cwilleford.miamiblues-第31节

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Miguel　beer　in　the　refrigerator；　there　was　no　liquor　in　the　apartment。　Hoke　knew　he　shouldn't　be　in　the　apartment　without　a　warrant；　but　he　was　positive　that　a　fingerprint　check　on　the　jock　would　turn　up　a　record　in　California。　But　how　could　he　get　a　warrant？　He　couldn't　tell　a　state　attorney　that　he　was　positive　it　was　Mendez　who　had　attacked　him。　He　had　no　tangible　proof。
　　Hoke　ate　a　bowl　of　chili　and　two　tacos　at　a　Taco　Bell　before　going　home。　The　hell　with　his　diet。　He　needed　to　get　his　strength　back。　He　took　a　shower　and　opened　a　package　of　Kools。　The　mentholated　smoke　tasted　wonderful。　A　man　would　be　a　fool　to　give　up　smoking　altogether。　One　cigarette；　one；　just　one；　once　in　a　while；　couldn't　hurt。
　　He　called　his　friend　in　Records。　Herman　T。　Gotlieb；　a　mugging　victim　in　San　Francisco；　had　been　found　unconscious　on　Van　Ness　Avenue。　He　had　been　DOA　when　his　body　arrived　by　ambulance　at　the　San　Francisco　General　Hospital。
　　Hoke　was　not　surprised　by　the　information。　He　looked　in　the　telephone　book；　noted　the　page　and　a　half　of　Mendezes；　and　laughed。　There　were　five　Ramons　and　one　Ramona；　but　it　would　be　useless　to　call　any　of　them　because　he　knew　that　the　man's　name　was　not　Mendez。　All　he　knew　for　certain　was　that　the　man　was　armed　and　dangerous　and　that　he　somehow　had　to　find　him。
　　
　　
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　　For　several　days　after　the　fiasco　at　the　7…Eleven；　Freddy　was　moody　and　inactive。　His　aching　wrist　gave　him　a　good　deal　of　pain；　and　although　he　didn't　admit　it　to　Susan；　the　nagging　nature　of　the　hurt　made　it　difficult　for　him　to　sleep　at　night。　They　didn't　have　cable　television；　but　he　watched　a　Bowery　Boys　film　festival　on　Channel　51　night　after　night；　scowling　at　the　mercials。　Toward　four　A。M。；　when　a　faint　Atlantic　breeze　wafted　in　through　the　open　windows；　Freddy　would　turn　off　the　TV　and　fall　into　a　restless　sleep。　Susan　would　be　awakened　by　the　sudden　silence　as　the　set　clicked　off。　She　would　then　tiptoe　into　the　living　room　and　cover　him　with　a　sheet。
　　After　his　shower　and　breakfast　in　the　morning；　Freddy　sat　on　the　back　porch　and　looked　through　the　screen　at　the　lizards　scurrying　for　survival　in　the　back　yard。　There　was　a　picket　fence　around　the　back　yard；　and　a　Barbados　cherry　hedge　had　been　planted　against　the　fence。　Susan　had　neglected　her　small　garden；　and　the　tomato　plants　had　withered。　A　dead　coconut　palm…killed　by　lethal　yellow…arched　up　obscenely　in　the　center　of　the　yard。　The　fronds　were　gone；　and　the　top　of　the　tree　was　a　shredded　stub。　Two　lizards；　in　particular；　Freddy　noted；　made　the　palm　their　home　base。　One；　a　hustler；　darted　here　and　there　in　search　of　mosquitoes；　but　the　other　one；　the　fatter　of　the　two；　moved　rarely；　except　to　inflate　and　deflate　its　mottled　purple　throat。　When　a　mosquito　came　within　range…zip！　it　was　gone。　In　addition　to　being　skinnier　than　the　fatter；　immobile　lizard；　the　hustler　lizard　had　lost　the　tip　of　its　tail。　Freddy　thought　there　might　be　a　lesson　of　some　kind　here　for　him　to　learn。
　　Freddy　was　reminded　of　Miles　Darrell；　an　old　fence　he　had　worked　with　in　Los　Angeles。　Miles　would　sometimes　plan　and　bankroll　a　robbery　and　take　half　the　profits。　If　the　perpetrators　were　caught；　Miles　wrote　off　his　investment　and　let　it　go　at　that。　On　the　other　hand；　Miles　was　never　a　participant；　and　his　careful　plans　usually　worked　out　successfully。　If　the　hooligans　he　recruited　for　a　job　were　picked　up；　they　accepted　the　bust　stoically；　and　none　of　them　ever　informed　on　Miles。　To　do　so　would　have　been　foolish。　Even　when　convicted；　the　average　stay　in　the　joint　was　only　two　years；　and　a　man　knew　when　he　got　out　he　could　count　on　a　stake　from　Miles　until　he　got　back　on　his　feet　again。
　　Freddy　had　learned　early　in　his　career　that　it　was　best　to　work　alone。　If　two　or　three　men　were　in　on　a　job　and　one　was　caught；　the　others　would　almost　invariably　be　picked　up　later。　Either　deals　were　made　by　the　man　who　was　apprehended；　or　they　would　be　picked　up　as　the　apprehended　man's　friends　or　acquaintances。
　　On　the　other　hand；　Miles；　who　had　never　been　arrested；　only　got　half　the　haul　when　a　job　was　successful。　The　best　method；　Freddy　concluded；　was　to　plan　and　execute　your　own　job。　That　way；　no　one　could　inform　on　you；　and　if　you　were　successful；　everything　you　got　was　yours。　What　he　would　like　now　was　one　large　haul。　One　well…planned　job；　where　the　take　would　be　large　enough　for　several　years　of　semiretirement　living。　Semi；　not　full　retirement；　because　a　man　would　have　to　put　his　hand　in　from　time　to　time　to　keep　from　getting　bored；　but　with　enough　money　stashed　away　so　that　he　could　wait　and　pick　and　choose…like　Miles。　Miles　had　been　a　careful　planner；　and　90　percent　of　his　jobs　had　been　successful。
　　Perhaps　Freddy　had　been　too　pessimistic　about　his　life。　He　had　figured；　for　as　long　as　he　could　remember；　that　someday　he　would　end　up　in　prison　for　life；　wandering　around　the　yard　as　an　old　lag；　muttering　into　a　white　beard　and　sniping　cigarette　butts。
　　But　that　didn't　have　to　be…not　if　he　could　plan　and　execute　one　big　job。　Just　one　big　haul　。
　　But　nothing　came　to　him。　He　had　no　concrete　ideas　except　for　the　germ；　and　the　germ　was　that　he　had　Sergeant　Hoke　Moseley's　badge　and　ID。　The　badge　was　an　automatic　pass　to　free　food　and　public　transportation；　it　could　also　be　used　to　bluff　someone　out　of　a　considerable　sum　of　cash。　But　who？
　　After　lunch　and　a　Darvon；　Freddy　usually　napped　on　the　webbed　recliner　on　the　back　porch。　He　would　awaken　after　an　hour　or　two；　covered　with　perspiration。　He　would　then　do　a　dozen　one…arm　pushups　with　his　good　arm　and　take　a　shower。　He　couldn't　shave　because　of　the　cuts　on　his　face。　After　a　few　days　these　cuts　began　to　fester。　They　filled　with　yellow　pus；　and　he　had　to　pull　off　the　colorful　Band…Aids。　He　awoke　one　afternoon　from　his　nap　with　a　fever；　and　it　made　him　dizzy　when　he　tried　to　sit　up　in　the　recliner。　He　asked　Susan　to　bring　him　some　Bufferin　and　a　pitcher　of　lemonade。
　　Susan　brought　the　Bufferin　and　lemonade；　and　then　left　the　house。　She　returned　a　few　minutes　later　with　Mrs。　Damrosch；　a　short　middle…aged　woman　who　talked　through　a　professional；　meaningless；　saleswoman's　smile。
　　〃Susan　said　you　refused　to　see　a　doctor；　and　that　you　probably　wouldn't　let　me　take　a　look　at　you　either。　But　you're　wrong　there；　boy；　I'm　taking　a　look。　I　nursed　my　husband　for　three　years　before　he　died；　and　I　can　do　the　same　for　you…although　you　aren't　going　to　die。〃　She　stuck　a　thermometer　under　his　tongue　and　told　him　to　close　his　mouth。
　　〃Not　bad；〃　she　said；　when　she　removed　the　thermometer。　〃It's　only　one…oh…two；　and　we　can　get　that　down　with　some　antibiotics。　I've　got　a　medicine　cabinet　full　of　'em。〃
　　She　slipped　her　glasses　down　on　her　nose　and　peered　into　his　face；　still　smiling　and　shaking　her　head。　〃Some　of　those　punctures've　still　got　glass　in　'em。　I'll　go　home　and　be　right　back。〃
　　〃Go　with　her；　Susie；〃　Freddy　said；　〃and　make　sure　she　doesn't　call　a　doctor。〃
　　Mrs。　Damrosch　had　no　intention　of　calling　a　doctor。　She　returned　with　medicines；　unguents；　a　razor　blade；　and　tweezers。　She　crosscut　each　of　the　punctures　in　his　face　with　the　razor　blade　and　removed　bits　of　glass　with　her　tweezers；　telling　Freddy　in　her　cheerful　voice　that　it　would　hurt。　She　also　removed　the　crude　stitches　Freddy　had　taken　to　replace　his　eyebrow。　She　made　some　butterfly　adhesive　patches　and　replaced　them　on　the　gaping　places　that　had　not；　as　yet；　grown　back　together。　She　used　two　more　butterfly　patches　on　the　two　deepest　wounds　on　his　face　but　said　it　would　be　best　just　to　let　the　others　drain。
　　She　and　Susan　helped　Freddy　walk　to　the　bedroom。　Edna　Damrosch　poured　Freddy　a　glass　of　gin；　made　him　drink　most　of　it；　and　then　sponged　his　muscular　body　with　a　mixture　of　water　and　rubbing　alcohol。　When　she　removed　Freddy's　jeans；　Susan　took　the　sponge　away　from　her　and　said：
　　〃I'll　take　care　of　that　part。〃
　　Edna　laughed。　〃I　would　too　if　I　were　you！〃
　　This　drastic　treatment；　in　addition　to　penicillin　tablets　every　four　hours；　broke　Freddy's　fever。　By　noon　the　next　day　he　was　sitting　up　in　bed　and　eating　a　roast　beef　sandwich。　He　remained　in　the　air…conditioned　bedroom　for　two　more　days　at　Edna's　insistence；　then　felt　strong　enough　to　take　a　long；　soaking　bath。
　　When　he　looked　at　his　face　in　the　mirror；　he　could　barely　discern　the　scabbed　crisscrosses　beneath　his　beard。　The　thick　stubble；　a　quarter　of　an　inch　long　in　some　places；　was　a　mixture　of　blond；　brown；　and　jet…black　whiskers…not　matching　his　burnished　yellow　hair　in　the　slightest。　If　he　was　careful　he　could　probably　shave；　but　he　decided　to　keep　the　incipient　beard。　It　would　cover　the　scars　somewhat；　and　it　might　be　a　way　to　change　his　appearance。　By　now　the　Miami　police　were　looking　for　him；　but　they　weren't　looking　for　a　man　with　a　blond；　brown；　and　blackish　beard。　The　beard；　together　with　the　healing　scabs；　made　his　face　itch；　but　he　was　determined　not　to　scratch　his　neck　or　face。　His　refusal　to　scratch　caused　jerky　tics　to　develop　on　both　cheeks；　but　at　least　the　tics　relieved　the　itching。　The　following　day　he　took　a　hammer　to　the　cast　on　his　arm。　His　wrist　was　stiff　and　slightly　atrophied；　so　while　he　watched　TV　he　squeezed　a　tennis　ball　to　strengthen　his　wrist　an