HELENE HAD THE BACK END of the hearse open and the mortuary cot halfway out, trying to get the goddamn legs to fold down. Jack walked up to her and said, “Here,” and released the catch. He said, “I’ll get him.” So calm about it. Helene watched him walk off, pushing the cot along the brick path through the garden. As he reached the shade trees a door on the patio opened and Lucy stood holding it for him. It didn’t take long. Helene watched Jack bring the cot out with a man lying on it, then stop to say something to Lucy and kiss her on the cheek. He came through the garden to the driveway, to the back end of the hearse. It wasn’t until Jack had the cot ready to load that Helene realized the man on it wasn’t dead.
His eyes were open. There were towels wedged in between his right arm and his side. He was saying ugly things trying to look mean, calling Jack a name Helene didn’t care for, usually said to women. It didn’t seem to bother Jack. He slid the man into the hearse and slammed the door on him.
She said, “Jack, I can’t pick up somebody who isn’t dead, can I?”
He said for her to come on and waved to Lucy standing over on the patio. Lucy waved back.
They got in the hearse and left, Helene driving, Jack sitting back lighting a cigarette, not a care in the world. The first thing Helene wanted to know was why they didn’t call an ambulance. Jack said because they’d ask how Roy got shot-reaching over and touching her just above the hip. Right there. Only on Roy it was a roll of fat. Jack said Roy would make up a story to tell at the hospital. Helene said, “Well, isn’t he pissed?” Jack said, who cares? Roy couldn’t tell on anyone without telling on himself. Jack asked her to save her questions till later. “Let’s get old Roy to Charity.”
At the emergency entrance they slid him out of the hearse and rolled him onto a gurney, Jack ducking questions from the orderly. He said to Roy, “You hurry up and get better, you hear?” The orderly was wheeling Roy off, so Helene missed what he said to Jack.
They drove off in the hearse. Jack said, “Go on up Canal. We’ll stop by Mandina’s and have one. How’s that sound? Leo and I used to drop in there after a funeral, unwind.”
Helene said, “If you think you’re gonna get your job back, you’re crazy.”
“It’s yours,” Jack said, “if it makes you happy.”
Helene gave him a look. He seemed so innocent sitting there, taking in the sights of Canal Street on a Saturday afternoon.
“I’ve never gone with a girl who worked at a funeral home; it’ll be a new experience.” He said after a moment, “I may go to Gulfport tomorrow, pick up a car. Guy offered to let me use his brand-new sixty-thousand-dollar Mercedes, long as I want. Keys’ll be at the Standard Fruit office.”
“If you don’t have it, fake it,” Helene said. “That doesn’t sound like you, Jack.”
“Or I could sell the car…”
“That sounds like you.”
“Send the money to Lucy, in Nicaragua.”
Helene looked at him. “Are you serious?”
Jack didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure if he was or not.