The Butterfly Conspiracy (21 page)

“Look how relieved your uncle is, now that you’re back unharmed.
 
Stephen, I know what you went through was harrowing, but Phillip was beside himself with worry.”
 
Britt snuggled closer.
 
“I hope you understand, he isn’t the only one celebrating your return.”

Britt’s perfume welled up on Stephen.
 
He felt her soft curves push close to him.
 
The drinks had relaxed him into a mellow mood.
 
Britt felt so warm next to him.

“Thank you, Britt.
 
I’m happy to be here safe and sound and in one piece.
 
I just hope Joe is okay.”

Uncle Phil walked over to the stereo and switched it off.
 

“We’ve all had a very trying time these last few days.
 
Since I have to be up early tomorrow morning, I’m calling it a night.
 
Good night Stephen. Good night, Jeanette.”
 

He turned to Britt.
 
“Let’s go, Britt.”

“Go? I don’t have to get up early. The party’s just getting started!”

“I think you’ve had enough to drink, darling.
 
Come along, now.” Phillip reached for Britt’s arm.
 

Britt made no attempt to get up.
 
Phillip was visibly upset, but he controlled his emotions.
 

“As you will, Britt,” Phillip stated.
 
He wheeled around and walked out.
 
An uncomfortable silence descended upon the room.
 

Stephen stood up and said, “Yeah, I’m exhausted too.”
  
He turned to Britt and Jeanette, “I’ll see you tomorrow morning for coffee.
 
Good night.”

Stephen left the trophy room while Britt was pouring herself another drink.
 
Bobby stood guard just outside the door.
 
Jeanette followed Stephen into the hallway.

Chapter 26

“How’d you get in here?” Paulie growled.
 
The barrel of his gun was pointing at Moon’s chest.

“Calm down, Paulie.
 
I know the desk clerk.
 
We’re pals.
 
Put the gun down, will you?”

Paulie didn’t move.

“Like I said, I’m only here to help you.
 
The skinny guy in the office works the picket line with me every Wednesday at Kahle’s place. I told him you and me was tight and he let me in.”
 

Moon sat down on the edge of the bed. Paulie’s gun followed him.

“The other night at the Freighter, I seen you follow Kahle’s nephew when he left the bar.
 
The next day everyone’s in a panic because the kid didn’t make it home.
 
I asked my friend on the picket line to keep an eye out and let me know if anything happens.
 
Hey, can you put the goddamn gun down?”

“Keep talking.” Paulie said, not moving the gun.

“He gave me a call a little while ago saying Mr. Kahle just drove in with his nephew in the car.
 
So I put two and two together and figured you might need my help just about now.”
 

“And how is it you’re gonna help me?”
 
Paulie asked.

“Oh, that’s easy, but can you put the gun down?
 
It’s hard to think when all I can see is the barrel pointing at me.”

Paulie moved the gun slightly.

“Okay, thanks.
 
Now, where do I start?
 
First, you ain’t from around here, and everyone can tell.
 
You stick out like a sore thumb with them suits, your fancy shoes and the way you talk.”
 
   
Paulie glanced down at his shoes.

“We both know you grabbed the kid.
 
So by now your rental car is hotter than that gun your holding.
 
The cops will be swarming this place in a matter of minutes and you don’t even got a bicycle you could ride out of town on.”

“And I ain’t using yours, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Paulie responded.

 
“Very funny, you want me to go on?” Moon stood up. “The way I look at it, Paulie, you need a friend and you need one right away. Am I mean now, right now.”

Paulie glared at Moon for a second and asked, “So what can you do for me?”

“Plenty.
 
We got to get out of here.
 
You can bunk down at my place till the heats off.
 
Then, for part of the action, I can deliver Stephen on a silver platter and you can get the hell out of Grand View with a car I get for you.”
  

“No shit.
 
Ain’t you the resourceful one?
 
Just how much is all this friendship going to cost me?”

Moon thought for a moment.
 
He was trying to think of a number good enough to make it worth his while, but not high enough to piss this guy off.
 

“Two thousand ought to do the trick.”

“Screw you,” Paulie sneered, “you ask for two grand, that tells me you really want five hundred and you’d probably shit your pants if I gave you two bills.”

Paulie took a menacing step towards Moon and pushed him back down in the chair.
 

“I’ll tell you what, if you can do all the shit you think you can, you and me will be best buddies and I’ll throw you four hundred bucks for your trouble.”

“Four hundred?”
 
Moonie was not happy.
 
This was not the kind of payday he anticipated, but then again, he was standing in a darkened motel room with a pissed off New York mobster holding a gun.
 
Moonie decided his negotiating was probably over.

“Paulie, you just got yourself a deal.
 
Grab your shit.
 
We got to get the hell out of here now.”
 

Paulie resumed stuffing his suits into his suitcase.
 
He didn’t take time to fold them neatly; he just crumpled them in, one on top of the other.
 
He reached under the bed and slid out his butterfly collecting kit.
           

    
“What’s that?” Moon asked.

“None of you damn business, is what that is,” Paulie shot back.

    
After ten more minutes of rummaging, Paulie had all his belongings packed and was ready to go.
 

Moon said, “I’m gonna walk outside and make sure nobody’s hanging around eyeballing us.”

Moon cracked open the motel room door and stepped out.
 
He glanced around.
 
A steady background noise of peeping frogs and chirping crickets was coming from the woods.
 
The only other sound he could hear was a buzzing sound as the “T” in the “MOTEL” sign flickered on and off.
 
Moon walked the whole length of the motel, front and back, to make sure no cops were watching the place.
 

He returned to the room, pushed open the door and said, “Okay, let’s get out of here.”

    
As they drove over to Moon’s place, Paulie said, “I never seen you in a car before.
 
You’re always on a bicycle.
 
I thought you didn’t have a car.”

“I don’t.
 
This is my neighbors.
 
She fell down and broke her hip, so I take her car and buy her groceries.
 
She gives me a few bucks.
 
When I need the car, I can use it, but she doesn’t like it when I drive it too much, so mostly, I ride a bike.”

They pulled up to a three story yellow brick building.
 
Green paint was peeling off the window frames.
 
Moon jumped out. “This is it.”

Paulie grabbed his suitcases and they both headed for the door.
 

“I’m up on the third floor.”

“Where’s the goddamned elevator?” Paulie asked.

“Very funny, this ain’t the city and there ain’t no elevator.
 
We hoof the stairs.”

Moon reached down and grabbed one of Paulie’s bags.
 
Paulie and Moon grunted their way up to the third floor.
 
Paulie thought the place smelled like a combination of old french fry grease and sour cabbage.
 
They finally got to the landing.
 
Moon’s room was the third one down, on the right. Moon put down Paulie’s bag and fumbled for his keys. The door swung open and they stepped in.

Paulie looked around.
 
Piles of clothes, magazines, bicycle parts and a pile of black feathers littered the room.
 
Paulie threw his suitcases on the floor and grabbed Moon by both shoulders.
 

“What kind of shit-hole is this?” Paulie shouted.
 
“You want me to stay in this dump?”

Moon’s eyes opened wide.
 
“Hey, hey… calm down.
 
Not so loud, you wanna upset all the neighbors? I didn’t have a lot of time to clean up my place for taking you in.
 
Give me a few minutes and I’ll pick up some of this shit.”
 

Moon motioned for Paulie to sit in a shabby green corduroy chair.
 
Moon swept a pile of magazines off the seat cushion and picked up a dirty blanket that was hanging from the back of the chair.
 

Paulie brushed off the cushion with his hand and sat down.
 
Moon scurried around the apartment picking up assorted clothing and attending to scattered piles of clutter.
 
He worked his way over to a card table set up under a window.
 
He picked up a cup of cold coffee that was sitting next to a dead bird and
 
headed to the kitchen sink.
 

“What the hell is that?” Paulie called out from the chair.

“Oh, just a cup of old coffee from this morning.”

“Not the coffee, you asshole.
 
What’s that shit on the table?”