“Alan!”
“Let me give him a heads up. Cause he won’t hear it from anyone else. Let me do that. Dope. Pot. Crack. Meth keeps you humping. Hates senseless killing, so make it count.”
“Alan!”
“Shut up bitch! He’s not interested in you.”
“You’re a disgrace. I should call the police. He won’t go away!” cried Mrs. Ramsey. “He just lies there and won’t go away.” She wept and then laughed to stop weeping. “Show me a little love and respect.”
“Respect, shit! She has a gun to my head and is on her knees all the time. That don’t work. It never has and never will. Mister, look out for her lies,” Alan muttered. “She lies all the time.”
“Uno momento, por favor! I do what?”
“Lie!”
“Let’s try to control ourselves,” said George slowly.
“After a good lunch,” laughed Alan.
George was beginning to dislike Alan and frankly wanted to leave.
“After all I’ve done for you, I get this. Pity of course. Pity, George, that you see this.”
“Listen!” said George. “This doesn’t help. Maybe I caught you at a bad time and should come back.”
“No, no.”
“Is there somewhere where we can talk?”
“This way, out in the courtyard and…lunch?”
And Mrs. Ramsey led George outside and into a shaded courtyard where they could talk in private.
“Mrs. Ramsey, I took it on myself to hire someone.”
“Hire someone?”
“Someone we can trust. His references were good. Unknown in Tucson. Fearless. Nobody’s patsy.”
“You hired someone?”
“Yes. An investigator. His name is Sam. Someone from the outside. Someone Cesar can’t buy.”
“The monster. Saw him yesterday. Oh yes, we’re friendly.”
“That would be Cesar.”
“And this Sam? You say that we can trust him?”
“I’d bet on it. And Anna Martinez? How is she doing?”
“She’s back. She moved to L A, had her baby and gave it away.”
“Mrs. Ramsey, you know what’s going on so why don’t you just tell me.”
“Luckily Molly keeps me informed. Saw her yesterday. With Cesar. Fraternizing. Besides Molly’s getting married. To that O’Toole guy. Not that one, but his son. I heard Anna talk about O’Toole. She said that she ‘could hardly breathe’ and was ‘caught in a barbed wire snare.’ Something such as that. George, I hope that you can do something.”
“We’ll give it a try. But you be careful.”
“I’ll try for my late husband’s sake. My late husband, now there was a little man for you, trembling in front of me, reduced to that, as I tried to talk to him. With his citations, his plaques, he tried to be a good citizen. Shaking. Trembling. Those hands. He had the goods on somebody. I knew who. We all have our suspects. I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”
“It’s good to know.”
“Just like that. Shot. Shot right in his heart. Then Alan had the gall to tell me that he predicted it!’”
George started to leave, which surprised Mrs. Ramsey.
“Something wrong?”
“I don’t feel well. My stomach, perhaps its jet lag.”
“Maybe ginger ale would help.”
Next George had to see the old gentleman and knew where to find Higgs. Normally he avoided nursing homes.
Bewildered he recognized the risk. Hawaii Street, not as far as he thought from East Tennessee. Walk, yes, walk east, hoping by walking to garner enough strength to overcome his fear.
Reaching Hawaii he felt sick. He hadn’t expected his pores to ooze. The day reminded him of green puke. Really sick. From the color of the building he knew where he was. Shuffle forward: right, left, one two, three, four!
To George, a warehouse best described the gloomy old building. A warehouse painted army green (upchuck) and of no particular distinction. So here was where they put Higgs. On reaching the outer gate he noticed a plaque that read “Oak Grove.” Immediately George thought of Faust.
After hesitating George opened one of the glass doors and entered the waiting room. Pea green. Vincent van Gogh replaced by Gotterdammerung. A huge desk encircled a toothless clerk. Directed to a nursing station. Down the hall, around the corner, through the double doors. Tile instead of oak floors, heavy furniture instead of nothing.
“Do I know you?” Faust remained business-like. “George? Let me see if you’re on the list. George? No.” “Higgs? What about Higgs?”
George’s face twitched. He pretended not to be nervous. Something bothered George: something recent, something painful, and something sad. Faust smiled.
“Faust….”
“I don’t know the man. Higgs? I think I saw his name on this list.”
“Faust,” he said, “tell the truth. Why are you here?”
“Are you talking to me?” asked Faust.
“Quit acting,” demanded George. “When I got off the plane I thought you were following me.”
“Today? Today I pulled a double shift. It couldn’t have been me.”
“You’ve been stalking me.”
“Stalking? Me?”
“Cut the games! I’m already nervous. But you know that. Have you seen our shrink today?”
“Oh my God did you miss your appointment?”
“Come on Faust!”
“I’m not going to get angry. I’m not going to get angry. No, I’m not.”
Randy Ford
