“I’m gonna stop by Dr. Tommy’s later on this afternoon, if you’d like to come.”
“To get you inside? Sure, why not.” She was nodding, thinking of something else now, he could tell. “You wouldn’t want to take a quick run out to the judge’s house first, would you?”
Gary said, “For what?” without thinking, and said, “Not to look for the pizza box. Don’t tell me that, all right?”
“It’s evidence,” Kathy said.
“Of what? You want to go through it again? Elvin hasn’t done anything.”
“Not yet.”
“Or is planning any kind of criminal act we have evidence of, outside of what a rockhead thinks she remembers him saying.”
“But you’d like to talk to him.”
“About Dale. Dale’s now a fugitive and the Cadillac’s a lead.”
She said, “All right, I’ll go by myself.” Matter-of-fact about it, telling him if he didn’t want to go, fine. He liked that about her. She was direct, didn’t put on any kind of an act to get what she wanted. Telling him now, “I’ll pick up the pizza box and I’ll put it on your desk, as a favor. Then it’s up to you. You can take it to the lab or throw it away. But if you do, you’ll be destroying evidence.”
“You’re sure of that.”
She said, “Reasonably,” starting to turn away, and looked at him again. “If you want, you could come along for the ride. I’ll drive.”
He had to smile at her, wanting to go and said, “I would, really, but I can’t. I have to get a haircut.”
“You’ve been saying that for the past week.”
“I was leaving to come here, that same captain stopped me.”
“The one with the body shirt.”
“Yeah, he goes, ‘I don’t want to see you again, Sergeant, without a haircut. Have I made myself clear?’”
“And you told him,” Kathy said, raising her hand to touch his hair, “your goal in life is to live up to his expectations.”
“I just told him I’d get it cut.”
She said, “That’s too bad,” moving her fingers through his hair on one side and then smoothing it. “Have it thinned a little here and in back, but not too much, okay? I love your hair.”
23
A
ll Elvin had to do was spot the blue-suit cop coming out of the building alone, he changed his mind like that about seeing Ms. Touchy. She’d be around the next five years to fool with. The blue-suit hair puller was here and now and chances didn’t come along every day.
Elvin had been sitting in the car with his hat off rubbing the red line it made in his forehead: thinking the two would come out together, it being noontime, and go eat someplace: thinking he’d most likely pick himself up a burger and fries, couple of beers, and come back here to wait on her to get dropped off.
But, Jesus, seeing the hair puller all by himself walking to his car, no idea he was being watched, got Elvin excited with the urge to get it done. Right now. No more thinking about it. The best time always when they least expected. Slip up on him in broad daylight driving along the street maybe. That could work. He had the Ruger Speed-Six in the glove compartment. Or wherever the dink was going, like someplace to have his dinner. Walk in, do it and walk out. Do it so fast nobody in there would see a thing. All this in his mind at once was making him more anxious. There, he was backing his car out now, the gray Dodge, from in front of the building. His name, he’d said that time at Dale’s showing his badge, was Gary something. Gary the hair puller.
Man, but strange things happened in life.
Thinking of this squirt grabbing him by the hair.
Thinking, as he followed the Dodge over to Dixie Highway and turned south, he had planned to get a haircut yesterday, but was too hung over to make it.
And where does the Dodge pull up to the curb and park? In front of a place called “Betty’s Hair Studio,” the name written big across the window.
Wouldn’t you know, Elvin thought, looking for a place to park, a hair puller would go to a beauty parlor?
• • •
T
he garage door was closed. That was the first thing Kathy noticed driving up to the house. It gave her a sinking feeling. She got out of her car telling herself it wasn’t locked, that all she’d have to do was grab the handle and lift up. She tried. Grabbed it with both hands and tried. Kicked the aluminum door and tried again. It was locked. Shit. Gary would ask her, well where is it? Gary with his new haircut. She caught a glimpse of him as a skinhead and got rid of that one. Saw him with the sides shaved Marine style and crew-cut on top saying to the crew-cut captain in the body shirt he was trying to live up to his expectations. With a straight face. He was actually a cool guy. He acted natural, didn’t pose or try to impress anyone. She should have cut his hair last night, in his under-shorts. Kathy stepped away from the garage to look at the front of the house, the door, sunlight on the windows. No one home, the place shut tight. She turned, wondering what to do, looking at the dense growth across the drive now, young palms and a lot of fern, and saw the car parked in tree shade.
A Ford Escort, dark blue, nosed into the cover of an old laurel oak.
The judge drove a pickup truck but could have a car too, whether he used it or not; it seemed reasonable. Unless it belonged to someone else, visiting.
Kathy walked to the front door and rang the bell, waited, tried it again. She could hear it ring inside.
The car could belong to a TAC guy still hanging around somewhere. They drove all different kinds of cars, whatever they appropriated. If a TAC guy was here she would have to tell him what she was looking for… Oh, a pizza box. Have to go into all that, explain her theory. Or make up a story. She lost an earring. In the garbage? Maybe swept up and thrown in the trash. And thought, You think too much. You know it?
But, if a TAC guy was still around and happened to be out in the yard, he wouldn’t have heard the doorbell. She walked back past the attached garage to the north end of the house, looking out at scrub growth and a line of Australian pines in the distance. The canal curved off in that direction toward the lake.
Kathy stopped.
She heard voices. Or thought she did.
Another few steps would take her around the corner to the screened porch and the backyard, the judge’s gardens, his orchids hanging in trees. She stood listening before moving again, from coarse grass to the edge of the brick patio in sunlight, looking at the screened porch now, dim inside. Kathy stood motionless.
In the silence a woman’s voice, coming from the porch, said, “I told them, I refuse to only work dry. Stand around being a hostess or have to do that awful bird show.”
Another voice, much higher, a child’s, said, “Wasn’ the reason atall.”
“It was too.”
“You lef’ account of your thighs lookin’ how they do. Be with those young girls and everybody see how chubby you is now? No,
ma’am
.”
“I am not chubby.”
“You is too.”
“I am not.”
There was a silence.
The woman’s voice said, “Is someone there?”
Kathy moved toward the screen door. “I’m sorry to bother you.”
“No, please, come in out of the sun.”
Kathy said, “Thank you,” opening the door and stepping inside.
The woman was alone on the porch.
Pretty in a kind of old-fashioned way, a pleasant smile. Blond hair to her shoulders with a small blue velvet bow to one side. She did appear chubby in her flowery print dress. Nice legs though in a dark shade of hose and white sensible shoes. She stood waiting for Kathy.
“I thought I heard you talking to someone.”
“Oh, Wanda. Yes, she left.”
“You’re Mrs. Gibbs,” Kathy said.
“Leanne, please. And I bet I know why you’re here.”
• • •
T
hey had porch furniture out here where you waited to get your hair done, a table of magazines, a counter full of hair products, and a white lattice fence separating this part of Betty’s Hair Studio from where they did the work.
Elvin stepped over to the fence and peeked through the crisscrossed slats. He saw four beauty parlor chairs in there, two on each side, mirrors on the walls behind them, everything the same turquoise color floor to ceiling and nobody in there. He no sooner straightened up he heard a woman talking.
Now when he looked through the fence again he saw the cop, Gary, coming out from the back with a turquoise cloth over him like a cape, his hair wet to his head and this woman leading him, a tiny woman with rouge on her cheeks. She had on a smock that same turquoise color and appeared to be Hispanic. She was. Elvin could hear her talking again as she got Gary in the beauty parlor chair and spun him to face the mirror.
Seeing him sitting there, the cloth draped over him, made Elvin think of a book Sonny had read to him up at Starke. Not the whole book, part of it. It was a western where this guy is getting his hair cut, the good guy, and the guy who’s supposed to be the bad guy comes in, he’s in a hurry, and tells the good guy to get out of the chair. The barber’s done with the guy, has slicked down his wavy hair, but now the fucker won’t move, acts like a girl and won’t get out of the goddamn chair. The guy in a hurry, Frank, has a rifle under his arm. The pissy good guy—Elvin couldn’t think of his name—you
know
doesn’t have his six-shooter on him, but Frank isn’t too sure. He doesn’t want to get shot by a gun hidden under that barber cloth.
Elvin stepped back from the latticework and squared his Ox Bow straw over his eyes thinking about that barbershop in the book. A real barbershop, not a beauty parlor. He touched his right-hand suit coat pocket where the Ruger Speed-Six rested heavy. Then unbuttoned the coat.
What happened in the book was Frank got so pissed off at the good guy he stepped up to yank him out of the chair and the guy hit Frank with this mirror he was holding the barber had given him to look at his haircut. Wouldn’t fight him like a man, hit him across the head with a mirror.
With the cop, if you got too close and weren’t minding, he’d pull your hair. There was no doubt in Elvin’s mind this cop had his gun on him. Except it was around on his hip and would be wedged down in there between him and the beauty parlor chair. Watch his right shoulder. If he lifted it he’d be going for the gun.
Elvin readjusted his hat, put it lower on his eyes. Now he brought the revolver out of the pocket and slipped it into the waist of his pants, a bit to the left side, and closed the suit coat over it. There. Ready?
He took another peek through the latticework. The beauty parlor woman was snipping away at the cop’s wet hair now.
Ready.
Elvin walked in. He saw the woman pause, holding her comb and scissors in the air. He saw the cop raise his head and saw his eyes in the mirror. Elvin said, “You do men in this place or just women and sissies?”
• • •
“I
felt you in my energy field,” Leanne said to Kathy, “so I knew you were there. But it’s so bright out I didn’t see your aura good till you came inside.”
Kathy said, “You can see it?”
“Oh, my yes, it’s a soft blue. You’re acquainted with the judge—you should see his aura.”
“I think I have, almost.”
“You’d know if you did. Here, let’s sit down.” Leanne pulled a chair out from the metal table. “You came for a psychic reading, didn’t you? Not knowing I’ve moved. Well, I haven’t actually moved. I’ve left here but haven’t as yet relocated. There’ll be a notice in
The Third Eye
and some of the other papers when I do. I have to be going pretty soon, but sit down, please. I only stopped by to get something I forgot.”
Kathy took a chair next to her saying, “When you left here, you went up to Weeki Wachee?”
“I did,” Leanne said, “with the idea of picking up where I left off. But then after I thought about it a while I decided no, I have another life now.”
Kathy watched Leanne’s eyelids begin to flutter.
The other voice, the child’s, came out of her saying, “What you have is thighs shake when you walks.”
“They do not.”
The child’s voice said, “Try and zip up a mermaid tail, see how far you gets.”
“You hush up.”
Leanne closed her mouth, tight, Kathy watching. Now she closed her eyes for a moment, opened them and said, “Wanda’s been picking on me ever since I left Big.”
“You mind if I ask,” Kathy said, “how you do that?” Not sure what to call it.
“Communicate with my spirit guide? Oh, there’s different ways.” Leanne leaned toward Kathy, confiding now. “You can resonate by grounding yourself to the earth. See, that allows you to vibrate at a higher level, so you become a conduit for the other being. But now Wanda,” Leanne said, sitting back again, “she sneaks in on my energy level just about whenever she wants. I love her dearly, but she’s getting to be a pest. See, she’s upset ‘cause I left.”
Kathy said, “She wants you to stay here?” and saw the woman’s eyelids flutter.
“She ain’ finish her woik,” the child’s voice said.
Leanne’s eyes blinked. She said, “Now you stop that. When I want to hear from you I’ll get in touch.” Looking at Kathy again Leanne said, “Wanda gave me a time in the car, driving up to Weeki. Kept grabbing the steering wheel to turn us around. I don’t know why we didn’t have an accident.”
“There’s so much I’d like to ask you,” Kathy said, hunching over the table now. “You don’t mind?”
“It’s what I’m here on earth for,” Leanne said. “To answer those who ask.” Her eyes for an instant began to glaze and she straightened, hitting the table hard with the edge of her fist. “No! Now you stay put, darn it.”
Kathy waited a moment. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.”
“I won’t ask you anything personal.”
“I’ve spoken to thousands of people,” Leanne said. “My life is literally an open book.”
“Well, something I’ve always wondered about—when you’re performing underwater, how do you stay down? I mean keep from rising up.”
“Controlling your depth, a lot of it is in the breathing, something you have to learn. You don’t just put on a tail and you’re a mermaid.” Leanne cocked her head, her eyes shining with an inner wisdom. “When people from out of town ask how do you get to Weeki? A mermaid will always answer, ‘Practice.’”
“That’s good,” Kathy said. “Do you mind talking about the alligator?”
“Which one? The one here or at Weeki?”
“Both, I guess. The one at Weeki first.”
“You want the whole story? My out-of-body experience and what happened in the hospital after?”
“Everything,” Kathy said.
“Well, it began just after one in the afternoon of a gorgeous day.” Leanne’s gaze moved to the backyard. “I remember rising from the underwater chamber behind the screen of air bubbles we use as a curtain and seeing the surface of the spring, above me, shimmering in bright sunlight…”
• • •
A
s soon as Gary was in the chair she turned him around and he saw their faces close together in the mirror: Gary’s pale next to her bright glow of makeup, the woman coming on to him, running her hands over his shoulders as she studied his reflection. She was in her fifties, not bad looking, full of energy. Sang to him in Spanish shampooing his hair in the back room.
“I just want a trim.”
“Don’t worry, I take good care of you. Like last time.”
“I don’t think you’ve cut my hair.”
“I haven’t? Good-looking guy like you? I’m surprise. You sure you don’t have me before?”
“I’d remember you.”
She liked that. Getting her comb and scissors from the counter she gave him a wink.
“Are you Betty?”
“Of course. Who else? Maybe it was Helen you had. Helen quit. No, it must be it was Isabel. You like how she fix your hair?”
“Yeah, that’s why I came back.”
“It was Isabel. She isn’t come in yet, has trouble with her car. But listen, I can take care of you good, don’t worry. Put your head down.” She began working on him, humming, hitting her scissors against the comb in rhythm.
Gary raised his eyes to the mirror, saw his head sticking out of the turquoise cover, Betty lifting his wet hair and snipping with a flourish, moving her shoulders as she hummed. He thought of Kathy touching his hair and then saw her in bed in early morning light, her eyes coming open and for a moment or so not aware of him. Both times when they were together and she woke up, felt him close and there he was, she said, “What’re you doing?” A murmur, sleep still in her voice. He said, “I’m looking at you.” His head raised from the pillow. He was so close to her she said the first time, yesterday morning, “You must need glasses.” This morning she looked at him and didn’t say anything, waiting, and he said, “I love to look at you.” She said, “We’re moving right along, aren’t we?” with that quiet expression in her eyes, knowing things. She raised her hand to his face, touched his mouth with the tips of her fingers…