The Goldfinch

Chapter 10 | Part 15

ON THE WAY UPTOWN, in the back of the town car, rain pounding so hard that Gyuri had to shout for us to hear him ("What a dog's weather!") Boris filled

me in quietly about Horst. "Sad sad story. He is German. Interesting guy, very intelligent and sensitive. Important family too... he explained to me once but I forgot. His dad was part American and left him a load of money but when his mother remarried—" here he named a world-famous industrial name, with a dark old Nazi echo. "Millions. I mean you can't believe how much money these people have. They are rolling in it. Money out the ass."
"Yep, that's a sad story, all right."
"Well—Horst is a bad junkie. You know me—" philosophical shrug —"I don't judge or condemn. Do what you like, I don't care! But Horst— very sad case. He fell in love with this girl who was on it and she got him on it to o. Took him for everything, and when the money ran out, she left. Horst's family—they have disowned him many years ago. And still he eats his heart out for this awful rotten girl. Girl, I say—she must be nearly forty. Ulrika her name is. Every time Horst gets a little money—she comes back for a while. Then she leaves him again."
"What does he have to do with it?"
"Horst's associate Sascha set up things with this deal. I meet the guy— he seems okay—what do I know? Horst told me that he had never worked with Sascha's man in person, but I was in a hurry and I didn't go into it the way I should and—" he threw up his arms—"poof! Myriam was right—she is always right—I should have listened to her."
Water streamed down the windows, quicksilver heavy, sealing us into the car, lights winking and melting around us in a roar that reminded me of when Boris and I used to ride in the back of the Lexus in Vegas when my dad went through the car wash.
"Horst is usually a bit fussy about who he does business with, so I thought it would be okay. But—he is very restrained, you know? 'Unusual' is what he said. 'Unconventional.' Well what is that supposed to mean? Then when I get down there—these people are crazy. I mean like shooting- guns-at-chickens crazy. And situations like this—you want it calm and quiet! It was like, have they seen too much TV or something? like, this is how to act—? normally in this type situation everyone is very very polite, hush-hush, very peaceful! Myriam said—and she was right—forget about the guns! What kind of crazy thing is this for these people to keep chickens in Miami? Even a little thing like that—this is Jacuzzi neighborhood, tennis courts, you understand me—who keeps chickens? You don't want a

neighbor phoning in complaint because of chicken noise in the yard! But by that time—" he shrugged—"there I was. I was in. I told myself not to worry so much, but turned out I was right."
"What happened?"
"I don't really know. I got half the goods I was promised—rest coming in a week. That's not un-typical. But then they were arrested and I didn't get the other half and I didn't get the picture. Horst—well, Horst would like to find it too, he is out some big green as well. Anyway I am hoping he has a bit more information than when we spoke last."