Harvey Porter Does Dallas (8 page)

He knew her name, of course, but he asked anyway, “What's your name? Mine is Harvey Porter.”

“Carmelita Villanueva,” she replied, not showing much interest.

“What're you reading?”

“I'm reading this Richard Simmons book on the inside story of street gangs. What are you reading?”

“I'm reading the Gordon Liddy book about the 100 ways to disable an opponent.”

“Is it good, because I have to read it too. It's the textbook for my sociology class.”

“I know. I'm in the same class”

“You are? With Mrs. Bert?”

“That's the one.”

“Oh yeah, I remember now, you asked the question about what to do if you saw a guy walkin' down the street.”

“Yeah, that was me. But I gotta admit she had a good answer.”

“So is the book any good?” Carmelita asked him. “I haven't started it yet.”

“It's okay. The best part is the stories. He's got some great stories to tell about when he was an undercover operator in the CIA and FBI. Spy stories, like.”

“That's it?”

“Nah, he's got his 100 ways to disable opponents. Most of them I already know, like a shot to the nose with the heel of your hand, or grabbin' onto their ears and liftin' up your feet, so the weight of your whole body is on his ears.”

“People could lose ears like that.”

“Oh yeah; that's the basic point. When a guy sees both of his ears are ripped off and sort of hangin' by a thread, the fight goes right out of him. There was one in there that was new to me: Takin' a guy from behind by bucklin' his knees. Then of course you've got all the kicks to the groin stuff.”

Carmelita put down her book and looked into his eyes. “You say you already know most of the 100 ways.”

“Yeah, sure. Anybody who's spent much time on the street would know them.”

Then Carmelita said, “My book is boring, because I don't think this Richard Simmons knows his stuff.”

“That's the book on the inside life of street gangs?”

“Yeah, but I don't think the author knows his stuff.”

“You know a lot about street gangs?” Harvey asked her.

Carmelita rolled her eyes and let out a sigh. “How can I help it? Carlos is my brother.”

“Carlos Villanueva is your brother?” Harvey thought to himself,
watch your step here amigo, this could be ticklish
.

“Yeah, he is. And just because he's the leader of
Los Rebeldes
, he's made a lot of problems for me.”

“Like what?”

Carmelita replied, “Well, for one thing I've been interrogated by the cops more times than I remember. They think I have information about
Los Rebeldes
, but I don't. The cops don't believe me. I've even been pulled out of school a dozen times for police questioning.”

“What do you know about
Los Rebeldes
?” asked Harvey.

“Nothing. I make it a point to know nothing. Anything I know about the gang could get me in trouble. I keep my ears shut every time I'm around Carlos, just for my own protection.”

“I can't blame you. Is Carlos in jail now, or out?”

“Do you know him?” Carmelita asked with a frown.

“Oh yeah, I know him.”

“How?”

Harvey thought better of it. “It's a long story. I'll tell you another time. But do me a favor, okay?”

“What favor?”

“Don't ask me about my scar.”

“Okay, but why?”

“I've got my reasons. One reason is everybody always asks me about it and I have to tell the story all over again. I'm not gonna tell it any more except to real special people. The reason it looks so bad, it wasn't sewed up by a real doctor in a real hospital.”

“How was it sewed up?”

“By this old fart who used to be a doctor, then he turned into an alcoholic with shaky hands, so he lost his medical license. He operated secret medical activities—abortions mostly—out of his garage. He was a friend of my dodger; he's the one who took me to the garage.”

“What was the doctor's name?”

“For all I know his name was Dr. Dickwad. His hands really had the shakes; it looked like he had Parkinson's on top of his booze problem. It was a real bad job and he sewed it up real bad. It hurt like hell, and he kept stopping to take a swig or two of whiskey. He did that about four times. He kept sticking his needle into this clear liquid which I guess was alcohol. Not the drinking kind.”

“Wow. You went through a real nasty surgery.”

“Surgery? I guess you could call it that. It was more like a drunk mechanic tryin' to fix a timin' chain.”

Now Carmelita was looking straight at him and seemed interested in all he had to say. “Sometime will you tell me how you know Carlos?”

“Yeah. sure. Sometime.” Harvey could see that this made for another chance to spend time with her.

That chance came about three days later, but it had nothing to do with Carlos. It was about two in the afternoon. He found Carmelita in the lobby floor lounge again. She held up the Richard Simmons book about life inside of street gangs and said, “That's it. I'm not readin' any more of this. The book is bogus; the guy doesn't know what he's talkin' about. I guess I'll check out the Liddy book now.”

“Sounds like a plan,” said Harvey. His voice was so low it was barely more than a whisper. “How'd you like to take a little adventure.?”

“What adventure?” her dark eyes widened.

“Nothin' serious, just a little snoopin' around.”

“Could it get us into trouble?”

“You bet. But not serious trouble. And if we're careful, I don't think anybody will ever know where we went.”

“I can't imagine what you're talking about. But my curiosity has the best of me. Let's do it!”

Another reason to like this girl
, Harvey thought.
She's not just beautiful, she likes adventure
. “Okay, follow me but be sure to walk quiet. We don't want to look funky, like we're slinkin' around like a fox at the chicken house, we just walk naturally and be cheerful to anyone we might. Just walk quiet.”

“Can do.”

Harvey headed straight up all the way to the fifth floor hallway. It was good luck; they were alone. The classrooms were not in session so there wouldn't be any teachers to deal with. Very quietly, he led her down to the end of the hall to the old locked door with the
No admittance at any time
sign.

“This is the stairway to the sixth floor. Sixth floor is strictly off limits.”

“I know. That's the fun. Remember I told you it was going to be an adventure. What's an adventure without a little risk? Besides, we're not going to get caught. I've got a plan.”

“What plan? This door is locked up.” They were still whispering.

“I can pick the lock. All I need you to do is just watch out down the hallway and warn me if anybody's coming.”

“Can't I do it just by standing right beside you?”

“No there are other hallways You need to move on down, at least twenty feet away from the door.” Carmelita did it, but her back was pressed against the wall.

Harvey took out the huge paper clip which Weber Weeble had given him.
Loaned
him. It was such an old-fashioned door lock Harvey picked it clean in ten seconds. He opened it a few inches, just to see if the hinges were noisy; they weren't. He motioned to Carmelita to come quickly. They entered the staircase and closed the door quietly but firmly behind them. It was real stuffy. The stairs were old wooden ones, bent down in the middle.

Sixth floor was stuffy as well. There was no air conditioning on this floor. But the many windows made the light pretty strong. All the JFK and Oswald exhibits were still in place, on walls and showroom panels. Even little pieces of paper that had Oswald's receipt for his mail-order rifle. Harvey said to Carmelita, “I really wish we had more time. I'd love to look at this stuff.”

“Well, we don't have a lot of time so let's get the adventure going.”

“It's already going,” said Harvey. “Don't you think it's cool, you and me up here by ourselves where nobody else can be?”

Carmelita smiled. “Yeah, Harvey, it's cool.”

“They ain't even gonna open this up to the public for another two months. It's just you and me, babe.”

“Don't call me that.”

“It's just you and me, and nobody knows it but us.” Harvey led her across to the room's southeast corner, where a bunch of cardboard boxes were stacked, but not high. Harvey kicked one of them. It was empty. Then he kicked a second one, also empty.

“Why are you kicking boxes?”

“To show that they're only
dummy
boxes. They're just put here so the corner can look like it did when Oswald created himself a sniper's nest.”

Carmelita whispered, “The sixth floor of the Texas School Depository, and no one knows it but us.”

“Now you're talkin'. See? It's already a good adventure.”

Harvey took her hand and led her to the notorious window where the shots were fired. Harvey rested his butt on the large window sill and looked down at the street, for a long time.”

“What are you looking at?”

“You see the red
X
on the street? That's the place where the president got hit.”

“Anybody knows that, at least anybody from Dallas.”

“Yeah but it shows you what a chicken-shit Oswald was.”

“How does it show that?”

“Just look at the
X
. It can't be more than 70 feet from where I'm sittin'. Imagine a convertible moving maybe five miles an hour, and him sitting here with a sniper's rifle that had a scope on it. It's like shootin' fish in a barrel. Like how could he miss? I could shoot a rabbit from here just usin' my own piece.”

“You've got your own piece?” Carmelita answered with a frown.

“Yeah. It's a nine millimeter semi-automatic with a nine-bullet clip.”

“You better be sure you don't show it to anyone. You could get in trouble.”

“Don't worry, it's in a safe place.”

“Okay, so what does it all prove?”

“It proves Oswald wasn't just a chicken-shit, he was a coward.”

Carmelita was holding her shoulders. She seemed tense. “How much longer are we going to stay here?” she asked him.

Harvey stretched his arms and yawned. “I'd say as long as we like; nobody knows we're here, and that door down there is closed, so anybody would think it's locked, just like always.”

“I'm glad you're so confident.”

“Just relax. Take a deep breath. This is the last place anybody would think to look for us. Besides, there's nobody lookin' for us, it's free time.”

Carmelita sighed. She felt better.

Harvey couldn't help looking at a few more exhibits under glass before he made his way to the west end of the room. “Look at this,” he said. “There's even a picture of Oswald's
dog
, for Christ's sake.”

Then he went to the west end of the huge room. For the longest time, he stood looking at the floor.

“What are you doing?” Carmelita asked.

“Just lookin' at the floor. You see this long horizontal line that runs different from the other floorboards?”

Carmelita squinted at the floor. “Yeah, I guess I see it, but it's not easy.”

“I think that's the point.”

“
What
point?”

“I think it's a trapdoor,” he answered. “I think there's somethin' underneath there.”

“What, like a secret chamber or something?”

“Yeah, somethin' like that.” Harvey was on his hands and knees, inspecting the horizontal line. You could tell people had tried to cover it with stain and varnish, but if you looked real close … I wish I had a screwdriver. You got anything?”

“The only thing I've got is my nail file.”

“It might work, let me try it.”

“Are you thinking about going
down
there?” asked Carmelita in disbelief.

Harvey grinned at her “Sure. Maybe this is where the
real
adventure begins.”

“I'm satisfied with the adventure we've already had,” she replied.

“Nah, you gotta take this shit to the limit. Let me try the nail file.” She gave it to him. He started by driving the sharp point of the file along the virtually invisible horizontal line. He was trying to break the seal of the accumulated varnish and lacquer. It wasn't easy, but by driving the file back and forth along the line with all his strength, he finally broke the seal. As for the two board grooves on the side, the ones running the same direction as all the rest, breaking the seal was easier.

When he handed back the nail file, she said, “Look at this. You've ruined it. I can never use it again.”

“I'll buy you a new one, later this afternoon. There's a drug store across the street.” By now, he'd found a pretty rigid piece of sheet metal, about the size of a yardstick he was probing and prying at the “hidden line” with all his might. Eventually, he managed to pry the lip of it up about an inch. He could get his fingers under it, but it was too heavy to lift.

He told Carmelita he needed her help. “I can get this lip up maybe three or four inches if I really put my back into it. Then, you'll have to lift one side while I lift the other. It's gonna be tricky. The seals on the side aren't completely broken loose. So it's gonna be heavy as hell and sticky besides.”

“We could get into lots of trouble for this, Harvey.”

He flashed her a smile. “I keep tryin' to tell you, that's the fun. What good is an adventure if there's no risk?”

As it turned out, Harvey's strategy worked. He got the end up about four inches, so they could get a good grip. But it was hard work to raise the trapdoor all the way. Eventually, they did. It was standing straight upright. Harvey figured you'd have to break the final seal to move the door away, but he was too tired. Besides, it didn't look like it would move. He kicked it hard a couple of times so it sort of bent over backward.