House of Blues (38 page)

"Dumped you. You already told me that."

"Jesus, shit, what a slut."

"
Ah. I'm getting interested."

"I got this job with Larry, see. You know who I
mean—Larry Carlini; the guy whose house I met you at."

"Actually, Manny, we met over that little matter
of Pam Kansco. I wouldn't forget that if I were you."

"Okay, okay, what's the difference?"

But she noticed with pleasure that she'd made him
uncomfortable.

"
Anyway, I got this job with Larry—kind of,
you know, taking care of things, you know what I mean?"

"
Taking care of things."

"Like, you know—doin' stuff that needs to be
done."

"Like what stuff?"

"
Well, like deliverin' stuff. You know."

"Picking stuff up."

"Yeah."

"Sure. Running errands."

He turned his
Genghis-Khan-Nazi-Blood-and-Crip-hate-look on her. "A lot you
know about it."

"Listen, Manny, I'm glad you like your work.
Congratulations on getting such a good job—that you didn't report
to your probation officer."

"I was gonna tell him."

"
Oh, sure. You're not supposed to consort with
felons, right? Carlini's got at least one conviction I know of."

"Are we gettin' off the point here, or what?"

"
So you got this good job."

"Yeah. I'd been goin' with Evie about three
months at the time. Head over heels, I swear it. Swear to God; she
really had me goin'. You know I'm really a sentimental guy?"

"So you'd known Evie about three months and then
you got this great job."

"Well, I was supposed to take something to this
house, see, and Larry said, "Wait'll you see the joint. You
think this one's something—you're going to a mansion, baby.' Well,
I had a date with Evie and I thought she might like to see it, you
know what I mean? So I took her over there."

"On the bike."

He looked at her as if she was crazy. "Yeah, on
the bike."

"
The package must have been kind of small."

"What package? You lost me."

"
The thing you were delivering."

"Oh. Well. It was more of an envelope. A letter,
maybe."

"Business size? Manila envelope? Eleven by
fourteen? What kind of letter?"

"
What do you care?"

"Okay, let's leave that for now. So you had Evie
and the envelope on the bike. And you went to this mansion. Where?"

"
Out near Bayou St. John. You ever been out
there? Man, they got some places."

"Uh-huh."

"It was addressed to some woman, but this guy
answered the door. See, I left Evie outside—I thought it looked
more professional—and I just went to the door to take the thing,
and this guy said come in. I said, I can't, I got my girlfriend with
me, and he said fine, no problem, bring her on in and have a drink.
So I looked around, kind of automatically, you know how you do, and
Evie was standing by the bike holding her helmet. She always hated
the damn helmet—took it off every chance she got. She had on these
pants I got her—I got her black leather pants for the bike, can you
believe that? Turkey! Major turkey.

"She had on these pants, see, and they kind of
fit like the skin of a tomato or something, and her blond hair was
hangin' down, all shiny in the sun, and she had on shades. She looked
like a movie star, I swear to God. Well, naturally, I wanted to
impress her by askin' her to have a drink in this amazing Hollywood
mansion. This guy was really slick, you know, with some
hundred-dollar tie and all that shit—"

"What was his name?"

"Well, now that is a question."

"Why?"

"I didn't pay attention to it." He slammed
his fist on his bed-side table. "Do you believe that shit? I
just didn't goddamn listen."

He rubbed his lip. "Or maybe he never said. I
mean he said 'Maurice,' that much I know, but what else did he
fuckin' say? You know how many times I've asked myself that?"

"Couldn't you just ask Larry?"

He shook his head. "Not cool. Definitely not
cool."

"Why does it matter so much anyway?"

" 'Cause he took Evie, that's why. I never even
fuckin' saw her again."

"What do you mean he took her?"

"He fuckin' swept her off her feet, right there
in front of me. He talked to her and not me, you know how a person
can do that? Like make you feel like you don't exist? And she acted
like I didn't exist. She just fuckin' forgot about me. I'd try to say
somethin', like join in the conversation, you know, and they wouldn't
even answer. It was just the two of them alone in the world. After a
while he asked her if she'd like to look around the house, and she
said sure and they both just left me sittin' there. Can you imagine
what that felt like? just me, sitting all alone in that big ol'
house."

"You're right, Manny. You're a real sensitive
guy."

"
So I left."

"That was it? You cut her out of your life, just
like that, because she flirted with another guy?"

"Flirted! She was fuckin' all over him."

"
That was really the last time you saw her?"
Skip was sorely disappointed. She couldn't find one useful fact in
this story.

"
Hey. I was in love with her. Did I mention
that? You think a guy like me can't fall in love? You think love
doesn't happen for people you don't like? I walked out 'cause I was
mad, but I tried to get her back. I wasn't gonna leave it like that,
I just wanted her to see how bad she acted. I wanted her to really
unnerstand it, can you get to the bottom of that, or is that too much
for you?"

"Go on."

"So when I called her, she wouldn't talk to me."

"No! After you acted like such a gentleman and
all?"

His tiny eyes turned into dangerous slits. "You
enjoy bein' a bitch or what?"

"
She wouldn't talk to you ever again, have I got
it right? Hung up when you called?"

"
No, she didn't hang up. She told me she was
only gone for five minutes, and said why couldn't I act like a
gentleman, and I said—oh, never mind what I said, but then she did
hang up. So I let about a week go by—lettin' her stew, see? I mean,
that's what I thought. But when I called, she said she was involved
with someone else and wouldn't be seein' me again."

"Did she say who?"

"Well, it was him. Who else would it be?"

"I don't know. Aaron Neville, maybe."

He sighed. "God, I wish I had a cigarette."

"Did you ask her?"

"Yeah, I asked her. You could say that, I guess.
I said, it's that slick asshole, right? Maurice. And she said, 'It's
a pleasure to be around a gentleman for a change.'

"Well, I thought she should give me the damn
pants back, so one day I went over there, and there he was. Answered
the door at her house just like he did at Anna's."

"Anna? Who's Anna?"

"What does it matter, dammit? You're ruinin' my
timin'."

"Sorry. Then what happened?"

"He pulled a gun on me."

"
And threatened you?"

"Yeah. If I ever bothered his precious Evie
again."

"Was that the last time you saw her?"

"
I didn't even see her that time. But trust me,
it was the last time I even thought about tryin'. I know you don't
think Larry's all that savory a character, but I never seen him point
a gun at nobody. That Maurice—now there's a piece of work."

"
Back to this Anna for a minute. I get the
feeling that's the woman the letter was addressed to. Did you meet
her?"

"No. Didn't see a soul but Maurice. He said he'd
give her the letter"

"You said it was Anna's house—how do you know
that?"

A puzzled look settled on his features. "I just
assumed. I mean, because it was her letter."

"What was her last name?"

"It was . . . He closed his eyes. "Oh,
shit, I know it. Leonardo. No, Dante. Shit, that's not it. Something
long; some dago name you've heard before. You know, some dude that,
like, did something. Like that guy who invented the telescope. Some
name like that."

"Galileo?"

"Yes! No. Let me think—is it Galileo?
Garibaldi! It's fuckin' Garibaldi! He was something too, I swear to
God—he didn't invent the telescope?"

"You sure?"

"I swear. It's Gari—fuckin—baldi."

"Great, Manny. I'm impressed."

"That I knew who invented the telescope? I
graduated high school, you know. I'm not as dumb as you think."

He looked hurt; maybe he was sensitive.

"No, impressed you remembered who the envelope
was addressed to."

"Well, that's why, see. Because of the
telescope. Gari-fuckin-baldi—I'll never forget it again."

"
Now here's another one. Can you remember the
address of the mansion?"

"Hell, no. How the fuck I'm supposed to remember
something like that?"

Skip shrugged. "Just a thought." She was
silent a moment, trying to figure out where to go next.

Manny said, "Jesus fuckin' Christ, I need a
cigarette." He sat up and began working at his IV, tearing the
tape off his arm. "Come on, let's get out of here."

"What?" was all she could say.

What am I? His chauffeur?

"
I'll take you there. To the mansion."

"Manny, it's okay. lust give me the name of the
street and tell me what it looks like."

"No way. I'm outta here."

"
Manny. Hey. Look, you got hurt out there. You
can't just go racing around with a concussion."

"
Watch me."

He had the needle out of his arm by now and had flung
the covers aside. He was wearing only a hospital gown that exposed
his legs, and if he turned around, she knew she was going to see a
lot more of Manny than she really wanted to.

"Throw me my pants, will you?"

Instead, she pressed the button for a nurse, and
opened the door to the corridor. "Got to go, Manny. Stay out of
trouble."

She went to the nurses' desk and told them Manny was
about to run out on the bill, hoping that would qualify as an
emergency.

"And by the way," she added, "may I
see a phone book?"

Anna wouldn't be listed, but she had to look.

There was a John Garibaldi. She dialed and a child
answered.

"
Is your mama home?"

"No."

"
Is her name Anna?"

"No, that's my auntie. She's really nice. She
takes me to get ice cream and things."

"
Ah. Well, I have a special present for your
auntie. Can you tell me where she lives?"

"In the house with the wall."

Not four walls?

"On what street?"

"On our street."

"She lives near you?"

"
Uh-huh. I have to go now."

Skip noted the street name. It was near Bayou St.
John. She sighed. Just to make sure, she really should check the
reverse directory.

Manny was racing down the hall, chased by four
nurses.

"
Hey, Manny, would you say it was a house with a
wall?"

He stopped in the middle of the hall. "How the
hell did you know that?"

"I'm psychic." The nurses were starting to
swarm over him.

"Go back to bed, okay? I'll bring you some
cigarettes."

But she wouldn't. She knew it even as she said it.

The City Directory was irrelevant now. She went to
find Anna's, thinking just to drive by, to get the feel of it. Anna
might be "really nice" to her little niece, but Maurice had
been there the only time Manny had, and when next seen, he'd had a
gun. She'd need backup to approach.

The wall, she thought, must separate the house from
the street. And sure enough, when she got to the John Garibaldi
address and drove another block, there was such a house. And there
was a gardener trimming the ivy that grew on the wall. She got out of
the car with her clipboard. "Is this the Garibaldi home?"

"
Who wants to know?"

"
I do. Why?"

"
Why you want to know?"

"I'm conducting a survey." She rummaged in
her purse and pulled out a ten.

He took the ten and shrugged. "She's home."

But Skip didn't want to knock on the door, not
without backup.

"What you waitin' for? She's home."

"I have a free gift for her."

Funny term, free gift. Is there any other kind?