“Hey, how’d you know?”
“Where are you?”
“You sound different, real calm for a change. I mean not all, you know, up in the air.”
“Are you at your office?” All she wanted to know was where he was, how near.
“Yeah, I came in, I see a note here says your old man’s out of town. I wish I’d known. Listen, don’t look for me tonight, I have to run down to New Mad-rid, pick up some confiscated items, like guns. But I can make it tomorrow, no problem. How’s that sound?”
“I won’t be here,” Carmen said, still calm, about to tell him she was taking off and what he could do with his house, wanting to rip into him; but stopped, aware that maybe she was overconfident.
“You going out?” Ferris said. “I could come by early, catch you in your jammies.”
Or he could come right now if he thought for a moment she was leaving. She had to be careful. Say too much, even if it would make her feel better, and that cream-colored Plymouth would be cutting her off at the bridge.
Carmen said, “Do what you want,” and hung up, proud of her restraint. That was cool. Do what you want. Just right.
The phone was ringing again as she left the house, slammed the door. It wasn’t until she was driving away that she realized, if Ferris did come tomorrow, he could walk in the house and find Wayne there.
19
DONNA SAID TO ARMAND, the two of them sitting in the living room this evening among the stuffed animals, the TV off so they could talk, “I’m gonna tell you something I never mentioned before.”
“Yeah? What is it?”
“There’s people that believe it and there’s your skeptics who don’t. There’s people won’t believe nothing even if they’re looking at it. Take my word.”
“That’s right.” Armand nodded, thinking he wouldn’t mind pushing this woman over on the sofa.
“People make up their minds something is true or isn’t and there’s no way you can get them not to be convinced of it. Well, I’m not one of those persons. You know why?”
Armand shook his head. “Why?”
“Because I think you have to believe what you see, sure, but also things beyond what you see, when something tells you it’s true, if you know
what I mean.”
Jesus Christ, Armand thought.
This woman could put you to sleep. If she wasn’t sitting in her pink robe showing him that dark place in there the way she had one leg raised, her foot on the sofa, he might have trouble keeping his eyes open. He was thinking of saying to her, “Why don’t you tell me whatever it is in the bedroom, we get comfortable.” Take hold of that dark place down there and she’d forget in a second, this one going off like a gun when you touched her hair trigger. He’d do it right now, except Richie would be home pretty soon and make remarks through the door. “What you two doing in there? You want me to get in with you?” That kind of shit. He had gone out to call the woman who had a trap on her phone. Richie, if he was here now, would tell Donna to shut up. “Jesus Christ, you don’t know what you’re talking about.” And she would, she would shut up. Armand wanted to ask her what she thought of Richie, but felt he had to listen to her first. She was still talking, saying something else, and then she said:
“That’s why I know Elvis is still alive.”
Armand said, “You believe that?”
“I don’t believe it, I know it.”
“You showed me a picture of his grave.”
“I didn’t mention it at the time,” Donna said, “but did you notice the name on it? Elvis Aaron Presley. Aaron with a double a?”
“Yeah.”
Donna leaned toward him against her raised knee. “It so happens that Elvis spelled his middle name with one a.”
“The person in the grave then,” Armand said, “is a guy that spelled it with two?”
“I don’t think there’s necessarily a body in there. What they’re saying is, hey, Elvis isn’t in here. Don’t you think we’d have spelled his name right? Come on.” Donna squirmed her butt on the sofa cushion. “Listen, I saw a man, it was on Kelly and Company, who has actually seen Elvis since his death. They also had on a girl who recorded a song with him and I heard the record.”
“Maybe it was somebody imitating him.”
“You mean impersonating? There some that try to. But, see, I know Elvis’s voice and it was Elvis. There’s not a doubt in my mind.”
Armand wished she would sit back, she was too close for him to see anything.
“Why would he want to pretend he’s dead?”
“That’s something we’ll have to wait and see. I believe it will be revealed before too long, there too many people love him and miss him. And I believe it will happen at Graceland. Which is the main reason I want to go down there.”
“Why don’t you get Richie to take you?” “Richie doesn’t even like Elvis. He’s jealous of him. I don’t suppose you do either.” “What, like Elvis? Sure. I like that ‘Hound Dog’
song.” “ ‘Heartbreak Hotel’ is the one tears me up.” “That’s a nice one too.” Donna hummed some of it, moving her shoul
ders in the robe, her eyes half closed. She stopped, her eyes in the glasses open now, and said, “Bird, can I tell you something? I don’t know if I should but I want to.”
“Yeah, but don’t call me Bird.” “I’m sorry, I hear Richie . . .” “You want, you can call me Armand.” She said, “Armand,” in a soft voice. “That’s a
real nice name.” Then livened up her tone saying, “Hey, I’m not being very polite. Can I get you something, a snack?”
“No, I don’t think so.” “I got a can of cocktail weenies I could fix.” “Maybe later.” “I enjoy watching a man likes to eat.” She said,
“That Richie eats like a bird,” and said, “Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that.” There was something wrong with this woman’s
brain. Maybe the weight of all that hair on it. Armand said, “What is it you want to tell me?” Now she had those magnified eyes staring at him, wanting to trust him, or wanting to hold him
so he’d keep looking at her and believe her.
“I’m scared to death of Richie,” Donna said.
“Is that right? You let him stay here...”
“What choice do I have?”
Now she twisted her shoulders back and forth a couple of times like she was trapped in that robe and didn’t know what to do. She picked up one of the stuffed animals, Mr. Froggy, and held it against her raised knee so that it was looking at Armand.
He said, “It’s a nice place. I’m getting to like it.” He said, “It wouldn’t be too hard to get Richie out of here. Have you thought of that? What you’re doing? They could arrest you too, for harboring, ’ey? Unless you turn him in first.”
“I’d never do that.”
“It’s something to think about.”
“I got news for you, he’d find out I did.”
“Yeah, but if they put him away, so what?”
“They’d have to catch him first, and he’s slick. Even if they did, he’d get out. I don’t mean escape. He’d do a few years and then come looking for me.” Donna shook her head. “I would never snitch on him. I’m not that kind of person.”
“They got some pretty heavy stuff on him,” Armand said, “what sounds to me would get him life or worse. I don’t think you’d ever see him again.”
Donna was shaking her head. “I wouldn’t do it.
He said to me one time, if I ever even thought of calling the police on him he’d know it.”
Armand said, “You believe that?” And thought, Well, if she believes Elvis Presley is alive . . .
Of course she did. Cocking her head to the side as if thinking about it, then nodding with that dreamy look on her face, the one that was supposed to mean she knew things he didn’t. Believing in something—how did she say it?—beyond what you can know. He could see the inside curve of one of her breasts hanging there in the robe. It was elderly but not bad. The way she was sitting, he couldn’t see the dark place. Maybe if he moved back a little and tried it, getting a stuffed animal out from behind him. He glanced down. Ah, there it was.