"Si, st. The island had respect for people, and for life ... and respect for death, too. Life is cheap here, and death is cheaper. On the island..." He paused, as if giving himself time for the memory to grow, to blossom in his mind. "On the island," he said, "in the towns, when there is a funeral, the casket bearers walk in the center of the main street, and the mourners follow behind the casket."
"I know this," Hernandez said softly. "My father used to talk about this."
"About the little girls dressed in white, carrying their flowers in the sunshine?" Luis said. "The town all dusty and quiet and still."
"Yes," Hernandez said. "About that."
"And the shopkeepers stand in their doorways, and when the casket goes by, they close the doors. They are showing respect for the dead man. They are saying, 'I will not conduct business while you pass by, my friend.'"
"Argh, bullshit," Parker said. "That ain't respect. They're just scared of death. I'll tell you something, Luis. I don't know what it's like on that island of yours, but here right here the only ones who get respect are the live ones the hoodlums like Pepe Miranda."
Luis shook his head quickly and emphatically. "No," he said.
"No, huh? Take my word for it."
"I'm going," Hernandez said. "You argue it out between you."
"Who's arguing?" Parker said. "We're having a discussion."
"Okay, so discuss it," Hernandez said, and he walked out of the luncheonette and around the corner.
Jeff swung around on his stool and stared up the street. Behind him, he could hear the detective and Luis arguing well, discussing but he was not interested in what they were saying. He kept staring at the closed door of La Gallina, wondering when the bar would open. He really didn't know whether he actually felt like spending the day in bed with a woman or not, but he couldn't think of much else to do with his time. And he had come all the way uptown, and he hated to think of the trip as a total loss. So he kept staring at the closed door, almost willing it to open and quite miraculously it opened.
6
The girl who stepped out of the bar was no more than nineteen years old, a slender girl with the curved body of a woman thrusting against the sweater and skirt she wore. Her hair was black, and her eyes were dark. She took a key from her purse and was leaning over to lock the door when Jeff got off his stool and ran up the street.
"Hi," he said.
The girl whirled, surprised. Her eyes opened wide, the brownest eyes Jeff had ever seen in his entire life.
"Oh!" she said, and her lips rounded over the single word, and slowly the shock gave way to puzzlement, and she stared at him curiously, waiting for him to speak.
"I've been waiting for you all morning," Jeff said. "Were you in there all along?"
"Yes?" she said, delivering the word as a question, as if she expected further explanation from him and was waiting for it. He continued to watch her. A slow realization was coming to him. He was beginning to recognize the fact that this was possibly the most beautiful girl he'd ever met, and her beauty left him somewhat tongue-tied. The girl waited. Jeff remained speechless. Finally, she tucked the key into her purse, gave a small feminine shrug, and began walking away. Jeff stepped around her quickly, directly into her path.
"Hey, where you going?" he said.
"Home."
"Why? I only just found you."
"I have to get dressed," the girl said.
"You look dressed fine to me," he said, and his eyes traveled the length of her body, pausing on the soft swell of her breasts beneath the light-blue sweater, the abrupt curve of her hips against the black skirt.
"I have to get dressed," the girl repeated blankly, seemingly embarrassed by his scrutiny.
"Well, that can wait, can't it?" he asked.
The girl seemed very puzzled. "What do you want?" she said.
"Well ... uh ... don't you know?"
"No?" the girl said, and again she raised her voice at the end of the word so that it sounded like a question.
"Well ... I was talking to a fellow last night. It was really very early this morning. Downtown. In a bar."
"Yes?"'
"And he said I should come up here."
"What for?"
"He said I'd find you here," Jeff said.
He looked at her, and he thought, Well, he didn't exactly say I would find you here, because no one ever expects to find something like you, no one ever really expects to come across something like you ever in his life.
"He didn't say that," the girl said.
"Yes. Yes, he did."
"What was his name? The man who told you about me?"
"I don't remember," Jeff paused. "I was drunk."
"Are you drunk now?"
He smiled tentatively. "Sober as a judge."
"And this fellow told you about me? He said you would find me?'
"Well ... not exactly. I mean, I didn't expect anyone as ... as pretty as you. But he said"
"What did he say, exactly?"
"He said I should go uptown..."
"Yes?"
"And I should look for a place called La Gallina."
"La Ga oh." She paused and looked at him more closely. "I see. Yes. Now I understand."
"Good. I got to admit, you're really something. I mean a guy just doesn't expect ... I mean, I'm not trying to say anything against what you do, or anything like that ... but ... well, you know, it's just unusual, that's all. To find one as pretty as you."
"Thank you," the girl said. She smiled. "I think you've made a mistake."
"This is La Gallina, isn't it?" Jeff asked, looking at the gilt lettering on the plate-glass windows again.
"Oh, yes. This is La Gallina."
"And you did come out of there, didn't you?"
"Yes, I certainly did."
There was a strange twinkle in her brown eyes. He looked at her suspiciously and realized she was trying to suppress a laugh.
"You do work in there?" he asked. "Don't you?"
"I do."
"Well, what's so funny?" he said, beginning to get slightly annoyed.
The girl would not allow the laugh to escape her mouth. "Nothing," she said. "Nothing." "Well, then, all right," he said.
"All right," she answered.
They stood staring at each other, Jeff trying to figure out what was so goddamned funny, and the girl trying her best not to laugh.
"Well?" he said at last.
"Well what?"
"Well, let's go to bed."
"You and me?"
"Well, sure, you and me. Who did you think I meant?"
The girl shook her head. "No. I don't think so."
She started to move away from him, and he caught her arm, stopping her.
"Why not?"
"Well..." Again, she held back a laugh. She thought for a moment, and then said, "I guess I don't like sailors."
"That's no attitude," Jeff said, grinning. "Some of my best friends are sailors."
"No," the girl said, shaking her head. "No. Sorry. No sailors." She saw the disappointment on his face and quickly added, "Besides, I'm too high."
"High?"
"Yes, my price. My ... uh ... my fee?" She made it sound as if she were asking him what the correct word should be.
"Well, how high is high?" Jeff asked, beginning to bargain.'
"A lot." The girl considered the question gravely. "More than you earn in a week."
"How much is that?"
"Very, very high," she said.
"Well, how much? Can't you tell me? Boy, you sure act strange for a..."
"I told you," the girl said. "Very very very high." She seemed at a loss for words. She struggled with her thoughts and then desperately said, "What's the highest you ever paid?"
"Twenty. But that was on the Coast. On the Coast..."
"I'm much higher than that," she said quickly, seemingly relieved.
"Forty?"
"Higher."
"A hundred?" he asked, appalled.
"Goodness," the girl said, her eyes twinkling again. "Do I look like a common streetwalker?"