"It doesn't work on me."
"Will you let me try?"
"I know it won't work."
"Close your eyes, Jack, not too tight, and let your breath out slowly. That's it… I'll count down from three, all right? We'll take our time. Three, Jack. Your muscles are relaxing, your whole body is going limp. Two, you feel safe with me, you know you can say whatever you want." Dawn paused. "And one. Are we ready, Jack?" She reached for his hand on the table and pinched his skin.
"Jack?" "What?"
"Did I hurt your hand?"
"No."
"You're willing to talk to me? Yes or no."
"Yes."
"You'll let me take you back to the prison, where you knew Cundo Rey? Yes or no."
"Yes."
"Is Cundo Rey a friend of yours? Yes or no."
"Yes."
"Do you trust him?" Dawn waited.
"No."
Now she paused. "Would you say he's worth a lot of money, Jack? Yes or no."
"Yes."
"In properties," Dawn said, "and a partner in Little Jimmy's investment service. Did you know that?"
"No."
"Did you know Little Jimmy runs a sports book for him?"
"No."
"Do you know if Cundo has bank accounts?" Foley hesitated again and Dawn said, "Let's skip that one. Do you think he has money the IRS doesn't know about? Money he's never declared as income?"
Foley turned his head resting against soft red leather to open his eyes and look at Dawn. He said, "I think he's got a shitload of money that's never been close to being declared. What do you think?"
She smiled shaking her head, Foley grinning at her, Foley saying, "Are we getting to it now?"
Dawn said to her neighbor the bank robber in his clean white T-shirt, his hair parted and combed, "Well, aren't you the tricky motherfucker. I'll have to watch my step with you, won't I?"
"Reverend Dawn," Foley said, "you're asking me to conspire against my friend, aren't you?"
"I saw you coming," Dawn said. "I said to myself, This jailbird's too good to be true. But my God, you're the real thing, aren't you? You're into Cundo for over thirty thousand waiting for him to call it in, let you know it's payback time. With the vig it could more than double. You don't trust him, you don't respect him, but he's loaded, he's sitting on a fortune, and the way things are, you know you'd better get Cundo before he gets you."
Jesus, reading his mind.
"But it's all in Little Jimmy's name," Foley said. "That's the next question. What keeps Little Jimmy from selling the homes and stealing away in the night?" "You tell me," Foley said, "you're the psychic." "I want to know what you think."
"Cundo saved Little Jimmy from getting cornholed eight or nine times a day."
"But that was twenty-seven years ago, in Cuba. Why do you suppose Little Jimmy's still loyal all these years?"
"I don't know if he is or not," Foley said, "but I'm pretty sure he's the key to the money."
"Sometimes he'll visit," Dawn said, "and sound like he's out of
La Cage aux Folles, he loves to put it on. But when we talk about Cundo, Little Jimmy shuts down part of his mind, always careful of what he says."
"I imagine he likes you."
"He adores me."
"But doesn't trust you."
"He tells me what we'd do in bed."
"Yeah…?"
"In detail, trying to turn me on."
Dawn shrugged and took a sip of her drink. "It wasn't that outrageous. But the little guy will not say one fucking word about Cundo's money. I put him under hypnosis and asked if he was skimming from the investment business and the sports book. He said Cundo doesn't know enough about business to pay him what he's worth, so he skims to make up for it. He said he lifted a hundred and fifty thousand to buy himself a Bentley, used. I said, 'Why not a Rolls while you're at it.' He said, 'I am not one to exhibit myself.' But he is, he's a little show-off, in his Cuban heels maybe an inch taller than Cundo. I asked if he's ever thought of selling the houses and taking off with about seven million. He said no, never. I asked the key question, why he's dedicated his life to serving Cundo Rey. I said, 'Is it because you're in love with him?' He said, 'Yes, of course, always.' But I can't ask one question about Cundo and money. I say, 'I'm asking as his wife.' But he knows Cundo and I aren't actually married."
"You're not?" Foley said, surprise giving way to another feeling, glad to hear it. "He told me you exchanged vows."
"In the hotel room with rum and Coke. He said the vows we make to each other is what counts, not some guy in a cheap suit asking if we take each other forever and ever."
"How's it been having to wait eight years to score off the little guy?"
"How's it been taking free rides?" Dawn said. "The chick lawyer who didn't cost you a dime. While you find out all you can about him. I'm doing all right, Jack. I have clients, I do readings. Cundo said, 'Watch over my properties for-how you think about seven hundred a week?' I said, 'How you think about a thousand?' He said okay. I said, 'For each home?' The little guy said, 'Yes, of course.' He said it was what he meant."
"A hundred grand a year ain't bad," Foley said. "You manage to get by on it?"
"You're a little smarty, aren't you?" Dawn said. "It's part of your disarming charm. Yes, I can manage on two grand a week, and I bet the horses with Little Jimmy. He makes sure I win more than I lose."
"A psychic can't pick winners?"
"Isn't that curious?" Dawn said.
"We've been talking about Cundo's money," Foley said. "You haven't asked how the little fella's doing in stir. You don't worry about him?"
Dawn said, "Jack," in a lazy kind of voice, "how much time do we have, a couple of weeks?"
"He's out the end of next week."
"You want to know if I worry about him-doesn't he have bodyguards, little Latino guys with cute little mustaches?"
"He had me in stir," Foley said, "and guys he could always call on. I didn't see anybody mess with him. He said if they did, he'd have them burned alive."
"The inmates believed him?"
"He killed a Russian in Cuba, the mozo working at the hospital. Another one, a guy who came looking for him he called Uncle Miney." Foley paused. "There was one more. Yeah, the boatlift skipper, Cundo pushed him overboard. The kind of thing prisoners all knew about."
"He's killed four times?" Dawn said, not so much surprised as thoughtful.
"Reverend Dawn," Foley said, "you're smarter than the little Cuban, and I'm counting on you reading his mind. But-"
She said, "I don't know him as well as you do?"
"You don't think the way he does. He has a gift too, he makes crime pay, a lot. How to go down but stay on top. How to win friends and influence convicts."
"I know he pays for what he wants," Dawn said.
"With money Little Jimmy's making for him. Cundo Rey keeps his eyes open. He knows what's going on. Little Jimmy told you Cundo won't notice his skimming a hundred fifty grand for a car. You want to bet?"
"Yeah, but Cundo needs Little Jimmy," Dawn said.
"And Little Jimmy knows how Cundo thinks, so I'm not gonna worry about Little Jimmy. I'm gonna worry about you, Reverend Dawn."
"Jack, you're not funny."
"You've already looked through both houses for money stuck away and have come up empty."
She said, "I'm the psychic, okay? Why'd you hang out with him for two and a half years?"
"He told good stories."
"About himself."
"Always. They were still good."
"But you don't trust him." She took a sip of her drink and said, "Let's put little Cundo and Little Jimmy on hold for the time being, if it's all right with you, and give some thought to pleasing ourselves this lovely overcast afternoon. See how much we like each other."