Maximum Bob

Where he was now and every evening at five.

He didn’t expect her, so wasn’t surprised or disappointed when she didn’t show up. The big kidney-shaped bar at the Helen Wilkes was a hangout for judges and lawyers, both sides, and some of the newspaper people. Knowing this, the little girl might prefer not to come rather than feel out of place. That was all right, he was cultivating patience. Trying to.

But three bourbon Manhattans later his vibration level had him out in the lobby at the pay phone, dialing a number in Belle Glade he’d looked up and memorized weeks ago. He said to the woman who answered, “I’d like to speak to Dicky Campau.”

She said, “You want frogs, we don’t have none.”

This woman would have to be the frog gigger’s wife, Inez. He had seen her once or twice out at the lake.

“What I want is to speak to the man of the house.”

That got a sound from the woman Bob Gibbs couldn’t identify. In a moment a male voice came on saying, “Yeah?”

“This is Judge Gibbs speaking. You know that hearing of yours coming up?”

“I believe it’s next week, Judge.”

“I’m moving it up to the day after tomorrow. How’d you like to do me a favor?”

There was silence on the line.

“Do I have a choice in the matter?”

Bob Gibbs said, “Why certainly,” sounding surprised. “You can be let off with a warning or draw a five-hundred-dollar fine and a year in the Stockade. Take your pick.”

5

They crossed the middle bridge over to Palm Beach, Dale Crowe Junior driving, his uncle Elvin sitting back to take in the sights, what had changed in the ten years he was out of circulation.

On Royal Palm Way, Dale said, “Over here, they see you driving around at night in a pickup truck they’re liable to stop you. They don’t even need a reason.”

Elvin said, “I won’t worry about it if you won’t.” He was cool for a guy his age, close to fifty. He had on a straw cowboy hat he said was the Ox Bow model and three-hundred-fifty-dollar boots he said had once belonged to his big brother Roland, now dead. Went off to Miami and got himself shot by a woman. Elvin talked about his brother a lot, saying how Roland had worked for the Italians down there and was paid a good buck for his services, wore three-hundred-dollar boots and suits made in Taiwan China. This was while they’d stopped for pizza at a place on Dixie Highway and had two pitchers of beer. It was going on eight o’clock now, dark out.

Dale said, “I get stopped and have to take a Breathalyzer I’m fucked.”

“What’re you worried about,” Elvin said, “they might put you in jail? Tell them you’re about to do five years, have to catch you later.”

“Shit,” Dale said.

He had cooled down since yelling at the judge in court and they threatened to put cuffs and leg-irons on him, then let him go when the judge didn’t make a case of it. He had seven days to think of what prison would be like. Elvin, eating pizza, said he’d give him some pointers on how to jail. Since they’d be together this week.

Dale had let his uncle move in while his two roommates were finishing up thirty days for criminal mischief. Got freaked on crack and kicked in a guy’s windshield for no reason. Now Elvin was talking about staying on after Dale left. The house was in Delray Beach, a dump but only a few blocks from the ocean. Smell that salt air, Elvin said, it would clean the stink of prison off him. Dale said, well, his roommates were about to get their release, he believed either today or tomorrow. If Elvin wanted to stay he’d have to talk to them about it. Elvin said he’d had enough of roommates to last him. If he stayed, they’d have to leave. Like that, taking over. Dale had said, “You don’t know my roommates.” Elvin said, eating pizza, “And they don’t know me, huh? You don’t either.”

That was a fact. Ten years old when his uncle was arrested for murder and stood trial, Dale knew him more from photographs than face-to-face. Elvin in his airboat. Elvin standing with Dale Senior, the oldest brother. Elvin with Roland, both big guys, twins to look at them, except Elvin was a few years younger. When Roland was shot dead and Elvin sent to prison for killing a man he thought was the one had got the woman to kill Roland, nobody in the family seemed surprised.

Elvin was saying now, “This is a pretty street, you know it? Look at those palm trees. Those are the tallest palm trees I ever saw.” He said, “I wouldn’t mind living over here. It sure beats the shit out of Delray Beach.” He said, “Summer I’d go back to the Glades, though, get me an airboat.” He said, “Not too much traffic now, huh? The snowbirds’ve all gone home. I don’t know why anybody wants to live up north. I go even as far as the Georgia line I get a nosebleed.” He said, “Go on over to Ocean Boulevard and turn south.”

Now they were riding along next to the Atlantic Ocean, black out there all the way to the sky.

Elvin said, “Nice public beach but no place to park. So it becomes a private beach for all the rich people live along here behind their walls. It’s interesting how rich people fuck you and you don’t even know most of the time they’re doing it, huh? I had a cellmate my last year at Starke name of So

Dale said, “Right there’s where Donald Trump lives.”

Elvin said, “Is that right? Who’s Donald Trump?”

Before they ate and were driving around West Palm, Dale had pointed out the building Barnett Bank was in, its shiny black glass rising above old structures around it, and said, “You know what they call that building? Darth Vader.”

And Elvin had said, “Who’s Darth Vader?”

Dale could see how he might not have heard of Donald Trump in prison, but everybody in the world knew who Darth Vader was. Either one, though, was hard to explain, so Dale let it go. Elvin wasn’t interested anyway. He wanted to drive down to Ocean Ridge.

“What for?”

“The doctor I mentioned?” Elvin said. “He lives there,” and began telling about Dr. Tommy Vasco and So

“Actually it wasn’t quite a year. Couple of weeks before my release I sold him for two hundred dollars. So

Dale stared at his headlight beams on the two-lane blacktop, trees now closing in on both sides. He could feel his uncle, the size of him, sitting there in that cowboy hat. Dale set his tone of voice to be casual, uncritical, saying, “Well, I ain’t getting into any of that. I’ll tell you right now.”

Elvin said, “I know cons that remain virgins, I’m not telling you it can’t be done.”

Dale shook his head at the road. “I won’t even talk to a queer.”

“Listen to me,” Elvin said. “I’m a person was never married on the outside. But you get in there, something happens to you. Soon as I was put in with the population I started looking for a wife. Generally speaking, you poke or get poked. They’ll fight over your ski

“Manalapan,” Dale said. “Ocean Ridge is next.”

“Anyway,” Elvin said, “here’s this boy has to do a mandatory twenty-five on a life sentence and he’s I mean depressed, doesn’t think he can hack it. He needed somebody like me to cheer him up. See, he’d keep house, tend to my wants, and I’d take good care of him.”

Dale said, “What’d he do?” watching the road, seeing condos and big homes now.