Chango's Beads and Two-Tone Shoes by William Kennedy

father won prizes for his dancing. He was a prize waltzer. You were too, no?”
    “I was.”
    “You see? Another stroke of fate—Renata and I, children of prize waltzers.”
    “You are as strange as my daughter. Another time we will talk about dancing. Protect this child of mine.”
    “With my life,” said Quinn.
    He remembered that his grandfather wrote about Céspedes’ child—his son Oscar. The Spaniards captured Oscar in battle and threatened to kill him if Céspedes and his followers did not surrender. Céspedes told the Spaniards Oscar was not his only son, that he was the father of all Cubans who died for their country. A firing squad then executed his son.

    They went to the Ali Bar, where Renata called her contact number and spoke with a voice she recognized, and said have Pedrito call me here. They drank mojitos because she always drank them here for breakfast after all-nighters.
    “Beny Moré sang to me here one night,” she said. “He comes all the time. Everybody comes here. Gary Cooper sat right there.”
    “Do you see anyone who knows you?” Quinn asked.
    “Nobody would know me with my blond wig.”
    “I’d recognize your mouth no matter what color hair you had.”
    They drank their mojitos and in twenty minutes Aurelio called. Renata told him Alfie could bring out las cosas from the Vedado apartment because he is shrewd and fearless and she trusts him and will pay him herself to do it. Aurelio said he’d call Alfie.
    “I will go see Alfie now,” she said, “but you must do the rest because I’m going to Santiago.”
    It was dawn when they left the Ali Bar and Quinn considered calling Hemingway about the Cooney challenge. He would be up and writing. He gets up with the birds. But does he answer the phone during birdsong? So they woke up Alfie and he met them on the Nacional’s patio, which was empty of people. They walked down the garden path and stood under a royal palm with their backs to the hotel and Renata told him of the guns. He said he’d think about it after he talked to Pedrito, who, she admitted, was really Aurelio. But if the police were watching that apartment it would be dangerous.
    “I will give you five hundred dollars now and another five hundred when I get back from Santiago. Is that enough? We are not buying these weapons, just reclaiming them,” she said.
    “These are Directorio guns?”
    “Yes, but they will go to Fidel now.”
    “Is this Fidel’s money?”
    “No, it is mine.”
    “You’re the new Directorio, all by yourself?”
    “I worry the police will take the guns I put there. Fidel needs them badly.”
    “How will you get them to Fidel?”
    “Maybe by yacht, or truck, maybe airplane. A car is impossible, there are too many guns. Aurelio will figure a way. Maybe you can help him. I won’t be here.” She handed him five of the six hundred dollars her mother had given her.
    “Keep your money,” he said. “Wait till I get the guns.”
    “You don’t behave like a gangster. Gangsters like money.”
    “You don’t behave like a debutante. Debutantes don’t know anything about money.”
    “Fidel will be pleased if you get him these guns.”
    “I think I knew that.”
    “We’ll be staying at the Casa Granda hotel in Santiago,” Quinn said. “I’m covering an army press conference about Fidel.”
    “Are you going into the Sierra?”
    “If I’m invited.”
    “If you see my cousin, drop my name.”
    “Who’s your cousin?”
    “Arsenio Zamora. Quesada murdered two of his boys. He is close to Fidel.”

    What Quinn said when he telephoned Hemingway was, “Max took a call from somebody asking for me and he thought he recognized your voice.”
    “Max’s ear is working,” Hemingway said. “There may be hope for him as a spy. I read your story about the killing of Cooney’s friend.”
    “Cooney just missed getting it and so did I. Pretty hairy.”
    “I’ll pick up Cooney’s doctor bills. Maybe you could work that out. But don’t