Glitz

“Like financial assistance.”

“Could be.”

“But why rape her?”

“Why did he… do what he did to her? I don’t know. Maybe it seemed like a good idea. Maybe she wanted him to.”

“She was already dead.”

“Well, a woman like her can’t be too choosy as to when she gets it. You know what I mean? I bet she hadn’t had any dick in years and years. Judging from the type of woman she was and her age. Old women don’t get a lot a dick. You don’t know-she might a died with a smile on her face knowing it was coming.”

Vincent had to wait a few moments. “You think so?”

“I understand it was dark under there. Who knows, ‘ey? You think you know things and you get in trouble. You think I popped that cab driver and shoved him over the cliff, so you haul my ass down here… Well, least it was a free ride and I don’t mind being back. I think somebody ought a pay my hotel though. I mean it’s not my fault I’m here.”

“It’s never your fault,” Vincent said. “You’re probably sick, but you still know what you’re doing. You’re a weird fucking guy, Teddy. I’ve never met anybody like you before in my life.”

“You better believe it,” Teddy said and gri

“Who’s they? I never heard anybody call you that.”

“Guys.”

“What guys? Guys at Raiford? All the wi

“I got along fine.”

“And came out with some great ideas.”

Teddy squinted at him. “I can see that look again, man. There it is. Like you think you know something.”

“I know you ought to be taken off the street.”

“Don’t look away-look at me!”

He wanted to-Teddy was coming out, exposing himself-but Vincent’s gaze had moved beyond Teddy to pick up the round black woman in a shiny print, shades of red, coming through the opening in the hedge; the cab driver’s wife out of Africa looking around the open-air restaurant now, a big straw sunhat shading her face, worn over a red bandana.

Vincent did look at Teddy for a moment, at wide-open eyes with worry in them, something wrong, Teddy’s expression not matching his tone sounding mean, telling Vincent, “You don’t know shit, but you’re talking about me, arn’cha? Saying things that aren’t true.” Calling Vincent dumb and stupid, telling Vincent, “Look at me with your eyes!” And then, “Where you going?”

Vincent said, “I want you to meet somebody,” rising as the round black woman in the shiny print, the big straw hat, came to the table.

Vincent helped her into a chair saying their names, Modesta Manosduros… Teddy Magyk. A waitress came to pour water and Vincent watched Teddy looking the woman over without looking directly at her. Teddy sitting straight, his hands on his camera case. The waitress left them and Teddy eased back in his metal chair, picked up his glass of water, starting to grin and trying not to-his old self again.

“This your date?” Getting a smirky look.

“Isidro’s wife,” Vincent said.

“I know him,” the woman said. “Is the one kill my husband.”

Teddy kept his eyes straight ahead, on Vincent. “She never saw me before in her life.”

“You still the one kill my husband.” She looked at Vincent and he nodded.

“You told your husband to be careful of him.”

“Yes, but he don’ listen to me.”

“You told me to be careful, too.”

“So maybe you listen and nothing happen to you.”

“You two have fun,” Teddy said, “I’m leaving.” He gripped his camera case, put a hand on the arm of his chair.

“Look at him,” Vincent said. “Take a good look.”

“Yes?” the woman said.

“Is he magic?”

“Mr. Magic,” the woman said. “No police can catch him.”

Teddy gri

“What do you see? What’s go

“To Mr. Magic?”

Vincent nodded. “Look at him and tell me what you see.” He watched Teddy waiting now, Teddy getting that smirky expression again.

“Is hard to see him,” the woman said, half-closing her eyes.

“Now you see me,” Teddy said, “now you don’t.”

“He is inside something,” the woman said, raising her hands to hold them a few inches apart. “But is only this big.” She held the palm of one hand about a foot above the table. “And, I believe, this high. Like an olla. You say a pot, or a pitcher?” She closed her eyes. “I see him but I don’t see him.”

“The hell she talking about?” Teddy said.

Vincent was reaching around for the blue canvas bag hanging from his chair, Teddy watching him. Vincent placed the bag on his lap, zipped it open and brought out the stainless steel urn. “Is it like this, what you see him in?”

“Yes, like that,” the woman said. “That thing, made of metal.”

“You’re sure,” Vincent said, placing the urn carefully in the middle of the table, seeing Teddy’s frown as he studied it. The woman said, yes, it was the same thing. Teddy looked up.

“You mind my asking what you got in there?”

“Iris,” Vincent said.

“Jesus Christ,” Teddy said, “you’re kidding me,” staring at the urn again, his expression changing as he relaxed and seemed to grin. “No shit, Iris is in there? What, her ashes?”

“All that’s left of her.”

“Jesus. I never saw one of those before. Did you look in it? ‘Ey, I wouldn’t mind, if you can get it open.”

Vincent said, “You’re a creepy guy, Ted.”

Teddy said, “Yeah? Well, so are you. Carrying that thing around.”

“I’m taking it to her family in Mayaguez,” Vincent said, “unless you want to. You could tell them Iris’s last words.”

“Boy, you’re really fu

“I see you-” Modesta began.

But Teddy, getting up, cut her off. “Not if I see you first, Mama.”

Vincent said, “Wait, listen to her.”

“She ain’t through her routine yet?”

“I see him with a woman,” Modesta said.

Teddy paused. “Well, that ain’t all bad.”

Vincent was watching the black woman’s face, her eyes closed in the shade of the sunhat.

“I see him dancing, it look like. Close to somebody.”

“Yeah? Then what happens?”

“You run away.”

“You don’t see me or her in the sack?”

“I don’t see you no more. You gone.”

“That’s fine with me.” Teddy slung the camera case over his shoulder and looked at Vincent. “Now you see me, now you don’t. Maybe you’ll see me again… and maybe you won’t.”

Jesus Christ, Vincent thought.

Teddy, gri

Jesus Christ, Vincent thought, feeling strangely self-conscious, as though people at the other tables were staring at him, associating him with Teddy.

Look at the freak, crossing the street now in shorts, wearing white shorts, camera case hanging, the freak raising his hand with a flat palm toward approaching traffic, the freak looking straight ahead, ignoring the cars blowing their horns at him. Teddy on stage, showing off. Something a kid in junior high might do. The guy who murdered three people in the past three weeks. Look. Moving off with a jaunty stride, on the other side of the street now, with a bounce to his step that seemed to lift him up on his toes.

This isn’t what you do, Vincent thought. Play games with weird kids. You can’t do it. You have to get out.

Still, he continued to watch Teddy, who had killed three people in the past three weeks, until he was out of sight and Modesta Manosduros said, “I think I am hungry.”

Vincent turned to her. “When you looked at him, did you really see him dancing?”