“Everybody wonders that. There’re three ways, an artificial vagina, digital manipulation—”
Delsa stopped him. “That one. How do you do it?”
“You massage the bull’s pecker.”
“Who does?”
“The guy who does it, the pro. He strokes the ampullae, the seminal vesicles and prostate gland through the wall of the rectum, with a collection tube slipped over the penis.”
Delsa said, “That’s it, huh?”
“Nothing to it,” John said.
He picked up an ashtray and Delsa followed him out to the foyer where Allegra was telling Lloyd the funeral mass would be tomorrow at St. Mary’s, corner of Monroe and St. Antoine, the burial at Mt. Olivet.
“Yes, indeed I’ll be there,” Lloyd said.
Allegra and John left and Lloyd stood there holding the deed to his house, looking at it.
Delsa said, “You gonna live here?”
“Gonna sell it and move to Puerto Rico, where you know what the weather’s gonna be every day you get out of bed.” Looking past Delsa he said, “Here comes Montez.”
Delsa turned.
Behind him now Lloyd said, “First thing I do, I’m gonna throw his ass out of my house.”
Montez was looking at the sheet of paper Lloyd was holding. “What’s that you got?”
“Your eviction notice,” Lloyd said.
Montez frowned saying, “What?”
Delsa said, “Montez?” and got the man in black leather looking at him. “I’m gonna ask you about Kelly Barr, and I want a straight answer.”
Montez said, “Man, she’s out’n the kitchen. How’d you know?”
30
LLOYD FOLLOWED MONTEZ FOLLOWING FRANK Delsa through the swing door and into the kitchen. Delsa paused once he was in here, then walked to the end of the worktable, pots and pans hanging above him. Lloyd moved around to the other side where Jerome stood against the counter by the sink, dirty dishes in there he’d told Jerome to clean up. Lloyd felt he should be near Jerome, a street kid witness to big-time serious business. Now Lloyd looked across the worktable at Delsa looking at the four seated at the round table in the alcove of windows: Kelly and Avern Cohn on the bench looking straight ahead at Delsa, Carl Fontana and Art Krupa in chairs to the right, their guns out on the table in front of them.
No one said anything, all looking at Delsa.
Ten minutes ago, when Lloyd came in and told Montez the cop was here to see him, there weren’t any guns on the table.
Montez, in this house where there’d been a double homicide five days ago, said, “A cop? What one?”
“The man in charge, Frank Delsa.”
There was a silence then like the one now.
Lloyd thought the two guys and Montez might run out the back. He couldn’t figure out what was in their heads. He thought Kelly would speak, try to get up, but she stubbed out her cigarette and sat there like she was afraid to move.
Montez said, “What’d you tell him?”
“I’d see if I could find you.”
“Tell him I’m not here.”
They had been talking about keeping quiet, Avern taking over, saying, “You don’t say a word to them. They have to go with whatever they have, which can’t be hard evidence. You three are the only witnesses.”
Carl said, “You’re staying out of it, huh?”
Then when Lloyd told them the cop was here, the man, they shut up until Avern said, “Bring him in, I’ll handle it. This cop Delsa even came to my office to see if he could get you guys to testify against each other, the son of a bitch.”
And here he was.
•
Art picked up his Sig Sauer, elbow on the table, and pointed the gun at Delsa. He said to Montez, “Take his piece.”
Montez, behind him, lifted the skirt of Delsa’s jacket and pulled his Glock 40 from the holster on his right hip.
Art put his Sig on Montez and waved him back to the table. “Come here and sit down.”
Lloyd saw all three of the guys armed now: Carl with a Smith & Wesson nine, Art the Sig Sauer and now Montez with Delsa’s Glock he was looking at before laying it on the table.
Avern spoke first, saying to Delsa, “Whatever is said here is off the record. Otherwise you can leave.”
The lawyer telling the cop what to do.
Lloyd knew Delsa would say something good, he seemed like a cool cat. He didn’t say yes or no to the “off the record,” he said, “How can you represent these clowns and not have a conflict of interest?”
Lloyd nodded, watching Delsa. Good.
“At the moment,” Avern said, “I’m not representing anyone. I thought we might look at what we’re doing here as sort of an evidentiary hearing. Find out if you have reason to prosecute these boys. Are we off the record or not?”
Delsa said, “Okay,” sounding like it wasn’t important to him.
Then Montez said to him, “How you mean he’d have a conflict of interest?”
“He’s part of the deal, isn’t he? He got you, Carl and Art to do the old man.”
“And Chloe,” Kelly said.
“That’s right, and Chloe,” Delsa said, looking at the two mutts, Lloyd admiring the way Delsa got right to the point of all this, not seeming to care about the guns lying on the table.
Avern said to Montez, “Let me ask the questions, all right?”
Carl said, “Like you’re not in this, huh?”
Art said, “He’s up to his fuckin eyeballs in it.”
Kelly said, “Somebody tell me what I’m doing here. I can’t put these guys at the scene. I’m the only one at this table not involved.”
Montez said, “The payoff comes up short, now you clean, huh?”
Kelly said, “I’m getting out of here,” and tried to push up, looking at Delsa.
Montez made no move to let her out. He said, “You here with us, girl.”
Lloyd noticed Delsa not doing anything to help her. Didn’t say anything, either. Lloyd turned his head to check on Jerome by the counter, Jerome looking like he was loving it, fascinated by the ofays, how they went about it.
Avern said, “Will you all please let me handle this? I’m trying to find out if a warrant’s been issued for anyone’s arrest. And if so, what kind of evidence they think they have.”
Montez said, “I know they got nothing on me. I explained I got the bitches mixed up and they let me go.” He said to Delsa, “You here for these two dudes, huh? Come to ask me did I know where they are. They sitting right there, man, and that’s all I’m saying.”
Lloyd liked this talk, it was getting good, and knew Art wouldn’t take that shit, no …
Art saying, “This fuckin smoke, I swear,” Art shaking his head, pointing his finger like a gun at Montez, casual, elbow on the table. “You keep talking—”
“I told him,” Montez said, “that’s all I’m saying. You didn’t hear me? Take the wax outta your ears.”
Lloyd liked that, and the look on Art’s face, the man rigid. But Montez wasn’t through.
“You two have to work out where you stand. You so fucked up they must have something good on you. I bet your guns got traced to another gig. Y’all too cheap to throw ‘em away.”
Lloyd saw Avern looking at the two now like he wanted to ask ‘em something.
Carl said, “Goddamn it, I knew this one was going to hell.” He picked up his Smith and pointed it at Montez. But then he looked over at Delsa.
And Montez picked up Delsa’s gun.
Carl saying, “Did he tell on us?”
Lloyd moved to the end of the table so he could see Delsa’s face good, Delsa watching the two guys pointing guns at each other, Delsa taking his time.
Delsa saying, “I won’t tell you what I have on them or on you. Or who told me.”
Lloyd saw Montez shaking his head, aiming the gun, Lloyd believed, at Carl aiming his gun at Montez. He heard Montez say, “I never said one fuckin word about you two. Why would I? Ask him. They don�
�t have nothing on me. You say I hired you? All right, answer me this. How much did I pay you?”
Lloyd saw Art pick up his gun.
But it was Carl who fired, bam, and shot Montez in the head, a pane of glass behind him shattering, sprayed red.
Lloyd unbuttoned his white butler jacket, reached back underneath and brought out the gun he got off Jerome he’d tucked in his waist, the Sig three-eighty racked and ready. He stepped over to the table, extended the gun at Carl, and shot him in the V of his open shirt, turned to Art bringing up his gun and bam, shot him in the throat, then watched to see if they might shoot back at him, but they both had strange looks on their faces, like they were drunk, and fell over on the table.
Lloyd turned to lay the gun on the worktable and look at Delsa.
Delsa said, “Nice going.”
Lloyd said, “I had enough of this bidness, criminals using my house as a hideout.”
Delsa said, “But where’d you get the gun?”
•
He told Wendell, sitting in the inspector’s office, “I asked, but didn’t care. The old guy stood up to armed felons and put them in Detroit Receiving, handcuffed to their beds. He shattered bones in Carl’s chest and shot out Art’s voice box. Lloyd said he took the three-eighty off Jerome, not wanting the boy to do something dumb. Jerome says Carl and Art picked it up with some other stuff from a house in Bloomfield Hills, while it was open for inspection, and Art made Jerome take the gun.”
Wendell said, “You believe him?”
Delsa said, “No, but what difference does it make? The home invasion was in Oakland County, but we’ve got Carl and Art for a double homicide. If they’re never arraigned on the robbery, Jerome won’t be either. I told him whoever put up the twenty grand changed their mind, reneged on it. Orlando’s been picked up and the informant was getting a thousand from Crime Stoppers. Jerome wanted to know where they found Orlando. I told him a house on Pingree and he said, ‘Shit, that’s where Orlando’s granddaddy said he was, but I didn’t think he’d tell on him like that.’ I said, ‘A good investigator knows who to believe and who not to believe.’ Jerome said, ‘Keep it,’ and left.”
“He’ll show up again,” Wendell said. “What I want to know is why you went in there without backup.”
“It wasn’t a backup situation. I went to the scene of a homicide to talk to a witness. I don’t know Carl and Art are there.”
Wendell said, “One I never heard of, hiding out at the scene of the crime.” He stared across his desk at Delsa. “Carl asked if Montez had told on them and you said …?”
“I wasn’t gonna tell what I had, or who told me.”
“But nobody had told you anything.”
“I threw that in.”
“And Carl believed you meant Montez. You promoted the action, didn’t you?”
“I gave it a nudge,” Delsa said. “The one I keep thinking about is Avern Cohn, how we’re gonna go about getting him arraigned.”
•
He said to Kelly, “Avern’s sitting in his pongee robe in the squad room with Jerome, both waiting to be interviewed. I hear him telling this street kid his offices are in the Penobscot Building if he needs a lawyer. He doesn’t sound the least worried about his own situation. He says yeah, the Caucus Club is right there at the Congress Street entrance, where Barbra Streisand performed when she was eighteen, just starting out and sang ‘Happy Days Are Here Again’ but not upbeat, real slow, like she’s being ironic, and you know what Jerome says to Avern?”
“‘Who’s Barbra Streisand?’” Kelly said, propped up in her bed with a Slim, her other hand fooling with the hair on Delsa’s chest.
He turned his head on the pillow. “How’d you know?”
“The way you set it up. Whatever he says has to be a surprise. A girl singer to Jerome is Lil’ Kim. He doesn’t know Barbra Streisand from Renee Fleming.”
“Who’s Renee Fleming?”
She leaned over and kissed him on the mouth and stayed there on her elbow looking at his face, so close. “You’re a cool guy, Frank. You’re getting those guys to go at each other and you’d look at me with those eyes and I kept quiet and watched you and waited for them to shoot each other. Did you know Lloyd had a gun?”
“Uh-unh. You hear him, ‘I had enough of this bidness.’”
She said, “You want to move in?”
“As soon as we close the case. I get Carl to make a statement about Avern—”
“Their agent.”
“And take it across the street, see if the prosecutor likes it … I don’t know … I think he might slip through.”
“Do you care?”
He said, “You’re the only one on my mind.”
Kelly reached around behind her to get rid of the Slim and came back to him saying, “You know I’m in love with you. You’re my man, Frank, I’m hanging on to you.” She said, “If you’ll reciprocate.”
Delsa said, “Watch me,” and went at her, saying he was gonna eat her up and she loved it.
Mr. Paradise Page 22