Chapter 11
Yet, I had a child waiting for me in the motel room – I thought. Iris wasn’t there when I returned. Her backpack was there, so she hadn’t gone home.
While I waited for her to return, I turned on the television to try to find something worthwhile or at least entertaining. I checked the sports channels and found no contests that I would be interested in. Football was over. Baseball hadn’t begun. Too early in the day for soccer, unless from Europe. Too early for basketball. No races. No tennis because all the pros were in Australia, so they were all asleep. Mostly sitcoms, soap operas or talk shows on the broadcast channels. I checked for history, learning, discovery, court, art or entertainment, and finally settled on the Animal Planet, which was running some of the Big Cat Diary series. That was a favorite show of Churchill and Franklin. I often watched with them.
Then the room door clicked open and Iris came in. She said, “Hi, how’s it going?”
“Fine. Whatcha been up to?”
“Been out scouting.”
“For what?”
“To see if I could get any leads.”
“On my case?”
“Sure, what else?”
“Damn it, Iris, I don’t want you putting yourself at risk.”
“They’re just missing boys. I don’t see anything too risky.”
“So, where did you go?”
“Up and down 29.”
“Did you find anything?”
“Yeah.”
“What?”
“People have seen them.”
“But no definite leads.”
“No, but my Spanish isn’t great, so I didn’t always understand everything someone said, but the boys are definitely around here somewhere and working.”
“Are you sure they weren’t just trying to get the $500?”
“Yes, because I didn’t show the flyer. I folded one so only the photos of the boys showed. I told everyone they were my brothers and I was looking for them because our father was sick and wanted to see them before he died.”
“Not bad.”
“It got a lot of sympathy.”
“What were your best responses?”
“Several Latinos said they had seen them . . . in this field or that field, but they didn’t know where they stayed. Yo le vi . . . en el campo. Stuff like that.”
“Pretty vague.”
“Then there was this old wino with a few days of stubble. He said he had seen them a few days ago, but he couldn’t talk without some refreshment, so I gave him five dollars to buy some wine. He smelled like he had fermented. We went into a hammock. He sat on a log and talked while he drank.”
“Did you believe him?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Why?”
“Because he had no reason not to tell the truth.”
“Did he give any details?”
“Let me see if I can put it in his words: ‘Missy, I seen ‘em, no more fer away than you and me. But don’t go there. It’s an evil place. Devil dogs and brutes. Like a ring of hell. I had to hide in the fields to get plumb away. I seen ‘em all right. Chained and whipped. I seen ‘em. But nobody will see ‘em no more if’n they don’t get outta that damned place. They eat ‘em up like cannibals there. Drink their blood like vampires. Don’t go! Don’t go near the fat man. Don’t go near El Gordo.”
“Sounds like a lot of alcoholic yammer.”
“Well, if you know how to interpret, it’s still convincing. If you have an ear for that kind of talk."
I had to admit that she did have an ear for it. And a memory for language. And an ability to mimic that was pretty convincing. “No, I know what you mean. Nice work, Iris, but I have to insist that you stay out of danger. Do you think you can find this wino again?”
“Not sure. I’m pretty sure he’s homeless, so no telling where he’d be.”
“Did you get his name?”
She spoke in his words again. “Call me Crickets. I’s born James Goodson, but then ever’body called me Crickets ‘cause when I’s a kid, I’d catch crickets ‘n’ carry ‘em in my pocket. Been Crickets ever since.”
“James ‘Crickets’ Goodson. Probably has fingerprints on file somewhere. Has to have a record of some kind if just for public drunkenness.”
She mimicked again. “Know what I use to do fer a livin’? B ‘n’ E. An’ I was good. Did it fer years till I got caught. An’ you know what got me caught. Them damn crickets. Had two in my pocket ‘n’ I guess they fell in love er somepin cause right in the middle of the burglry they started clicking and chirping like I had a amplifier in my pants. The owner come out wid a shotgun to see what the racket was. I jes lay down and said, ‘Ya caught me, buddy. I ain’t gonna fight it.’ He said, ‘What’s that damn racket?’ And I said, ‘Crickets, jes crickets.’ He laughed until he started coughing.”
“A story he’s probably told a hundred times to a hundred drinking buddies and cellmates.”
“Of course.”
“Are you hungry?”
“Very.”
“What you want for supper?”
“Pizza.”
“Should we order in or go out?”
“Let’s go out. This room gets pretty monotonous.”
So we went out and found a pizza place and we ordered a large pizza pie with everything except anchovies. I also got an antipasto salad. I ate most of the antipasto. She ate three-quarters of the pizza.
During the meal, Iris confessed that she wanted to be a reporter. “You know, digging in here, digging in there, getting the dirty facts.”
“And you will be good at it. You show some real skill there already.”
“It’d also help me travel. You know, a war in the Middle East. A nuclear conference in Asia. A global warming seminar in Switzerland. A riot in Venezuela.”
“A foreign correspondent.”
“Yeah, I’d like that.”
When we had finished, she said. “Let’s don’t go back to the motel. Let’s go the beach. The sun is just setting. Come on.”
“Ok.”
I drove us to the beach and the Naples pier. Lots of people were strolling on the pier, and she led me among them and we wound our way until we reached the far end, out over the water a hundred yards from shore.
The sun was just a blip on the horizon. Everyone stood and looked at it as if they were all hypnotized or enchanted. Bip! The microscopic sun disappeared, but the sky remained bright for a while and the clouds burned with gold borders. The sea darkened first as if a black mist had risen from the bottom of the sea, although the white surf flounced in like lace on the cuff of a dandy.
Iris said, “Absolutely mystical.”
I said, “Very nice.”
“Are you romantic?”
“Sometimes.”
“I’m going to fall in love with a powerful man.”
“Good luck with that.”
“He doesn’t have to be extremely rich or famous. But he has to be the kind of man that others listen to.”
“The question is, will you listen to him?”
“Don’t be nasty.”
“Sorry. But I can’t see you kowtowing to that kind of man.”
“Please, let me dream a little.”
“My lips are sealed.” And I didn’t say another word because I didn’t want to spoil her fun. She was off on the kind of rapturous fantasy that only fifteen-year-old girls imagining their future are allowed. And she had quite an imagination. I had gotten rather fond of her, an inspired wanderer with a gift for mimicry and an insatiable curiosity.
With darkness rising, she said, “You’re finished working for the day, aren’t you?”
“I guess so.”
“Let’s go to a movie.”
“Which one?”
“That one with Scarlet and Bill Murray.”
“You mean Lost in Translation?
“That’s right. You haven’t seen it yet have you?”
“No.”
“Then let’s go.”
“All right, but I have to tell you that it doesn’t sound like my kind of movie.”
“You probably like action flicks.”
“Depends.”
We found a theater where Lost in Translation was playing.
I took a while warming up to the movie, but I stuck with it and eventually I was into it, and liked it thoroughly. Iris seemed to lock into it right away. She was beguiled. At the end she had a tear in her left eye, but I made no comment because I had a little lump to deal with in my own throat.
Leaving the theater, Iris said, “So, did you like it?”
“Ok, I did.”
“There was love there but they couldn’t do anything about it.”
“Not and keep their honor.”
On the drive back to the motel, she was quiet and looked out the window as if she were still in a rapture of thought.
When we were in our separate beds in the dark, she said, “Could you love a much younger woman?”
“Depends on the woman.”
“I think I could love an older man.”
“As long as he’s the kind other people listen to?”
“God, Buck, you don’t forget much, do you?”
“Look who’s talking.”
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
End of Chapter 11
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