Beautiful, Naked & Dead (Moses McGuire) (20 page)

“That would be a crime,” he said. I poured us each a glass and sat down.

“You have a name?”

“Call me Leo.”

“Is that your name?”

“It will do.” He was around fifty with the body of a man who likes to keep in shape, his black suit hung beautifully, hand tailored I suspected. There was nothing off the rack about this man. “As I see it, you have accidentally stepped into a rather large bear trap. Now as for options, the cleanest would be for you to give us the girl. We part friends and all this becomes a sad but soon forgotten incident in your life.” Looking at me he swirled the scotch around in the glass, then took a small sip. “This truly is fine scotch.” I met his gaze, scratching my chin with the barrel of my .45.

“Twice, you and those two clowns have come after me, and twice I’ve handed you your ass. Now I’m supposed to wet myself ‘cause you may or may not be connected. I’m not wearing a skirt, so don’t treat me like your bitch.”

“I meant no disrespect. And you could kill us, but it would solve nothing, and I think you know that.” Again he sipped the scotch, closing his eyes he let it drift over his tongue.

“You want a deal? Tell me who your boss is and maybe I let you and Heckle and Jeckle walk. Or I let my boy go to work on them, see who talks first.”

“My employer is not germane to this conversation. I think you’ll be surprised by the effort we will go to protect his confidence.”

“Do you care who I kill first?” I said, my blood starting to rise.

“Not really,” he said, taking another sip. Rearing up, I toppled the table, sending the glasses smashing into the wall. Swinging the gun across his face he started to bleed but the calm never left his eyes.

“I’m through talking to errand boys. Collect your garbage and get out. Tell your boss, if he wants the girl he’ll have to meet with me himself. And if he sends any more of you cheap suited bastards after me, I’ll send them back in a box.”

“A fair request, I don’t think it will be met with much generosity, though.”

“I don’t give a rat’s ass what you think. Tell him I’ll be at The Barbary Coast in two days. I see any goons and the girl goes to the feds. Let them straighten this shit out.”

“You seem destined to cut your life short. And all over a pretty face.”

“Look around, you see anything here worth living for? Now get.” Collecting their guns Gregor and I pushed them out the door. I watched out the window until the Lincoln was gone. Gregor smiled for the first time.

“That was fun,” he said, just when I was starting to assume he was mute.

“Come on, I got one more cage to rattle before the night is over.” Tossing some spare clothes in a bag we headed across town.

It was ten thirty when I parked in the loading zone in front of Figueroa’s. I left Gregor in the car and told him to keep his face in the shadows. Crunching four more whites I placed a roll of quarters into my fist and moved into the restaurant, I was rolling on pure instinct now playing it one move at time and seeing where it led. Eddie the Mechanic stepped up to block my advance. Before he could open his mouth I swung my weighted fist up into his jaw. His head snapped back, I crossed with a left that sent him spinning. He took a chair and small table down with him when he fell. I pulled a revolver from under his arm and slipped it into my belt.

“Eddie still alive?” Don Gallico’s box squawked. He looked only mildly shocked when I sat at his table.

“I didn’t check.”

“Oh, Moses, you really have lost the will to live.”

“Got that right, old man. The punks you set on me fucked up.”

“Who are we talking about?”

“This is bullshit. Look out that window, see that man in my car? See him?” Gallico flicked his eyes past me to the widow then back to me. “He’s a real sick person. I don’t walk out of here, then he fades into the night. And one by one he takes your people off the count.”

“You dumb Mic bastard. You dare threaten me?” His face was dead still but I could see the veins in his neck popping, fighting for sounds his ravaged vocal cords could never produce. “You are a dead man.”

“I keep hearing that. Just wish I gave a rat’s ass. Look,” I said, trying to be reasonable, “you let some boys try to kill me, they failed, I don’t care, I know it’s nothing personal. Damn it Sir, I’ve known you since I was a kid. I’ve never done you wrong. My ass is up against a wall. I don’t want more blood spilled, don’t think you do either. But we both know we’ll do what it takes.” He looked at me for a long moment then let out a sad sigh.

“Mickey Mouse Mafia, that’s what they call us behind my back. LA gets no respect from New York and Chicago. They ask me to allow these punks into my city, I don’t have any options but to say yes or go to mattresses in a war I can’t win.”

“Who’s hunting me?”

“A San Francisco crew, big earners in stock scams… I don’t know what you did to them but they want you and the girl dead.”

“Who’s the boss?”

“Jeffery Sabatini, a college man, he’s got more degrees than a rectal thermometer.” He chuckled at his own joke.

“Can I get a sit down with him?”

“Not in a million years. He wants you dead, he might agree to a sit down but it won’t be one you walk away from. Not like the old days, when I was coming up we had honor. You went for a sit down, you went in light and came out alive. Sure they might clip you the next day, but the tradition of the sit down was respected. You hungry, you want a slice of pie?”

“I’m fine, sir, thanks.”

“First time in thirty years.”

“What is?”

“First time you ever refused a slice,” he said, like it almost hurt him more than my threats.

“Times change. You got an address on this guy?”

“I know, you didn’t hear any of this from me, ah fuck ‘em, he lives on a big horse ranch up in Silicon Valley. “

“Gino Torelli?”

“Never heard of him, truth. If he was one of the boys I’d know. You know if Eddie’s still breathing, he’ll need to square this with you, sooner or later.”

“He knows where to find me. I’ll see you around, Sir.”

“Sure, kid.” He shot me a sad smile and went back to his racing form. I dropped Gregor off in Glendale with a hundred dollars and a promise to call if I had any more fun gigs coming up. I jumped on the 5 and headed north, to the land of microchips and cyber porn kings. But it was about to become the land of blood and retribution or my unmarked grave.

CHAPTER 14

M
ediocre scotch and bad speed tilted on the balance beam of my brain as I cruised up the hills, past Magic Mountain amusement park over the Cajon pass and down into the endless straight strip of the central valley. I tried not to think of Cass and was successful for about a hundred miles, but just past Button Willow I tasted her lips on mine. Was she playing me? When this was done if I was alive would she still want to be with me? Then again, what were the odds I’d live to see her again? All my life I’d been used and played by one person or another, that was the way the world worked. Isn’t that what love is, two people with mutual need, two people playing each other and through some scam called romance they believe it’s selfless?

At midnight, I passed a VW van full of college kids. A bumper sticker in their rear window read WAR IS NOT THE ANSWER. That all depends on the question. But I didn’t have to tell them, they were young, with any luck the world wouldn’t come along and smash their illusions.

At four AM I hit Palo Alto, I had crunched enough whites to know sleep was a distant dream. I parked on Hamilton and walked up to the Tudor. Moving down the driveway I noticed that the Volvo was gone. I let myself in the back door, the house was dark. At the top of the stairs I opened a door into a kid’s room, all the toys were gone the beds had been stripped. In the beam of my Maglite the walls glowed with a bright field of sunflowers. Stars and a smiling moon were painted on the ceiling, it was every child’s dream bedroom, but it was lacking any sign of children. Closing the door I tried not to think about the kids who had slept in that room. The master bedroom was large, in a carved oak bed the ponytail prick was sleeping, his face bruised and scabbed from our last meeting. I clamped my hand over his nose and mouth, cutting off his air.

He woke choking, his arms flailing. My grip was steel, his eyes bulged. He could feel the end coming near.

“Tell me about Jeffery Sabatini,” I said, taking my hand off his face. He gasped for air, clutching his chest. “Whatever patience I had was lost a long way back down the road so start talking.”

“I don’t know what you want.”

“Goodbye,” I said and clamped my hand back over his airway. His eyes bugged wildly. “Jeffery Sabatini?” I said, letting him breath.

“I don’t know him. Really, I don’t.”

“Good. Now where is Gino’s cut for the last months?”

“No, he’ll kill me,” he said. My hand hovered over his face. He lost all will to fight. “It’s in a safe down in the den. But if you take it, you might as well kill me.”

“I care as much about you, as you cared for those little girls, now move.” I pulled him out of bed by his ponytail. He had on a pair of Ward Cleaver PJ bottoms that his wife probably bought him for Father’s Day.

At the wall safe, he turned to me, for a moment he thought about trying to talk me out of it but one look into my eyes made him turn back to the dial. The steel door opened with a solid chunk. I pushed him out of the way and reached inside, pulling out stacks of banded hundreds.

“Half of that’s mine,” he said.

“And it’s damn nice of you to donate it to a dead girl’s sister,” I said, and walked out. I knew if I stayed any longer, I might wind up killing the worthless piece of human flesh. I walked out the front door, then moved around the corner of the house and stood outside the den. Through the window the skinny punk slumped down into a leather club chair, he wiped sweat off his pale face. Moving to an ornate roll top desk he unlocked a small drawer and took out a piece of paper, he typed a number into the phone. I moved silently back into the house, hiding in the hall I could hear him. “…yes, it’s late! Look, he was just here… yes in my house… No, I did not keep him here, he tried to kill me. I need traveling money and I need it fast…You promised… Screw you… You want me to go public is that what you want? No don’t hang up, please I’m dying here… ok… two days, fine.” I slipped back into the living room and hid in the shadows. I could hear the clink of a decanter against a glass then a long gulp. The skinny punk plodded upstairs with heavy footsteps. He was at the helm of a fast sinking ship, sharks were circling and I was sprinkling blood into the water. Slipping into the den I used a silver letter opener to jimmy open the small drawer, the phone number was missing but I did find a passbook to a savings account. It held a hundred and fifty grand plus change, it was in his name alone. Searching the desk I found a letter from his wife asking him not to contact her or the children. I was sure she would love to know about his hidden assets. I wrote her address on an envelope, slipped the passbook in, stole a stamp and put it in my pocket. The phone was very sleek and hi-tech, I hit redial and a number popped onto the L.E.D. readout. I scribbled down the number while it rang twice.

“Sanders here,” a tired voice said. I could tell he was a cop, they always answered with their last name first.

“Your punk Jerry is dropping fast, I’d get out of the way if I was you.”

“Who is this?”

“A concerned citizen.”

“McGuire?” I placed his voice, he was the fed who had jammed me up at my place. “Didn’t I warn you about walking away, wasn’t I crystal clear about what would happen if you kept trampling around on my turf?” I hung up the phone, I was tired of people threatening me. I took the can of black spray paint from the trunk of the Crown Vic and scrawled in tall letters across the side of Jerry’s BMW, “PORNOGRAPHER”. It was childish but it made me feel a little better. On University Avenue I dropped the envelope into a mailbox, teach him the price of looking the other way while he collected a pay check.

I headed north on the Bayshore Freeway toward San Francisco. I pulled forty thousand dollars out of the safe, Cass and I could make a real border run on that kind of cash. Hole up in San Blas, eat fish fresh out of the sea, make love under the stars on a blanket down on the beach. So what if I had made a promise to Kelly, she hadn’t told me one straight word. But I gave my word, all my life that was the only thing I ever had that was worth anything. My word. So I kept driving north. I got a room at the same dive across the street from the Barbary Coast. The junkie desk clerk looked up with dead eyes, if he recognized me it didn’t show. I registered under the name Joe Strummer and asked for room two fourteen. I lay on top of the bed, my .45 clutched in my hand. The sky was turning gray when I finally drifted off.

I am running down the dusty Beirut streets. I am hunted from the alleys and windows all around me, I can hear the running of bare feet dashing across the roof tops. Circling, coming closer, on all sides. I keep pushing forward, I know salvation is ahead if I can only make it. I round a corner into an open plaza. On a carved sandstone platform a faceless man in a suit sits on a throne made of human bones, he looks at me laughing. Kelly is sitting at his feet. A chain around her neck leads up to his hand. I raise my M16, taking aim at him, he blinks and the gun turns to dust. He blinks again and the three thugs we killed in the desert rise up out of the dirt. They move slowly toward me…

My yell woke me. The muted afternoon sun was filling the room. Thankfully the fog kept the light soft, my head was splitting. I chased four aspirins with a deep drink of water from the tap then took a long shower. I changed the bandage on my leg, it looked good, no signs of infection.

Walking down to a Best Western I got a room in my name, taking several cards with the phone number. I couldn’t remember the last time I ate so I found a small coffee shop and had steak and eggs and a bottomless mug of coffee. I was feeling almost human when I entered Java Enabler, the kid behind the counter’s face lit up when he saw me. He looked around, clearly hoping Cass would trail in behind me.

“She’s in school today.” I answered the question he didn’t ask.

“How’d that thing work out?” he said.

“I shut them down.”

“Good for you, sir. I used to be proud to be on the cutting edge of geekdom, now I don’t know, maybe I’ll go back to school and learn to do something with my hands.”

“Before you do all that, could you help a Neanderthal out with a problem?”

“Sure, what’d yah need?”

“I have an old war buddy I want to surprise, but he’s unlisted.” The kid gave me a long grin, I don’t know if he knew I was lying or not.

“Hacking into the phone company is illegal,” he said.

“Yes son, it probably is.”

“It’s also easy. Their firewall is almost a welcome mat.” I gave him Jeffery Sabatini’s name and had him search the Bay Area, after a flurry of keystrokes he delivered an address on Skyline Boulevard in the mountains above Palo Alto. He smiled like a kid who had just won the spelling bee. I had given him a moment to shine, no need telling him that it would lead to some punk’s bloody end. I thanked the kid and promised to send his greetings on to my niece and moved out into the thickening fog. It was time to start dropping some chum in the water and see what I could bring to the surface.

The Barbary Coast was in full gear when I entered. A short chunky black man in a derby with a tall blonde on his arm bumped into me, he looked up and let out a loud laugh. “Boy, you a mountain of a man! ‘Scuse my rudeness, but my full attention is on this fine tail here.”

“I completely understand,” I said, flashing him a grin. At the bar, Jane was busy piling drinks onto a tray for a waiting waitress. I liked watching her, she had on low cut black jeans and a short tee-shirt with “Bitch” in rhinestones written across her chest. She caught me looking at her and her eyes twinkled. Working her way down the bar she joked with the drunks, serving drinks and flirts in equal portions, but from the corner of her eye she was watching me, getting closer and closer. It was a dance and I was her willing partner. Leaning over the bar so I could get an eye full down the cut in her tee-shirt, she looked deep into my eyes.

“For a man who isn’t interested, you sure keep coming back.,” she said in a quiet voice, meant just for me, I had to lean into her to hear.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested, just said it wasn’t going to happen.”

“Your eyes tell a very different tale. Now what is a girl to believe?” She ran her thumb down my jaw pausing to tug on my lower lip.

“Be a good girl and get me a drink,” I said, fighting the urge to bite her thumb.

“Gimlet, right?”

“Absolutely.” She poured the drink, set it down, gave me a wink, then moved back down the bar to service a cocktail waitress. I watched the money-mating dance gyrate around the room scanning for signs of mob boys. Rich men, poor men, old men, young men, hard men, soft men, but none had the look I was hunting for.

“I need you to do me a favor,” I said, when Jane had returned from her round of the bar.

“Does it involve two sheets and a lot of sweat?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not interested.”

“How about as a favor to Benjamin Franklin?” I slid a bill onto the bar top.

“My old dear friend, what does he need?” she said, scooping up the hundred.

“Some thugs may come looking for me, I need you to put the word out I’m staying at the Best Western down the street.” I handed her one of the cards with the phone number on it.

“Is that where I can find you, say, two thirty when I get off?”

“Straight up, girl, nothing would be finer. But there are some very mean men bent on cutting my life short. Last thing I want to see is you getting caught in the crossfire. When the smoke clears, if I’m still standing maybe we’ll go down to Chinatown have some dinner, see what happens. But until then, we better keep this bar between us.” She took it all in, watching my eyes. I wasn’t the first man she’d met who was in trouble, I doubted I’d be the last. Maybe that’s what attracted her to me. She set a fresh drink in front of me and smiled.

“This one’s on me big guy, and I prefer sushi, so when you get whatever it is you have to get done, done, we have a date. Right?”

“Right.” I shot her a wink. She moved back down the bar, shaking her head once and dropping back into her bubbly barmaid character for the drunks. I watched her go and for the hundredth time in the past few days, I wondered why I didn’t just let it all slip away, drift off into the night and forget I had ever heard of Kelly and Cass.

The fog had turned to an almost solid wall of white and grey in the streets outside. From the sidewalk I could see the glow of headlights but the cars were murky ghosts. I moved slowly along, feeling my way to the curb. Out of the mist an arm reached up grabbing my shoulder, pulling me down. I stumbled falling into the fog, landing in the back seat of a car. Before I could react, I was roughly shoved inside and we were rolling. I was sandwiched between Agent Sanders and a large Black fed with a massive shaved head.

“We have a real problem, McGuire,” Sanders said. I kept my eyes focused straight ahead fighting to steady my pulse, the illegal .38 in my boot holster weighed heavily on my mind. “We have a tap on some undesirables and it seems your name keeps coming up. In a very short time, you have stirred up quite a hornets’ nest. What were their words exactly, Bob?”

“I want that big rat fuck dead, bring me his head on a platter,” the bald fed said.

“Yes, that’s it. So, I now have a couple of choices. A, let them kill you and hope to catch them in the act. B, cool you out in jail on some trumped up charge. Or C, you tell me everything you know to date and I see if I can keep you alive long enough to be an asset to us.”