Homemade Sin (33 page)

“So you already turned this boxer into a zombie?” Bella said.

“Yeah, he's resting up in room 222. We'll put down the bets this afternoon and take him to the fight tomorrow in Tampa.”

“That's a great plan,” Bella said. “I wish you luck.”

She tucked the book under her arm and strode off toward the hotel grinning a wicked grin.

Cutter returned to the bar and found Tony sitting at the bar sipping a beer. He slid up on to a barstool beside him. “I want to place another bet,” Cutter said.

“Sure kid, what kind of action are you looking for this time?”

“The fight in Tampa tomorrow night. I want to bet on Dutch Lewis.”

“The Cleanser?” Tony said. “You want to bet on him again? The guy hasn't won a fight in ages. He's got some kind of mental problem and goes weird in the ring. You saw what he did in the ring against The Pig. Why do you want to waste your money betting on him again?”

“I got some inside information this time.” Cutter tapped the side of his nose. “He's going to win.”

“Do you think he's gonna win or do you know he's gonna win?”

“Oh, he's gonna win alright,” Cutter said, grinning even wider. “We fixed him.”

“Fixed him?”

“Yeah, I can't talk about it, but we fixed him the same way we fixed Moreover the dog and Rebel Buford and they both won.”

Bella Donna used a credit card to open the door of room 222 and slipped inside. In the closed-curtain gloom of the room she saw Dutch laid out on the bed. Bending beside him, she slipped a small pair of scissors from her purse and clipped a few hairs from his head and then trimmed some clippings from his toenails.

“Hey, mister boxer,” Bella said, holding up a cloth doll in front of the supine boxer's face.

Dutch stared, unblinking at the bit of stuffed cloth Bella dangled before him. He could see and hear but he couldn't move or talk. He just stared, eyes transfixed.

“This here is a voodoo doll,” she told the paralyzed fighter, waggling the doll up and down in front of his face. “And when I put these little bits of your hair and fingernails inside, it becomes you. Remember that, everything I do to this doll happens to you.” Bella bent close until their noses were almost touching and stared into Dutch's eyes. “I know you're in there and you understand me just fine.”

As Bella opened the door of Dutch's room to let herself out, Stinky darted from under the bed, carrying the vial of voodoo powder in his teeth. Bella felt a small furry body scurry between her legs. She caught a glimpse of the cat as it disappeared down the walkway and around the corner.

As he slipped out of the door between Bella's feet, and trotted down the hall, Stinky was already calculating how to put into action his plan to rule the world.

“Has everybody got a drink?” Vito Viagra asked the geriatric ex-gangsters seated around the table in the back room of the Italian Club. The aged attendees nodded in concurrence and held up glasses of wine, beer and highballs. “And there's plenty of baked ziti and lasagna over on the table if anybody wants more.” The men continued eating and drinking.

“I'd like to get the meeting going today by saying thank you on behalf of the entire group to our own Tony Tums,” Vito said. “I think we all did pretty well betting on Rebel Buford to win Daytona. Who'd have known that crazy mook woulda won the race, right?” There was a general nodding and sounds of affirmation through full mouths around the table.

“I'm gonna be able to lose my ass at Mahjong a lot,” Mickey Mahjong quipped, smiling, a bit of oregano stuck to his front tooth, “which means I'm gonna be a big hit with the old Jewish ladies at the Senior Center.”

“I was able to send my grandson a nice little gift card from the video game store for his birthday,” Gianni said.

“Got any more tips, Tony?” Eddie said. “You keep giving us tips like that and you guyz won't be calling me Eddie Early Bird anymore. I'll be able to afford to eat dinna at a normal time instead of at three in the afternoon.”

“As a matter of fact,” Tony said, “I do have another tip for you. “There's a fight coming up in Tampa tomorrow night, a fighter called Dutch ‘The Cleanser' Lewis. Put your money on him, he's gonna win.”

“Thanks, Tony,” Vito said, raising his glass of wine. “Maybe the next time we meet we can all chip in for a little exotic entertainment.”

“You gonna share your Viagra?” Benito said.

“With your farts, Benny … ain't no girl gonna get close enough to you for you to need it.” Vito snorted at his own joke.

“You find our seats,” Dee Dee instructed Cutter, as they walked toward the Tampa Arena, “I'm going to take our boy down to the locker room.” Dee Dee escorted Dutch through the side door of the arena and down to the basement locker room where his trainer was waiting.

“It's about time you showed up,” Dutch's trainer said. “I expected you yesterday; you should have gotten in a little pre-fight road work. This fight is going to be a tough one. The Germ is quick, dirty and moves like a cat.”

Dutch stood motionless staring straight ahead.

“Anyway,” the trainer said. “I got your water, your new gloves, new sponges, everything for the fight. Are you ready to kick some ass?”

Still Dutch stared straight ahead, silent.

“What's wrong with you?” The trainer cast his eyes at Dee. “Usually he's pacing around, obsessing over the fight, checking and double checking, making sure everything's perfect. Is he alright?”

“He's fine,” Dee Dee said, laying her hand on Dutch's shoulder. “He's had a little therapy to work on his OCD. He'll be good for the fight.”

“And who the hell are you?” the trainer said.

“I'm his therapist.” Dee Dee smiled. “Dutch, put on your trunks and go win the fight.” She rose up on her toes and gave Dutch a peck on the cheek, and strutted out of the locker room.

Without a word, Dutch stripped out of his street clothes, pulled on his trunks and extended his hands for his trainer to wrap them in tape.

“I got the hypoallergenic tape, like always. Who is the broad? Where did you meet her? I gotta admit she ain't hard on the eyes.”

Dutch stared ahead in silence. He barely noticed that the trainer had finished wrapping his hands. He stood mechanically, walked out of the locker room, and headed for the ring.

“Wait, wait, I'm right behind you,” the trainer said, draping Dutch's white robe and a sterilized towel around the fighter's neck.

At the Fugu Lounge Tony was sitting sat at the bar watching the fight from Tampa on Pay-per-View when his cell phone vibrated in his pocket. Roland cast his eyes over at Tony as he flipped the phone open and answered; “Whaddya want?” On the screen a man in a standard white shirt and black bow tie was introducing the fighters while a borderline anorexic, silicone enhanced, blonde in a skimpy bikini walked around the ring holding a card that said ‘Round One.”

“The odds are what?” Tony said into the phone. “How did that happen? OK … if it changes again, let me know.”

“Keep the drinks coming,” Tony said to Roland as he flipped his cell phone closed and slipped it into his pocket. “I'm as dry as short-legged camel's nuts in the Sahara. I got a lot of money riding on this fight and the odds just went south on me.”

“What do you mean?” Roland said as he stuck a frosty mug under the tap.

“Last night the odds were twenty to one against Dutch, now they're twenty to one against the Germ.”

“Who'd you bet on?” Roland said.

“Dutch,” said Tony. “I got some inside information. But it looks like a lot of other people got some inside information too. The only way the odds would change like that is if somebody put some big money on Dutch. I'm talking millions.”

“I don't know,” Roland said opening the tap and filling the frosted mug. “I mean, Dutch has the speed, and the right combinations but he always ends up doing something stupid and losing.” He looked up as Hussey swept into the bar from the pool area.

“The old folks are still in the pool,” Hussey said to Roland. “It's weird. They usually get out and hit the early bird dinner special around four, but it's after nine and they're still there.”

“Dee Dee usually makes sure they get out,” Roland said.

“Where is Dee Dee?” Hussey said.

“Dee Dee and Cutter are at the fight.” Tony nodded at the television. On the screen the camera panned the audience. Seated ringside, behind Dutch's corner sat Dee Dee and Cutter looking confident and smiling.

“Hey, there's Dee Dee in Dutch's corner,” Roland said. “And that's Cutter sitting beside her.”

The camera continued to pan the crowd.

As it passed the Germ's corner Hussey caught a glimpse of a skinny black woman holding a cloth doll. “Oh my God, that's Bella Donna. What's she doing there?”

The camera panned back to Dutch's corner as the bell rang and Dutch ‘The Cleanser' stepped into the ring to face his opponent, Jake ‘The Germ' Giannasi. The two fighters circled each other looking for an opening. As the camera swung around to get a front view of The Germ, Hussey caught another glimpse of the skinny black woman, now standing by the ropes in The Germ's corner.

“I know that's Bella,” Hussey said out loud to no one in particular. “She's the girl who used to work for Mama Wati. But Bella is blind.” Hussey squinted to get a better look at the woman. “She doesn't look blind anymore and what is she holding?” Hussey spied a doll with a slight resemblance to Dutch. It sported a pair of little white boxing trunks, a tuft of blonde hair was glued to its head. “Oh God, it's a voodoo doll.”