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We both felt fine when we leftI'd had an hour
off my feet, plus my midday OxycontinMy daughter
had changed to shorts and a halter top, and
laughed when I insisted on anointing her nose with
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zinc oxide"Bobo the clown," she said, looking at
herself in the mirrorShe was in great spirits, I
was happier than I'd been since the accident, so
what happened to us that afternoon came as a total
surpriseIlse blamed lunch - maybe bad mayo in
the tuna salad - and I let her, but I don't think
it was bad mayo at allBad mojo, more like it
The road was narrow, bumpy, and badly patched
Until we reached the place where it ran into the
overgrowth that covered most of the Key, it was
also ridged with bone-colored sand dunes that had
blown inland from the beachThe rental Chevy
thudded gamely watch replicas cartier over most of these, but when the
road curved a little closer to the water - this
was just before we reached the hacienda Wireman
called Palacio de Asesinos - the drifts grew
thicker and the car waddled instead of bumping
Ilse, who had learned to drive in snow country,
handled this without complaint or comment
The houses between Big Pink and El Palacio were
all in the style I came to think of as Florida
Pastel UglyMost were shuttered and the driveways
of all but one were gated shutThe driveway of
the one exception had been barred with two
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sawhorses, bearing this faded stenciled warning:
MEAN DOGS MEAN DOGSBeyond the Mean Dog house,
the grounds of the hacienda commencedThey were
enclosed by a sturdy faux-stucco wall about ten
feet high and topped with orange tileMore chanel purses bags orange
tile - the roof of the mansion inside - rose in
slants and angles against the blameless blue sky
"Jumping jeepers," Ilse said - that was one she
must have gotten from her Baptist boyfriend"This
place belongs in Beverly Hills
The wall ran along the east side of the narrow,
buckled road for at least eighty yardsThere
weren't any NO TRESPASSING signs; given that wall,
the owner's stance on door-to-door salesmen and
proselytizing Mormons seemed perfectly clearIn
the center was a two-piece iron gate, standing
ajarAnd sitting just inside its open halves -
"There she is," I murmured"The lady from down
the beachHoly shit, it's The Bride of the
Godfather
"Daddy!" Ilse said, laughing and shocked at the
same time
The woman was seriously old, mid-eighties at least
She was in her replica prada handbags wheelchairAn enormous pair of
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blue Converse Hi-Tops were propped up on the
chrome footrestsAlthough the temperature was in
the mid-seventies, she wore a gray two-piece
sweatsuitIn one gnarled hand a cigarette
smolderedClapped on her head was the straw hat
I'd seen on my walks, but on my walks I hadn't
realized how enormous it was - not just a hat but
a battered sombreroHer resemblance to Marlon
Brando at the end of The Godfather - when he's
playing with his grandson in the garden - was
unmistakableThere was something in her lap that
did not quite look like a pistol
Ilse and I both wavedFor a moment she did
nothingThen she raised one hand, palm out, in an
Indian How gesture, and broke into a sunny and
nearly toothless grinWhat seemed like a thousand
wrinkles creased her face, gucci wallet turning her into a
benign witchI never even glimpsed the house
behind her; I was still trying to cope with her
sudden appearance, her cool blue sneakers, her
delta of wrinkles, and her -
"Daddy, was that a gun?" Ilse was looking into the
rear-view mirror, wide-eyed"Did that old lady
have a gun?"
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The car was drifting, and I saw a real possibility
of clipping the hacienda's far cornerI touched
the wheel and made a course correctionMind your driving, honeyThere
ain't much road in this road
She faced front againWe'd been driving in bright
sunshine, but that ended with the hacienda's wall
"What do you mean, of a kind?"
"It looked likeI don't know, a crossbow-pistolMaybe she shoots snakes with it
"Thank God she smiled," Ilse said"And it was a
great smile, wasn't it?"
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