The Bag Lady, the Boat Bum and the West Side King

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The Bag Lady, the Boat Bum and the West Side King Page 20

by Sam Lee Jackson


  “That’s not the end of the story,” I said.

  “Guess what the father told the Detective?”

  She could exasperate me. “I don’t know. That a full moon makes your hair fall out.”

  “The girl was underage,” Blackhawk said.

  “Oh, shit!” Nacho said.

  Boyce was smiling, “You got it. So, the Detective called for a patrol back up and they went in and busted the guy for soliciting a minor for sex. Caught them in bed.”

  “So, that guy is up shit creek,” Nacho grinned.

  Boyce finished her club soda and set the empty on the bar. “So, where did you get the gold?”

  “I’ll tell you sometime,” I said.

  She slid off the stool, angry. “Fuck you, Jackson. You are such a douche.” She stormed away.

  “He got it from Emil,” Blackhawk called after her.

  “Bucket mouth,” I said.

  “You need to be careful,” Nacho said to me. “That girl carries a gun.”

  For the first time I noticed that Elena and Anita were watching from across the bar. They must have heard the whole thing.’

  “What gold?” Elena said, standing up. “And, who’s this Tommy guy?”

  “See what you’ve done,” Blackhawk said to me. “I’ll be upstairs.”

  53

  Paz was in a celebratory mood. The first shipment of pills had sold out, his dealers were ecstatic and begging for more. It was like opening night for a blockbuster film. He had Frank chase all the regulars out of the bar, then demanded that Frank set up champagne for all. The problem was, Frank didn’t have any. So, he sent me out to buy some. In the meantime, Frank started pouring shots. I went outside and walked across the parking lot to my car. The air was cool and there was a distant hum of traffic from a few blocks away. Before I got into the Mustang I stretched my arms out and took deep breaths of the cool air. I looked around. It was dark, and I saw nothing. I knew we were being watched. I could feel Boyce out there, somewhere. Luckily, there was a Fry’s market close by. I bought ten bottles of Brut there. That was all they had.

  Frank had me uncork all the bottles. He said the sudden explosion of the corks unnerved him. Frank handed out all the white wine glasses he had, and poured a generous helping of the bubbly to each of us. All of Paz’s and Pike’s guys were there. Even some dealers with their women. Vanilla was there. Everyone was in the party mood. Pony Boy and Peggy were standing at the middle of the bar. Both, holding shots, leaned back, elbows against the bar, looking cool. I couldn’t help but watch them. Tough guys in love.

  Paz held his glass high.

  “Quiet down,” Little Joe shouted. He raised his glass.

  We all quieted down, raising our glass with his.

  “This is just the beginning,” Paz said. “Tomorrow we pick up a shit load of these little golden pills, and we are going to sell every one of them. I don’t have to remind you that we will be counting every pill that goes out, and every dollar that comes in. At the end of the week, I’ll get a count on what you sold and you all will get a really sweet paycheck. In the meantime, let’s tie one on!”

  They all cheered. Wally Chen was smiling, he didn’t cheer. Smiling for him was jumping up and down in ecstasy. Also, I noted, he was the only one that poured more champagne. Everyone else went back to the hard stuff. Frank was busy. One of Paz’s bigger dealers was in my regular stool, so I sat on an empty just one from Pony Boy and Peggy. Little Joe went to the jukebox and studied it for a long time. Finally, he fed it coins, and it began blaring the Beatles Eight Days a Week.

  I heard Pony Boy say to Peggy, “That’s what we’ll all be working if those guys have their way.”

  Those guys were Paz and Pike, who were sitting at the end of the bar. Both were smoking cigars, with a rock glass of amber liquid. They were in intense conversation. No doubt counting money they planned to make.

  At the end of the song, and before another one could begin, the door opened. And, there she was in all her glory.

  I thought, Oh, shit.

  Bag lady Boyce walked in. Ratty watch cap, filthy sweater, holes in improbable places. Long ragged dress. And, even though I couldn’t see them, I knew her shoes were a pair she had found in a dump.

  Everyone in the place turned to look. I turned also. I could watch the rest of the room in the mirror. Peggy slid off his stool and moved by me. He stood in front of Boyce, but she tried to move around him. I had no idea what she was trying to prove. Peggy grabbed her arm. The crowd went quiet.

  “Let go of me, you fuckin’ fag,” she said loudly.

  Peggy was shocked, “What did you say?”

  She tried to yank away but he held her tight.

  “Hey, Pony Boy, why don’t you get your lover boy off of me?”

  I swung around. Paz and Pike were both staring.

  Peggy swore. “You goddammed bitch,” he said and shoved her hard. She stumbled backwards. She caught her heel on the hem of the dress and fell hard, rolling up on her shoulders. Her legs were flailing in the air, her dress up around her waist. I moved off my stool and got between Peggy and Boyce just as he was trying to kick her. She was quick, and scrambled back.

  I grabbed Peggy’s arm, “Calm down,” I said. “Calm down, I’ll get rid of her.”

  He tried to shake my arm off, “Let me go, you son of a bitch!”

  I tried to leverage him sideways, but he was one giant muscle. Boyce scrambled to her feet, her back against the door. Peggy started swinging at me. Big, roundhouse swings. I covered up, and tried to get out of range, but I had no room and was up against the bar. I did my best rope a dope but one of his swings slammed through my arm and hit the side of my head. The bells were ringing. He kept swinging. He had no finesse, just brute force. My shoulders and upper arms were taking a beating. Everyone had scrambled away. I managed to get a stool between us and tried holding him off like a lion tamer. He threw another hard, wide right at me and I got the stool up enough, and he hit the metal leg with his knuckles.

  He howled and stepped back looking at his fist. I dropped the stool and leveraged my right foot against the bar. As I pushed off, I hit him with everything I had. I caught him on the jaw. Now, I think we both had a busted knuckle. He staggered back but didn’t go down. I ignored the pain in my hand and rapidly hit him twice more. He fell back against a table, and I kicked him in the chest with my prosthetic. He went down. Little Joe stepped between us, holding his hands up.

  “That’s enough,” he shouted. Peggy was trying to get up. Little Joe shoved him back down, “That’s enough,” he said again. He didn’t have to convince me.

  He looked at me, “Get her the hell out of here. Make sure she doesn’t come back.”

  I backed away, then turned to Boyce. She was still against the door. I grabbed her by her sweater and yanked her, so I could get the door opened. The sweater tore, but I managed to hustle her outside. In case someone was watching I hustled her across the parking lot. She was grinning.

  “He’s a big sumbitch, ain’t he?”

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I gave her a small shove.

  “Mendoza’s sending SWAT,” she said. “The DA has sworn out warrants on Kaplan and that whole bunch. Now it’s Paz’s turn. I want those assholes to know who it is that’s going to arrest them.”

  “Peggy could have killed you.”

  “But he didn’t. Besides, isn’t that what Mendoza wanted you to do? Protect me?”

  I just shook my head. “Not if you are committing suicide.”

  She laughed and moved off into the shadows.

  I stood a moment, then slowly walked back to the door. I took the handle, hesitated, took a breath, got Jack back in my head and went in.

  Peggy was up and sitting on a chair. The fight was out of him. He looked at me as I came in, but I saw no rage. Just the same old Peggy. Paz was standing by him.

  “What the hell did she mean?” Paz was saying, “About you and Pony Boy?”

  �
��I have no idea,” Peggy said.

  Paz turned to Pony Boy, “Are you guys queer?”

  Pony Boy looked at Pike, then back to Paz.

  “It ain’t none of your goddammed business,” he said.

  “I got queers on my team?” Paz said, incredulously.

  Peggy was rubbing his jaw, where I had hit him. Pony Boy turned his back on Paz, and lifted his drink and drained it. Little Joe stood, looking from Paz to Peggy, to Pony Boy and back to Paz.

  I heard the door open and I thought here comes the cavalry. I turned.

  Bernie and her young cowboy, Butch, came stumbling in. They were so drunk they could hardly stand.

  “Hey, you fuckers, it’s time to party,” Bernie yelled. “Me and Butch are getting married! Set’m up Frank.”

  I think we were all stunned.

  They came falling in, holding on to each other, barely able to stand. Giggling as they moved into the room. Bernie got to the stool where she normally sat, which luckily was empty, and pulled herself up. She looked around. “What the hell is going on here?” she said. “Somebody havin’ a birthday?”

  The door opened again.

  It was Boyce.

  She had changed out of her bag lady clothes, and this time it was Detective Boyce. She had her shield in her hand. Holding it up for all to see. She took two steps into the room and was followed by the SWAT team.

  There was a commotion from the back, and now the back hall was filled with SWAT. They had come in from the storeroom. It became pandemonium.

  “Listen up, you assholes,” Boyce shouted above the screams. “You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you don’t have an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand your rights?” She didn’t wait for a reply. She turned to the SWAT team. “Boys, you can bet every one of these assholes are carrying. And, you can bet your sweet ass they are dangerous. Please disarm them.”

  Looking out the open door into the parking lot I could see two wagons, lights flashing, waiting to take Paz and the rest of us downtown. The SWAT team swarmed us, pushing us against the bar. Some of the women screamed. Paz couldn’t believe it. His head swiveled from side to side. Little Joe had his hands up. Peggy and Pony Boy stood shoulder to shoulder, but did nothing. Wally Chen remained seated until a cop grabbed him by the arm and pulled him up. They began to frisk us. Slowly, one by one, they started shoving people through the door, to the trucks.

  Bernie and Butch were loudly protesting their innocence. I think Butch was too drunk to understand what was happening. As they were shoved toward the door, Bernie pointed at Frank, who was still frozen behind the bar, and shouted, “This does it Frank, I ain’t never coming here no more!”

  As the cop walked Wally Chen toward the door, Boyce stopped them. She put one hand on Chen’s lapel and with the other, reached inside his jacket. She pulled his phone out. She fiddled with it a moment, then smiled. Wally was watching her, then turned to look at me. I turned my back as a SWAT guy shoved Little Joe and me up against the bar. He searched us. Little Joe had a pistol in his shoulder holster, and he had an ankle gun. The guy pulled my .38 from my back pocket. He herded us out. As we went through the door Little Joe said, “I knew she was a cop.”

  I had to laugh. I looked over my shoulder at him, “You knew she was a cop? Bullshit. How long did you know she was a cop?”

  “Since Peggy knocked her down. Hell, ain’t no bag lady in the world has panties that white.”

  54

  The air was still and warm, hot even. Two days ago I had gassed up the Tiger Lily, emptied the honey pot, and stocked the locker with fresh vegetables, prime beef and good wine. The bar was stocked, and the ice coolers were full. We were way up north on the lake. I had chugged up past South Barker Island and up the Aqua Fria river. This area was normally closed off to protect the eagle population that nested up here. However, it was open this time of year. I liked coming up here because the local boating enthusiasts were so used to the area being closed, there was little traffic.

  Blackhawk had helped me place the two bow anchors, and the stern anchor. You drop the stern anchor first, then letting a lot of line out, move up to where you want to drop the bow anchors. I usually drop the bow anchors forty to fifty feet apart. Once they are solid, you position the boat between them and back up until the lines are snug. Then you haul in the stern line until it is tight, leaving just enough slack to prevent the wind from lifting the anchor off the bottom. It doesn’t hurt to swing a little. If you’ve done it correctly you won’t awaken the next morning to find yourself banging against the bank.

  Quite unexpectedly, just after daybreak this morning, Old Eddie had come alongside and dropped off some two-pound catfish fillets onto the bow. The sound of the motor had pulled me out of sleep, but by the time I had strapped on a foot, and stepped through the sliding doors to see him, he was already moving away. He raised an arm in salute. I waved back.

  Fresh caught catfish. Yum. I had washed them, wrapped them in paper and put them in the locker to stay cool. We would feast tonight. I already had a really tasty fish rub, some corn on the cob and a cornbread mix. I knew I would have a battle with Elena, she had never eaten catfish. But, I knew that as soon as she had a bite, she would be sold.

  Detective Boyce had taken some accrued vacation days, and Blackhawk and Elena had left Nacho and Jimmy in charge of the bar. The four of us were on the upper deck, on chaise lounges, next to the iced cooler of beer. Boyce had gotten into the hard apple beers. Elena had a Corona and Blackhawk and I had Dos Equis. We were lathered in SPF 50 sunscreen and about as lazy as people can get.

  Elena had plugged a mini-speaker into her phone and had downloaded some Mexican music. I didn’t understand a word the singers were singing, but the music was quite pleasant. It made the day even more festive.

  Boyce finished her beer and got up and tossed her empty into the recycle tub. She pulled another from the cooler and popped it with the church key I had tied to the cooler handle. She looked at the rest of us, but no one was ready. She had on a yellow bikini. She was pink from two days of sun. I admired the puckered little dot in her flesh that never would tan like the rest. This was where she was hit by the bullet intended for me.

  She came back and sat beside me.

  “I got a text this morning from Mendoza,” she said.

  “Oh?”

  “The Grand Jury indicted Kaplan, that Tillburg guy, and most of Cyntose Pharmaceutical’s board of directors. And, the management of that pain clinic. They offered Kaplan a plea deal and he’s singing like a canary. Putting the finger on the manufacturers that supply him. This thing could go national.”

  “What about Paz and Pike?”

  “They indicted Paz, Wally Chen, Peggy and Vanilla of drug dealing charges.”

  “Not Little Joe?”

  “He didn’t mention Little Joe.”

  “What about Pike and Pony Boy?”

  She took a drink of her apple beer and looked at me. She had that smile on.

  “What,” I asked.

  “Pike cut a deal,” she said.

  “With the prosecutor?”

  “With Mendoza.”

  “What kind of deal?”

  “Without Paz, and without Pike, someone else will move in to fill the vacuum. I guess Mendoza didn’t want to start all over, so he decided to leave Pike in place. Where he can be controlled.”

  “Isn’t that illegal?” I smiled. “In collusion with a drug dealer?”

  “Says the ex-government assassin,” she said, taking a drink.

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I know a lot more than you think.”

  “Well, you can’t prove it.”

  “Would you guys stop. I’m getting hot,” Elena said. “Let’s go swimming.”

  She stood and placed the mostly empty bottle next to her chaise lounge. She went to the side of the boat and looked back at Blackha
wk, “You comin’?”

  He stood, “Sure.”

  She reached behind her back and unsnapped the top of the two piece. She let it drop to the ground. Sliding her thumbs into her bottoms, she slid them down and stepped out of them. This was one magnificent view. She dived into the water below.

  “That just ain’t fair,” Boyce said.

  Blackhawk went to the side and slid his trunks down. He dived.

  “Tell me about it,” I said.

  “Oh well,” Boyce said. She stood and moved to the edge of the boat. “If you can’t lick’m, join’m.” She unsnapped her top and slid out of the bottoms. She did a cannonball, landing with a huge splash.

  I stood at the edge of the top deck looking at the three of them. Naked as eggs, treading water.

  “Come on Jackson,” Elena yelled. “The water is good.”

  “Don’t be a chicken,” Boyce called. Then she started making chicken noises.

  I was shaking my head.

  “Come on, buddy,” Blackhawk called. “Don’t leave me down here with these two women.”

  “Oh, what the hell,” I said out loud. I hooked my thumbs into my trunks, and down they went. I teetered on the edge, then as I pushed off, my good foot slipped. I hit with a really bad belly flop.

  THE END

  Following is an excerpt from

  number four in the acclaimed Jackson Blackhawk series.

  Coming Soon

  THEY CALLED HER INDIGO

  by Sam Lee Jackson

  The girl was white blond, her hair in a short cut that swept across her forehead. She was quite beautiful in a young pixie kind of way. She was very good. She waited until my machine hit, then when she put her hands into my clothes I didn’t feel a thing. But I knew she did it. The only thing I noticeably felt was the absence of my wallet as she turned to move away. I waited a moment before I glanced at her. I swiveled on my stool and looked the other way at Blackhawk. He was three slot machines down watching, a smile on his face. I shrugged, cashed out of the machine, pulled my card and slid off my stool. He followed suit.

 

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