Who is Charlie Conti? (5 page)

‘Fire-water, check. Wisdom weed, check. Personal effect of the departed, check. Leather-bound volume of mysterious provenance, check.’ After a pause he added, ‘Hypothermia, check.’ Then he said, ‘Right, find the chapter before the bit about eating sea turtle.’

I started to leaf through the book. It was hard to read the spidery hand by the flickering light of the flame. I remember deciphering the sentence,
Mock not the turtle; he is a master of the deep,
when I became aware of a faint metallic buzzing, like a winged insect caught in a cage. In the next instant light flooded the chapel and a hoarse voice intoned, ‘In flagrante delicto…’

We looked up to see the old verger standing beside the vestry door. He repeated the words again – they are etched in my memory – savouring each syllable, rolling the ‘flagrante’ around the tip of his tongue like soft toffee, squeezing the ‘delicto’ against the roof of his mouth like a ripe grape.

The old verger’s role was mainly ceremonial; nothing he did had any real bearing on the running of the school and consequently he had become a figure of fun in the eyes of generations of schoolboys. He did his best to impress his importance upon us whenever he
could, which is why he enjoyed having boys on punishment duty to order around. But unfortunately we had presented him with a perfect opportunity for revenge and he made full use of it. We never found out why he had been in the dark chapel late at night – among the many questions which had to be answered over the next forty-eight hours, that one fell by the wayside. I don’t want to go into the details of the sorry episode. It still pains me, not because of its naivety or because I had to move schools as a result. No, what pains me still is the fact that, despite my protesting that it was all my idea, Mikey Katzounnis was also kicked out for possession of cannabis. I could hardly begin to imagine the consternation which this would have caused in his wholesome Greek home. When his father arrived on Monday morning to collect him, he wouldn’t even look at me. I had brought dishonour upon his family and I guess the Greeks take that pretty seriously.

Mikey was sent to a Jesuit school in Ohio. He never spoke to me again. I don’t even know whether his family still live in New York. I’d really liked his mom; I guess she had felt pretty sorry for me when she found out I was an orphan. So, when it came to filling out the application form for the Hollywood School of Dramatic Arts three years later, I figured that, if I were dying, she would overlook the fact that I’d got Mikey kicked out of school. I would sure prefer to have her by my bedside rather than Hartfelder, so that’s why I put down her name and address in the ‘emergency contact’ section of the application form.

B
ACK IN THE
diner off of Interstate 15 I’d been making a few notes on the paper napkins, but I hadn’t written down all that stuff about Mikey and Belmont and all. For one, there’s no way it would have fit. And anyway, I didn’t really want to tell Special Agent Kramer about my getting kicked out of school. Though I hadn’t met him yet we’d spoken a few times on the phone and I’d really gotten to like him. I didn’t want him to think the worse of me. The notes were mostly stuff like the dates when I first got to the Hollywood School of Dramatic Arts, the time I first met Ray Celador, basic stuff like that. The dates were mostly in my head but it was a good feeling to put them on paper.

I stared out of the window, watching the shadows grow longer. The diner was empty; it was getting on for dusk and I’d been sitting
there since before midday. I was also pretty hungry. I emptied the change from my pocket into my hand to count it underneath the table, then I looked over to try and catch the waitress’ eye. I had to keep looking for a while because she was concentrating on painting her nails on the stool by the cash register. When she did look up and saw me motion her over she looked kind of pissed. She stayed sitting for a while, waving her hand in the air and occasionally blowing on her nails. I thought maybe I should go order by the register.

As I was walking over I saw her whisper into the little Dictaphone. I’d forgotten about that. I got to the register and she handed it to me very delicately so as not to touch either me or the Dictaphone with her nails. I took it from her but paused for a moment. The warm afternoon light was coming sideways through the slatted aluminum window blinds and the shadows of the slats were curving themselves around her body. I couldn’t help noticing her breasts pressing against her t-shirt. There was the shadow of one slat bending around her forehead, and the shadow of the next crossing the bridge of her nose; her green eyes were caught in the orange light. She looked amused.

I pressed play.

‘Can I take your order?’

I pressed record and spoke into the Dictaphone: ‘I’d like a burger, please,’ then I returned it to her. She rewound the tape, listened to my voice and then nodded and turned to relay the order through a hole in the wall to the kitchen. I went back to my table and the waitress followed me with a large glass of water in her hand. She placed it on the table. As soon as I sat down my cell
phone, which was lying next to the napkins on the table, started to ring. The waitress was closer to the phone than I was. She gave me a look, picked it up and answered.

‘Joe’s diner, can I help you?’ Then, after a pause, ‘Yes sir, I think so. Medium height? I think so. Kinda cute?’ With this she threw another look in my direction. ‘Here, lemme ask him.’

She whispered into the Dictaphone and passed it back to me. I pressed play again.

‘Do you know Special Agent Kramer? He’s on the phone.’

I nodded and grabbed my cell from her hand. ‘Sir?’ I said.

‘Yes, is that you Charlie? This is Special Agent Kramer.’

‘Yes sir, it is.’

‘Who’s the broad?’

‘She’s the waitress here. She picked up my phone.’

‘Ok. Look Charlie, I’m not going to make it today. I got a lead on a guy in Arizona and I’ve been in and out of choppers all day and now the Bureau wants a full report. I’m sorry for dragging you out to the diner, it woulda been convenient if this shit hadn’t come up. But look, I’ll definitely be driving down Interstate 15 tomorrow. Can you meet me in the diner same time tomorrow?’

‘Yeah, I guess so.’

‘I’m sorry Charlie, there was nothing I could do.’

‘I’ll be here, but, um, I was just wondering…’ I tailed off, hoping Kramer would guess what I was going to say. He didn’t, so I went on, ‘I mean, it’s about cash, sir. I’ve hardly got enough to last me until tomorrow.’

‘I know Charlie, I know. Look, don’t worry. I’ll be there tomorrow two o’clock. You give me the laptop and I’ll get you to
sign the forms. We’ll get your accounts unfrozen and I’ll authorize a withdrawal from the Bureau’s emergency fund as soon as I’ve confirmed your identity. Just sit tight Charlie.’

‘Yes sir. I’ll be here,’ I said.

‘Ok Charlie, I gotta go. Tomorrow at two.’

The line went dead.

I was left holding my phone in the empty diner with another twenty-four hours to kill and less than twenty bucks in my pocket. But all the same, I felt elated. I always did whenever I spoke to Special Agent Kramer. He had that effect on me, I guess because I trusted him and because he was the one figure of authority who believed that I was who I said I was. I mean, so much had happened, and it was such a long story, but Special Agent Kramer knew all about Ray already and that made a big difference.

I’d forgotten about the waitress but I guess I must’ve caught her interest because she spoke to me for the first time without the Dictaphone.

‘So, you’re friends with a Special Agent?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, you could say that. Except we’ve never met, only spoken on the phone. I guess you’d like that.’

‘Maybe. Depends. So, how come you’re friends with him?’

It went through my mind how easy it would be to invent a great story, like how me and Kramer were partners except I was undercover because with my youthful looks no one would suspect me, and we were doing a big bust in Vegas. I was pretty sure she’d buy it, and it could be kind of fun too. I mean, at the Hollywood School we were encouraged to do stuff like that, for practice or whatever. Before I met Ray Celador that’s just the sort of shit I’d
have pulled. I didn’t do it anymore though, no way. So I told her the truth.

‘I can’t tell you anything about him. He’s helping me get outa trouble but I’m not allowed to talk about it. I’m sorry.’

‘Huh.’ She gave me the same arch look as before, except the sunlight was no longer as orange and her eyes didn’t seem as green. Then she looked at her watch and said, ‘You’re gonna have to leave soon. I’m closing up.’

‘Oh, sure,’ I said. ‘Look, I’m really sorry I can’t tell you anything about Kramer or my case, but I’d love to buy you a drink if you’re free tonight.’ I don’t find it easy to be bold, but there was something about the moment that made it not so hard. Maybe it was the fact that we were alone in the softening slatted light and bound together by the same curved lines of shadow, or maybe it was her arch look, or maybe just the fact that she seemed interested in me.

She replied, ‘I just heard you say you don’t have any cash.’

That kind of caught me off-guard. ‘I don’t have much,’ I said, ‘but Kramer will fix that tomorrow. I got enough for a few drinks, and I got my car.’

‘So where you going to sleep tonight?’

‘I’ll find a motel,’ there was that amused look again, ‘or maybe I’ll sleep in my car.’ She didn’t say anything, so I went on, ‘So, how about that drink?’

‘That’s sweet but I can’t. I got stuff to do.’

I felt a pang when she said that. I suddenly realized that she had a whole life outside of the diner, a life with friends and relationships and all the kind of stuff that people live for. As for me, it felt like pretty much everything I was and everything I had was right there
in the diner, except for Izzy maybe.

I guess I must’ve looked pretty sad because the waitress said, ‘Don’t worry, I’ll see you here tomorrow.’

‘Sure. That’s great.’ Then I realized I didn’t even know her name, so I asked, ‘One more thing, what’s your name?’

She smiled and turned away from me to whisper into the Dictaphone which was still in her hand, then turned back round and passed it to me. I pressed play.

‘Estrella, but everyone here calls me Stella. You?’

I recorded my name and gave the Dictaphone back to Stella. A voice from the kitchen announced through the hole in the wall that they were out of bread. Stella wanted to close the diner so I figured I’d go someplace else for a burger. I paid for the coffee and gathered together the stuff on my table. I waved goodbye to Stella as I left the diner. She didn’t seem so sad to see me go, but I was sure looking forward to seeing her again.

I went outside, put my notes written on the napkins into the glove compartment of the Buick where I also kept the laptop, then I climbed up to the roof of the car and sat there with my legs crossed. The roof was still warm although the sun had set. I lit a cigarette. I don’t smoke much; I don’t really like the taste, maybe because of that metallic kiss way back in Tompkins Square Park. But I like the way that a cigarette can kind of solidify a moment, plucking it from the daily flow of life and privileging it above the rest. I like to smoke when a moment is worth remembering. I was thinking
about Stella – her Dictaphone, her amused green eyes, and also about her breasts pressed against the inside of her t-shirt. And I was thinking about Special Agent Kramer whom I would meet in person for the first time the following day and who would be able to solve my problems because he knew I was telling the truth and because he had the power of the Federal Bureau of Investigation behind him. And once my bank account was unfrozen I’d head up to see Izzy. And after that maybe I’d return to LA or maybe I’d move back to New York – I didn’t know. So I sat on the
sun-warmed
roof of the Buick smoking that cigarette because I had already started to see the diner as a turning point and I wanted to record that moment. And I guess I was right about one thing; it really was a turning point.

The temperature drops fast in the desert. I was about to climb down off the car when I heard someone spitting not far behind me. I looked round and saw a middle-aged man. His hair was mostly white but his skin was tanned and healthy looking and he seemed in pretty good shape. He was making his way over to my car with a bow-legged, cowboy walk.

‘Hey buddy, you headin’ south?’

‘I dunno,’ I said. ‘I’m looking for a place to get a burger, but not too far from here. I got to be back here tomorrow.’

‘You don’t want to try the diner? The waitress is hot, yes sir.’

‘I’ve just been in there and she’s closing up,’ I said.

‘Huh, I bet I know why that is,’ the man nodded to himself. Then he said, ‘I can show you a place twenty miles from here that does burgers like they was home-cookin’, and I can show you where to go for entertainment after, if you catch my meaning.’

I didn’t really, but the guy seemed friendly and I had nothing else to do, so I said to him to get in and climbed down off the roof. When I sat down he introduced himself as Pete.

‘I’m Charlie. Nice to meet you,’ I said.

There was a moment of silence as I reversed, then he said, ‘Nice Buick.’

It’s true, it really was a nice Buick – a ‘57 Roadmaster. I’d bought it when I first got to LA. The owner before me had looked after it well; when I bought it the chrome was like a mirror and the black paint had been polished to perfection. It had had a few knocks since then and a couple of rusty spots were beginning to show. All the same, it was an imposing car – a solid, unequivocal statement of the American Dream: big car, big family and more gas than we’ll ever need. That’s the other thing, it was a gas-guzzler like you wouldn’t believe. Sometimes I felt kind of bad about that, on account of the environment and all. I mean, I don’t like to think that I’m actively destroying the planet. But then, I also think that it’s unlikely that the planet is going to last for ever. Earth as we know it can’t keep going for always, even if we stop polluting and exhausting resources and so on. I mean, there was a time before earth was habitable, and there’ll be a time when earth becomes uninhabitable again; I think that’s obvious. I guess you’re pretty unlucky if you’re around when the transition happens, but I don’t really see that it matters so much if the earth becomes uninhabitable in a thousand years or in ten thousand years or in ten million years. All that stuff about preserving things for future generations – I mean, it’s a nice idea, but if things don’t get preserved then there aren’t going to be any future generations and no one will be
any the wiser. And even if we do try to preserve things for future generations, and future generations preserve them for even more future generations and so on, I mean, at some point the chain is going to break and I just don’t really see why it matters so much when that break happens, except that, from a selfish point of view, we don’t want to be around when it does. Anyway, I don’t like thinking on those lines. It gets me down.

‘You ok buddy? Lookin’ pretty serious.’

I’d forgotten about Pete. ‘Yeah. I’m fine,’ I said. ‘Just had a lot to think about today.’

‘What’s troublin’ ya?’

I didn’t really want to go through everything I’d been thinking, so I said, ‘Just the usual. Money, stuff like that, you know.’

‘Well buddy, here’s a news flash: it doesn’t get any better. It doesn’t get any better, I swear.’ He patted his pockets, then, ‘Say, mind if I smoke?’ he asked.

‘No, go ahead.’ Out of the corner of my eye I watched Pete roll himself a cigarette in one hand, with a filter and all. I was impressed by his dexterity. ‘Where’d you learn that?’ I asked.

‘What? Oh, the rolling? I been driving tractors most my life. Always need a hand on the wheel.’

‘You from around here?’

‘Sure am. Born and bred. I walk to the diner from the farm. Once a month the wife lets me go loose some demons, that’s what she calls it. Says they’re better out than in. Course, I used to drive to Big Al’s – that’s the bar – but last winter I got so drunk on account of the Superbowl and all that I tipped the truck off the road on the way home. Knocked myself out and damn near froze
to death. That’s what the doctor said. Anyway, since then the wife won’t let me drive.’ Pete grinned at me.

‘Why doesn’t she go with you?’

‘Sometimes she does, for sure. But she doesn’t like to leave the kids alone, and she thinks the money is wasted on the dances. I get what she’s saying, but when a man’s got demons, what’s he to do?’

I wasn’t sure if I was expected to reply. I was trying to think of something noncommittal when Pete continued:

‘Course, she loves the burgers at Big Al’s. That’s how we met, right at the counter, twenty-two years ago. She was mighty pretty back then, mighty pretty. We always have a burger at Big Al’s on our anniversary. Take all the kids along too. This year we took Valerie – that’s the youngest, she’s only three months. Jeez did she make a ruckus. Good thing Big Al’s a family man hisself.’