“Upstate, that’s good. Well, you seem to have enjoyed a successful rehabilitation.”
Jack put on a reasonably stupid grin for Wally Scales and slipped a little bit of West Feliciana Parish into his sound. “Well, I can’t say it was enjoyable, but I come through it, yes sir.”
“You have a good job here-you like it?”
“Yeah, I do. I work for my brother-in-law.”
“I spoke to him”-Wally Scales began to frown-“asked about a removal you made at Carville Sunday and he seemed distressed by the question. Why would that be?”
“How’d he seem?”
“Apprehensive… nervous.”
“Well, that’s the way he is. Leo’s a nervous type a person. He’s a worry wart.”
“But if he’s in charge here he’d know about a removal.”
“Yeah, he would.”
“Unless the request came in Sunday morning and you handled it yourself and didn’t tell him.”
Jack waited. There was no question to answer.
“Is that what happened?”
“Was what happened?”
“They called and you went up to Carville?”
“They never called, least that I know of.”
“They said they did.”
“Well, I must’ve been on the toilet or someplace, ’cause I never heard the phone.”
“They said you came and removed the body of one Amelita Sosa, deceased.”
Jack shook his head. “No, sir, not me. Must’ve been some other funeral home and they got the name wrong. Sunday I was here all day. I washed the hearse. Hey, maybe that was it, I was outside a while.”
Wally Scales cocked his head again, this time without the grin. “We could take a ride up there, Jack. Ask the sister if you’re the one that came.”
Jack said, “Well, if it’s okay with Leo, I don’t mind. I used to go up there when I was working for my Uncle Brother and Emile in the pipe organ business. I’d have to climb way way up there, you know, in the loft when they were tuning the organ.”
Wally Scales said, “Jack, let me ask you a question. I want you to give me a straight, honest answer. All right? Because I don’t want to see you get in trouble and have to go back upstate.” Wally Scales paused. “Are you putting me on?”
Jack frowned, then shook his head. “No, sir.”
“You swear you did not go to Carville.”
“I did with my Uncle Brother and Emile.”
“I mean Sunday.”
“No, sir, I was right here.”
Jack eased his eyes open a little wider so Wally Scales, staring hard, could see the truth in them. It was difficult not to grin at this asshole, but Jack managed.
Wally Scales looked past him, down the hall. He took a step away, turned around slowly to look out the window at the empty parking lot, and came back.
“Who’s here besides you and your brother-in-law, Jack?”
“There’s a dead woman upstairs.”
“There is? What’s her name?”
“I don’t know what her name is. Some old woman.”
“Will you show her to me?”
Jack felt it was safe to grin now, giving the guy a sly one as he said, “You like to look at ’em, too, huh? ‘Specially when they’re bare nekked. Yeah, Leo’s up there hosing her out. You want to watch, come on.”
Wally Scales kept staring with pretty much the same expression except for a tightening around his nose and mouth, like he’d bit into a green persimmon. He said, “Why don’t I believe you, Jack?”
“She’s up there, I’ll show you.”
“Maybe I should talk to your brother-in-law again.”
Threatening him. “Sure, come on.”
“Or I could talk to Lucy Nichols.”
It was sneaky, but it wasn’t a question, so Jack stared back at him with his bare trace of a grin, waiting. It was coming though.
“You know her, don’t you?”
“Who’s that?”
“You’re gonna keep acting stupid, aren’t you? Till I leave.”
“Don’t you want to see the dead woman?”
He watched the man shake his head and give up; maybe not caring that much, one way or the other. That was the feeling Jack had, along with relief.
He showed Wally Scales out and called Roy at the bar.
“You give your notice?”
“Yeah, but I can change my mind,” Roy said, “depending on the numbers, how much the guy’s put in the bank.”
“How about Crispin Reyna and Franklin of God?”
“Who?”
“Franklin de Dios. You find out anything?”
“They’re supposed to be with Immigration, looking for wetbacks. It’s a fact, the radio cars over in the Second District were given a Code Five, they see that Chrysler parked on Audubon, leave it alone.”
“But the two guys are from Florida.”
“So? If they’re federal they can go anywhere they want.”
“Yeah, but they wouldn’t rent a car. They’d get one from some office here. Wouldn’t they?”
“It’s more likely, yeah.”
“Will you check it out?”
“I could.”
“I don’t want to put you out any, Roy, if you’re busy there serving mankind.”
“Fuck you.”
“But if we’re gonna play these guys we better know the names and numbers and how much they weigh. I don’t want to get blindsided, Roy, get my fucking head taken off and I don’t even see it coming. I’d like to know why the fundraiser brought in two guys from Florida who pack guns, wouldn’t you?”
“Don’t worry about it.”
“What does that mean?”
“I’ll take care of it.”
“You still haven’t told me anything.”
“I’ll check ’em out. Jesus Christ.”
“You’re in a shitty mood, Roy.”
“So what else is new?”
“Find out about a guy named Wally Scales, also suppose to be with Immigration. He came by looking for the girl, Amelita, and you know who he is? The guy last night with the fundraiser.”
“That one could be Immigration,” Roy said. “Or he could be Internal Revenue or Treasury.”
“Will you find out? Call me at Lucy’s, I’m gonna go pick up Cullen now, take him over there.”
“I’ll tell you where you’re going tonight,” Roy said, “case you didn’t know. You’re gonna go to work for a change, take a look in the guy’s room.”
“Roy, you feeling out of sorts? Didn’t get your period, or what?”
“I have to get out of this fucking place.”
“Now you’re talking.”
He phoned Lucy and asked her if it was all right if he came over with Cullen. She said fine, any time. He asked her if a guy named Wally Scales had paid a visit.
“He phoned this morning, told me who he was. He said, ‘I understand you were at Carville Sunday, to pick up the body of a deceased friend of yours.’ I told him no, that wasn’t true.”
“Your first lie.”
“Of any importance. I asked him where he got his information.”
“What’d he say?”
“He said it didn’t matter, he was sorry to bother me.”
“Good. He was here, but I got the feeling he was just going through the motions. Didn’t have his heart in it.”
“But then he said, ‘Next time you see your dad, give him my best.’ ”
“I’LL TRY TO TELL YOU,” Lucy said, “but I’ve tried before and when I hear myself, well, it’s never exactly what I want to say. I guess because it’s a gut feeling that brings you to the point of doing it. You make a choice. If you don’t do it, you can list reasons why, all kinds of reasons. Or you can say, ‘What, do you think I’m crazy?’ But if you go ahead with it, if you do it… that’s something else.”
They were in the sun parlor of Lucy’s mother’s house, the banana-tree room in dim afternoon light, rain coming down outside. Lucy came away from the gray windows to sit down facing Jack and Cullen, both of them on the sofa.
“I became a nun because of a love story that took place eight centuries ago. Because of a man who was in love with love and because of a seventeen-year-old girl named Clare who, I’m convinced, was in love with the man. And I fell in love with the whole idea. I was nineteen, at a time when I could empathize with her, the poor little rich girl, not happy but not sure why. Her mother and dad arranging her marriage, planning her life. I was, well, I got caught up in what I believed was a mystical experience. I even thought, if I’d been around in the year 1210 I could have been that girl. I attend mass at the cathedral of San Rufino and hear a man named Francis speak quietly but with great passion about God’s love and my life is changed. I put myself there. I could smell the candles, the incense, and imagine falling in love with the man in the brown Franciscan robe.”