LaBrava would move a step, concentrating, not looking around, and Maurice would say:
"Georgia road gang, 1938. They wore stripes till '42. That's the captain there. Gene Talmadge, used to be governor, said, 'You want a man knows how to treat convicts, get you somebody who has et the cake.' Somebody once a convict himself. Eugene believed in whipping and the use of the sweatbox."
LaBrava would move on, gaze holding, and Maurice would say:
"That's Al Tomani, known as the next-to-tallest man in the world. His wife was born without legs and together they were billed as the World's Strangest Couple. About 1936."
And LaBrava would move on to be told about men digging mole drains in canefields, migrants cutting palmetto, boy sitting under a tung tree, Miccosuki Indians drinking corn beer, called safki ...
But not this evening.
Maurice came out of the kitchen with an ice tray, glanced over to say, "Arrival of the Orange Blossom Special, January 1927..." and got a surprise. LaBrava stood with his back to the Florida East Coast Railway shots.
He said to Maurice, "I don't think she has a problem at all. She had two drinks before dinner, couple of Scotches, she didn't finish the second one. I think all she had was one glass of wine..."
Maurice slid the ice cubes into a bowl. "What're you talking about?"
"You said in the car yesterday, going to get her, she had a problem."
"I told you she called me up..."
"You said she sounded strange."
"I said she sounded funny. She tells me she's got a problem, I ask her what it is, she changes the subject. So I don't know if it's booze or what."
"You seemed to think it was."
"Well, it still could be. You throw a drink at a cop car, that's not exactly having it under control. But today she's fine."
"You ask her why she did it?"
"She says she was in a bad mood, should a stayed home. The cop gets out of the car, says something smart... she throws the drink."
"Yeah, but what was she doing out on the sidewalk with a drink in the first place?"
"Getting some air--who knows. She was a movie star, Joe. They're all a little nuts."
She sat with them in Maurice's living room wearing slacks and a white cotton sweater now, sandals; she sipped her Scotch with a squirt of soda and struck LaBrava as a person who was courteous and a good listener. But then what choice did she have once Maurice got started?
He was showing off tonight:
"... Neoga, Espanola, Bunnell, Dupont, Korona, Favorita, Harwood, National Gardens, Windle, Ormond, Flomich, Holly Hill, Daytona Beach, Blake, Port Orange, Harbor Point, Spruce Creek, New Smyrna, Hucomer, Ariel, Oak Hill, Shiloh, Scottsmoor, Wiley, Jay Jay, Titusville, Indian River City, Delespine, Frontenac, Hardee's, Sharpes, City Point, Spratt's, Dixon's, Ives, Cocoa, Rockledge, Williams, Garvey's, Paxton's, Bonaventure, Pineda..."
On his way to naming every stop on the Florida East Coast line from Jacksonville to Key Largo, reciting the names without a pause, as he had learned them back in the early thirties.
This evening Maurice had to get off at Vero Beach to go to the bathroom and LaBrava and Jean Shaw looked at each other.
"The first time I met him," Jean Shaw said, "we were having dinner with a group. I think it was a place called Gatti's."
"It's right over here. Not far."
"He did his train stops. Exactly the same way, the same pace."
LaBrava said, "But how do we know he's not leaving some out?"
She said, "Would it make any difference?"
There was a silence. LaBrava looked toward the bathroom, then at Jean Shaw again. "I'd like to ask you something I've been wondering."
"Go ahead. About the movies?"
"No, it's about a guy named Richard Nobles. Do you know him?"
She sure did. It was in and out of her eyes.
When she said nothing, but continued to stare at him, he felt like a sneak. "Big guy with blond hair. About six-two."
"He's six-three and a half," Jean Shaw said. "He's a security cop and he thinks every woman he meets falls in love with him."
LaBrava felt relief, and a little closer to her.
She was frowning slightly. "How do you know him?"
"He came to that clinic in Delray last night, while we were there."
"Really?" She showed only mild surprise.
"He was pretty drunk." LaBrava offered it as a cue, wanting her to begin talking about Nobles, but it didn't prompt much.
All she said was, "I can believe it."
LaBrava tried again. "He said he was with you earlier. I mean he said he'd been with the person he came to pick up. He didn't mention anyone by name."
She was nodding, resigned. "The reason I left the bar was to get away from him." Her eyes returned to LaBrava. "I suppose you heard what I did."
"Got a little upset with a policeman."
"It was that flashing light. I didn't need help, I wanted to be alone. But they wouldn't leave, or turn off those goddamn blue lights."
"It can be irritating," LaBrava said. "Yeah, I wondered about this fella Nobles... He said you were friends."
"He did, huh. I'm surprised he didn't say we were more than that."
"Military Park, Melbourne, Hopkins, Shares, Palm Bay, Malabar," Maurice said, coming out of the bathroom, "Valkaria, Grant, Micco, Roseland, Sebastian... Comfort stop. Who's ready for another drink?... Nobody?"
Jean Shaw said, "Maury, why didn't you tell me about the guy last night, looking for me? Richard Nobles."
"What guy?"
"He didn't see him," LaBrava said. "Maurice was with you the whole time."
"Did he get rough? Threaten to punch anybody?"
"Well, the girl in charge called the police... He calmed down. No, I just wondered if you were the one he came to get. I had a feeling."
"What guy?"
"Maury, sit down, rest your engine," Jean Shaw said. "We're talking about someone I met a few months ago, a security cop in Boca."
Maurice said, "You're going with a security cop now?" He eased into the La-Z-Boy, his body stiff; he seemed swallowed by the chair's contour, laid his head on his shoulder to look at Jean past his pointy shoes. "What happened to the bartender and the guy works at Hialeah?"
"I'm not going with anyone. I met him, I was nice to him... I mean I didn't tell him to get lost. But that might've been a mistake." She glanced at LaBrava.
Maurice said, "Wait a minute. How do you know this guy?"
"He works for the security service the building hired. I happened to meet him one night. I was out taking a walk. He was making his rounds." Choosing her words with care. "We started talking..."
Maurice said, "Yeah?" Sounding suspicious.
"You have to understand, first of all," Jean Shaw said, "he has a way about him. Very friendly, comes on with a certain country-boy charm. If you know the type I mean."
"Looks up at the condos with his mouth open," Maurice said, "scratching his ass."
"He looks you right in the eye, and he grins," Jean Shaw said. "He grins quite a lot. And he stands right on top of you when you're talking. He comes on like he's trying to be friendly, a nice guy, you know? But there's something intimidating about him. He's a little scary."
Maurice said, "I never saw the guy in my life I can tell you what his game is, Christ."
LaBrava listened.
"All the rich broads that live down here, lonely, don't know what to do with themselves..."
"Thanks a lot," Jean said.
"Not you. But even you, you gotta be careful."
"The ladies in the building think he's cute."
"Yeah? You think he's cute?"
"In a way, I suppose. He's attractive... He's awfully big though."
LaBrava did not think Nobles was cute in any way, by any supposition or measurement. He believed Nobles was dangerous, that you could look at him funny and set him off. But he said nothing. He listened.