose."

Foley said, "You saw the gun in time."

"Once we laid him out and went through his clothes." He looked at Foley and said, "Hey, he was going for it."

"I was thinking," Foley said, "you could put me in one of your cases, only I never carried a gun. Once or twice I might've referred to having one, to the teller, but I never packed. It would be, you know, in a humorous way. We're gonna have to keep thinking to get you an ending."

Lou Adams got up to leave. He said, "Swear you'll never rob another bank and I'm outta here."

"I can't do that," Foley said. "It could be years from now when I'm old and broke. Can you wait that long?"

"Forget it. I'll make up an ending," Lou said and left.

Foley got up from the table, the empty beer bottles, the ashtray full of butts, went to the phone on the counter and called Jimmy Rios. Zorro answered.

"I'm about to see the lovely Dawn," Foley said. "Tico's out of the picture, so Jimmy's safe, nothing can happen to him and he'll never see Dawn again. Tell him that and put him on."

He waited, looking out at the weather, almost dark now, fog setting in.

Jimmy's voice said, "Jack, tell me how you going to handle this with Dawn."

Foley wasn't sure. In fact, he had no idea.

He said, "First tell me what happened last night.

Dawn's hands were in the pockets of the raincoat, Cundo's, her right hand gripping the Walther without the silencer. It didn't fit, part of her hand would be out of the pocket. It was all right with Dawn; she wanted to hear it this time. But she'd bring it just in case, the silencer in her left hand in the pocket.

Cundo's black raincoat buttoned up came almost to her knees. Dawn stood in front of the full-length mirror in the bedroom. She looked great in black with her dark hair and Egyptian eyes, seeing herself as Hatshepsut, the queen who became a king. The Dawn in the mirror said:

"Hi, Jack, I was in the neighborhood and thought I'd drop in."

She said, "You're kidding, right? You thought you'd drop in? Just take out the fucking gun and shoot him."

She wasn't thinking of doing it right away. She thought she might have some little girl-type fun with him first. Turn him on.

The gun was ready?

She checked it. Loaded, cocked, ready to fire.

You haven't pulled it out of the coat yet.

She brought it out. The hammer caught for a couple of seconds on the hem of the pocket. She released the hammer and drew the Walther again. Good-it came right out. She'd fire without cocking it. Unless she might have a few things to say first. Then cock the gun for effect, just before she says, "So long, Jack, it's been…

"Fun?

"A ball?

"It's been nice knowing you."

She said, "It's been nice knowing you?"

She said, "It was nice taking showers with you."

She was making it hard, trying to think instead of just saying it. How about, "I love you, Jack, but you're no six-million-dollar man." That wasn't bad. He'd get it.

She said to her image, "Did you ever think you were greedy?

"Not really.

"You ever think of yourself as a cold bitch?

"When I have to be. But I'm never really cold. You think? When you've put in eight long years living by yourself-

"Poor you.

"Well, it's true. I waited eight fucking years for something to happen and had to do it myself. "Poor, poor you.

"Shut up.

"You ready?

"Let's go, girl."

She left through the front door, hands in her pockets, one gripping the Walther, the other holding the silencer. She reached the sidewalk to go to the footbridge and stopped. A figure was on the walk across the canal, moving toward the bridge. In a light, shapeless coat. Foley. It had to be…

"Jack?"

And knew it was a mistake. He hadn't seen her.

He stopped. He said after a moment, "Dawn? What've you got on? I can barely make you out."

If she had the silencer screwed on… There was still time. She said, "I'm wearing Cundo's raincoat, it just fits me," turned as if modeling the coat and screwed the silencer in place. She faced him again, the Walther at her side. What she wanted to hear was a plane coming in to LAX. They heard planes all the time, the airport just seven miles south of Venice. She said, "Where are you going?"

"I was coming to see you."

There-an airliner coming in and she raised the Walther. Dawn said, "And I was coming to see you," and fired, heard the BB sound, the pop, and saw him turn. Saw him stop then and look at the house behind him.

He said, "What was that? Like glass breaking."

No lights on in the house, no one coming out.

Dawn said, "I didn't hear anything."

It wasn't going to work, shooting at him in the dark, too foggy. No more than sixty feet away and she missed. She said, "Go home, I'm coming over."

She'd have time to unscrew the silencer and go back to the original plan. Get him in the mood looking at her navel, and shoot him.

Foley thought about the sound of the flight coming in to land, loud overhead, and the sound of glass breaking and wondered if one caused the other. He told himself to wake up, it was a gunshot. It was Dawn firing Tico's piece with a silencer, or everybody on the canal would have heard it. She missed and hit a window in the house where he was standing.

He had a gun, the Glock he took off Tiny Banger. Try to explain that: an armed convicted felon shoots a girl he said was trying to kill him.

He heard her call his name and came out from the kitchen with a fifth ofJack Daniel's and a couple of short glasses, a dish towel over his shoulder. He said to the well-mannered girl waiting in the doorway, "Black's your color, you make it work." "I look good enough to eat?"

"If you weren't here on business. Let me have your coat."

"It's all right, I won't be here long." She was unbuttoning the raincoat, both of her hands out of the pockets. Foley took the moment to pour a couple of doubles. Dawn came over, took one and drank half of it and put her glass on the table again.

Foley said, "The FBI was here."

She seemed to pause. "Really?"

"Lou Adams called off his dogs. I'm helping him think of a new ending for his book."

The coat hung open now, Dawn's hands in the pockets again holding it against her hips. Foley took a look at her slim-cut underpants and a shorty T-shirt that hung almost to her navel. He said, "Tell me what it is about a girl's navel? It catches the eye and won't let go."

"I suppose," Dawn said, "because it's right in the middle of the playground. You didn't call. I took it to mean we won't be getting back together. But if I'm on my own, Jack, I get both houses."

"How do you take over the deeds?"

"Little Jimmy loves me. He'll do what I ask."

"I'll bet he won't."

"Jack, believe me, okay?"

"Jimmy's changed," Foley said. He picked up her glass, offered it and she took it in her left hand.

"I don't see any way you'll get the properties."

"You don't know him. Little Jimmy gives me the houses and I let him keep the building."

"You know what Cundo would say about that?"

Dawn finished the drink and handed Foley the glass. She put her hands on her hips inside the raincoat, giving Foley pretty much the whole show. "I'm his heir, Jack. I put in eight years waiting for him. He comes out and beats me up."

"You have to be Jimmy's heir, he owns everything."

Foley moved closer and put his hands on the curves of her shoulders and felt her stiffen and gradually relax. "You tried to shoot me a while ago, missed and broke somebody's window."

"You think I should pay for it?"

"I think you ought to learn how to shoot, you want to kill me." He felt the barrel press against his stomach. "The thing is, you don't have any reason to shoot me. Jimmy's showing his manhood now. He said he watched you do Cundo and then you made him clear the table. He's breaking his word, but doesn't care. Zorro told him you're a witch, so he doesn't have to keep any promise he made. You can shoot me-you understand I'm only making a point-but it won't get you any closer to Jimmy. You can put his little face between your jugs and purr, Jimmy won't give up the houses. He says he'll die first. And you say, what? He may have to?"

"No, what I say, I'll swear I saw you throw Tico off the roof."

"You can't even put me there," Foley said. "I hate to say it, but it looks like you're out of business."

"Jack," her voice soft, "you don't mean that."

"I'll give you the name of a lawyer, if she can practice out here. Your problem, you've been thinking about doing Cundo for eight years. Still, I bet Megan'll see you get no more than twenty-five to life." Foley telling her in his natural way. "Jimmy said you put on a show at dinner. He had no idea what you were up to."

"Jack, don't do this to me."

She let him lift the raincoat from her shoulders to slip down her back and fall with a thud as the gun hit the floor. He brought Tiny Banger's Glock out of his back pocket, stooped to lay it on the cocktail table and picked up the pack of Slims. Dawn took one and Foley struck a match and held it for her.

"You know I could never shoot you," Dawn said. "I wanted to scare you, that's all."

"You did."

"Get you to help me. I aimed over your head."

"Help you do what, get away?"

Giving her the idea, and she picked up on it.

"Yes, vanish."

"But what did you learn?"

"I was too impatient." She looked up at him getting a plea in her eyes. "Jack, we think alike. We could disappear together, change the way we look-"

"Grow beards?"

"We're the Psychic Doctors. You'll have to make up another name, something more exotic than Foley. I've got all the lying-around money we'd need, close to a hundred thousand. We go to Costa Rica and decide what we want to do. A bank," Dawn said, smiling at the idea. "I've never robbed a bank. But we'd go for the vault, not one of the tellers. We'll go big-time for a change."

He watched her in her little white panties sink into the sofa and pour herself a drink and place Old No. 7 on the table again, close to Tiny Banger's gun.

Foley noticed, Foley telling her, "Buddy, my old partner, and I thought of going big-time, just the two of us get into the vault. Buddy said, 'You want to go in, scream at everybody to hit the floor and then wait, looking at our watches for the vault to open? That's what you want to do, with all the things can go wrong?' I told him he was right and we never went for the vault."

"Jack, that kind of a heist, you have to plan every step, know what to look for. I'll bet I could visit a bank a couple of times and know how to make it work."

Foley said, "Is it a robbery or a heist?"

"Don't make fun of me, okay?"

Foley said, "You want to go for six and a half million in houses, you give me up for a punk, a guy plays roof ball. For what? Keep the expenses down? Stick to bunko, getting it off of rich women." Foley said, "I was ready to take a chance on you. Sometimes I have weak moments. But you sneaked up on Cundo and shot him for a couple of houses. That's your style, not mine."

"Because you know him?" Dawn said. "You had nothing in common with him. I told you, think of Cundo the way you see a bank you're gonna rob. It's nothing personal."

"We jailed together almost three years," Foley said. "He thought I was still watching his back and I was playing ghost doctor."

"But he wasn't like you at all. He was vicious, he killed, he beat hell out of me."

"You had it coming," Foley said. "I did too. He could've shot us and felt okay about it, but he didn't. In his macho way he laid it on you."

"The guy-thing," Dawn said. "I can't believe you two were friends. It's beyond me."

"I didn't judge him," Foley said. "We walked the yard and kept our eyes open."

She didn't understand that or ever would.

So he brought it back to what was important.

"You think you can vamp Jimmy out of the house? You won't even get close to him."

"What does that mean," Dawn said, "you're blowing the whistle on me?" She placed her glass on the table, picked up the Glock and put it on Foley.

He said, "You don't hear 'blow the whistle' so much anymore. One I like, you ask if I'm gonna put the stuff on you. I say no, I've never ratted out anybody in my life. It's how the law gets you in their sights."

Dawn held the Glock in both hands aimed at his chest. "You want to shoot me?"

"I don't want to, but you're standing between me and my retirement. I've got enough trouble, Jack, without worrying about you."

He said, "You think the gun's loaded?"

She raised it to his face and stared at his eyes to read him.

"If it was," Foley said, "you think I'd leave it on the table?"

Now she wasn't sure. He was so fucking hard to read.

"What am I suppose to do now," Dawn said, "lay it down? You were ready to pull it out of your pocket, shoot me if you had to. It's why you acted so cool." She brought the pistol down to his T-shirt again at arm's length and delivered her line:

"So long, Jack."

He didn't move, didn't hunch or turn away as she squeezed the trigger and heard the empty sound, a click, and yanked back the slide and let it snap closed, squeezed again and got another click, but no sounds after that when she squeezed and squeezed a few more times. Dawn said, "Shit," and eased back in the cushions.

"I didn't think you'd believe me," Foley said. "Now where are you? Gonna dye your hair red and wear dark glasses? Go ahead, I won't tell the cops. You're none of my business."

She said, "Jack…?"

He said, "You have anybody in your world can hide you? Or they all dead? That's what you should do, look at the spirit world, talk to some women died in prison, get an idea what it's like."

She said, "Jack, couldn't you help me? Get me out of town? I'll pay you."

"How much?"

"Ten thousand."

"I make that stirring up ghosts."

"Jack, come on, help me out."

"A minute ago you said, 'So long, Jack,' expecting to kill me. Where'd you get that, the movies? I told you there weren't any bullets in the gun. All you had to do was believe me. Dawn, you're psychic, you're suppose to know the gun was empty."

"I did, but it didn't make sense. Why would you carry a gun with no bullets in it?"

"You have a gun, I know I can take it away from you. I don't need one. Two weeks ago I was a convict. I don't want a gun. You understand? Now you're trying to bribe your way out of doing time."

"What's wrong with that?"

"I can't say I blame you. You'll go nuts inside."

"So help me out," Dawn said. "You know what I see in your future? In ours, the best time of our lives coming up, on a beach in Costa Rica."

"And one night you shoot me in the head while I'm asleep. You know what I see in your future?" Foley said. "Fences topped with razor wire. Bunch of hefty broads standing around looking at the new girl."

"You're no fun," Dawn said, and took a few moments before pushing up from the sofa. "That's it, huh?"

"It's what happens," Foley said, "in the life. You go down."