Cat Chaser Part 19

Jiggs finally took a chair. He said, "I wanted to ask you. I locate any of the party responsible, General, you're gonna want to prosecute, I take it."

"In my own way," de Boya said.

Jiggs said, "That's how I'd feel about it myself. You have 'em arrested they're back on the street in twenty-four hours." He said then, "I understand, what I've heard, you were the expert at getting people to tell you things they didn't want to. Back in the old days."

"Really? I'm surprised you hear anything about that," de Boya said.

"You kidding?" Jiggs said. "General, there certain areas you're a living legend among people that know anything about or appreciate the fine art of interrogation. It used to be, when I was a youngster on the Force in New York, we could use our own resources, so to speak, in extracting information. Now, the guy doesn't even have to tell you his name his lawyer isn't present. f.u.c.king Miranda changed everything." Jiggs shook his head, began to grin a little. "Wasn't like that where you come from, I don't imagine."

"You say to get information?"

"Yeah, interrogate a suspect."

"The trick," de Boya said, "when you question someone is not to ask a question."

Jiggs maintained a pleasant expression. "You don't ask 'em anything?"

"No, never. You take the person's clothes off. Always you do this, strip the person naked, and sometimes it's enough. Or you subject the person to an unpleasant experience, increasing this gradually," de Boya said, giving his recipe. "The person wants to tell you something, but you still don't ask him. He pleads with you, he begins to say things, to 235.

ask the questions himself, yes, and then answer them, he's so anxious to please you if you'll stop the unpleasantness."

"The unpleasantness," Jiggs said, his face creased in appreciation. "That's not bad, general."

"But the information," de Boya said, "that isn't the important reason for interrogation."

"It isn't?"

"What do you wish to know?" de Boya said. "Where someone lives? Where they hide arms? Something they're saying about you, the government? No, the purpose of interrogation is preventive. What you do in the secrecy of the act always becomes known to others, to the ones against you."

"And it scares the s.h.i.+t out of 'em," Jiggs said, nodding. "I getcha."

"I like to think it gives brave men pause," de Boya said. "Remember, fear is of more substance than information."

"Yes sir, that's a good point."

"Information, it has degrees of importance at different times," de Boya said. "But fear, you can use fear always."

"Keeps your people under control," Jiggs said.

"Yes, they don't know what to do, so they do nothing." De Boya began to nod, a pleasant expression masking his thoughts, his pictures from another time. "I always do a good job at that." He gestured with his hands. "Well, it was my especiality, of course."

A few minutes past midnight Moran's phone rang. He turned off Johnny Carson and got to the counter, knowing it was Mary, feeling wide awake now.

She said, "Jiggs Scully was here, earlier this evening. They were in Andres's study with the door closed for almost a half hour."

Moran said, after a moment, "I know what you're thinking ...But I talked to Nolen and now I'm leaning the other way, back to Jiggs."

"You think the whole thing's his idea?"

"I'm pretty sure. If Andres wanted to get the goods on us there's got to be a simpler way than all this."

"Then why did Jiggs come here? He must be working for Andres."

"For him and against him. Listen, you got to get out of there."

"I will, soon."

"Have you written down what you want to say?"

"I'm working on it."

"Does Andres know I was there today?"

"He didn't mention it, but I'm sure he does. He 237.

got home late." Mary paused. "Wait a second, okay?"

"What's the matter?"

"I heard something. Hold on."

Moran waited, standing straight up now. He heard it then, away from the other end of the phone connection, sounding like shots, gla.s.s breaking. He pressed the phone to his ear and heard a voice far away, someone shouting. He heard Mary's voice, closer, call out, "What is it?" Then nothing. He waited. He heard jarring sounds close, as though she might have dropped the phone picking it up. Now her voice in the phone was saying, "I'll call you back."

"Wait a minute. Are you all right?"

Her voice came as a whisper now. "I'm fine, but I can't talk now."

"What's going on?"

"Andres is upstairs."

"Just tell me what happened."

But she'd hung up.

15.

MARY DIDN'T CALL BACK during the night.

Moran phoned her in the morning. The maid with the accent said Mrs. de Boya was not at home. It was only nine o'clock; Moran didn't know what to say next. He asked what time she was expected. The maid said she didn't know. He asked then, "Is Mrs. de Boya all right?"

The maid, Altagracia, said, "Yes? I think so."

He took a chance and said, "What was all that noise last night?"

The maid hesitated. She said, "I don't hear any noise."

He tried again a little after ten.

A recorded voice answered to say, "The number you are calling is temporarily out of service. Please try again later." He dialed again to be sure and heard the message repeated.

What in the h.e.l.l was going on?

He got the number of the Coral Gables Police from Information, 442-2300, dialed and a male voice answered. Moran said, "Hey, what was all the noise over on Arvida last night? Up at the end of the street."

The male voice said, "Who is this speaking, please?" Moran said he lived in the neighborhood and was just wondering . . . The male voice said, "Could I have that address and your name, please?" Moran hung up.

He knocked on the door to oceanfront Number One, waited and banged on it. Then got the key from Jerry, Jerry in a lighthearted mood whistling "I'm Going to Live Till I Die," and went back to let himself in.

The apartment was empty, still a mess from the night before: the bottles standing on the coffeetable, the bowl of water, bits of potato chips all over. The bed Rafi had slept in was unmade, the light spread and sheet in a tangle on the floor.

Nolen, in Number Five, was popping open a can of beer. He said, "Stand back. Don't say anything yet."

Moran waited in the doorway to watch.

Nolen poured a good four or five ounces of Budweiser down his throat. When he lowered the can and looked at Moran with grateful wet eyes he said, "Oh Jesus. Oh my G.o.d Almighty." He raised the can again and finished it in two tries.

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"I'm gonna live." "Till you die," Moran said. "Jerry'll whistle it for you while you're going down the tube." "f.u.c.k you," Nolen said. "If you know you're gonna be hung over-" "And if you you know I'm gonna be," Nolen said, know I'm gonna be," Nolen said, going to the gas range where a saucepan of chili with beans was starting to bubble, "what're you asking me for? You want to be useful, open a couple of beers."

Moran sat with Nolen while he ate his breakfast, chili laced with catsup to sweeten it and drank several ice-cold beers, the sorrow in his watery eyes giving way to a bleary expression of contentment.

Moran commented. "You having fun? You dumb s.h.i.+t." "Don't judge," Nolen said, "till you walked a mile in my moccasins." "Few weeks you'll be down to Thunderbird." "Or Chivas. I'm making my run." "Bulls.h.i.+t, you'll be down making love to the toi let bowl." "I never throw up, George. I value my nutrition." "What time'd you go to bed?" "I watched black and white TV, you cheap f.u.c.k, and hit the sack early." "Where's your pal Che?" "Who?" "Rafi, your spray painter."

"He borrowed my car to go look for Loret." "He expect to find her, Miami Beach?" "Rafi expects-Jesus, this. .h.i.ts the spot, you know it? I doubt Rafi's expectations have anything to do with the real world. He's a twinkie." "You finally realize that?" "I've always known it. But he's got to learn on his own, right? I'm not gonna lead him by the hand." "You bring him into the deep end, now it's up to him to get out, huh?" "It's hard out there," Nolen said. "You can strike it rich or break your pick. It's up to you." "That from a play or a movie?" "It's an outtake. I'm on cutting-room floors at all the major studios. So I'm going into a different field." "You remember anything I said last night?" "Every word. I never experience blackouts." "But you don't want to talk about it." "I don't care. Get me a beer, I'll listen." "Jiggs was at de Boya's last night." Moran waited. Nolen spooned in bright red chili, his face down close to the bowl. "Yeah?" "Why do you think he went there?" "I think to tell de Boya some dirty Comminists want to kill him. Also set the stage for what's com 243.

ing up in the next couple of days. Time's getting short, George. Then you know what I think he did?"

Moran had to ask because he didn't expect all this.

"What?"

"Then I think he gave this crazy Cuban-the one drives his Donzi at night with sungla.s.ses on? I think he gave the Cuban five bills and a twenty-two rifle and told him to take a run past de Boya's house and see if he can bust a few windows, then throw the twenty-two over the side, deep-six it, whether anybody comes after him or not. That's what I think, George. What do you think?"

He thought of Mary, little else. He went back to his house, called Leucadendra and had her paged in the grill and at the tennis courts, knowing she wouldn't be there. He thought about calling the Holiday Inn in Coral Gables; but would that make sense? He tried anyway. There was no Delaney or Moran registered. In the afternoon he tried her home again and listened to the recorded voice tell him the number he was calling was temporarily out of service. He thought about driving over there but knew he'd better wait. Mary would get in touch with him when she could.

It was a dismal, overcast day. The surf came roaring in making a spectacle of itself, but failed to interest him. Grocery-shopping at Oceanside didn't either. Until he was putting a six-pack of Bud in his cart and remembered something Nolen had said. Something about setting the stage for the next couple of days . . . time getting short. Christ, were they ready to move? He'd better put Nolen against the wall and get some facts.

But by the time Moran got home Rafi had returned and Nolen was gone.

Rafi said, "No, I didn't find her. But I went in the Fountainebleu and let my eyes see the most beautiful hotel in the world. I think I like to stay there before I go home."

Moran said, "There's a Miami to Santo Domingo at one tomorrow afternoon, they give you your lunch. Why don't you get on it?"

Rafi said, "Oh, am I being ask to leave? You have so many people staying you don't have room for me? Certainly, I'll be happy to leave a place where they don't want me."

Moran said, "Rafi, you're full of s.h.i.+t, you know it?...Where'd Nolen go?"

Rafi said he didn't ask him and if this was the way Moran felt he would leave as soon as he made arrangements to move to a resort that suited him. In the meantime, because Loret had taken his 245.

money, could he borrow a few dollars for something to eat? Moran gave him a ten and checked with Jerry, just before Jerry left for the day, to see if he'd had any calls.

None. He tried Mary and got the recorded message again. All right, he'd wait until later tonight- after the maid was in bed and hope de Boya didn't answer-and if the phone still wasn't working he'd drive over there, or drive past at least; he wasn't sure what he'd do. He fixed half of a yellowtail with tomatoes, onions and a touch of garlic for dinner, sauteed it, trying to keep busy, looking at the clock. He read. He watched a little TV. He read the latest on Stevie Nicks and an interview with Lee Marvin, former U.S. Marine, in Rolling Stone Rolling Stone. Still looking at the clock. Anxious. Looking at it a few times each half-hour, waiting to call about eleven. It was the reason he would remember Jiggs Scully came at exactly 9:40.

Moran opened the door and Jiggs said, "You not doing anything I'd like you to come see somebody." Moran stood with his s.h.i.+rt hanging out, barefoot. When he didn't say anything Jiggs said, "Mr. de Boya wants to have a word with you."

Moran said, "You serious?"

"Put your shoes on. I'll take you, bring you back."

Moran said, "What about?"

Jiggs said, "George, come on. We get there you can play it any way you like. But don't try and s.h.i.+t a s.h.i.+tter, okay?"

Moran put on his sneakers and stuck his Hawaiian s.h.i.+rt into his jeans. He walked with Scully in silence across the patio and through the dark office to the street. Corky was waiting by Jiggs's two-tone Cadillac. Corky got in back as he saw them coming.

Walking around the front of the car, Jiggs said, "Sit in front."

Moran had the door open before he saw Rafi in the back seat with Corky, Rafi hunched forward. He said, "George? I don't want to go nowhere." Trying to sound calm but scared to death. "George? Tell them, please."

Jiggs said to Moran, "It's okay. Get in the car."

The servants would be speaking to each other in Spanish and stop when Mary entered the room. They always did this; but today, for some reason, it had an air of conspiracy. The phone would ring. Altagracia would tell Mary it was someone for Mr. de Boya. Only once did she call Mary to the phone. She spoke to a man from the company replacing the window panes, half-listened to an involved tale of gla.s.s availability, why they couldn't come out until later in the day. Twice she tried Moran's number and got no answer.

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And after that, for no apparent reason, the phone went dead. She called the telephone company on Andres's private line, in his den, with Corky standing by. Several times she returned to the den to try Moran again and each time there would be Corky. Finally she said, "Excuse me, will you? I have to make a call." But he didn't move.

Corky said, "I have to stay here if Mr. de Boya wants me. He say not to leave for any reason."

She said, "It'll take me two minutes."

He said, "Yes, please," offering the phone. "But I have to stay here until the other phone is fixed."

She said drily, "Mr. Corcovado, if he can't reach you while the line's busy, why do you have to stay here?"

Corky said, "It's what he told me."

Is this your house? Mary thought. She said, "Well, in that case I'm going out. Do you stay by the phone or do you have to drive me?"

He said, "I'm sorry, Senora. Mr. de Boya say we not suppose to go out. Because what happen last night."