"Man, you still don't catch the ball. Now you have to go get it," Tico said, stepping closer to Foley, an arm's length, moved in another half step and put his hand on Foley's chest. "You want to go down the stairs," Tico said, "or you want me to help you?" He gave Foley a gentle poke with his finger. "Tell me how you think about it right now, how you find yourself."
Foley said, "I think you're giving me a bunch of shit, Dawn taking Cundo to the hospital."
Tico said, "Oh, is that right?"
"I think he's dead," Foley said. "I can't see Dawn shooting him or clubbing him over the head at the table-come up behind him from the kitchen-but I can see you sneaking up. She make you do it?" Foley said, and felt the fingers move on his chest, saw Tico begin to turn to get his shoulder into the shove, and Foley took a finger from his chest, twisted it and saw Tico's mouth come open and saw him rise straight with the pain, and Foley went down, rolled into Tico's legs and pulled him by the finger in his grip to sail into space this gray afternoon, Tico's scream cut off as he hit the patio.
Foley crawled around to wrap his fingers on the edge of the roof now, still scared, more scared looking down at Tico lying on his back looking up. Foley could tell he was dead.
He knelt down next to Tico looking at his bloody eyes, felt his throat for a pulse; he didn't find one. The young man from Costa Rica, former Mayan spear-chucker in another life, had left for the
other side, his lavender scarf still cinched to his head. Foley thought of pressing his eyelids down, but thought about it a few moments and left him staring at nothing.
He phoned Jimmy's office from the house across the canal. Zorro answered and said, "She stop by just now." Foley said, "Alone?" Wanting to be sure.
"All by herself. I tole her Jimmy was out, don't know where he went. Maybe to have his lunch."
"Good, she'll look for him."
He told Zorro about playing roof ball with Tico.
Zorro said, "Man, tha's some game. I'm glad I never play it. Listen, you want me to move the body away from there, I will."
"He isn't our problem," Foley said. "We'll let Dawn figure out what to do with him."
TWENTY-EIGHT
DAWN DROVE HOME AND EASED HER SAAB INTO THE GARAGE next to the VW. Foley was back and Tico, with his cheerful innocence, had lured him up to the roof. She hoped Tico was still here, inside having a drink, Dawn dying to know how he worked it. One push and a huge problem would be solved. Foley would be in the freezer now with Cundo, his buddy. She didn't look forward to seeing Dr. Jack stretched out cold, but not frozen, not quite yet. The freezer was padlocked, the key should be in the kitchen. But she had to pee, bad. If she did look at Foley one last time-her dream partner no more-she'd do it later. First have a drink and put k.d. lang on, loving her natural, barefoot style. Fall into a deep chair and light a Slim. It was a shame Foley hadn't worked out. Foley too close to his convict buddy to see the score.
Little Jimmy was the only possibility of a problem now. She should have kept him around. Now the sweet little son of a bitch was hiding, his bodyguard lying for him.
Zorro could be her other mistake, not warming up to him along the way, a stand-up guy with kind of a long nose but dreamy eyes she should've looked into to see who he was and what he liked. He wasn't getting it on with Jimmy; she made that up. Was he married? She didn't know but it wouldn't matter. He'd called her a witch. If he believed it, good. She could do something with it, tell his fortune and watch his eyes glow. She might want to keep him around.
Little Jimmy took an oath before God he would not tell what happened, and in Jimmy's case it sounded like it would be enough; though she couldn't count on his promise keeping him quiet forever. As soon as she got to talk to him and the properties were signed over, Little Jimmy might have to go.
Leaving Tico.
The Costa Rican seemed to like the way this was working out. But if Tico didn't accept whatever she'd offer, if he insisted on at least half the score, she'd be facing another problem.
After eight years of planning how to snare the little guy's fortune, after all the waiting, rejecting Foley as a partner and taking on Tico, she jumped at the idea of shooting Cundo, always a possibility in the back of her mind. With Tico's gun-don't forget that. It was so simple and she was so fucking anxious to get it over with, she didn't look at the odds and ends that would have to be cleaned up. Well, she did, but maybe not closely enough. Foley, she knew for some time would have to go. The others she felt she could deal with in time. If she wasn't confident she wouldn't have come this far.
The brick patio looked wet in places. Still drying.
Falling from way up there-Dawn looking up-could leave a mess, a lot of blood, depending on how he hit the bricks. Tico must've hosed down the patio, cleaned up after himself like a good boy.
Dawn opened the screen door to the kitchen. Then why was he asleep on the table?
In a chair but slumped, sprawled over the bare surface, arms stretched out in front of him, Dawn looking at the top of his head from the doorway.
She said, "Tico? You're drunk. You look like a bum." He didn't move. She said, "Please tell me you've passed out, okay?" She said, "Jesus Christ," in a solemn voice and walked to the table where she could look past his arm to see his face, his bloody eye staring at her.
The phone rang, the one on the kitchen counter. The timing-he couldn't be watching her, and yet she knew it was Foley.
The question was, how much did he know? One thing she was sure of, he was an experienced convict, he'd know enough not to call the police.
She let it ring and ring before she picked up.
What Foley did, he got Tiny Banger to go over to the big house with the phone number written on a fifty-dollar bill and told the kid to call him the moment the Saab pulled into the garage. He gave Dawn time to come in and find Tico.
It rang nine times before she picked up and said, "Dr. Jack, how can I help you?"
"Your friend fell off the roof."
"I see that. He lost his balance?"
"Lost a game of roof ball. He's your problem, so I left him for you."
"It must've been an accident," Dawn said. "You'll testify to that, won't you? Talk to the police?" "Dawn…where's Cundo?"
After a few moments Dawn's voice said, "All right, last night at dinner"-sounding resigned-"I hoped I could keep you out of it. I did tell you what I served and Cundo didn't think it was funny. When he's drunk he tends to get mean. I was laughing, I couldn't help it, so were Tico and Little Jimmy. Of all the things we could serve…Cundo put his cigarette out in my lovely entree, got up and started slapping me, really out of control. He would not stop until Tico came to my rescue. He shot him."
There was a silence.
"Three times, in the chest."
"Like that. At the table?"
Foley sounding as though he wasn't sure. "Cundo's dead, Jack. He was beating me up. Tico said it was the only way to stop him." "Shot him three times?"
"He's a kid, he started shooting… I don't know, maybe he got a kick out of it."
Foley didn't say anything.
"It's the same gun Tico used once before. On a case they can open again in five minutes." "Where's Cundo?" There was a pause.
"In the freezer, the one in the garage. Jack, I was afraid Tico would make a deal with the police and implicate me somehow, the victim. Jack, Cundo lost it completely. I'm thinking, Tico's been up enough times he knows how to work the system. But I can produce Cundo's body, the bullets still in him fired from Tico's gun."