Dig My Grave Deep Page 8

  “That's what I wanted to know. Who they are, I mean.”

  “Why?”

  “I won't be here part of the time, to pay rent, but I can send my check to the owners and save you the trouble.”

  “Now you listen to me...”

  “Please, Mrs. Fragonard. Of course I'll pay you your deposit. And any surcharges that might accrue.”

  “In cash.”

  “Of course.”

  “The name is Sun Property Management. They have offices...”

  “I know where,” said Port and got up. He put the application form down and then Simon got up and put his down, too. “I'll just look around the premises, Mrs. Fragonard, and come back to sign later.”

  “I don't see how,” she said. “It's near two-thirty, and I'm closing at three. I can't have chores and demands...”

  “I'll make it in time. Tomorrow.”

  “Put the forms back on the table,” she called after them.

  They did, and said good-by. She was looking at her bullfrog.

  “We moving in here?” said Simon when they were back in the hall.

  “She doesn't seem very anxious.”

  “I don't like her either,” said Simon. “A dame's got no business with lizards.”

  “Bullfrog.”

  “I mean.”

  “What did you want her to do, look at you all the time?”

  “And why not?”

  Port was reading the tenant list and didn't answer. Then he went up the stairs. They stopped in front of a door with the number 22, and Port pulled Simon close. “It's a longish story but I'll tell you all of it, all at once. You remember Kate?”

  “What are you talking about, do I remember Kate?”

  “In the car yesterday, she didn't do a thing to you. I mean she had nothing to do with that bump on the head.”

  “I got the bump, don't I?”

  “There's two guys in here, Simon, and they hit you. They opened the car door and slammed you on the back of the head.”

  “Is that so? Why?”

  “They saw what you were doing and wanted to stop you.”

  “They prudes or something?”

  “They wanted Katie themselves.”

  “They did?” Simon started to breathe hard.

  “And they did.”

  “Open up mat double damn door,” said Simon.

  Port knocked on the door.

  “Who wants in?” said a voice. Port thought it must be Kirby.

  “Mrs. Fragonard,” said Port, not worrying that his voice was too low.

  “Huh?” And then, “I don't believe it.”

  Footsteps came to the door and Kirby opened it. He took one look, a smirk came over his face, and he stepped back ceremoniously. “Walk in! While you can walk,” he added, and started to laugh.

  Simon stepped to one side so Port could go in first, and then he followed without haste. He walked slowly up to Kirby and moved his arm toward Kirby so that it looked like nothing. Kirby collapsed on the floor and Simon shut the door quietly.

  “Where's that other bastard?” said Simon.

  George was on a couch in back, up on one elbow, and it seemed he had been asleep. He looked at Kirby lying on the floor and blinked. Port had stopped, but Simon was coming across the room. Then George jumped up very quickly. He reached for his jacket hanging on a chair when Port said, “Don't, George.” Port had both hands in his pockets and George stopped still.

  “What about him!” he said, and watched Simon coming.

  “Not yet, Simon. I first gotta ask him something.”

  Simon stopped, but he was very agitated. He reached for George's coat and tore it straight down the back. Then he tore off the sleeves.

  “Don't waste it,” said Port.

  Simon said, “Ha! You wanna see what I got left? You want me...”

  “Later, Simon.”

  George took a deep breath and sat down on the couch again.

  “I've come to ask,” said Port, “why Bellamy put you here.”

  “I don't have to tell you nothing.”

  Simon had a trick of opening and closing his hands so the knuckles cracked. He did this, and George said, “To make a mess here. In the ward.”

  “When?”

  “After the council vote.”

  “And now I want to ask something else. You know this girl Katie?”

  “I don't know no girl Katie.”

  “Yesterday. The one you took away from my friend Simon.”

  “Oh,” said George and looked at Simon.

  “She says you didn't pay her.”

  George didn't answer because he was watching Simon.

  “You owe her,” said Port.

  “All right. Lemme put my hands in my pocket.”

  “Fifty bucks,” said Port.

  “Fifty!”

  He meant to say more, but Simon had thrown the chair at him. They gave him a little time and then Simon helped him pull money out of his pocket. There were eighty dollars in bills and Simon took fifty of that and handed it over to Port.

  “Now Kirby,” said Port.

  Simon went over to Kirby, who was out on the floor, and came back with fifty dollars.

  “We are leaving now,” said Port, “and once your buddy wakes up we want you to do the same. Who else lives here?”

  “Five of us. There's five of us Bellamy put here.”

  “Tell them to leave, too. I'm sending Simon over tomorrow to help you move in case you're still here.”

  “You gonna be here?” Simon asked.

  “No,” said George.

  “Let's go,” said Port and went to the door.

  “But what about him?”

  “Leave him be, Simon.”

  “But I ain't through!”

  “Kick a chair or something.”

  Port went out and stood in the hall while Simon made a racket inside. When he came out Port could see the pile of wrecked furniture in the middle of the room.

  At ten that night Port went home, because that was the only way he could get rid of Simon. He parked his car and Simon walked as far as the door. Port said, “You going to see Katie tonight?”

  Simon nodded.

  “Then take her this,” and Port handed over the hundred dollars.

  He watched Simon take it and fold it with some other bills out of his pocket.

  “Where'd you get that pile?” Port asked him.

  “After you left. When I was cleaning their room.”

  “Simon, I never thought of you as a crook.”

  “It's only fifty, Dan.”

  “Still—”

  “I needed it, Dan. I just told you I'm gonna see Katie.”

  Port looked at Simon and said, “Oh.” He nodded his head and went quickly into the building.

  Chapter Twelve

  At twelve that night Port reached Ramon's apartment. There was a light in the kitchen which showed under the door, but when he knocked nobody answered. He knocked a few more times and then he tried the door. It opened, but nobody was in.

  Port sat down at the kitchen table and waited. There was a coffee pot on the stove, so Port went and poured himself a cup. Then he saw Shelly. He saw her through the half-open door in the next room, where she was lying on a bed, eyes closed. She was on her stomach, breathing regularly, and only her shoes were off. Port put the rest of the coffee back on the stove and lit a flame under the pot. Before he sat down at the table again he went to the room and opened the door enough so he could see her from his chair.

  He sat watching her, watching how her bare arm hung over the side of the bed, how the black hair was sprawling all over, and how the curve of her back moved with her breathing.

  After a while she frowned, rubbed her face into the pillow, and woke. Port saw there had been a book under her, and when she sat up she rubbed her belly.

  “Good evening,” said Port.

  She looked around, wide-eyed, but if there had been fear it was gone much too soon to tell. She jumped up
and came running into the kitchen. She was so mad she couldn't talk. Just when Port was sure she was going to claw him she frowned again and ran to the stove. Port suddenly noticed that the coffee odor was heavy, and when Shelly took the pot off the flame there was nothing left inside the pot but black charcoal. She threw the pot into the sink and came to the table. Her hair was wild, her blouse was half out, the skirt made oblique wrinkles from hips over the belly—and he thought she was magnificent. Then she put her arms akimbo and yelled.

  “Now, get out!”

  “I just came.”

  “I don't want you!”

  He shrugged, said, “But I want you.”

  She glared at him, but the wind was gone out of her. She bit her lip and tucked in the blouse. It made one of the buttons pop open in front. She looked down at it and stamped her foot while Port enjoyed how it bounced her. Then she ran out of the room.

  Port thought he would put on another pot of coffee while she was gone, but Shelly came back almost immediately. She wore the same things, only this time there was a big blanket robe over everything.

  “I see you're still here,” she said.

  “I came to see your brother.”

  “You are lying.”

  “True. I came courtin'. After that, your brother.”

  “What?” she said.

  “Courting. An old-fashioned term we sometimes use when we have it in mind.”

  “I know what you want, but I don't want it.”

  “I didn't mean now. Besides, your brother will be here soon. Would you make us another pot of that coffee?”

  “When is my brother coming?”

  “Around two, I think.”

  She looked at the clock on a shelf, then back at Port.

  “It's not even one yet!”

  “Honey, I told you I came courtin'.”

  She took a deep breath that spread open the robe, and let the air come out of her throat like a growl. She closed her eyes for a moment, then looked at Port.

  “Now, you listen to me.” She stepped up to Port and he saw that her face was all relaxed, except for the eyes. It made her look so completely evil that Port had to blink. “I want one thing from you, to go away and not to come back. And I know what you want. All right, I'll go to bed with you and after you're through, don't come back. Right now,” she said, eyeing him.

  He sat down at the table and lit a cigarette. When he blew smoke it came out a whistle.

  “Not now,” he said. “I don't like your attitude.”

  She just stared at him.

  “You knew that, didn't you?” he said.

  Shelly sat down and looked at the table for a moment. “Yes. But that does not matter.”

  “You mean for Nino...”

  “I sleep with whom I like.”

  “Shelly. You just told me you don't like me.”

  She leaned toward him, over the table, and Port saw how angry she was.

  “You can talk, try to confuse me; it doesn't matter. I can sleep with you and not even know it, and that's how...”

  “That's what I meant. I don't like that attitude.”

  He hadn't expected it, not knowing her well, but he saw her sit back, and she was suddenly no longer angry. She looked tired.

  “You are very good, trying to confuse me,” she said. “Why are you trying?”

  “I'm not. I'm just trying to talk to you. Not Ramon's sister. You.”

  She gave a short laugh, but said nothing.

  “I even know why,” he said.

  “Tell me.”

  “Perhaps you've been living the way Kate does,” he said, “but not the way Kate can do it. To Kate nothing much matters.”

  “I have not lived the way Kate does,” she said.

  “Then why did you offer?”

  She shrugged and looked away.

  “Ramon doesn't matter here,” said Port. “I told you that.”

  “I raised him.” She gave her short laugh again and said, “He is three years younger than I, but I raised him.”

  “No parents?”

  “Oh yes. But they always worked. When they came to this country,” she said, “all they ever did was work.”

  “He's grown up now,” said Port. “You don't have to be your brother's keeper—”

  Now she was angry again. She got up, stepped away from the table, and said, “How would you know?”

  Port didn't answer, for his own reasons, and Shelly thought that it meant Port couldn't understand. For one moment it even felt as if she herself didn't understand any longer and it made her feel even more angry. She would let Port sit and she would have nothing further to do with him. It was suddenly easy to dislike him.

  She went back to her room and slammed the door. Port sat alone in the kitchen, and nothing felt right. He sat waiting for Ramon, impatient but without real interest.

  When Ramon came in, Port felt some relief. It would at least change the atmosphere.

  “Sit down,” he said. “You sure took your time Retting here.”

  Shelly came out of her room. She was wearing the blanket robe, nodded at her brother, and crossed the kitchen to go into the bathroom. Ramon noticed that Shelly's legs were bare.

  “All right,” said Port, “tell me again about the calls yesterday. It's important.”

  Ramon turned around and tried to concentrate.

  “Everything,” said Port.

  Ramon closed his eyes and recited. “First a call from McFarlane. In the evening—not the morning call. Bellamy asked why in hell he couldn't render a different interpretation of that special-group statute.” Ramon looked up. “I'm sure he said special group, but I...”

  “That's all-right. I know what he meant.”

  Ramon closed his eyes again. “Next Bellamy called somebody called Pump on the phone. Pump or Sump. He only said the name once.”

  “He said Sump. Go on.”

  “This one he gave holy hell. He said it's an affront to the sensitivity...”

  “Sensibility.”

  “All right, sensibility. He says it's an affront to that, the way the committee was handling the slum clearance thing, and then this Sump gives it back to Bellamy. Like a revival meeting, let me tell you.”

  “Just in brief, what did he say?”

  “He said for Bellamy to go to hell. That's the way I figure it, anyway.”

  “What next?”

  “Next, Bellamy makes a business call about some fine point about property. After that he talks to a man called Landis. This was very short, and...”

  “What about that business call. Any details you remember?”

  “Wait a minute. This Landis call, now, Bellamy tells the man to stay out of politics or else, and Landis says, I am out. Out of your kind, anyway. Then Landis hangs up.” Ramon looked at Port, pleased with himself, but Port's reaction offended him.

  “What about that business call?”

  Ramon drummed his fingers a few times.

  “You know, Dan, if you'd tell me what you're after, maybe I could listen better. I'd know what to listen for. You know what I mean?”

  “You're doing fine.”

  At that moment Shelly came in. She went to the sink to do something or other, but most of all she interrupted. Before either of the men could say anything she went back to her room.

  “All right, Ramon, what about that property? You remember the address?”

  “I told you already. I told that mailman character. Twelve hundred Birch.”

  “That's right. What did Bellamy say?”

  “Nothing. Just a question about escrow. I think he said, 'Is it in escrow,' or something like that.”

  “Whom did he talk to?”

  “He called the man Jack. And Jack, all he said was 'Yes sir' and 'No sir'.”

  Port frowned and said, “Maybe there's something.”

  “How would I know? But if you'd tell me what this is all about—”

  “Did he say, 'Yes, it's in escrow'?”

  “Look, I don'
t know what escrow is and when they talked about it, it's just double talk to me.”

  “Double talk about what?”

  “How in hell do I know!”

  “Don't yell. You'll wake up your sister.”

  But Shelly opened her door right then and came back into the kitchen. “Are you all right, Nino?” she asked.

  “Stop calling me Nino, will you? And don't keep busting in here like that when I'm talking business.”

  “I live here, Nino.” She said it to Ramon, with a gentle voice, as if she thought he might have forgotten. She closed a cupboard door and went back to her room.

  “Don't mind her, Ramon. She...”

  “What do you mean, don't mind her? When I'm trying to do a job, especially something like this...”

  “You're doing fine.”

  “I could do better, if I knew what in hell you're after.”

  “Let's get back to that call, Ramon.” Port was patient. He would have to make the best of the situation, and he would have to remember not to come here again. Not to talk business, to mix business and pleasure— He almost laughed when he thought of the pleasure he'd had with Shelly.

  “The Jack guy mentioned the Realty Improvement Company.”

  “Realty Improvement?”

  “That's what I said.”

  “Did anyone mention Sun Property Management?”

  “No. I'm sure nobody did.”

  Port leaned back, rubbing one hand through his hair. Ramon sat for a while, waiting, and then he asked, “Did I tell you something?”

  “It sounds like they're selling. Sun Property owns the building and Realty Improvement is a broker. They handle sales.”

  “Maybe something crooked, seeing that Bellamy is in it.”

  Port shook his head. “Bellamy owns Realty Improvement, but that doesn't make it crooked. And if you want to sell property in this town, Realty Improvement is the best outfit to go to.”

  “So why the questions, if it's just one of Bellamy's legitimate business deals?”

  “I don't know. Mostly because Bellamy's hoods turned up at that address. But that doesn't mean anything either, come to think of it.”

  “Would anyone like more coffee?” said Shelly. She came back into the kitchen and both men looked at her. She hadn't interrupted anything this time, so they just nodded and watched her pour from the pot.

  She smiled at Port and said, “You want more, too, Danny?”