“Actually, that makes sense,” Streeter interrupted. “If Grover somehow finds out they’re here he can’t just come over, shoot them, and grab everything. Takes you out of danger, too. Royals can’t get information from you that you don’t have.”
Marty didn’t seem impressed. “That’s about what the boy said. Anyhow, he says they’ll lay out the plan for us tonight.” He paused. “Let’s do it.” He turned and walked toward the door.
The warehouse was an ancient, glorified Quonset hut with boarded windows. Marty pounded on the door and they waited. Muted sounds came from inside, and after a minute or so, a man’s voice came out to them. “Uncle Marty?”
“Yes it is, Richie,” Moats answered, his voice completely under control by now.
Suddenly, the large steel door swung out, with Richie’s curly head following. His eyes looked huge to Streeter. “Uncle Marty!” he yelled and walked outside. He threw his arms around his uncle and gave him a hug. The old man gingerly reciprocated but said nothing. Richie’s eyes were closed as he hugged, but when he finally stepped back, they opened and he stared at the other man. “Mr. Streeter?”
The bounty hunter nodded and extended his hand to be shaken. Richie’s grip was as eager as his eyes. He was wearing a brown-and-tan fifties-style Banlon shirt with wide vertical stripes down the front, and tan jeans. That and the deep wrinkles around his eyes made him look older than Streeter expected. But he was as tall as his uncle and as earnestly handsome.
“Good to meet you,” he said as his right hand then unconsciously reached for his mustache and began to pull one end. Then he glanced back at Marty. “Come on in.”
Inside, the living quarters consisted of one large room with a bathroom off to the side on the far end. There was a door next to it that led to the warehouse. The place was dimly lit and Streeter had a difficult time making out the figure sitting at a table near the kitchen area. Squinting, he could tell it was a woman: long hair the color of red-brown silk. She stood up and hit the overhead light switch. Studying the curve of her hips and the way her breasts struggled against the deep-green sweater, he now could plainly see that this was a lot of woman. With her eyes and that mouth, Streeter knew why Richie went so far out on a limb. For Tina Gillis, he’d consider it himself. Her eyes alone would get him to Mexico. Emerald-green and outclassing her sweater by a mile, they were offset nicely by the full features around them.
“Martin, it’s good to see you,” Tina said in a husky, authoritative voice that added to her considerable sex appeal. She moved gracefully toward him, her arms stretched out for a hug.
“Miss Gillis.” Marty nodded. His voice was not unfriendly but he only extended a hand to be shaken.
Tina took that in stride and her smile stayed even. Then she turned to Streeter. “And you must be the bounty hunter everyone’s talking about.”
He nodded. “My name’s Streeter. It’s good to finally meet you.” He shot a side glance at Richie. “You two caused a lot of excitement around here.”
Tina’s smile dropped as if she didn’t know how to interpret what he said. “I suppose we have.” Turning back to Marty she added, “Let’s sit down and talk. Would you gentlemen care for a beer? All we have is domestic. Rolling Rock.”
Streeter saw that she was drinking one. “That’ll work. Thanks.”
Marty sat down at the round wooden table, unzipped his jacket but kept it on. “We didn’t come here for any party, Miss Gillis. I’ll just have a glass of water.”
Streeter could see Richie tensing at that one as he and Tina glanced at each other. Then he went for the beer and water. Streeter and Tina sat down, with her sitting directly across from Marty. No one said anything until Richie returned and handed out the drinks. Streeter liked the way his hostess kept eye contact with Marty. Here she was, mastermind of one of the biggest screwups he’d ever seen and she still comes on like we’re all just a bunch of pals playing a little gin rummy.
“First off, Uncle Marty, I just want to say how grateful I am—that me and Teen both are—that you’re coming through for us like this,” Richie said after he’d sat down. “Secondly, we intend to have this whole thing taken care of tomorrow.” Then he turned to Tina, pulling on his mustache as he did, “Honey.”
As he watched Richie, Streeter tried to imagine driving all the way to Mexico, Florida, and back here with that nervous bug in the car. He seemed decent and he was clearly nuts about Tina. Practically melted into his shoes whenever she looked at him. But what’s with all that twitching and fiddling of his mustache? Streeter turned to Tina, not surprised that she was going to talk for them. She wouldn’t get unglued if Marty didn’t like what he was hearing and started honking off about it.
Tina lit a cigarette and took a quick sip of her beer, casually shaking her long hair to the side. Then she leaned into the table. “Richard and I definitely don’t want to be in the same place with the money and the files. If we are and Grover happens to get to that place, we’re finished. He’d kill us on the spot. So about noon today we stored everything in a safe place. All the cash we had left, the originals of Rudy’s files, and the Quaaludes. Everything’s downtown. We figured—”
“Just what in hell are you talking about?” Marty practically came off his seat when he heard about the drugs. “Quaaludes? Barbiturates. They’re illegal.”
Tina and Richie glanced at each other. “Why yes, they are,” she responded. “Remember Grover saying that he wanted something extra, above and beyond what we took, to show how much we regret it? ‘A token of remorse’ is how he put it. Well, those ludes are it. We had to stop off on the way back here and pick them up for him.”
“How many Quaaludes did you bring?” Streeter asked evenly.
“Six thousand,” Tina said. “Give or take.”
“Damn!” Marty yelled and glared at his nephew. “When you fuck up, boy, you do it big-time. Now you’re a drug runner. Keep it up and you’ll end up in a prison cell at Cañon City. I’m just glad your aunt isn’t around right now to hear all this.”
“Martin, there’ll be plenty of time for your criticisms and ranting after this problem is taken care of,” Tina continued. “For now, let’s try to stay calm. As I was saying, we stored everything at the bus station downtown in several lockers. When Grover gets it, we don’t plan on being anywhere near the place. We figure that’s what Mr. Streeter is here for. To make sure the transfer goes smoothly.”
“Whoa,” Streeter interrupted, “I didn’t know I’d be dealing drugs when I signed on for this job. I’ve never moved drugs and I’m sure not going to start now. Hooking Grover up with some files and cash is one thing. Drug dealing is another.”
“In the first place,” Tina responded, “even if you had to deliver them, it wouldn’t make you a drug dealer. But more to the point, we have it set up so that you won’t have to touch them. In fact, you’ll never even see them.”
He frowned. “How’d you work that?”
“Simple. Everything Grover wants is in three big lockers and we’ve got the keys. With Martin’s contribution of five thousand, that makes us free and clear. When you leave here, Mr. Streeter, you take the cash and the keys with you. Go to the station first thing in the morning and put the money into the locker with the other cash. Then deliver the keys to Grover. You never touch the drugs. End of story.”
Both Marty and Streeter thought about that. Finally, the Waterbed King nodded. “Sounds like it might work, at that. When do we tell Royals about all this?”
Tina glanced at her wristwatch. “We’ll be talking to him any minute now. I called Rudy Fontana a couple of hours ago and said we’d call his office tonight at seven-thirty. I told him to have Grover there.”
“One other thing, Miss Gillis,” Marty said. “If copies of the files are in one of the lockers, then I take it you still have the originals.”
“Why are you so interested in those files?” Richie broke in.
The old man turned to his nephew. “I’m not so interested in any
thing, son. It’s just that Royals told you he didn’t want any copies made.”
“Martin, we don’t particularly care what Grover Royals told us. We’re keeping them for our own protection.”
Marty backed off and said nothing.
Tina looked at Streeter. “The phone’s over on the counter by the sink. I’d prefer if you made the call. Is that all right?”
Streeter’s eyebrows shot up for a second and he shrugged. “Talking to him isn’t my favorite thing, either, but that’s why I’m making the big bucks.” He got up and walked to the kitchen area. Then he picked up the receiver and turned back toward the table. “What’s the number?”
Tina gave it to him as he punched it into the phone. Grover answered fast. He seemed to be in a good mood, something Streeter could barely imagine. When the bounty hunter told him what they had in mind, Royals simply said, “I’ll do it.”
Streeter’s eyes widened for a second and he smiled quickly at Tina. “Good. Meet me in front of the station at eleven tomorrow morning, on the south side. We’ll get this thing over with.”
“I’ll be there,” Royals said and then hung up.
After the four of them agreed to talk again in the morning, Streeter left. Walking to his Buick, he had the five thousand dollars in his pocket. He thought about Grover’s quick yes to Tina’s plan. That didn’t sit well with him. Anytime Grover Royals agrees with you, the best thing you can do is seriously rethink whatever it is you just said. Pulling out of the lot, he was too deep in thought to notice the white Subaru station wagon parked in a side alley across the street. And he certainly didn’t notice Sid Wahl slumped behind the wheel, watching the building he’d just left.
EIGHTEEN
Before leaving for the night, Marty actually hugged Tina goodbye. She and Richie had no idea why, but whatever the reason they were happy with his change of attitude. Particularly given that Richie would be asking him for a job soon. Of course, neither of them saw how sour the old man’s face became the instant he turned away from the building. Sid Wahl didn’t see it either, because he was parked too far away. As if he cared. He downed the last of the three beers he’d brought and watched Moats drive away. Starting his engine, Sid thought about just heading across the street right then and shooting that spoiled little shit and his girlfriend. Serve him right after he threw up on Sid and left him locked in the trunk with Calley. Jesus, he still got nauseated thinking about it. But Grover had told him to only follow Marty, locate his nephew, and stay until the old man left. So he threw the last can of beer out his side window and headed downtown to meet Grover.
Rudy Fontana stood at the front window of his office above the Cheetah looking out over Champa Street. He was barely paying attention to what was happening outside, which was just about nothing. The relentless throb of the bass and drums from the sound system below softly pounded the room. White noise that he seldom noticed. Particularly now with so much on his mind. Grover was down the hall in the can and Sid was expected back any time. Rudy had just called his own apartment for maybe the two hundredth time. About a minute after Tina had called asking him to get Royals ready to talk that night, he was on the horn trying to get hold of Dexter Calley. The first few times he tried, no one was there. But shortly after four, Dexter’s girlfriend had answered. Rudy made her swear that she’d have Dexter call him at home and leave word as to where they could meet later. He couldn’t risk having Dexter phone his office.
Now, looking out the window, casually swirling the Jack Daniel’s in his glass and smoking, Rudy started to put together another plan. He thought about what to do if Dexter never called back. Was there another way to nail Grover? Maybe he wouldn’t need Dexter after all, which would be more than okay. On the phone just now Streeter had told Grover that he would deliver the locker keys to him the next morning. Calley certainly couldn’t take Grover out right there in front of the bus station. Old Tina had come up with a way to get the job done without putting anyone’s ass too far out on a limb. Just like her to wire the deal like that. Damn, he missed having her around. He felt bad that she was going to be killed. Not real bad, but something like sympathy, which is what Rudy generally never felt for anyone but himself. Screw Dexter, Rudy thought as he looked around the room. He could hear Grover in the hallway walking toward the office. Be cool and see what the big idiot has planned for tomorrow. Take it from there. Just then, the big idiot himself walked into the room. Rudy tensed, as he always did when he saw Grover.
“How can you stand that noise?” Grover frowned as he spoke. “Makes it hard to even sit on the toilet and stay focused on what you’re trying to accomplish.” He waved a giant paw in the air. “Can’t you give it a rest? You must run through about a carton of those a day. You working on your own lawsuit against the tobacco companies?”
Guy’s a regular charmer, Rudy thought. “I didn’t know that sitting on the crapper required that much concentration.” The words came out automatically, and immediately he wished he had them back.
Grover studied him for a second and then snorted out something close to a laugh. “Just open a window and let a little oxygen in here, okay, Seinfeld?”
Rudy turned to the window overlooking Champa and put his drink on the ledge. Then he pulled up the frame a few inches and a rush of cool air swept toward him. From there he went to his desk and the Jack Daniel’s bottle and freshened his drink.
“Lay a little low on the stuff,” Grover ordered. “You been drinking way too much lately and I want you at least reasonably sharp for tomorrow.”
“Why’s that?”
“Don’t wet your pants yet, no one’s going to put you to work.”
The two of them sat there in the office for about ten minutes before Sid arrived. “He went right to them, like you said,” he told Grover. “They’re off Santa Fe about a mile or two south of Evans. Looks like one of those army barracks they used on Gomer Pyle. I think they’re living there for now. I didn’t see the broad”—he shot a look toward Rudy—“but the puker, Richie, he came out to let them in. Marty was with your buddy Streeter but they came in separate cars. Left that way, too. About fifteen minutes apart.”
Grover stood up and stretched. “Is there someplace out there you can park for a couple of hours in the daylight and not get spotted?”
Sid nodded. “There’s a field just to the west. It should work fine.”
“Good. Here’s what we do.” Grover moved around the desk. “I want you and someone you trust to be out there in that field by eight in the morning. Sit on that building. At eleven straight up, you go inside and put your guns to their heads. Richie and Tina both. Tell them you’ll blow their fucking brains out if they don’t produce the original files. Tina might give you a hard time, but Richie’ll probably talk right away. Then, the minute you get the files, you kill them. Don’t get cute. Just stash the bodies somewhere in the building, torch the place, and get out. No torturing anybody first.”
“What if they leave before eleven?” Sid let out a short hiccup.
“Follow them. Take the Subaru again. No one pays attention to a piece of shit like that. We’ll play it by ear. Follow them all day and let me know on the cell phone what’s what. Just don’t call me at eleven straight up. I’ll be with Streeter then.”
“What if they don’t have the files with them? Even with guns in their ears, they might not have the stuff there.”
“If they convince you the files aren’t there, just shoot them and look around on your own. My hunch is they haven’t had time to put them anywhere safe yet. Turn the place upside down. That and their car. If you don’t find them, that means they’re hidden so good they’re probably gone forever. Torch the place either way. No doubt about it, those two go down tomorrow.”
“Who should I use for this?” Sid asked.
Grover glanced at Rudy but spoke to Sid like he wasn’t even there. “I’d like to have you take the Terminator here, but we want this done right.”
Rudy perked up. “Wait a goddamned m
inute. I’m no hit man.”
“No shit,” Grover said. “The way you been drinking and jumping around here lately I can’t see you even dressing yourself tomorrow.” He turned back to Sid. “Use someone dependable. That crazy Irishman with the Mohawk. He’s nuts but he seems to know what he’s doing.”
Rudy took a step back and studied the two men in his office. He glanced at his phone and wished he could call home for his messages. Also, he wished that he had never mentioned any of this to Dexter. Right now, Rudy had a whole new idea in mind for bringing Grover down.
Dexter Calley wasn’t surprised when his girlfriend told him that Rudy had been calling all afternoon. So when he got home that night he telephoned the boss man on his private line at about ten o’clock and was told to get back to Rudy as soon as he could. Find out what the clown had in mind. The boss man said he knew what Grover was up to, seeing as how Grover worked for him as well. But he wanted Dexter to see if Rudy had figured out his plan for destroying Grover.
“I doubt that the little pissant could cause anyone much trouble,” the man had told Dexter over the phone. “But it wouldn’t hurt to know what he has in mind. He gets a wild hair and he’s just crazy enough to make trouble for everyone. Call him back and see what sort of bullshit he’s up to. Then let me know first thing tomorrow what you found out.”
Streeter Box Set Page 58