We drove to the West Bank. I sat in the passenger seat of Sonny’s car, flour sacks, paper bags, and envelopes full of small bills and coins at my feet. Five thousand dollars. Sonny rode with a shotgun between his legs. He said nothing, just smoked and listened intently to the radio soap opera Young Widder Brown crackling through his custom tube radio. His huge frame humped over the wheel, engrossed in the latest episode of widow Ellen Brown and her romance with Anthony Loring.
I wanted Sonny to hand over the money while I waited in the car, but Willie said that wasn’t the way it was done. I thought back to the black handprint on the door on Esplanade and how I had criticized people who were foolish enough to get caught up with the mob.
Sonny rolled down a deserted stretch of road and stopped in front of a white clapboard building. He put his hand up to silence me, listening to the end of the program and the love saga in Simpsonville. He then turned off the radio and reached for the shotgun.
“Make sure they count it,” he said.
I piled the bags and envelopes into my arms and shut the car door with my hip. I walked through the entrance and was instantly blinded by thick blackness, my eyes unable to adjust from the outdoors. I squinted like a watchmaker and made out a bar and a few tables. The room was nearly empty. The restaurant didn’t open until five thirty. Vic Damone sang from the jukebox, and a lone skinny bartender prepped the bar.
“Can I help you?” asked the bartender.
“I’m looking for Tangle Eye.”
“Against the wall in the back.”
I walked past the row of tables in the dark, clutching the money. My eyes began to focus, and the room came into view. In the very back of the restaurant, three men sat at a table. As I approached, two got up and disappeared into the kitchen. I walked up and stood at the table. He stared at me with his right eye while his left floated from side to side.
“What the hell is that?” He pointed to my arms.
“It’s the money.” I set the load on the table and dropped an envelope. Nickels and dimes spilled out onto the table. Willie would be proud.
The effect was noted. “What do you think I am, a vending machine?” said Tangle Eye.
“It’s all here. You can count it.”
“I’m not touching that filthy stuff. Who knows what hole you pulled it out of. You count it out.”
I sat and counted the money. He made marks on a napkin for each hundred, but quickly became impatient. He called the other two men from the kitchen to finish counting.
“You should have brought large bills,” he said when the counting was finished. I was two dollars over, Willie’s idea.
“I couldn’t get big bills. I was busy begging to get here on time.”
“Who said you were on time?” he countered.
“I am on time. And we’re square.”
He leaned over the table, his left eye bobbing furiously. “We’re not square until the little man says we’re square, understand? You better hope we don’t find your mother in California. No one jumps a debt like that, see.”
I stood up. “You’ll have to take that up with my mother and Cincinnati. It’s all here. You’ve noted five thousand dollars.”
A man appeared and placed a plate in front of Tangle Eye. Chicken, pan-fried in garlic, white wine, and oil. It smelled delicious.
“Is she eating?” asked the man.
Tangle Eye stuffed his napkin in his collar and looked at me. “Are you eating?”
FIFTY-FOUR
My cousin Betty sent me a note with the most ludicrous tales about you.
That’s what the letter from Charlotte said.
Having a swell time. Any news from Smith? Missing Charlie. Missing you.
That’s what the postcard from Patrick said.
I am hopeful for a favorable reply within the month.
That’s what the letter from Ms. Mona Wright had said. I still had no idea what “Ms.” meant. I’d have to look it up in the practical business-writing handbook. It was obviously a title of some sort.
Sadie helped me prepare Willie’s morning tray. Before going to sleep, I had resolved to tell her about Forrest Hearne’s watch and also that Mother had stolen the watch she gave me from Adler’s. I knew she’d be livid and call me all sorts of stupid, but I had to do it. And then I had to tell Cokie about his money being stolen. It was going to be a challenging day, to say the least.
Willie was awake, wrapped in a red satin kimono, peering out her shuttered window.
“Red, that’s different. Is it new?” I asked.
“Unbelievable. It’s barely breakfast, and they’ve already got a cop out there, sitting in his car. I’m tempted to have you take him coffee. Those cops are about as sharp as marbles, I tell ya.”
“Was the chief of police by again last night?” I asked.
“No, but he sent three men around midnight. Sadie threw the buzzer, and I stalled them at the side door while everyone got out. An old attorney from Georgia didn’t make it. I found the poor guy buck naked, shivering behind a banana palm in the courtyard. Had to give him all his money back. This is killing my business.” She turned toward me. “What are the papers saying this morning?”
I didn’t want to give them to her. The articles said the pressure on the Quarter was increasing and that more incidents of holdups and robberies were being reported. Holdups. I thought of myself, cornering Lockwell with my pistol. “Don’t bother with the news, Willie.”
She snapped the papers off the tray herself. I saw the heat rising in her face.
“Willie, I want to thank you again for helping me with the debt yesterday. I can’t tell you what a relief it is. Last night was the first time I really slept.”
“You’ll work it off. Every dime of it. Thankfully, you’re not an ingrate like your mother, even if you don’t wear the watch I gave you.”
I started to lie about the watch. That’s how easy the lies had become. But I stopped myself. I had to tell Willie about her watch and also Forrest Hearne’s watch. She stood next to the bed, still reading the headlines.
“I don’t wear the watch, Willie, because Mother and Cincinnati stole it.”
Willie slowly looked at me over the paper.
I nodded. “They broke into my room and stole the watch and my pistol. And . . . I hadn’t told you about this, but Cokie gave me two thousand dollars out of his gambling winnings so I could go to college. They took that too.”
I wished I hadn’t told her, that I could take it all back. Livid was an understatement. The look on her face defied description. Expressions of fury and pain blazed across her face simultaneously. Her eyes blinked rapidly.
“Willie?”
She reached out for the bed to steady herself and slid down, knocking a vase off the bedside table on the way. Her knees hit the floor.
“Willie!” I ran to grab her. Her eyes were round and protruding, and a stuttering sound came from her windpipe. She reached up and grabbed my shoulder. I screamed for Sadie.
“I’m going to call Dr. Sully. Okay, Willie?”
She motioned to the shuttered window. I understood.
“I won’t let the cop in here, Willie. I promise.” I screamed again for Sadie, this time louder. She came running and threw her hands to her face when she saw Willie.
“I don’t know what happened. She just fell over. Let’s lift her up onto the bed. Hurry, Sadie, I have to call Dr. Sully.”
Willie’s body was too heavy. We couldn’t lift her by ourselves. Evangeline peered around the bedroom door.
“Evangeline, help us!” I shrieked. She shook her head and backed away in fear.
I wanted to beat her. “You selfish witch. Get over here and help us, or I swear I will shoot you myself. Now!”
Evangeline obeyed. She took Willie’s feet, and together the three of us were able to lift her onto the bed.
“Prop her head up,” I told Sadie. “She’s barely breathing.” I ran to the hall phone. Sweety was on the landing. Evangeline pushed by her, ran up the stairs, and slammed her door.
“Jo, what is it?” asked Sweety.
“It’s Willie. I’m calling Dr. Sully. Lock all the doors. There’s a cop outside in a black car.”
I sat with Willie, propped up between the pillows. She was sweating and got sick over the side of the bed.
“The vultures will come. Don’t let them in,” she wheezed.
“Stop it, Willie. You’re going to be okay. Do you hear me?”
“Don’t let them in. Never let them in,” she breathed.