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Trimmins for the Comanche
- University of Wisconsin Press
- Chapter
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D O: Take off your hat, this is the attorney general’s office. C: Uh, sorry, yes, sir. A: If you’ll allow me, officer, my client’s a little jumpy. If you’d just let me explain . . . O: You keep quiet. Let’s hear what he has to say. C: It’s about my brother, sir, you see they put him away yesterday , in solitary confinement. I’m afraid they beat him up. They wouldn’t let me see him, so I asked this gentleman to come with me . . . O: Solitary, eh? Beaten up, eh? Did you see it with your own eyes? And who wasn’t allowed to see him? That’s a very serious accusation you’re making. A: Actually, officer, we just wanted a quick word with the police officers who brought him in. O: The patrols come back at six. Who arrested the suspect? C: It was a man who goes by the name of El Patán and another . . . 263 Trimmins for the Comanche O: El Patán? We don’t use no nicknames here. What’s his real name? A: Never mind, officer, thanks for your help. We’ll just wait outside till six. Fuming, the lawyer scolds and lectures his client, asks if he brought the money, then orders him to keep his mouth shut when the cops arrive. They both smoke fitfully, pacing up and down. The colossal lobby begins to fill up with downcast, desperate people. Around 7 ..: C: That’s him! The fat guy with the gold chain and platform shoes, and there’s the other one with him. A: Remember now, not a word. Just slip me the cash when I say. They run forward and intercept the two cops. The lawyer explains. One of the cops wanders off, the other, known as El Patán, follows the lawyer to a quiet corner. E P: Naaaah, no way man, law’s the law. He’s fried, he’s goin’ straight to a fancy cell in Lecumberri. C: But what’s the charge, for heaven’s sakes, how . . . E P: He friggin’ confessed. We questioned the guy and he friggin’ spilled the beans and it’s all down on paper. Robbery and assault. C: But can’t I just see him? I mean, it’s been more than twentyfour hours and I don’t even know where he is. E P: In the basement, wheredyathink, nice ’n cozy in the basement , law’s the law. A: We were wondering if you might perhaps consider . . . E P: Thing is, to get ’im outtathere before shifts change, but like I say it’s fucked, gotta check with my pardner and I tell you, you better start thinkin’, like, two, at least two grand, plus the trimmins to keep the Comanche happy, cuz that Comanche he’s dead straight nowadays, know what I mean, real straight, man. C: The Comanche? A: Hey, officer, what do you say we go see your partner? 264 [3.149.214.32] Project MUSE (2024-04-23 21:11 GMT) E P: I’m tellin’ ya, my pardner’s tuff like nails, he ain’t got no heart, but me I feel sorry for this guy. Hold on, be right back. El Patán leaves. A: How much do you have there? C: The best I could do was fifteen hundred. A: That’s it? El Patán returns with partner in tow. P: Naah, can’t see it, no way, law’s the law, he’s goin’ straight to Lecumberri. Gimme two grand plus some trimmins for the Comanche. C: The Comanche? P: I’m givin’ you a break cuz my pal here feels sorry for the guy. E P: What ’cha got? Cough it up! A: Fifteen hundred. E P P: No way José, go pump some more and come back ’fore shifts change. Hell, just the Comanche’s trimmins is two grand! C: The Comanche? Why don’t we go talk to him then? Who’s the Comanche? E P: Watch yer mouth, mister. The Comanche, he’s the law. P: Watch yer client, lawyer, he’s got a big mouth. A (to Citizen): Shut up! P: Here he comes now! The two trot over to the doorway and stand stiffly to attention, with reverent expressions. A desiccated figure with darting serpent eyes mounts the steps, draped in a chic English overcoat. “My Commander, sir,” say the cops. “Good evening, Commander, at your service...
