Marines never denigrate the Corps, not even brig rats who are kicked out of the Crotch. When it came to the Salvation Army, the fellows with their legs hanging out the side door of a boxcar had the same degree of loyalty. Hallelujah missions were everywhere on skid row, but the Sally was special. Their brass bands might deafen street drunks into ear-bleeding sobriety, but they were steadfast when it came to teaching the equality of women and people of all races.
The Sally in Trinidad was in the warehouse district. An ex-pug and two-time loser friend of mine who worked there told me he knew the crew on the bus well, but he had not seen them in three weeks. My friend, Jersey Joe Finkelstein, had the skin and light hair and eyebrows of an albino, and brain damage from either the ring or a blow from a piece of pipe in the state pen, whichever account you wanted to believe. He ate cough drops all day and breathed through his mouth when you talked to him.
?
??You know a kid on the bus nicknamed Stoney?” I said.
“Looks like he got shot out of a cannon yesterday, talks in overdrive or like he’s got a Coke bottle up his ass?”
He was sweeping the sidewalk in front of the building while he talked. He looked around to see if anyone had heard his language.
“That’s the kid,” I said.
“Funny you mention him. He was the one on the bus I worried about. The girls would get by for reasons we don’t need to talk about. But a boy like that usually ends up lamb chops, get me?”
“No.”
He looked around again. “The shitheads running that bus are gonna keep the girls around for obvious reasons. Stoney is bait to get the girls on board. Is that your lady in the car?”
“Did you know a girl named Moon Child?”
“Bangs, a face like a white balloon, an attitude?”
“She was murdered.”
“Oh, man,” he said, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Know why anyone would want to kill her?”
He pulled up his T-shirt, even though the wind was raw, and wiped his face. “I don’t associate with people like that. I work here now. I quit that running around.”
“Come on, Jersey. I need a favor. You’re a stand-up guy.”
“There’re two guys on that bus that need straightening out. Guys with three inches of dick and two of brain. You get the picture?”
“What are their names?”
“Marvin and Jimmy. They had a lot of camping stuff on the roof. They had something else up there, too: a big wood star. I asked them why they wanted a big star on the roof like that. Marvin said it was a hexe. I said, ‘What’s a hexe?’ He just grinned at me.”
“Think they’re making a movie?” I asked.
“Yeah, me and Elizabeth Taylor are starring in it. Are you out of your mind?”
“Don’t let Stoney down. He’s a good kid. You said it yourself. Those guys will cannibalize him.”
“I heard them talking about Ludlow and going on through the massacre site into some place around Cordova Pass and then way-to-shit on over in the Sangre de Cristos. You been in those canyons? You got to bring in the sunlight on a truck.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
EACH DAY AFTER work, I helped repair the damage done to Jo Anne’s house. A couple of afternoons, Spud and Cotton came along with me. Wade Benbow dropped by. Moon Child had died of suffocation. What else was new? Cynical? You bet. Most crimes go unpunished. All cops know that, and so do the victims. You just live with it.
The days were becoming shorter, the light colder and more brittle, and my idyllic life with the Lowry family was coming to an end. Even though I would receive part of the advance for my book, I did not have a great deal of money. However, that was far less of a problem than the loss in Jo Anne’s eyes when she looked at the sunporch where she had kept her paintings.
It was Friday evening, and Jo Anne had the night off, and I was cooking tamales and eggs on her stove, a storm buffeting the window panes; Spud and Cotton said they might come over with a few beers and bring Maisie. I thought we might have a fine evening. Then, out of nowhere, Jo Anne said, “I painted the children inside the flames at Ludlow in order to release them from their pain. Now they’ll never be free. Whoever stole my paintings will keep them inside the fire. Do I sound crazy?”
“No,” I said. “You can paint the children again. The Man Upstairs gave you a talent for a reason. He’s not going to take it from you.”
“He took my father,” she replied, her face pinched with anger.