The Take (17 page)

Eddie
kept trying to get into the picture. After all, he was providing the money.

She
took his arm, purring, “Don’t you just love this, baby? It’ll be comfortable
for long trips — we can lie down in the back and everything.” She turned
to the salesman. “You see, we’re planning a vacation to Disney World in Florida
and this would be just perfect.”

“Why,
sure. For long trips, you can’t beat it. Lotsa room, and a pretty quiet ride,
too. Now, ah, you say you want this one?” He was looking at Eddie.

Eddie
nodded, not too sure of what was on her mind.

Felina
added, “But you’ve got to throw in a new tire.”

“Well,
I guess that wouldn’t hurt none …”

“You’ve
got a deal, mister,” she said. “Honey, let’s go inside and pay the man.”

They
went inside and Eddie was grateful to do it. He didn’t want to spend another
second out on that windswept lot. The salesman produced all the papers, Eddie
paid in cash, then the tire change was made.

Finally,
the salesman handed him the keys, saying, “Here you go, Mr. Garner. Thanks and
good luck.”

Once
they were inside the van, Eddie started it up, then turned the heat on
immediately. They pulled out, with the salesman waving in the rear view mirror.
Eddie maneuvered the van onto Interstate 10.

He said
to Felina, “What gives? What’s so great about this van?”

She
gestured toward the back. “See that carpeting? That’s where we put the money.”

“The
money?”

“Spread
all around under the carpeting. Then we put a mattress right over it —
sheets, pillows, everything — to make it look like we’re just tourists
with our own sleeping arrangements. This way we can get through the Mexican
border without any trouble.”

“That
Mexico thing again. Darlin’, I don’t know if we —”

“Eddie,
please don’t say no. At least not until you think about it. Acapulco is … it’s
… wonderful! Why shouldn’t we go
there?
We can afford it. And no one’s ever gonna find us there. Not Val, not even
Salazar. We can give them the slip. Just disappear.”

“If we
get caught with this swag in Mexico, we’ve had it. I saw this movie
Midnight Express
, and this guy was in
prison —“

“We’re
not gonna get caught. If anybody gets too close, we slip a few bucks into their
hands.
La mordida
. The bribe. They do
it all the time down there. Besides, we’re not gonna attract that much
attention.”

“But it’s
a foreign country! I mean, I just wouldn’t feel at home with … with … all them
Mess’cans around.”

Felina
brushed aside the insult. “You’ll feel right at home when we start living good.
Off our money. Eddie, it’s dirt cheap to live there. You know how long a
million US dollars would last? And as far as being a foreign country, well, it’s
just right next door. Plus, don’t forget, I speak the language, so we’re not
gonna have any problems there.”

“Well-ll
… I don’t know, I guess nobody would ever find us. They’d never think to look
for us there.”

They
exited the Interstate. At the entrance into the French Quarter, they stopped to
allow a jazz funeral to pass by as it filed into the St Louis Cemetery.
Bundled-up mourners tramped downcast through the cold, twilit streets to the
leaden lament of saxophones and brass.

While
they were stopped, she leaned over, kissing his cheek. Her lips were soft as
fresh snow.

“Oh
Eddie, isn’t it great? We’re gonna be together forever, and we’re gonna have
everything we ever wanted! Everything!”

Everything we ever wanted
, he thought.
Darlin’, all I ever wanted was you. And a few thousand to pay off my
debts. I damn sure didn’t want all this.

The
funeral passed, but Felina was still beaming, dreaming of a perfect life in
Mexico. Finally, the dark clouds opened up, delivering the sharp, lashing rain
they had been promising all afternoon.

“Y’
all left this
afternoon before I got up,” Linda said, as Eddie and Felina returned to her
apartment, “so you probably didn’t see this.”

She
held out the front page of that day’s New Orleans
Times-Picayune
. The headline hyped the Saints game that would take place
later in the day. However, below the fold, there was the story:

TOURIST KNIFED TO DEATH

IN FRENCH QUARTER

It was
a fairly close replica of the TV account, only with a few more details.

“The
victim had been seen earlier in the evening with a party of friends at several
nightspots in the Quarter, including dinner in the King’s Landing Restaurant of
the Louis Philippe Hotel. An effort is underway to locate the other members of
his party who may have witnessed the crime.”

“Hey,
what’s this mean?” Eddie cried. “They know where we had dinner. How do they
know this shit? They probably know we was at your club.”

Linda
patted his shoulder. “Take it easy, little brother. They don’t suspect
anything. Like it says, they’re just looking
to see if the ‘other members of his party’ saw anything. They’re
already writing it off to regular street crime. They’ll nose around their
informants for tips, they’ll offer a crimestoppers reward, holler a little
about protecting the tourists on the streets, and then forget the whole thing.
It’s happened a thousand times before.”

She lounged
on the sofa, entirely relaxed. Her root beer waited on the end table.

Eddie
said, “So what’ll we do? We gotta be careful.”

She
propped her feet up on the coffee table. “I told you, forget it. Now, when are
you leavin’?”

“We
have to get a mattress and sheets,” Felina answered, “then we’re gonna hide the
money in the van we just bought. Once the money’s hidden, we’re gone.”

“Hide
the money?” Linda looked at Eddie.

“Yeah …
yeah,” he replied. “We can’t just leave it in the suitcase. Or the trash bag.
We’re gonna put it under the carpeting.”

“Know
where you’re going yet?”

”Well,
we’re thinking about M —”

”We
haven’t made up our minds yet,” Felina said.
“But when we do, we don’t think you should know.”

Linda
sat up straight. “Why not?”

Felina
was trying to be tactful. “It’s not that we don’t want
you to know. But right now, the less you
know — the less anybody knows — the safer we’re gonna be.”

“Do you
think for one minute that I’d put my brother’s life in danger by blabbing to
anyone where y’all went?”

Felina
replied calmly. “No Linda, I don’t think so. But these guys who’re after us
could make you tell them if they ever
found you. Believe me, for right now, it’s best you don’t know.”

Eddie walked
over and sat next to his sister.

“Look
Sis, she’s right. After we’re settled, and things cool off, we’ll get in touch.
It won’t be long, and we’ll be in a safe spot. I promise.” He put his arm
around her, as he moved closer, whispering into her ear. “I don’t ever wanta
lose touch with you.”

A tight
hug sealed that promise.

She
sighed and looked straight into his eyes.

“You’re
right. Go ahead and make your plans. Eventually you got to let me know where
you are, y’hear?”

He
nodded. “We’re always together, even when we’re apart, you know?”

They
fell silent, and their eyes locked, pulling them together. Once more, they
pressed against each other in gentle embrace.

And for
this brief moment, they achieved a singleness, like twins, commingling blood
coursing through their veins.

 
“I
t’s Bert from Motor Vehicles with that
information you wanted, Lieutenant. Line two.”

Joe
Dunlap grabbed the phone.

“Yeah,
Bert. Whatcha got? … Yeah, that’s it … Uh-huh. Right. Right. And when’d he buy
it? Okay, got it. Thanks.”

He hung
up, then swung his chair around to face the young detective.

“Looks
like our boy’s takin’ a little vacation. Seems he traded in his Toyota for a
Buick on Friday, out near Huffman. The day after Salazar got whacked. Funny a
Houston boy’d go way out the old Beaumont highway — all the way to Liberty
County, no less — just to trade in his car at a third-rate lot.”

“Liberty
County? What’s he doing way out there?”

“I
dunno. Maybe he’s on his way to Beaumont. Maybe he thinks it’s a little better
for his health.”

“Or
maybe he’s going past Beaumont,” the young detective said. “Maybe New Orleans,
or Mobile. Shit, maybe Florida, who knows? Lieutenant, if he’s left town, we
won’t have a chance …”

“We got
a chance. Don’t think we don’t. Shit, for the kinda sugar he’s holdin’, we’ll
make our own chances. This’s the one I been waitin’ for.”

“Waiting
for?”

“Fuckin’
right. My retirement’s coming up in less’n two years. You think I can live on
some shit pension of a few hundred a month?”

“But
you’ve been … I mean … well, just since I’ve been with you, we’ve — well,
you know, we’ve pulled down about ten thousand apiece. That’s just in the last
eight or nine months. And you’ve … you’ve been … well, on the force a lot
longer than that.”

Dunlap
wasn’t about to reveal that he’d taken the lion’s share of their scores. He
damn sure wasn’t going to say that for the young detective’s ten thousand,
another hundred fifty thousand or so had found its way into his own roomy
pockets. But shit, nothing’s wrong with that. They were his goddam scores to
begin with. The kid was just along for the ride, just carrying a spear is all.
Learning the game.

Dunlap
figured the kid was lucky to be let in at all.

Matter of fact, he should thank his lucky
fucking stars the day I agreed to take him along and cut him in. Yes sir, the
kid’s learning the ropes so he can make his own scores later on.

Now, with a million on the line, shit, the
kid might snag seventy, maybe eighty grand out of it. Yes sir, he should thank
his lucky fucking stars. He’s one lucky fucking police officer.

“Chicken
feed,” he snorted. “Fuckin’ chump change compared to what’s at stake here. Even
after you take your share, I c’n live good in retirement. When you add it in to
what I already got put away.”

The
ringing phone interrupted him.

“Homicide,
Dunlap.” He jerked himself up straight in his chair. “Yeah? You don’t say.
Whaddya mean, what’s it worth to me? We’ll work somethin’ out. Okay, now what
is it? Yeah, yeah. And you just now got this? We-e-e-ll, nothing like gettin’ the
week off to a good
start, I always
say … Yeah, don’t worry, I’ll remember this call. So long.”

With
uncharacteristic grace, he leapt out of his chair over to the halltree, where
he threw on his overcoat.

“Get
the car ready,” he said through a smile. “We’re takin’ a trip.”

Raymond
Cannetta hung up the telephone, still transfixed by the wads of money in the
envelope with the New Orleans postmark.

T
hat Monday
afternoon, Felina got up before Eddie for a change. As she wandered into the
kitchen in search of coffee, she found Linda putting away last night’s dishes.

“Eddie
still sleeping?” Linda asked.

Felina
nodded. She plopped down into the chair, then poured herself a hot cup. She
needed it. It had been a cold night, and today wasn’t much warmer. Her new
alpaca sweater wasn’t doing the job.

Linda
didn’t turn away from the dishes. “Y’all gonna be leaving today?”

“Just
as soon as we get a mattress and sheets for the back of the van. The last thing
we do is put the money away.”

“Oh
yes, the money. Let’s not forget the money.”

Felina
looked up wearily from her coffee.

“Linda,
look. None of this was my idea, so don’t go jumping in my shit over it. Eddie
got into a jam back in Houston. I had nothing to do with it. But now, because
of what your brother did, my ass is on the line, so I’m gonna do what I have to
do in order to protect myself.”

“Now
why do I think your little tune’d sound different if there weren’t a million
bucks right here in this trash bag?” She quit with the dishes, then drew up to
the table.