“Yes.” That was easy. It was the reason Lee Oswald was still drawing breath.
“Will you be careful?”
“Yes. I’ll be very—”
She stopped my mouth with a kiss. “Because no matter whereyou came from, there’s no future for me without you. Now let’s go to sleep.”
12
I thought the conversation would resume in the morning. I had no idea what—meaning how much—I would tell her when it did, but in the end I had to tell her nothing, because she didn’t ask. Instead she asked me how much The Sadie Dunhill Charity Show had brought in. When I told her just over three thousand dollars, with the contents of the lobby donation box added to the gate, she threw back her head and let loose a beautiful full-throated laugh. Three grand wouldn’t cover all of her bills, but it was worth a million just to hear her laugh… and tonothear her say something likeWhy bother at all, when I can just get it taken care of in the future?Because I wasn’t entirely sure she really wanted to go even if shedidbelieve, and because I wasn’t sure I wanted to take her.
I wanted tobewith her, yes. For as close to forever as people get. But it might be better in ’63… and all the years God or providence gave us after ’63.Wemight be better. I could see her lost in 2011, eyeing every low-riding pair of pants and computer screen with awe and unease. I would never beat her or shout at her—no, not Sadie—but she might still become my Marina Prusakova, living in a strange place and exiled from her homeland forever.
13
There was one person in Jodie who might know how I could put Al’s final betting entry to use. That was Freddy Quinlan, the real estate agent. He ran a weekly nickel-in, quarter-to-stay poker game at his house, and I’d attended a few times. During several of these games he bragged about his betting prowess in two fields: pro football and the Texas State Basketball Tournament. He sawme in his office only because, he said, it was too damn hot to play golf.
“What are we talking about here, George? Medium-sized bet or the house and lot?”
“I’m thinking five hundred dollars.”
He whistled, then leaned back in his chair and laced his hands over a tidy little belly. It was only nine in the morning, but the air-conditioner was running full blast. Stacks of real estate brochures fluttered in its chilly exhaust. “That’s serious cabbage. Care to let me in on a good thing?”
Since he was doing me the favor—at least I hoped so—I told him. His eyebrows shot up so high they were in danger of meeting his receding hairline.
“Holy cow! Why don’t you just chuck your money down a sewer?”
“I’ve got a feeling, that’s all.”
“George, listen to your daddy. The Case-Tiger fight isn’t a sporting event, it’s a trial balloon for this new closed-circuit TV thing. There might be a few good fights on the undercard, but the main bout’s a joke. Tiger’ll have instructions to carry the poor old fella for seven or eight, then put him to sleep. Unless…”
He leaned forward. His chair made an unlovelyscronksound from somewhere underneath. “Unless you know something.” He leaned back again and pursed his lips. “But how could you? You live inJodie,for Chrissake. But if you did, you’d let a pal in on it, wouldn’t you?”
“I don’t know anything,” I said, lying straight to his face (and happy to do so). “It’s just a feeling, but the last time I had one this strong, I bet on the Pirates to beat the Yankees in the World Series, and I made a bundle.”
“Very nice, but you know the old saying—even a stopped clock gets it right twice a day.”
“Can you help me or not, Freddy?”
He gave me a comforting smile that said the fool and his money would all too soon be parted. “There’s a guy in Dallas who’d behappy to take that kind of action. Name’s Akiva Roth. Operates out of Faith Financial on Greenville Ave. Took over the biz from his father five or six years ago.” He lowered his voice. “Word is, he’s mobbed up.” He lowered his voice still further. “Carlos Marcello.”
That was exactly what I was afraid of, because that had also been the word on Eduardo Gutierrez. I thought again of the Lincoln with the Florida plates parked across from Faith Financial.
“I’m not sure I’d want to be seen going into a place like that. I might want to teach again, and at least two members of the schoolboard are already cheesed off at me.”
“You could try Frank Frati, over in Fort Worth. He runs a pawnshop.”Scronkwent the chair as he leaned forward to get a better look at my face. “What’d I say? Or did you inhale a bug?”
“Uh-uh. It’s just that I knew a Frati once. Who also ran a pawnshop and took bets.”
“Probably they both came from the same savings-and-loan clan in Romania. Anyway, he might fade five Cs—especially a sucker bet like you’re talking about. But you won’t get the odds you deserve. Of course you wouldn’t get em from Roth, either, but you’d get better than you would from Frank Frati.”
“But with Frank I wouldn’t get the Mob connection. Right?”
“I guess not, but who really knows? Bookies, even the part-time ones, ain’t known for their high-class business associations.”
“Probably I should take your advice and hold onto my money.”
Quinlan looked horrified. “No, no,no,don’t do that. Bet it on the Bears to win the NFL. That way you make a bundle. I practically guarantee it.”
