“Uh-huh. It’s this other woman, isn’t it? Now that we’re back in town, you want to go back to your a la Carte menu.” I couldn’t quite tell if she was joking or not.
“You mean the rich woman?” Maybe I was.
“So, she has money too. Figures. Let’s just go then.”
There are times when I should keep my mouth shut, like now. “We’re already going.”
“Not funny, Buttman.”
“Alright, but remember I’m tidy, you tend not to be…” Looking for excuses…
“I’ll let you clean.”
“Very generous. There’s no room in your closet…”
“Seriously?” I got the pout.
“Seriously! Ok, maybe that’s a bit of a stretch, but you’d have to put up with me and my stuff, and my habits. I’d have to put up with yours, all the time. Are you ready for that?” I was out of ideas. In truth, there weren’t a lot of reasons I couldn’t live with Agnes, I just didn’t think I was ready.
“Anything else, Sunshine?”
“No, I’ve said enough.” She crossed her arms and slumped into the seat.
The last of the trip to her house was a little uncomfortable, but I had an ace up my sleeve. I parked in front of the house and brought in the bags. We stood there at the door, eyeing one another. I tried to be serious, but I couldn’t do it. I kissed her and said I had to go.
“When am I going to see you next?”
“I don’t know. I’ll call, assuming I remember how to work the phone.”
“You’re a jerk, Buttman.”
“Yeah, but I’m your jerk.”
“That’s not very comforting.”
“I didn’t say it to be comforting. See you later, beautiful.”
She just stood there. If I wasn’t planning on returning later, I’d probably feel bad, but I was, so I didn’t. I called Jones, told him I’d meet him at his place just to change things up. First though, I had to drop off my stuff at the bungalow.
I made it past the front door before I realized something was wrong. I had the 45 in my pocket, but it was broad daylight; what could happen? The place didn’t look too bad, but I’d had visitors in the last little while. My junk was in the right place, but not the right spot. I pulled out the gun and checked the rooms for surprises. Fortunately, I was alone. I methodically went through every room which, considering it was a one bedroom, one bathroom with a small living room and kitchen, didn’t take long. I couldn’t find anything missing; there was nothing valuable to steal, but I didn’t think they were after my junk. What they wanted wasn’t here. I put the basket and cooler away and grabbed a few things to keep at Agnes’s. If I were going to basically live there I’d need more clothes.
I was fairly certain I’d lost my mind.
I took a second look at the lock on the door. It wasn’t broken, so I locked it and headed out, on my way to Orville’s. Joanie was standing by the Falcon, a smile on her face.
“Well, how’d it go?” She smirked as she noticed the clothes over my arm and the suitcase in my hand. If I was going back to Agnes’s, I might as well do the laundry there.
“All things considered, I think it went well.”
“Considering what?”
“Considering that neither one of us had the guts to go alone and that we’re still on speaking terms.” Joanie took the clothes from my arm as I opened the trunk.
“It also appears that you’re on your way to the dry cleaners or that your living situation is changing, yes?”
“I suppose it could be construed from simple observation that that might be the case. However, to anticipate your next question, I’m not going the dry cleaners.” I put the suitcase in the trunk, and retrieved the clothes from my ex-lover and put those on top of the suitcase. I also, surreptitiously, took the 45 out of my pocket and placed in the trunk. I don’t know if Joanie noticed or not, but she didn’t say anything about the gun.
“Sounds like this thing with Agnes is getting serious.”
“Serious is a good word. I like the woman; she likes me. She wants to spend more time with me, and I don’t really have a good reason not to want to spend time with her. So, what the hell.”
“Wow, that quite a declaration of having nothing better to do. I’m sure Agnes is quite taken with it. Not exactly I can’t live without you, or you are the love of my life, but I guess it’s better than nothing. Not much, but better.”
“Exactly.” I didn’t particularly care for her moralizing tone, but she had a point.
“Do you love Agnes, Monk Buttman?”
“That’s the hundred thousand dollar question. And since I have places to go, it might be smarter to save that topic for another day. Are you busy tomorrow afternoon? We could do lunch; go over to the diner. I’ve had good luck with women there.” I was thinking of Dahlia.
“If you like. How about one or so?”
“Till then.” For a moment, as I looked at Joanie, she almost seemed wistful. I didn’t quite know what to make of that. Another thought occurred to me, “Have you noticed anyone hanging around here lately? Around my place?”
“No, the only strangers have been the landscaping guys. Why?”
“Just curious. See you tomorrow.”
“See you, Monk.”
I watched her in my rear view mirror as long as I could.
Coretta was at the door. She smiled and gave me a hug. I gave her one. She took stock of my face. “Your bruises have faded nicely. You look so much better.”
“Thanks, no doubt the benefit of curling into the fetal position and covering my face. My forearms are still a little sore. Is the man in black here? I’m supposed to meet him.” The minute it came out of my mouth, I wondered if the black reference was insensitive.
“Yes, he’s donning his costume now. I don’t know why he needs to wear dark clothes all the time, especially in this heat? Have a seat. Would you like something to drink, Monk?”
“No, I’m good, but thank you for asking. How are the kids?”
“They’re fine, off to this and that. I worry about them, but I can only do so much. I try to lead by example and pray the good Lord watches over them. These days that can be hard to do. There are so many distractions.”
I nodded in agreement. “It’s all a little overwhelming. I know kids think it’s no big deal, but they don’t know any different. Maybe it’s different for us. I just got back from the farm I grew up on. I’d forgotten how tranquil the place was. Even with the work, and there’s plenty of that, it doesn’t seem so chaotic, but that could just be me.”
Coretta smiled.
“I remember going to my grandfather’s farm. He had a patch of land that he worked all his life. It was his grandfather’s land they got after the civil war. It was hard work; it was, but that was a different time.”
Orville Riley, aka Mr. Jones, entered the room.
“Time to go. Sorry to interrupt the conversation, but I got a show tonight, so we need to get down there and back before eight.” Orville kissed his wife. “I’ll try to get back sooner, but if not, don’t wait up.”
“Alright, but remember, tomorrow, you belong to me.”
“I remember.” He was grinning.
I said goodbye and we were out the door.
37
“Date night?” I was curious.
“What?”
“With Coretta? Your wife?”
“Yes, I know who she is, and yes, if you must know, we have date nights. Between security details and the gigs, I sometimes don’t get home much in the evenings, so, a few years ago we start
ed having date nights.”
“Just curious.” For once, Mr. Jones was driving. This gave me license to rubberneck on the way to South Laguna. I’d driven all around LA when I first got here, marveling at its size and breadth. Some of it was more interesting than others, the mountains to the east and north, the ocean to the west corralling the mass of us banging up against one another. So much of it was the same, a commonality of structure and space, of roads filling and backing up; disgorging its refuse like a gigantic sewer system; its fluids always in motion. Jones interrupted my thoughts and inquired about my love life.
“How are you and Agnes doing?”
Why is everyone so interested in me and Agnes?
“We’re doing. Had a nice trip, can’t complain. I’m a little surprised at how quickly it’s all happening. She wants me to move in with her. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.”
“You don’t know? Come on, Buttman, how old are you?”
“I’m only twenty-nine!” That wasn’t exactly true. However, as I had no birth certificate, having been brought into this world on a commune free from government intrusion, the exact day and year were less official and more oral history.
Mr. Jones was laughing at me. “You’re so full of shit, Buttman.”
“It’s possible. And Coretta? How soon did you know?”
“Coretta and I met at a church dance not long after I got out of the Army. I’d seen her there a bunch of times and at the dance I got up the nerve to talk to her. We’ve been talking ever since. I knew right away, Buttman. I wasn’t a kid anymore. I’d seen guys do all kinds of stupid shit around women, and I had no interest in that. I wanted a serious woman of faith who wanted that kind of man. I wanted a family and a life. Plus, she’s a damn fine looking woman.”
“Yeah, can’t deny that.”
Mr. Jones turned to me as we stopped at a light. “You could do a lot worse than Agnes, Buttman. I know she’s had her ups and downs; I’ve heard the talk, but I trust Coretta when it comes to people, and she knows Agnes. She says she just needs a good man. And a man needs a good woman! Maybe that’s just talk, but if you didn’t like the woman, you wouldn’t be running around with her; that’s human nature, and you ain’t rich enough or important enough to have women hanging off you.” He looked over the top of his sunglasses to emphasize the point. “Besides, you ain’t no kid either. No one says settling down has to take forever. Neither does love.”
“I’ll take that into consideration.”
Jones shook his head. “Do you like the woman?”
“Yeah. Maybe.”
More head shaking. “Just admit you like the woman and move on.”
I thought about it. Like it’s that easy. Maybe this was a conspiracy? All the people who knew Agnes before me were after me to be the guy. Dulcimer. Jones. Eric. Come to think of it, I didn’t even know Eric’s last name. Even Joanie had her radar up on this. Why? I’m not that special of a guy to be the guy. I must be missing something, or over thinking it.
“You know I get to decide this. I don’t quite get everyone’s interest in my relationship with Agnes, but if and when I’m ready to notify the world of my devotion and love for the woman, I will.”
I got a big grin from the cool dude. “You don’t think people see it, but we do; that’s how we know. If you want to deny it, I don’t care, but you don’t fool me.”
How comforting.
Fortunately, we weren’t far from our destination.
It was a quiet place. Other than the breeze and the ocean, there was little sound in the air. Jones was looking for Martisse. She was a small light-skinned black woman. We found her near her car a few blocks south of the house she was watching. After parking, we walked up alongside the road; not a car went by. I wondered if Jones and Martisse would stick out in this little burg? I put that thought away. The number on the house matched the one given to me by Taylor Lagenfelder. It was Boyer’s beach house. There wasn’t much space between the house and the road; a few bushes were growing through an old picket fence. Then again, there wasn’t a whole lot butted up against it. The houses had enough space separating them that, as we found out, a perch could be found that allowed for a fair amount of observation without being detected. Martisse’s spot was across the road on the lot of an empty house. We sat back and watched. She said there were usually two people there, but two older guys would come by periodically. They would park in front, and Dahlia was sometimes with them. That’s how she found this place. She was watching Dahlia at the center in West Hollywood when the two guys picked her up.
“What’d they look like?” I inquired.
“A couple of middle-aged white dudes.”
“Anything odd about them? Bruises, odd markings, tattoos?”
“I didn’t notice much other than they dressed the same. I didn’t get close enough to see if they had bruises or any of that other stuff. I just followed them here. I was worried they might notice me so I took a chance and turned off down the road. I used the GPS to look through the neighborhood after a little while. They were parked in front of the house so I went back, parked the car, and worked my way to where we are now.”
I had to ask. “The two people in the house, a man and woman?”
“Yeah.”
“These two?” I showed her pictures of Martin and Desiree.
“Yeah, that’s them,” she said.
Jones who had been silent till now leaned in, “Once we ID them, then what? Are we done? Are we supposed to confront them? What?”
What do we do? I didn’t actually know. Maybe because I wasn’t sure we’d ever find them. “I’ll make a call and find out.”
Taylor Lagenfelder was in court. Did I want to leave a message? No. I decided to take a chance. I’d like to speak to Mr. Durant. I gave the woman on the end of the line, Tiffany, my name. I was asked to wait. Muzak. Wouldn’t it be funny…
“Monk, what do you have for me?”
… If he took my call?
“Mr. Durant, I’ve located Mr. Delashay and Ms. Marshan. What would you like me to do? They’re here in South Laguna at Todd Boyer’s beach house.”
For a moment, he didn’t say anything. I wondered if something had happened, things do.
“Please ask them to come see me. If they value their lives, as soon as they can.”
“I’ll pass that along.” The wind had picked up.
“I appreciate your taking care of this, Monk.”
“Glad to do it.”
I hung up and gave the word to Jones and Martisse. I stepped back towards the vacant house. I wanted to talk to Miguel on my own. He answered on the second ring.
“Amigo.”
“I’ve found them.” I told him about Durant’s message.
“Finish up and leave, all of you. I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Ok.” My stomach started bothering me. Suddenly, I didn’t want to be here anymore. I’d grab Jones, deliver the message, and head to Agnes’s. Our part of the play was over.
The car arrived just as I got back to where Jones and Martisse were hiding. It pulled into the driveway of the beach house. We watched Dahlia, Artie, Gordy, and a man I didn’t recognize, get out. Dahlia started pounding on the door. Martin answered the door telling her to keep her voice down. She told him to fuck off. Where was Desiree?
The wind was blowing their conversation our way.
Desiree came out. Where were Wilmer and Brent? Nobody knew. It’s been a week? That’s not my problem. This whole fucking mess is your problem, both of you. You said this would be a piece of cake, is it? Where’s all this fucking money you’ve been promising. It’s coming. Bullshit! The only thing c
oming is our being killed. I told you this was bullshit. Get out of here before somebody sees you. Fuck you. Fuck both of you. Dahlia stormed back to the car, followed by the two goons. They drove off. The stranger remained. I had a hunch.
“You have one of those phones where you can look stuff up like pictures?”
Jones gave me the same look Agnes had earlier. “Yeah.”
“See if you can get a picture of Jeremy Tophanovich.”
“Who?” Exactly!
“I think it’s the guy who just went in the house,” I spelled the last name and a number of images came up. It was him. The long lost Jeremy was hanging out with his old partner. I looked at the two of them, Jones and Martisse. “I’ve been asked to give the two lovebirds a message. After that we’re done with this.” I suddenly remembered I didn’t have the 45. “Are either of you armed?”
“I have my weapon. Should we expect trouble?” Jones had his serious face on.
“I don’t think so.”
“I got a gun.” Jones and I turned to Martisse. “I’m not sitting here by myself without some protection.”
Jones took control. “Alright, Buttman and I’ll deliver the message. Martisse, you stand back by the car. Have your phone ready just in case we need the police.”
Martisse nodded.
We gathered our courage, or at least I did, and approached the door. I knocked. We could hear the murmurs on the other side of the door.
“Who is it?” The voice called from the other side. It was Martin.
“Monk Buttman, I’ve got a message for you.”
“Who?”
“Open the door, Mr. Delashay.” More murmuring. The door cracked open. Peering from the other side was Martin Delashay. Desiree was behind him.
“What the fuck do you want?”
“I’m here to give you a message from Marsyas Durant.”
Martin’s demeanor softened. “I’m listening.”
I gave him the message.
“Anything else?” The snarl was back.
Where Fools Dare to Tread Page 30