“He told you that,” Joyce said.
Dawn shook her head, still looking at the cards. “I touched his hand, the one that held the gun, and I knew. Now I see you’re having trouble with that. How can you feel close to a man who’s killed someone? And might do it again.”
“He had to have told you that,” Joyce said.
Dawn looked up now. She said, “Let’s get something straight. Raylan hasn’t told me one thing about you, nothing. If you don’t believe it, there’s no reason to continue.”
“I’m sorry,” Joyce said. “Go on.”
“Do you have a question?”
“Who’s represented by that other knight?”
“The Knight of Pentacles,” Dawn said. “Tell me who you think.”
“Harry?”
“Does anyone else come to mind?”
“No.”
“So you’ve answered your own question. Give me your hand,” Dawn said, and swept the cards aside to make room.
Joyce placed her hands flat on the table and watched Dawn’s hands cover them.
“Do you have another question?”
“I’m not sure about my true feelings.”
“What was the first thing you said to me when we started?”
“I don’t remember.”
“I said I knew you were a close friend of Raylan and Harry’s and you said…?”
“I asked about Harry.”
“You said, ‘Do you know where Harry is?’ He was your first concern.”
“I’m worried about him. I don’t even know if he’s alive.”
“He is,” Dawn said.
“How do you know?”
“Take my word, he’s okay.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“I’m not able to see what’s around him,” Dawn said, “because Harry can’t see.”
“What do you mean?”
“It’s like when I try to get into your head-space and see things through your eyes? It’s blurry. You wear glasses?”
“Contacts.”
“I see a lot of men watching you, but they’re out of focus, like I’m looking at them through your glasses and they don’t help me at all. You’re moving, your hair’s flying…”
Joyce watched Dawn frown and then close her eyes.
She said, “You were a dancer,” sounding surprised.
“When I was younger.”
“The men are all looking at you…”
Joyce waited.
“You danced naked?”
“Topless.”
Dawn said, “Oh.” She said after a moment, “Is there any money in that?”
“Depending on what you’re willing to do,” Joyce said.
“I suppose,” Dawn said, nodding. “Anyway, you’re concerned about Harry ‘cause you’re a loving, caring person; you don’t want anything to happen to him, and nothing bad will. You feel guilty now that you weren’t as nice to him as you could’ve been. I mean just before. You miss him… Well, actually what you miss is taking care of him.”
“You’re telling me,” Joyce said, “those are my true feelings?”
“You create your own reality. You tell me.”
“Harry can be awfully difficult.”
“Maybe so, but he doesn’t ever surprise you, you know he’s always there. He represents like stability,” Dawn said, “and at your age that isn’t a bad thing to have a lot of.”
“I thought I was doing pretty well,” Joyce said, “for my age.”
“I wasn’t saying you’re old,” Dawn said, “I meant at this time in your life you’re looking for security, karmically speaking. See, what I’m puffing from you is a low energy level. You might feel you’re full of spunk, but what it is, it’s anxiety; you’re worn out wondering where your life is going. What you’d really like to do is take it easy.”
Joyce watched the psychic who looked like Marianne Faithfull sit back shaking her head now, in sympathy.
Saying, “Boy, who wouldn’t.”
Raylan was waiting in the lobby. He walked up to Joyce as she came off the elevator.
“How’d it go?”
“I need to kick back,” Joyce said, “karmically speaking. Sort of let it happen.”
“Let what happen?”
“My life.”
“Isn’t that all anybody has to do?”
She said, “Why don’t you go play with your gun.”
When a girl in bib overalls told Raylan she loved him and handed a printed sheet through the window, he read:
HUGGING
Hugging is healthy: It helps the body’s immunity system, it keeps you healthier, it cures depression, it reduces stress, it induces sleep, it’s invigorating…
Got that far and filed the sheet with the Miami Herald and a pair of binoculars, on the seat next to him. If anyone wanted to know what he was doing, sitting in a Jaguar in the parking circle at the north end of Dreher Park, he was taking it easy. Letting it happen, so to speak. When a squad car stopped by, Raylan showed his star and told the sheriff’s deputy he was working surveillance and to kindly get his green-and-white out of there. When a bearded guy with snake tattoos on his arms shoved a smudge stick at Raylan and said, “Have a smudge,” offering what looked like a joint as big as a loaf of bread, Raylan said no thanks, catching the odor of smoldering sweet grass and sage, new-age incense. The bearded guy said, “Go on, tight ass, take a whiff, it’ll do you good.”
Raylan turned his head, hat brim low on his eyes, to the bearded countenance in the window and said, “Do you want to have to eat that thing?”
The guy with the snake tattoos left. Raylan watched him cross the grassy park toward picnic tables in a stand of ficus, big ones, where most of the Huggers were gathered, maybe a couple dozen, most of them young. Raylan could hear their voices now and then and drumbeats that would bang away for a minute or so and stop. He saw a couple of girls in their underwear, their panties, trying on dresses and dancing to the drumbeats. The Huggers were to his left, off past the public rest rooms and a phone booth, the old glass-box kind. Straight ahead, a walk skirted a dense woods of banyan and palmettos.
Raylan had sent Melinda down that path to locate the dope tree, where the heads gathered, and look for Warren Ganz, a middle-aged guy who went by the name of Cal. In the car coming here Melinda said, “You’re using me in a dope bust?” not wanting any part of it. Raylan told her Cal was suspected of having committed extortion and the sexual exploitation of minors, and Melinda was ready to go. The plan-if Cal was there-Melinda would tell him she’d run away from home, didn’t have a place to stay and needed money more than anything. Raylan told her how Cal operated, how he’d talk sweet to her, find out where she was from, who her parents were, then phone them and ask for a big finder’s fee. “Or,” Raylan said, “you’re a nasty kid, you work it so it’s your idea to call your folks; he asks for the money and you split it. You get him to that phone booth by the rest rooms and I’ll take it from there.” Melinda walked down the path barefoot in shorts, the little purse hanging from her shoulder, and was back inside of twenty minutes.
“He’s there, but I wasn’t able to get near him. He’s selling dresses.”
“Buy one,” Raylan said.
“I’m not supposed to have any money. You forget?” She said, “You should hear some of their weekend names they use. Fat Cat and Cherokee, Reservoir Dog; two girls there are Bambi and Ling-Ling. They go, ‘Love you,’ or ‘Gimme a hug,’ and then try and put their arms around you. I’m in the woods there taking a leak? This big, hairy pervert comes up, wants to hug me. He goes, ‘Welcome home, sister. Love you.’ I’m telling you…”
“Is there much dope?”
“Not out in the open, but it’s there. This goomer stops by, he goes, ‘Want to get zooked?’ and shows me a Visine bottle. I told them my name’s Peanut.” She stared at Raylan and said, “You’re… let’s see. How about, you’re the Cat in the Hat.” She left the car again to look for Cal, give it another shot.
It was almost four now; she’d been gone over an hour.