VINCENT WALKED PAST the open-air front of the restaurant, along the boxed hedge. The blue canvas bag hung from his shoulder. He spotted Teddy right away. Teddy wearing a red knit shirt, in there among the hanging plants and green oilcloth-covered tables. Tourist with camera case, head lowered, ordering a late breakfast from the placemat menu. Vincent continued along Ashford Avenue to Walgreen’s and dialed the number DeLeon had given him.
“This better be important.”
“I wonder if you’d do me a favor.”
“Your house could be on fire, but I’d never tell from your voice, would I?”
“Pick up the cab driver’s wife and drop her off at Consulado. You know where it is?”
“Everybody knows where Consulado is.”
“Teddy’s there.”
“Hmmm, I like to see that.”
“Better hang back. We don’t want to gang up on him.”
“Just shake him some if you can. Scare him?”
“You never know.”
“You don’t know what you interrupted here.”
“You have to rest sometime.”
“I do?”
Teddy was eating pancakes with one hand, holding onto his plastic glass of Coke with the other. Vincent wasn’t sure if he could watch him: Teddy cutting a big wedge out of the stack, shoving it into his wide-open mouth, then taking a sip of the Coke before he began to chew. Vincent sat down at the table-for-four across the aisle, hung the canvas bag from the back of his chair.
Teddy, hunched over his plate, turned his head to look past his shoulder. “ ‘Ey, we got a stop meeting like this.”
Was he honestly off the wall or pretending to be? Playing the nerd. Eyes with a watery glaze this morning. Hungover? Maybe. He didn’t seem on guard or the least concerned. Vincent could be someone from back home… An old pal thinking how simple it would be reach into the back of his pants beneath his jacket, pull out the old Smith and put him away. One shot. There. Tell the waitress, let’s see, I think I’ll have the eggs over easy.
“What’re you following me for? It won’t do you no good.”
“I’m not following you.”
“What’ve you been doing all morning? I saw you go by here.”
“You used to follow me,” Vincent said, “take pictures… What were the pictures for? You mind if I ask you?”
“What’ve you got, a wire on you?”
“Come on, you’re off the hook, you know it. I’m not trying anything. I’m curious, that’s all.”
“Why’d I take pictures? I’ll tell you,” Teddy said, his mouth full. He paused to take a drink of Coke, work his tongue around in his mouth. “I wanted to look at your face.”
“Why?”
“See how you look at people.” Teddy squared around to face Vincent directly. “See if you look at them the same way you look at me.”
“How do I look at you? I don’t understand what you mean.”
“Tough shit. That’s all I’m saying on that particular subject at this time. It may come up again, but we don’t know for sure or when… Now you want to talk, it looks like. On the airplane, when you were so sure my ass was going to jail, you didn’t have a word to say, did you? No, you and that big jigaboo sat there laughing with each other-oh boy, are we having fun, taking Mr. Magic to jail. I thought sure you’d want to ask me some questions then.”
“Can I be honest with you?” Vincent said.
“Well, please do.”
“I was afraid if you said anything I might open the door and throw you right out of the fucking plane. But I got over that.”
Teddy moved his shoulders, acting cute. “Oh, you’re not mad at me no more?”
“What can I do?” Vincent said. “I’ve been a policeman fifteen years. I know when I bring the state attorney, the prosecutor, evidence and he says it’s not enough, okay, that’s it. I’m not gonna go around the law just because I think the guy’s guilty.”
“What about getting me out on that ferry? That wasn’t nice.”
“Well, that was different. I was trying to keep you from doing something dumb. You know what I mean? I was trying to scare you, get you thinking straight.”
“I got lost,” Teddy said, “took me two hours, easy, get back to the hotel. First those two PRs take me out there, not knowing where’n the hell I am. Then you step out of that other car… You think I wasn’t scared?”
“But not enough,” Vincent said. He eased back in his chair, looking down at the placemat menu. “Well, it doesn’t matter now anyway, does it?”
“What doesn’t matter?”
“I thought you could take a fall on any of three homicides, no problem. But, I was wrong.”
“Wait a minute. What three?”
“The cab driver-I know you did him. But that’s neither here nor there. The woman and Iris.”
“What woman?”
“The one underneath the Boardwalk. Beaten to death, raped. That sounds like our Teddy.”
“Her name was Marie, I believe.”
“Anna Marie Hoffman.”
“Yeah? That her name?”
“And there was Iris. But I don’t think now you did Iris.”
“Yeah? Why not?”
“I think it was some other creep. You’re not the only creep in the world, Ted. There could be millions.”
Teddy said, “Is that right?” Face drawn tight as he picked up his camera case from the table and came over. “You think it was some creep, ‘ey?” He pulled the chair out across from Vincent and sat down, the camera case in his lap now, looking right at Vincent, Vincent lying back, waiting, Vincent very happy with the way it was going. “I hear she did a double back flip off that balcony,” Teddy said. “I hear it wasn’t a bad dive, but she only scored an eight-point-five. You know why? She didn’t keep her feet together.”
Vincent had to wait a moment. He picked up his glass of water and took a sip. He had to let himself ease back down.
“I understand she didn’t scream,” Vincent said. “I wonder why.”
Teddy shrugged his shoulders, staring at Vincent. “Maybe she was dead or close to it. Can’t they tell things like that? Do some tests?”
“It takes time,” Vincent said.
“Or maybe she was on something, you know, like ludes, and had passed out.”
“Iris didn’t do that kind of stuff.”
“She didn’t? Maybe somebody talked her into it. Take that bitchy edge off her. But maybe she was worn out and it got to her quick. You know? Can’t you figure things out? Speculate on it? Hell, I’m the one ought a be the dick. I’ll tell you something though. You can keep surveillance. I don’t want any parts of surveillance work. Other than following some stove-up cripple walks with a cane.” Teddy grinned. “That’s different.”
“What about the woman?”
“Who, Marie?”
“Yeah, what happened to her?”
“What happened? She got taken, it looks like. That kind of talkative woman, she picks up with a friendly stranger and she happens to have something he wants, there you are.”
“Like financial assistance.”
“Could be.”
“But why rape her?”
“Why did he… do what he did to her? I don’t know. Maybe it seemed like a good idea. Maybe she wanted him to.”
“She was already dead.”
“Well, a woman like her can’t be too choosy as to when she gets it. You know what I mean? I bet she hadn’t had any dick in years and years. Judging from the type of woman she was and her age. Old women don’t get a lot a dick. You don’t know-she might a died with a smile on her face knowing it was coming.”
Vincent had to wait a few moments. “You think so?”
“I understand it was dark under there. Who knows, ‘ey? You think you know things and you get in trouble. You think I popped that cab driver and shoved him over the cliff, so you haul my ass down here… Well, least it was a free ride and I don’t mind being back. I think somebody ought a pay my hotel though. I mean it’s not my fault I’m here.”
“It’s never your fault,” Vincent said. “You’re probably sick, but you still know what you’re doing. You’re a weird fucking guy, Teddy. I’ve never met anybody like you before in my life.”
“You better believe it,” Teddy said and grinned. “You’re finding out the hard way they don’t call me Mr. Magic for nothing.”
“Who’s they? I never heard anybody call you that.”
“Guys.”
“What guys? Guys at Raiford? All the winners? I wouldn’t call doing time exactly a magic act.”
“I got along fine.”
“And came out with some great ideas.”
Teddy squinted at him. “I can see that look again, man. There it is. Like you think you know something.”
“I know you ought to be taken off the street.”
“Don’t look away-look at me!”
He wanted to-Teddy was coming out, exposing himself-but Vincent’s gaze had moved beyond Teddy to pick up the round black woman in a shiny print, shades of red, coming through the opening in the hedge; the cab driver’s wife out of Africa looking around the open-air restaurant now, a big straw sunhat shading her face, worn over a red bandana.
Vincent did look at Teddy for a moment, at wide-open eyes with worry in them, something wrong, Teddy’s expression not matching his tone sounding mean, telling Vincent, “You don’t know shit, but you’re talking about me, arn’cha? Saying things that aren’t true.” Calling Vincent dumb and stupid, telling Vincent, “Look at me with your eyes!” And then, “Where you going?”
Vincent said, “I want you to meet somebody,” rising as the round black woman in the shiny print, the big straw hat, came to the table.
Vincent helped her into a chair saying their names, Modesta Manosduros… Teddy Magyk. A waitress came to pour water and Vincent watched Teddy looking the woman over without looking directly at her. Teddy sitting straight, his hands on his camera case. The waitress left them and Teddy eased back in his metal chair, picked up his glass of water, starting to grin and trying not to-his old self again.
“This your date?” Getting a smirky look.
“Isidro’s wife,” Vincent said.
“I know him,” the woman said. “Is the one kill my husband.”
Teddy kept his eyes straight ahead, on Vincent. “She never saw me before in her life.”
“You still the one kill my husband.” She looked at Vincent and he nodded.
“You told your husband to be careful of him.”
“Yes, but he don’ listen to me.”
“You told me to be careful, too.”
“So maybe you listen and nothing happen to you.”
“You two have fun,” Teddy said, “I’m leaving.” He gripped his camera case, put a hand on the arm of his chair.
“Look at him,” Vincent said. “Take a good look.”
“Yes?” the woman said.
“Is he magic?”
“Mr. Magic,” the woman said. “No police can catch him.”
Teddy grinned at Vincent. “You hear that?”
“What do you see? What’s gonna happen to him?”
“To Mr. Magic?”
Vincent nodded. “Look at him and tell me what you see.” He watched Teddy waiting now, Teddy getting that smirky expression again.
“Is hard to see him,” the woman said, half-closing her eyes.
“Now you see me,” Teddy said, “now you don’t.”
“He is inside something,” the woman said, raising her hands to hold them a few inches apart. “But is only this big.” She held the palm of one hand about a foot above the table. “And, I believe, this high. Like an olla. You say a pot, or a pitcher?” She closed her eyes. “I see him but I don’t see him.”
“The hell she talking about?” Teddy said.
Vincent was reaching around for the blue canvas bag hanging from his chair, Teddy watching him. Vincent placed the bag on his lap, zipped it open and brought out the stainless steel urn. “Is it like this, what you see him in?”
“Yes, like that,” the woman said. “That thing, made of metal.”
“You’re sure,” Vincent said, placing the urn carefully in the middle of the table, seeing Teddy’s frown as he studied it. The woman said, yes, it was the same thing. Teddy looked up.
“You mind my asking what you got in there?”
“Iris,” Vincent said.
“Jesus Christ,” Teddy said, “you’re kidding me,” staring at the urn again, his expression changing as he relaxed and seemed to grin. “No shit, Iris is in there? What, her ashes?”
“All that’s left of her.”
“Jesus. I never saw one of those before. Did you look in it? ‘Ey, I wouldn’t mind, if you can get it open.”
Vincent said, “You’re a creepy guy, Ted.”
Teddy said, “Yeah? Well, so are you. Carrying that thing around.”
“I’m taking it to her family in Mayaguez,” Vincent said, “unless you want to. You could tell them Iris’s last words.”
“Boy, you’re really funny.” Teddy lifted his camera case onto the table. “This whole setup-trying to mess with my head, like this’s the voodoo woman and she can see into the future. I know you told her what to say. You’re dumber and stupider’n I even thought, try and pull this kind a shit. You got to realize it man, you’re dealing with Mr. Magic.”
“I see you-” Modesta began.
But Teddy, getting up, cut her off. “Not if I see you first, Mama.”
Vincent said, “Wait, listen to her.”
“She ain’t through her routine yet?”
“I see him with a woman,” Modesta said.
Teddy paused. “Well, that ain’t all bad.”
Vincent was watching the black woman’s face, her eyes closed in the shade of the sunhat.
“I see him dancing, it look like. Close to somebody.”
“Yeah? Then what happens?”
“You run away.”
“You don’t see me or her in the sack?”
“I don’t see you no more. You gone.”
“That’s fine with me.” Teddy slung the camera case over his shoulder and looked at Vincent. “Now you see me, now you don’t. Maybe you’ll see me again… and maybe you won’t.”
Jesus Christ, Vincent thought.
Teddy, grinning his smirky grin, raised and lowered his eyebrows, twice. He said, “Have a nice day,” turned and walked off.
Jesus Christ, Vincent thought, feeling strangely self-conscious, as though people at the other tables were staring at him, associating him with Teddy.
Look at the freak, crossing the street now in shorts, wearing white shorts, camera case hanging, the freak raising his hand with a flat palm toward approaching traffic, the freak looking straight ahead, ignoring the cars blowing their horns at him. Teddy on stage, showing off. Something a kid in junior high might do. The guy who murdered three people in the past three weeks. Look. Moving off with a jaunty stride, on the other side of the street now, with a bounce to his step that seemed to lift him up on his toes.
This isn’t what you do, Vincent thought. Play games with weird kids. You can’t do it. You have to get out.
Still, he continued to watch Teddy, who had killed three people in the past three weeks, until he was out of sight and Modesta Manosduros said, “I think I am hungry.”
Vincent turned to her. “When you looked at him, did you really see him dancing?”
“With a woman, I think,” Modesta said. “But is hard to see it because is dark in that place.” She said, “I wonder if I could have an ‘amburgesa.”
He was aware of himself winding down, worn out.
They drove Modesta home in the limo, music and cool air turned up. Then turned them down to quiet sounds to drive out of the city toward Isla Verde; a nice ride, DeLeon relaxed, Vincent trying not to think.
“I’m going home.”
“Can’t fake your injury no more?”
“Can’t play his game.”
“How ’bout I put him on the ground and you drop something heavy on him?”
“I’m tired.”
“Doesn’t matter or not he still wants you?”
“He does, he’ll have to come to Miami Beach.”
“This living on comps and good looks is gonna arrive at a screechy halt anyway, anytime now. Nothing is free, is it? Shit,” DeLeon said, “I’m gonna have to get a job.”
They came to the mosque on the beach. A gambler’s mecca-was that the connection? Vincent still wasn’t sure. They left the car at the main entrance… Vincent winding down finally to reach bottom after days of dead ends, tired to death of thinking.
Then starting up again gradually, not yet aware of it, as he said, “Let’s have a few in the lounge, while I can still sign.” The idea picking him up a little but not much. The black doorman in cape and turban grinned with teeth like old piano keys, giving it all he had. And it picked Vincent up some more. The put-on. The man making a living, playing his part. And DeLeon playing with him, saying, “Allah is God, my brother.” The doorman grinning his ivory grin back, “And Jackie Garbo is his prophet. Say tell you he’s in the lounge. Anxious to see you two.”
It stopped DeLeon. “Uh-oh.”
But lifted Vincent even higher, the prospect of seeing Jackie again, the idea of buying him a drink. “Come on.” Amazing, though maybe not so amazing. Because Jackie was real and good or bad you could read him and be entertained. Jackie was Jackie… Who was Teddy? You couldn’t say Teddy was Teddy… Teddy in and out of Vincent’s mind, never completely gone, as he walked through the lobby with DeLeon and into the lounge. Dark, but there he was, at the bar.
A half-grown bear in a silk suit, raising his glass, white cuff gleaming, pinky ring winking… Vincent walked toward him. He would shake his hand, slap him on the shoulder, get him off stride and listen to his assumptions and raw asides and enjoy it. He heard a cord struck softly on the piano, another and another…
Jackie was looking this way, Jackie saying, “It works. Somebody sent in the fucking clowns. Where you going?”
To the bandstand-was he kidding? Through the tables to the small stage, one step up and across to the piano where Linda stopped playing as she saw him. Was she sad or smiling? Or both. He wasn’t sure. He said, “You’re here…”
And she said, “I missed you, Vincent. Boy, did I miss you.”