Gold Coast by Elmore Leonard Page B

to see him here again. Keep that animal away from here.’ Then saying, ‘Why didn’t you tell me yourself? I have to learn it from someone like him.’ Then listening to Mr. Grossi for a long time. Then saying again, ‘Keep him away from here.’ But she didn’t tell him everything,” Marta said.
    “What didn’t she tell him?”
    “Your friend Roland said he wanted to help her in the situation, do something for her to relieve her being tense. But she didn’t mention this to Mr. Grossi—I don’t know why—only that she didn’t want to see Roland again. Very disturbed, but cold in the way she said it, not screaming or shouting. I thought of the time she came home with her car smashed in front and Mister came home with his same car smashed in the side.”
    Jesus said, “All of that with Mr. Grossi is on this tape?”
    “Yes, of course. Every phone conversation today.”
    “I give it to Roland, he’ll hear it,” Jesus said. “He’ll know she told Mr. Grossi.”
    “Then don’t give it to him,” Marta said.
    “You crazy?” Jesus said.
    Roland heard about it the same evening, in Vivian Arzola’s office. Vivian telling him he was lucky Ed Grossi had already gone home. Roland looking out the thirty-ninth floor window at all that night glitter over the Beach.
    “Why?” Roland said.
    “Because maybe this time he would have killed you he was so angry.”
    Roland said, “Lady, I’m the boy didn’t testify in court against somebody, and went to Butler. You remember? I just got back yesterday. He puts me on a job, I do it the way I see fit to. Does he want another boy? That’s up to him. But don’t start talking about him doing me harm. There’s an old Cuban saying, you fuck with the bull, you get a horn in the ass.”
    “Where’d you get that suit?” Vivian said.
    Roland grinned. “You like it?”
    “It’s the worst looking suit I ever saw.”
    “That’s my sweet girl,” Roland said, coming away from the window to put a leg up on the edge of Vivian’s desk, “your old self again. What else he say?”
    “He’s going to tell you himself. Keep away from Mrs. DiCilia.”
    “But not taking me off it.”
    “Do what you’re told. Nothing more.”
    “You listen in and hear her talking to him?”
    “It’s recorded here,” Vivian said. “I can listen if I want. You try to lie to him, he’ll play it for you.”
    “I got nothing to hide. I told her her old man set up the deal, that’s all. So everybody understands each other. I asked her if there was anything I could do for her.”
    “I can hear you,” Vivian said, “the way you’d say it. Did she scream for help?”
    “She was nice about the whole thing. What I’m surprised at, she went and called Ed.”
    “Well, stay away from her, that’s all.”
    “Sure, that’s how he wants it. What I better have, though, are all the back tapes. You think I come to see you, it’s the tapes I need most.”
    “Why?” Vivian said.
    “You want me to do the job or not?”
    Vivian, sitting at her desk, studied him, trying to catch a glimpse of how his mind was working.
    “See, now the woman knows she’s being watched, she’s gonna be more careful,” Roland said.
    “Thanks to you.”
    “No, it’s better this way, let her know where she stands. But I got to listen to the back tapes. See, getto recognize voices if any of ’em call again and don’t use names. You understand?”
    “I understand that,” Vivian said, “but I think I better talk to Ed first. He’ll be back in a few days.”
    “He went out of town?”
    “He’ll be back.”
    “Meanwhile,” Roland said, “we’re sitting here humping the dog, huh? What I could do is return ’em before he gets back. Otherwise, something happens, Ed sees the work wasn’t done properly, he looks around for who’s to blame and, like that, you’re back in your overalls picking oranges.”
    Roland walked out with a cardboard box full of cassette tapes. Fucking Cubans, he hadn’t met one yet