Cat Chaser

“But if you can’t deal with him,” Mary said, showing concern now as she looked at Nolen. “Isn’t that right?”

Nolen shook his head. “I wouldn’t even think about it.”

“I just want to ask him something,” Moran said. “Alone.”

23

JIGGS STOPPED at the flamed Trans-Am and stuck his head in the passenger side. Hunched over like that his seersucker coat parted at the vent to show the seat of his pants hanging slack, as though he had no buttocks and all his weight was in front. When he straightened, pushing his glasses up, the Trans-Am came to life, rumbled and moved off. Jiggs came on to the Coconut Palms straightening his blue-striped tie, smoothing the front of his shirt. Entering the office he said to Jerry, “Hey, how you doing? My pal George around?” He looked at one of the inside windows and said, “Yeah, there he is. Nice seeing you again,” and left Jerry adjusting his golf cap, staring after him as he went out to the swimming pool.

Jiggs saw Nolen in a lounge. He saw Mary in an expensive-looking T-shirt and white sailor pants also in a lounge, both of them up by the oceanfront walk in the sun, and a silent alarm went off in his mind. Setup.

He couldn’t believe it; Moran didn’t seem that dumb. Unless the cops were here and had coached him. Make it look natural. Like nothing out of the ordinary is going on. Fucking cops. Like they knew what they were doing. He saw Moran coming across from the front of his house, white T-shirt and old work jeans, barefoot. Maybe-it surprised Jiggs-Nolen was better at this than he gave him credit. Maybe these folks were in for a surprise and he’d tell in about half a second-now-all of them looking this way now and, yeah, they did seem to clutch up and were motionless as he approached them.

Jiggs said, “Beautiful day, huh? You get one of those hard rains it’s always nice the next day. You notice that? Mrs. de Boya, how you doing?… George? Nolen there, he looks a little hung over. You okay, Nolen? Have a beer you’ll feel better. I just had a pot of coffee. I wondered”-looking around-”George, you got a toilet I can use?”

“In the house,” Moran said.

Yeah, something was up: Mary trying to act natural as she looked at Moran, Christ, gripping the arms of the chair. You’d have to pry her hands off. Moran walked over to the house with him and held the door open. Very polite this morning.

“It’s through the bedroom.”

“Thank you, George, I appreciate it. Be only a minute.”

Moran walked around to the kitchen side of the counter. He moved the blender and the sack of lemons aside. Squared the telephone around on the end of the counter. He got a bottle of scotch from the cupboard. Brought a bowl of ice out of the refrigerator. Found two clean glasses. He poured about an ounce and a half of scotch into one and drank it down. He heard the toilet flush. He put ice in the glasses and was pouring scotch when Jiggs came out pushing his glasses up, buttoning his seersucker jacket and then unbuttoning it to leave it open.

“There he is,” Jiggs said. “I had to take a leak, George, but I also hoped we’d get a chance to talk, just the two of us if that was possible. You understand, not get emotional about anything, right? Why do that? What I thought, let’s lay it out, look over what we have here.”

Jiggs stepped back from the counter and glanced around the room.

“You don’t have a tape going, any of that kinda stuff, do you, George? I wouldn’t think so, but somebody might’ve talked you into it.” He was looking at the hi-fi system now.

“I can put a record on,” Moran said. “You like J. Geils?”

Coming back to the counter Jiggs said, “George, I don’t know J. Geils from jaywalking, which is about the only thing I never was arrested for. That’s an exaggeration, of course, but the point I want to make-” He picked up the drink Moran set before him. “Thank you, I believe I will. Little pick-me-up. The point I want to make, I’ve been arrested, well, quite a few times, suspicion of this and that, I think on account of the people I been associating with the past few years. But I never in my life been convicted of anything. I’m cherry, George, as far as doing any time and I’m sure you can understand why. Because I’m careful. Because I don’t go walking in someplace I don’t know what’s on the other side of the door. Entrapment don’t ever work with me, George; because I don’t partake of controlled substances, I don’t fuck lady cops dressed up like hookers and I don’t deal with people I don’t know. So there you are. If you think you got me to walk into something here and you’re go

“Fine,” Moran said. “What do you want?”

“I want the two suitcases and everything was in ’em. You can tell me something first,” Jiggs said, “cause the suspense is killing me. How much we talking about?”

“Two million two hundred thousand,” Moran said.

“I’ll tell you something. I enjoy talking to you, George, you got a nice easy style. I told you that once before. All right, how ’bout this? You keep the two hu

“What if we don’t give it to you?”

“Then you got a problem. I put a lot of time in this, George. See, I don’t have a pension plan, profit-sharing, anything like that. This’s go

“Under his bed,” Moran said.

“Come on, you’re kidding me. Guys like that”-Jiggs shook his head-”they’re simpleminded, you know it? Under the fucking bed… Now where is it, under yours? I’d believe it. Jesus, I’d believe anything now. Whatta you say, George?”

“Mary says no,” Moran said. “You don’t get it.”

“Yeah, but what do you say?”

“It’s her money.”

“I bet you can talk her into it, George. Lemme show you something.” Jiggs got off the stool again and looked around the room. “What’s that down there, top of the bookcase? Looks like a vase.”

“It’s a vase,” Moran said.

“You buy that thing, George?”

“It was here when I moved in.”

“Keep looking at it,” Jiggs said. “Don’t look at me, look at the vase. I’m go

“I’m looking at it,” Moran said, staring at the vase that was about twelve or fourteen inches high and glazed with the portrait of an old-fashioned girl holding a bouquet of flowers.

“You ready?” Jiggs said.

“I’m ready,” Moran said.

The vase came apart, fragments of china flying outward with only the sound of it breaking, pieces hitting the floor.

Moran turned to Jiggs who was holding an automatic with a silencer attached that looked bigger than the gun.

“That’s my magic act,” Jiggs said. “Not a sound, not even that little BB-gun pop you usually get with a suppressor. Could be in a movie, out the track, you’re walking up Collins Avenue, anywhere. You fall over. Person right next to you’d never hear a thing. What’s this, a heart attack?… You understand what I’m saying? Could happen anytime, anywhere.” Jiggs came back to the counter unscrewing the silencer. He dropped it into his coat pocket as he got up on the stool. “Or, you give me the suitcases, we part friends, wish each other luck.”