Bandits (1987) (9 page)

She said, What would you like to know?

This guy tries to kill Amelita and she says, well, he was angry, but he really wants her to be with him. She even calls him Bertie.

Lucy
'
s head remained against the cushion. She said, I know. Amelita
'
s a little screwed up. Bertie, I love it. He changed her life and she doesn '
t want to believe he murders people. But she wasn '
t at the hospital when he came. She was with her parents. That '
s why I was able to get her out of there.

It doesn
'
t make sense.

Of course not.

He killed them because they were lepers?

With machetes
he doesn
'
t need a reason. He shot Dr. Meza to death. He assassinated a priest while he was saying mass and formally executed six catechists in Estel+. They killed an agrarian reform worker with bayonets, shot his wife in the spine and left her for dead. . . . She watched them strangle their year-old baby. Ask Bertie why he let his men do that. They slashed the throats of nine farmers near Paiwas, raped several of their daughters, raped and decapitated a fourteen-year-old girl in El Guayaba. Murdered five women, six men, and nine children in El Jorgito. . . . Do you want a complete list? I '
ll give you one. Do you want to see photos? I '
ll show you those, too. Have you ever seen a little girl '
s head on a stake?

There was a silence in the room that seemed to Jack, for a moment, like a stage set: the backdrop of wallpapered banana trees as she told him about death in a tropical place.

He did all that?

I haven
'
t counted the disappeared,
Lucy said, or the ones who were only tortured. Or the ones who were killed with more sophisticated means. A priest in Jinotega opened the trunk of his car and was blown to bits. Bertie killed him. He found out it was the priest who drove us to Le+|n to buy the car, when we escaped. I have a letter from one of the sisters; I '
d like to read it to you sometime.

Jack felt awkward, not sure what to say.

But what can you do? It
'
s a war.

Is that what you call it? Killing children, innocent people?

I mean you can
'
t have him arrested.

No, not even if he were still in Nicaragua. But now he
'
s here, raising money to buy more guns and pay his men. Three days ago in Lafayette my dad had Bertie to lunch, listened to the guy '
s pitch, and gave him a check for sixty-five thousand dollars.

Your dad
'
s helping him? Why?

There are people, Jack, who believe that if you aren
'
t for Bertie you
'
re for communism. It '
s much the same as saying, if you don '
t like Dixie beer then you must like vodka.
She said it with that dry tone, the quiet look, her head resting against the cushion. My dad and his friends are passing Bertie around, inviting him to their homes he '
s a celebrity. He has a letter from the President and that '
s good for a check every time he shows it.

The president of what? You mean the president?

Of the United States of America. He calls the contras our brothers.
'
yFreedom fighters.
'
Quote.
'
yThe moral equivalent of our Founding Fathers.
'
And if you believe that you can join my dad '
s club. But here '
s the part you '
re not going to believe.

He watched Lucy lean out of the chair to stub her cigarette in the ashtray, the light touching her dark hair. He was glad she didn
'
t get the perm.

At dinner my dad began telling me about the Nicaraguan former embassy attach+! war hero he invited to lunch, a personal friend of several important people in the White House.
As she sat back, Lucy said, And anyone affiliated with that club is more than welcome at my dad '
s, no questions asked. My dad hadn '
t told me the hero '
s name, but I knew it was Bertie. First, my dad tells me how this guy is a guerrilla commander, leading a dedicated fight against the Communists. And then he puts on his nonchalant act and says, '
yOh, by the way. The colonel mentioned that you two have met, or you know each other from somewhere.
'
I haven '
t said a word yet. But now I '
m pretty sure that when I do I '
m going to let him have it. I could feel it tightening up in me. My dad says, '
yYeah, he '
s looking for some girl up here, a friend of his or used to be his sweetheart, and wonders if you might be able to help him find her.
'
Lucy paused. You like it so far?

Jack didn
'
t say a word, waiting.

I said,
'
yDid the colonel tell you where we met?
'
My dad shook his head.
'
yNo, he didn '
t.
'
I asked if the colonel had told him why he wants to find the girl. My dad said, '
yNo, I don '
t believe he did.
'
I said, '
yDo you want me to tell you why?
'
He said sure. I said, '
yBecause he wants to fucking kill her, that '
s why.
'

There was a silence. Jack didn
'
t move. She kept looking at him and he said to her, So you let him have it.

I gave him every murder and atrocity I could remember. My dad said,
'
yYou don
'
t believe that stuff, do you?
'
I said, '
yDad, I was there. I saw it happen.
'
He didn '
t like that. He said, '
yYeah, but it '
s a war, Sis. Awful things happen in a war.
'
I said, '
yHow would you know? You don '
t fight wars, you finance them.
'
She raised her sherry and took a sip. So much for dinner with dad. . . . I had softshell crabs.

Jack said, Lucy Nichols, you
'
ve come a long way from the nunnery.

She said, But not from Nicaragua. He
'
s brought it here.

Jack said, Bertie knew it was your dad, huh?

He
'
s given a list, rich guys in the oil business. He looks at the names, he knows Amelita and I flew to New Orleans, he finds out I live here. I don '
t think it '
s a coincidence, I think the idea of using my dad has enormous appeal. He could be in Houston raising funds, but he '
s not, he '
s here. New Orleans is a contra shipping point; they have arms and supplies stored here waiting to go out.

Jack felt an urge to get up, move. He reached for a cigarette instead. One more. If he ever started smoking again it wouldn
'
t be Kools. He sat back looking at her legs stretched out on the coffee table now, ankles crossed. One sandal was loose and he could see the curve of her instep. He wondered what she was like, when she was a girl, before she became a nun.

She said, Sometime, within the next few days, I have to get Amelita on a flight to Los Angeles.

That doesn
'
t sound too hard.

He wondered if she
'
d ever suddenly with somebody gone swimming in her underwear at night, in the Gulf of Mexico off Pass Christian.

She said, I suppose not. If I
'
m careful.

He watched her draw on her cigarette, turn her head slightly to exhale a slow stream.

And somehow, before Bertie gets ready to leave with his funds, I have to think of a way to stop him.

Jack waited a moment. He said, And
feeling himself alive but not wanting to move now, not wanting to ruin the mood you '
re wondering if a person with my experience, not to mention the kind of people I know, might not be able to help you.

Lucy
'
s eyes moved, her quiet gaze coming back to him. She said, It crossed my mind.

He wondered if she had ever made love on a beach. Or in bed. Or anywhere.

What you
'
re saying,
Jack said, you don
'
t care if Bertie leaves . . .

As long as the money stays here.

Jack drew on his cigarette, taking his time. Shit, he could play this. This was his game.

What does he do with the checks?

They
'
re made payable to, I think it
'
s the Committee to Free Nicaragua. Something like that.

He puts them in the bank?

I guess so.

Then what? Where would he buy the guns?

I suppose either here or in Honduras
that
'
s where their arms depots and training centers are. But I '
m sure he '
d take American dollars and exchange them for cordobas to pay his men.

How? By private plane?

Or in a boat.

From where?

I have no idea.

Ask your dad.

We
'
re not speaking.

Both of you aren
'
t, or just you?

I
'
ll see what I can find out.

Ask him where Bertie
'
s staying.

He
'
s at a hotel in New Orleans.

You
'
re kidding.

But I don
'
t know which one.

You
'
re gonna have to kiss and make up with your dad before we can start to move.

Now Lucy was hesitant. You
'
re saying you
'
re going to help me?

I
'
ll tell you the truth, I
'
ve never heard of one like this before. You '
re breaking the law, a big one. But you can also look at it another way, that you '
d be doing something for mankind.
Jack paused, realizing he had never used the word mankind before in his life. I mean if you want to rationalize. You know, tell yourself it '
s okay.

I don
'
t think we need to look for moral permission,
Lucy said. I can justify this in my mind without giving it a second thought. But if the idea of saving lives doesn '
t move you enough, think of what you might do with your share. I '
d like to use half the money to rebuild the hospital. To me, that would seem all the justification we need. But the other half would be yours, if that '
s agreeable.

Jack took his time, wanting to be sure of this. You
'
re telling me we
'
re gonna keep it?

We can
'
t very well give it back.

How much are we talking about?

He told my dad he
'
d like to raise five million.

Jesus Christ,
Jack said.

Lucy
'
s eyes smiled. Our savior.

Chapter
7

JACK PULLED UP to the front entrance of the Carrollton Health Care Center. He was out of the hearse when the young light-skinned black guy dressed in white came running through the automatic doors waving his arms, telling him, Get that thing out of there. Man, those old people look out the window, they have a fit and die if they don '
t fall down and break their hip.

Jack looked at the name tag on the guy
'
s white shirt. Cedric, I
'
m picking up . . .
He had to get the note out of his suit coat pocket then and look at it. I '
m picking up a Mr. Louis Morrisseau.

He
'
s ready, but you have to do it
'
round back.

How about the death certificate?

Yeah, Miz Hollenbeck has it.

Where
'
s Miz Hollenbeck?

She in the front office there.

Why don
'
t I go in and get the death certificate and then drive around back? How would that be?

But was Miz Hollenbeck say for me to tell you,
Cedric said, holding his shoulders hunched, the building behind him, then moving his head, giving it a slight nod to the side. You see anybody in the window look like an alligator? That '
s Miz Hollenbeck.

Jack looked over at a row of front windows.

You want people to die?
Cedric said. You want that woman to climb on my ass?

Jack said, Hey, Cedric, turn around.

She watching?

Look, will you
the second window, there
'
s a guy in a maroon bathrobe. You know his name?

Where?
Cedric said, coming around casually. In the bathrobe, yeah, that
'
s Mr. Cullen.

Jack said, I knew it,
grinning, and yelled out, Hey, Cully, you old son of a bitch!

Oh, man,
Cedric said to him, would you leave. Please?

Jack took care of Mr. Louis Morrisseau, got him on a mortuary cot tucked away inside the hearse, now parked at the service entrance. He locked the door, hurried back inside, and there was Cullen waiting for him.

The bank robber. Angola celebrity.

You
'
re out,
Jack said. I don
'
t believe it.

They hugged each other.

My boy wanted me to stay with them, I mean live there,
Cullen said. It was Mary Jo was the problem. She
'
d been thinking about having a nervous breakdown ever since Joellen run off to Muscle Shoals to become a recording artist. . . . See, Mary Jo, all she knows how to do is keep house. She don '
t watch TV, she either waxes furniture or makes cookies or sews on buttons. I never saw a woman spend so much time sewing on buttons. I said to Tommy Junior, '
yWhat '
s she do, tear '
em off so she can sew '
em back on?
'
I got a picture in my mind of that woman biting thread. First day I '
m there, I look around, I don '
t see any ashtrays. There '
s one, but it '
s got buttons in it. I go to use it, Mary Jo says, '
yThat is not an ashtray. We don '
t have ashtrays in this house.
'
I ask her, well, how about a coffee can lid I could use? She says if I '
m gonna smoke I have to do it in the backyard. Not in the front. She was afraid the neighbors might see me and then she '
d have to introduce me.
'
yOh, this is Tommy '
s dad. He '
s been in the can the last twenty-seven years.
'
See, it '
s bad enough Joellen takes off with this guy says he '
s gonna make her a record star. Mary Jo sees me sleeping in her little girl '
s bedroom with the stuffed animals and Barbie and Ken and she can '
t handle it, even sewing on buttons all day. She keeps sticking her finger with the fucking needle and it '
s my fault. So I have to leave. Tommy Junior says, '
yDad, Mary Jo loves you, but.
'
Everything he says ends in '
ybut.
'
'
yYou know we want you to be happy, but Mary Jo feels you '
d be much better off in a place of your own, with people your own age.
'
How do you like it? This '
s the place of my own.

Cullen and Jack Delaney were walking along a wide hallway, past open doors and the sound of television voices, that would take them to the nursing home '
s lounge: Cullen wearing a velour bathrobe over his shirt and pants, running his hand along the rail fixed to the wall; Jack feeling awkward, holding back to stay with Cullen '
s slow pace. The hall smelled to Jack like a Men '
s room.

They came to an old woman tied in a wheelchair. Jack saw her reach for him, her hand a claw with veins and liver spots. He slipped past her with a hip move and saw another old woman in a wheelchair, waiting.

What do you mean, people your age?

I
'
m sixty-five. Mary Jo thinks that
'
s old enough.

Jack touched the sleeve of Cullen
'
s burgundy velour robe. What
'
re you wearing this for?

I can
'
t take a chance. I wear the robe and move slow, so I
'
ll look sick. You were paroled. I got a medical release. They call it decarceration prior to sentence termination, make it sound official. But I don '
t know if I look okay they can put me back in or not.

Cully, if they gave you a signed release, you
'
re out. Christ, you had a heart attack. . . .

Yeah, and they took me to Charity in leg irons and handcuffs, with a lock box over the cuffs in case I tried to pick
'
em lying there with a oxygen mask on my face trying to fucking breathe. All the time I was in the hospital they had me shackled and chained to the bed, up until I had the bypass. That '
s the way they do it. Doesn '
t matter how sick you are.

They came to the lounge that was like a church social hall with its tile floor, an array of worn furniture, hand-drawn announcement posters on the cement-block walls; a bunch of gray heads, some of them dozing, some watching television.
'
yGeneral Hospital.
'
Cullen said. That '
s the favorite. Me, I like '
yThe Young and the Restless, '
they get into some deals.
Jack steered Cullen to a sofa. A bare maple coffee table stood close, a small glass ashtray on it filled with butts. When Jack brought out his cigarettes Cullen said, Lemme have one.
He said, Kools, uh? I '
m not particular; shit. I '
m suppose to quit, but we all have to die of something. When I got sick up there I wrote to Tommy, I said, '
yPromise me if I die in this place you '
ll bring me home to New Orleans, I won '
t have to be buried at Point Lookout, Jesus, and never have any visitors.
'
Next thing I know I '
m in Charity.

Tommy come to see you?

Yeah, he comes. I
'
ve only been here, be a month tomorrow. Mary Jo never comes. I think she '
s saying a rosary novena I don '
t fuck up here and they have to take me back. With my cigarettes.

Can
'
t you leave if you want?

Cullen thought about it, looking off. I
'
m not sure. I guess I could. But where would I go?

Jack hesitated before he said, Maybe I
'
ve got something might interest you . . . the old pro, huh? You don '
t look sick to me.

No, I
'
m feeling pretty good.
Cullen leaned toward Jack, lowering his voice as he said, I '
ll tell you something. Place like this, you wouldn '
t believe it. There '
s more pussy around here '
n you can shake a stick at.

Jack looked over the lounge, saw nothing but little bent-over ladies with gray hair, some of them tied into their wheelchairs.

I think I
'
m about to get me some,
Cullen said. See the one right across from us? The one reading the magazine? That '
s Anna Marie; she '
s in a private room. See how she sits with her legs apart and you can see London? That '
s body language, Jack. I read a book on it. You can look at people and tell what '
s on their mind. Like the body is speaking to you.

Jack looked at little Anna Marie, who had to be at least seventy-five years old. What
'
s her body telling you, Cully?

You kidding? Look. It
'
s saying,
'
yPut it to me, kid, it '
s been a long time.
'
You know how long it '
s been for me, since I got laid? . . . The last time was December the twenty-second, 1958. I went in my last bank January the third, 1959. Art Dolan, the fuck, breaks his leg going over the teller '
s counter I should '
ve known he was too old and I spend the next five months in Central Lockup, no bond. They knew I '
d have left facing fifty to life, no chance of parole, and they were right. Oh, well, that '
s what I get helping out a pal.
Cullen exhaled, sounding tired, his stomach filling his shirt in the robe hanging open.

Jack said, I might have something to talk to you about. Depending if you
'
re up to it.

Cullen, still watching Anna Marie, began to smile and leaned toward Jack again. There was a woman, a new one that came in the other day. The story gets around how a young guy broke in her house, stole seventeen bucks she had in her purse, and raped her three times in three different places. I mean different rooms, on the floor, on the bed and somewhere else. The woman '
s seventy-nine years old. I '
m listening to these ladies talking about it. Anna Marie says, '
yWell, for seventeen bucks she sure got her money '
s worth.
'
You see what I mean? She '
s got it on her mind.

Jack said, That
'
s interesting, Cully. I don
'
t doubt for a minute you '
re gonna get Anna Marie to ring your bell. You have a nice way about you.

Well, I try not to give anybody any shit. You know. What
'
s the percentage?
Cullen '
s gaze moved off and stopped. You know who that is? Jack, look. The guy in the wool shirt hanging out? That '
s Maurice Dumas. You '
ve heard of him, Mo Dumas, one of the great trombonists of all time. He played with Papa Celestin, he played with Alphonse Picou, with Armand Hug. . . . You '
d see all those guys at the Caledonia Bar on Saint Philip. Go in there after a funeral you '
d see every one of '
em there. You know what he does now? He goes in people '
s rooms and steals clothes, puts '
em on. Go on over and look at him, he '
ll have about three shirts on and a couple pairs of pants. He doesn '
t think anybody notices.

Jack said, I
'
m looking for a guy that
'
s a little more professional, Cully. How many banks was it you '
ve done in your life, about fifty? You know, it '
s amazing, if I hadn '
t stopped there in front and saw you in the window . . .

I think it
'
s sixty something. You get around these people you start to forget things. Old guy '
s son comes in to see him, the old man looks at him, says, '
yWho the fuck are you?
'
This simp says, '
yIt '
s me, dad, Roger. Don '
t you know me?
'
I think this particular old man is faking. That '
s one way. Or you make excuses for your kids. Tommy Junior '
s sold out, he '
s scared to death of Mary Jo, a broad that goes through life sewing on buttons for something to do. But I don '
t say nothing. What '
s the percentage? She thinks I '
m dying to live there, blow smoke all over her fucking house.

You know how to read people, Cully.

I knew when to get my ass out of a bank if it didn
'
t feel right. And I always looked like a customer, too. None of this going in with a shotgun and a ski mask. That '
s the wild-ass amateurs. They go in and start screaming and everybody in the place turns around, they take a good look at the guys and then make '
em in a show-up.