Mr Majestyk (1974) (11 page)

The sound in the packing shed was the steady hum of the motor that drove th e c onveyor.

Most of the crew were outside, unloading the trailer. Nancy Chavez and Larry Mendoza's wife, Helen, did the sorting and were good at it, their hands deftl y f eeling, rolling the melons on the canvas belt, pulling out the ones that wer e b adly bruised or overripe. Majestyk and Larry Mendoza were at the end of th e l ine, packing the melons in cardboard cartons that bore the majestyk bran d l abel. Two other men in the crew were stacking the cartons, building a wall o f t hem as high as they could reach.

By the time the trailer was unloaded it was almost ten o'clock. There were stil l m elons on the conveyor, but Majestyk shut it down and said that was enough fo r o ne night, more than he'd expected they'd get done.

Mendoza came along the line to where his wife was standing and said, "I don'
t k now, Vincent, but I think we're going to do it."

Nancy said, "If we can keep the grower working instead of goofing off, layin g a round in jail."

Majestyk was tired, but he felt good. He felt like talking to her and getting t o k now her. He said, "I remember--it seems to me somebody mentioned having a bee r a fter work."

Nancy looked across the conveyor at him. "You still buying?"

"Sure, I'm going to be rich in about a week." He said to Mendoza, "Larry? Ho w a bout you and Helen?"

"No, me and mama got more important things to do," Mendoza said, and slapped hi s w ife on the can, making her jump a little and grin at them. "We're going t o b ed."

Nancy was still looking at Majestyk. "Maybe you'd rather do that." As she sa w h im begin to smile, she added quickly, "I mean if you're tired."

Majestyk said, "Come on, let's go get a couple of cold ones." He was stil l s miling at her.

Harold Ritchie watched the headlights of the pickup approaching the highway an d s aid to the deputy over by the tool shed, "Now where in the hell's he going?"

"If it's him," the deputy said.

"I guess I'm going to have to find out, aren't I?"

Ritchie walked over to the State Highway Department truck, grabbed the doo r h andle and looked around again. " 'Less you want to this time. You been sittin'

all day."

"You can talk plainer than that," the deputy said. "I'm about to go sit again.
I think I got me some bad enchiladas or something."

He waited until Ritchie drove off before he went into the tool shed and radioe d t he Edna Post to let them know what was going on--which would be relayed to Lieutenant McAllen probably sitting home reading the paper or watching TV, a n ice, clean, lighted bathroom down the hall from him, empty, nobody even usin g i t.

Walking over to the portable toilet he was thinking, hell, he should've taile d t he pickup this time, probably could've stopped at a gas station somewhere, or a b ar. Unbuckling his belt, the deputy stepped inside the toilet and closed th e d oor.

Less than a hundred yards east of the construction site three pair of headlight s p opped on.

The stake truck came first, followed by the two sedans, picking up speed, th e t ruck reaching forty miles an hour by the time it got to the barricades, swerve d i n and sideswiped the portable toilet, the right front fender glancing off , scraping metal against metal, but the corner of the stake body catching i t s quarely, mashing into the light metal as it tore the structure from its base , carried it with forward momentum almost to the tool shed before it bounced en d o ver end into the ditch. The stake truck kept going and turned into the roa d t hat led to Majestyk's place.

The two sedans, Lundy's Olds 98 and a dark-colored Dodge, came to a stop by th e b arricades, the Olds bathing the battered toilet in its headlight beams.

Renda and Lundy, and a third man with a machine gun under his arm, got out o f t he cars and walked into the beam of light. When Lundy got the twisted door o f t he toilet open, straining to pull it free, the third man aimed his machine gu n i nto the opening. Lundy pushed him aside, reached in with one arm and when h e s traightened again looked at Renda.

"Dead."

"Must've got hit by a truck," Renda said.

Pushing open the screen a little, Mendoza could see the stake truck in front o f t he migrant quarters and hear the low rumble of its engine. Just sitting there.

Nobody had got out of the truck. Nobody had come out of the migrant quarters.

They were all inside or around someplace close by because their cars were there , the three old junk heaps. When the two pair of headlights came down the roa d f rom the highway and passed the migrant quarters, Mendoza moved away from th e d oorway. He was wearing only his jockey shorts--maybe he should hurry up and pu t s ome clothes on. But the cars weren't coming to his place. They kept going.

Behind him his wife whispered, "Who are they? Do you know them?"

He knew. He was pretty sure he knew. But he said to her, "Stay with th e c hildren."

When she stepped into the doorway to look out he pulled her back because of th e s lip she wore as a nightgown. It showed dull white in the moonlight and he wa s a fraid they would see her, even though he knew they were all the way to Vincent's house by now.

She said again, "Who are they?"

"I don't know," Mendoza answered. "But they don't have any business with us an d t hey're not friends I know of. Go to bed."

She lingered, but finally moved away from him. When he heard the springs an d k new she was in bed again, he pushed open the screen door carefully and wen t o utside, holding the door to close it, so it wouldn't make noise. On the step s o f the porch, looking down the road, he could see the headlights of the two car s i n front of Vincent's house. He didn't know if they were waiting or if they ha d g one inside. He said, God, why don't they leave? He's not there, they can se e t hat, so go on, get out of here. Vincent was with a girl, talking, drinkin g b eer. He could be gone for hours, having a good time; stay out late he coul d s till get up early and work. They didn't know him.

He saw them in the headlights for a moment and faintly heard the car doors slam , then went into the house again as the cars came back this way. He was sure the y w ere going to pass his house, leave, and when the cars turned in--coming straigh t a t his house before stopping close to the porch--he couldn't believe it and bega n b acking away from the screen door, but not soon enough. The headlights wer e b linding and he knew they could see him. He could hear the engines idling. Som e m en, three of them, dark shapes were coming up on the porch. When they came int o t he house he still couldn't see them because of the headlights.

One of them walked past him. He heard his wife's voice. "What do you want?"

Frightened. He didn't hear the children.

Renda said, "Where is he?"

Mendoza thought of his wife and three children in the bedrooms, behind him. Wha t w as he? A guy standing in his underwear who just got waked up out of a soun d s leep. How was he supposed to know what was going on?

He said, "I don't know. You mean Vincent Majestyk? Isn't he at home?"

He had never seen Eugene Lundy before and didn't see his features now, only a b ig shape that stepped up close to him. The next thing he knew he was hit in th e m outh with a fist and felt the wall slam against his back. The man reached fo r h im then and held him against the wall so he wouldn't fall down.

"Where is he?" Renda said again.

"I don't know," Mendoza said. "Believe me, I knew I'd tell you."

"He go into town?"

"I don't know," Mendoza said. "Honest to God, I thought he was home in bed."

Renda waited, knowing he was wasting time. The guy was probably telling th e t ruth. He said, "Bring him along. And his wife."

They brought everybody out of the migrant quarters, pushing them to hurry up , making them stand in front of the place, in underwear or just pants, barefoot , squinting in the glare of the truck's headlights. Mendoza and his wife wer e p ushed into the group by the men with guns in their hands who stood out of th e l ight. The migrants waited, everyone too afraid to speak or ask what was goin g o n.

Finally Lundy, who stood with Renda next to the truck, said to them, "We'r e l ooking for the boss. Who wants to tell me where he's at?" Lundy waited, givin g t hem time. In the silence they could hear the crickets in the melon field.

"Nobody knows, huh?" Lundy said then. "Nobody heard where he was going or sa w h im leave?"

Quietly, to Lundy, Renda said, "We got a dead cop and we're running out of time.

Get rid of them."

Renda walked off into the darkness, toward the packing shed. He heard Lundy tel l t hem, "You all've got two minutes to get in your cars and drive away from her e a nd never come back." He heard one of the migrants say, a weak little voice wit h a n accent, "We been working, but we haven't been paid yet. How we suppose to ge t p aid?" And he heard Lundy say, "Keep talking, I'm going to start busting som e h eads. Now you people get the hell out of here. Now."

The doors of the packing shed were open. Renda went up the steps to the loadin g d ock and looked inside. He could make out the conveyor and the melons on th e c anvas belt. He was curious about the place--as if the place might be able t o t ell him something about the man who owned it. Feeling along the wall inside th e d oor, he found the light switch. Outside there was a sound of engines trying t o s tart and finally turning over.

Lundy and the one with the machine gun came in. Renda was staring at the wall o f c artons, the melons that had been sorted and packed that evening.

"Man's been busy," Lundy said.

"I said to him what do you want?" Renda continued to stare at the wall of melo n c artons and Lundy and the one with the machine gun looked over at him. "He said I want to get my melons in," Renda went on. "That's all he wanted. Get hi s m elons in."

Lundy couldn't believe it when he saw Frank pull out his .45 automatic--Chris t a lmighty--and start firing it at the stacked-up melon cases, firing away, makin g a n awful racket in the place, until his gun was empty.

Renda looked at them then. He seemed calm. His voice was, and said, "What're yo u w aiting for?"

Lundy always did what he was told. It didn't have to make sense. He took out hi s b ig magnum and opened up at the cartons. Then the other one with the machine gu n l et go and the din was louder than before. They tore up the cartons, lacing the m w ith bullet holes. Renda took the machine gun from the guy, turned to th e c onveyor, and shot up all the melons left on the canvas belt, blew them apart , scattering pieces all over the shed.

Christ, Lundy thought. He hoped Frank felt better now.

Kopas had been told they'd probably drop his truck off later that night , somewhere near the county road intersection west of Edna, where there was that Enco station on the corner and the cafe. Kopas asked what time. Lundy said, whe n t hey got back. But if they had to take some people somewhere--and Kopas had a h unch he meant the migrants--then he wouldn't get his truck back until morning.

But the migrants had cars. They could run them off in their own cars and no t h ave to take them anywhere. So Kopas was pretty sure the truck would be bac k t onight.

He hung around the cafe-bar that evening, going outside and looking up th e h ighway every once in a while. Being sure they had gone to Majestyk's place, h e w as anxious to know if they had killed him. If they hadn't been able to for som e r eason--and if Renda was with them--he was anxious for Renda to see him again.

Renda might decide he was a handy man to have around after all: he was alert , waited, did what he was told.

When Majestyk and the girl arrived, he was in the Men's Room of the cafe-bar. H
e c ame back into the room that was about half full of Chicanos and spotted Majestyk and the girl right away, sitting in a booth along the wall. He didn'
t s ee the two deputies at the bar--Ritchie and a deputy who had met him here--didn'
t n otice them because they were in work clothes, and all Kopas was thinking abou t w as getting out of there before Majestyk looked over. He glanced at the boot h a gain as he went out the door--leaving the light and the smoke and the lou d c ountry steel-guitar beat inside--and saw Majestyk listening to something th e g irl was saying, giving her his full attention. Good.

He was more excited now than earlier in the day when he was out in the desert , the plane was taking off, and he was waiting to meet the famous Frank Renda. H
e s aw Majestyk's pickup, parked a short way down from the cafe. He had a though t a nd began looking at the other cars, on both sides of the highway, and there i t w as, the State Highway Department truck. It was parked at the Enco station b y t he pumps; the station closed for the night.

Kopas started putting things together in his mind. They hadn't gotten Majesty k b ecause Majestyk was inside. Also a cop was in there, or around someplace. H
e w as more anxious now than ever. He went across the highway and across the count y r oad to wait there at the intersection, moving around, wanting them to hurry u p a nd come before the guy left. About fifteen minutes passed. He was so anxiou s f or them to come that, when he saw the three pair of headlights approaching, h e k new it was them and couldn't be anyone else. The thing now was he had to ac t c ool and hold down his excitement.