Stray Cat Blues

by Robert Bucchianeri

  I’m no hero, but I’d promised the kid, and I was in too deep. I had to know what happened to Johnnie, and my curiosity about the rest of the characters in this tragedy was too intense.

  I had a plan, and it even had a slight chance of succeeding.

  If it didn’t, the fallout would bury me. But, plain and simple, I love Marsh and know he loves me and would lay down his life for me.

  I wasn’t going to give him the chance.

  Thirty-Nine

  The Fairmont, sitting atop Nob Hill, is one of San Francisco’s oldest establishments for the powerful and wealthy. And those yearning to join them.

  I’d been there a few times, most memorably for my high school junior prom, where Jeanette Peterson and I had Shirley Temples in the chez cheesy Tonga Room and oohed and ahhed about the indoor rain showers and the band floating on a barge in a swimming pool near the Tiki bar.

  I’d impressed her so much by taking her there that she graced me with my first kiss that night. More than one, to be precise.

  The outside of the massive edifice looked much like city hall, and its Beaux-Arts interior style is nothing if not eye-catching.

  Alas, I wasn’t going to get the chance to admire the lobby and public rooms, as I’d decided the only feasible way past Poe’s defenses was the one he’d least expect: mimicking his own entry.

  Marsh rented a helicopter every now and then and had a pilot on retainer. I knew the guy, Daryl, pretty well. He was a sixty-year-old Vietnam vet. I’d contacted him right after Marsh told me where Poe was sleeping tonight, and promised to double his rate if he’d take me to the Fairmont. I got him to promise not to tell my friend in advance. There’d be plenty of time for Marsh to be pissed at me afterward. If I survived.

  So, at just after 10 p.m., the helicopter burst through a flock of low lying clouds and veered up out of the Bay and past the TransAmerica pyramid. In less than a minute, we were circling the Fairmont, and I was out the cockpit door, balancing on the landing skids. The engine’s roar and the thumping of the rotors exploded in my ears, deafening me.

  Daryl dropped down close to the helicopter pad, but didn’t land, hovering fifteen feet from touchdown.

  I didn’t pause a moment, waved a quick goodbye to Daryl, and fell onto the balcony, hitting hard, tumbling end over end before jumping back up to a crouch. My feet hurt, my shins and hands were bruised, but all in all, in better shape than I’d feared.

  The helicopter banked sharply and streaked back out across the Bay.

  I was on my own now, the only escape route down through the penthouse and the hotel.

  As the thumping drone of the ‘copter disappeared, I stood motionless, listening for any hint of alarm or human approach.

  I took in the beautiful stone mosaic flooring, several potted plants, a small fountain, the black metal table, and four cushioned chairs overlooking the stunning view of the financial district and the Bay.

  Money did have its privileges.

  I listened intently. Other than street sounds from far below and the strong wind whistling in my ears, the gentle tinkling of the fountain, and the cooing sounds of some nearby pigeons, I couldn’t sense any danger.

  I knew it was questionable but hoped that our quick arrival and departure might go unnoticed by the occupants of the penthouse suite on the eighth floor below me.

  I moved toward an alcove and a door that Marsh had told me led down to the penthouse.

  I was relying on a lot of suppositions and hoping for blind luck.

  I tried the doorknob.

  It gave under my hand.

  Bingo.

  When I swung it open, I found a long winding red carpeted staircase.

  I also found Angelique with a pistol in her hand pointed directly at my chest.

  Forty

  She seemed no happier to see me than she had when she’d served me espresso back at the casino.

  She hadn’t spoken a single word to me the last time we met, but she remedied that immediately.

  “We’ve been expecting you.”

  The accent had a Caribbean vibe to it, perhaps Haitian. She exuded a musky, cinnamon scent. She still looked formidable and gorgeous. She had sultry, silvery, near almond-shaped eyes that packed a wallop.

  I smiled at her, trying to keep my composure.

  She backed me up with a wave of the gun and carefully stepped behind me and onto the balcony.

  Then she shoved the barrel of the gun against my back and escorted me over to the comfy chairs surrounding the steel table. She bid me sit down, and I did, picking the chair with the best view.

  A cell appeared in her hand, and a moment later, she spoke into it.

  “Li fè.”

  The word sounded like French with a twist. Perhaps Haitian Creole?

  It also sounded close to “Life,” which, ridiculously, gave me a little feeling of hope.

  Five minutes later, Poe joined me at the table, sitting with his back to the view. She handed him the gun and then searched me thoroughly from head to toe, looking, I assumed, for any hint of a weapon or a wire. Her lovely hands, with their long elegant fingers, lingered in places both innocuous and intimate.

  When she finished, I shimmied my shoulders and said, “Thank you so much.”

  She ignored me and took the gun back from Poe, holstering it on her back. She circled the table and positioned herself somewhere behind my chair.

  I guess they weren’t too worried about what I’d do.

  Maybe the half-dozen armed men lurking near the stairwell had something to do with it.

  Before he spoke, Poe let out a long exasperated sigh to let me know he’d reached the limits of his patience.

  “I don’t understand you.”

  “That’s not the first time I’ve heard that complaint.”

  He gave me a look that told me humor wasn’t going to serve me well here.

  “Sorry to drop in on you like this.” I couldn’t help myself. Really, I never can.

  Poe nodded at Angelique. Faster than I could blink, she was behind me. I quickly realized she was familiar with some of the same pressure points as Marsh.

  I winced, then growled, then whimpered. It was embarrassing.

  Poe nodded again, and she stepped back.

  “Before I leave you to Angelique, you have one chance to explain yourself. I wouldn’t waste it, were I you. You’ve interrupted my evening. I’ve warned you repeatedly. It won’t take her long to make you wish you’d never been born.”

  With those inspirational words, I decided to get right to the point.

  “I was at the warehouse the other night when Hunter and his lover were murdered.”

  Now I had his full attention.

  “Careful, Plank,” he said, and the tone of his voice, along with Angelique lurking close behind me, sent a jolt of electricity from my toes to the hairs on top of my head.

  “I asked this before, and I’m asking again right now. Did you kill Johnnie?”

  I flinched as Angelique’s fingers touched my shoulder.

  “Is there anything else?” Poe said, feigning boredom.

  It was now or never, and never certainly was an attractive option with Angelique threatening havoc. “We have a recording, taken from Hunter’s cell phone, of you talking with him. We have him threatening you. And, in turn, the tape exposes you setting up the meeting at the warehouse.”

  Poe was on his feet, in my face, roaring, “You fucking shit stain. Are you out of your mind?”

  He slapped me hard across my cheek with the back of his hand.

  My head rocked to the side, but I managed to stay in the chair. The whole right side of my face tingled and flushed with blood. My teeth ached. Maybe that’s because I was clenching them in humiliation and anger.

  His outburst shocked me. Over the years, I’d had a fair number of encounters with him and never seen him lose his serene composure. I wasn’t the only one taken aback. Angelique had removed her hand from me and stepped away. I sensed indecision i
n her movement.

  Poe was standing above me with his fists clenched. I looked up into his eyes and, for a brief moment, saw clearly the cold-blooded killer that he was.

  He took a step back, sat back down, shook his head, smirked. “I have to hand it to you. You’re like a tick that keeps burrowing and burrowing. Damn annoying but impossible to ignore.”

  I took a deep breath before speaking. “I’m not trying to annoy you or get you, Poe. Even if you had Hunter and Kate killed. Even if you were somehow responsible for Johnnie’s disappearance, I know that I can’t bring you down.” I paused, straightened myself up in my seat, massaged my bruised cheek. “But I’m trying to help that little girl. That’s what I don’t get. You told her to come see me. In a way, you could say I’m working for you, or at least doing what you expected me to do. Just trying to follow all of the leads I can to find the girl’s sister. It’s not my fault that a lot of the leads seem to somehow circle back to you. Maybe it’s just coincidence...” I let my voice trail off. I didn’t believe that for a second but knew I was on a tightrope without a net.

  The pigeons still cooed from a dark corner of the building. The muffled sounds of street life—humming cars, ethereal voices, the ratcheting bump and whir of street cars—echoed from far beneath us.

  I was just about to speak again when Poe broke his silence. When I looked into his face, something had changed, and so had his voice. It was soft now, a little uncertain. “I didn’t have anything to do with Johnnie’s disappearance. I don’t know what happened to her. You’d never understand our relationship. Despite her problems, she was something. Unique, charismatic, strong. Impossibly attractive. But flawed in so many ways. And unlucky. Goddamn unlucky.”

  If there was one thing sure that I’d gotten out of this investigation, it was the wish that I’d had the chance to meet Johnnie, an enigma that would probably never be solved by any mere man.

  Poe continued. “I sent the little girl to you because I care about her and Johnnie. You can believe that or not. I don’t care. But I know what you’re like, for good or bad. Thought you were the man for the job. I knew the risk with you. I made a mistake. I won’t make it again.”

  “Then why are you upset with me doing my job?” I was profoundly disappointed that I’d be getting no more referrals from him.

  Poe drummed his fingers on the table top. “There are lines. You keep on stepping over them. Keep me out of this. I run a big business that’s very important to the city and the state and the people. My name has to stay out of the papers.”

  “Okay. I believe that you had nothing to do with Johnnie’s disappearance. But you are involved with the Blue Notes. You had Caballo’s men come after me looking for her computer. Why?”

  “I didn’t...” He stopped, looked down, leaned over the glass table, flattening his hands along its surface. “That was to protect Hunter. I didn’t even know she was still involved with him. If I had...” He hesitated, looked off to the side, considering how much to say.

  “But you used her against him. To make sure he voted for the casino.” I knew I was treading in dangerous waters again.

  He gave me a sharp look but didn’t strike out. “I introduced them at a party a few years back. Hunter was always looking for something on the side. His wife is a bitch. A rich one, but still a bitch.”

  “So you thought she might...persuade him to—”

  “I introduced them. Period. End of sentence and story.”

  “I assume what happened to Hunter and Katie are not up for discussion either?”

  “You assume correctly.”

  I almost asked how he snatched Katie and got her to the warehouse, but really, for a man like Poe, it was undoubtedly as easy as a finger snap. It didn’t really matter how it happened. Hunter had become a little unhinged and represented a threat that had to be eliminated. The tidy murder-suicide setup made it easy for the police and powers that be to wrap it up quickly. No muss and fuss. Another tragic tale of lust and betrayal and loveless marriage among the rich and powerful.

  The newspapers and online media were full of screaming headlines, but the emphasis was on the tryst between the lovers and the sad plight of the poor, prominent widow. The police were said to be working diligently to uncover any possible clues or alternate explanations, but it was really an open and shut case. The only dissenting voice was the one that Marsh had recorded of Poe, himself, coaxing the victims to their date with death. Unless we used it against him, there was no chance he would ever be linked to the murders.

  “I have only one more question. You said you had a couple of guys pay a visit to Leonard to dissuade him from dealing in...delicate areas that might get him into trouble. I assume that somehow he might have found out about Johnnie’s involvement with Wainright, and, more importantly, Hunter, and was about to apply pressure to them to extort money.”

  Poe gave me a long, noncommittal look. I thought he wasn’t going to answer at all, but eventually he responded. “That’s about right. Leonard was trying to involve himself in matters well above his capacities. He was a third-rate hustler. A loser with an anchor around his neck. I don’t know how he found out about Hunter’s involvement with Johnnie, but fortunately, he opened his mouth to some of his buddies and it got back to us. I never had a chance to talk to Johnnie about it, but I was doing it for her as much as Hunter.”

  And yourself, I thought. Then something he said hit me like a badly plucked guitar string. “You mentioned an anchor around Leonard’s neck. What does that mean?”

  “What else? That woman of his. She’d gotten pregnant. She was a dope head, a heavy pot user from what I’ve been told. Spacey, but crazy about Leonard, I guess. Hard to imagine what she saw in him. She was so much younger and not half bad looking, from the picture I saw.”

  I sat there mulling his words over in my mind for a few moments, trying to make sense of it.

  When it hit me, it struck with the force of a hammer blow.

  With a sickening feeling in the pit of my stomach, I suddenly knew what had happened to Johnnie.

  I didn’t want to be there anymore. I felt dirty and complicit. I needed a long, hot shower and a stiff drink before I faced what I needed to confront.

  “Can I go now?” I said, leveling my gaze at Poe.

  “Don’t you want to have it out with Angelique first?” Poe said with a straight face.

  “I’d like nothing more, but I have a feeling that our conception of ways and means might be totally contradictory.”

  Poe laughed for a little too long.

  “The only way you’ll avoid unpleasantness is by promising to give me the source recordings from Hunter’s cell phone. All of them, including any copies. I believe this is an unnecessary step as they pose no real threat. Nevertheless, I’d feel better were they not in your possession.”

  I agreed, and Angelique escorted me down the stairs, through the unbelievably opulent penthouse, and down a private elevator to the lobby of the Fairmont. Neither of us spoke a word. I had a feeling that we’d only postponed the inevitable and that a confrontation between us would happen sooner or later.

  Outside, I stood on the curb for a long time, ignoring the people and cars, the shouts and laughs, the whole damn noisy world swirling around me.

  Finally, knowing there was no way I could sleep or do anything else, I hailed a cab and gave him the address.

  Forty-One

  “Uncle Max,” Jen shouted from the dance floor. “Come dance with the bride.”

  I looked up from my plate of crab legs and roasted potatoes and found her waving at me. I watched her bounce and gyrate with her dad in a crowd of people in the cleared out family room. The band was playing a pretty fair rendition of Prince’s, “When Doves Cry.”

  Bo waved at me, too, and I waved back.

  Jen was as beautiful and young as her white dress.

  Eighteen, married, and radiant in her happiness.

  A magnificent and foolish young woman, but what the hell? Her new
hubby was a lucky bastard, and I hoped he realized it and treated her right. He’d better, or he’d have Bo—and me—to deal with.

  The kid, the groom, looked overmatched and clueless, but maybe there was more there than met the eye. The wedding at a nearby Catholic Church had been lovely, and Alexandra’s hand clutched mine with emotion a couple of times during the ceremony.

  “C’mon, Uncle Max!” She smiled and urged me over with a shimmy of her shoulders.

  I held up a hand and shouted back. “I will. Next dance.” I was sure that Bo was the one coaxing her to get me on the dance floor.

  Jen wagged her finger at me, pursed her lips in disapproval, and went back to her wild bouncing.

  Marsh and Tom, reunited for the moment, were sitting at my table. They looked resplendent in white tuxedos.

  Marsh had gotten over his anger with me, but he told me if I ever tried a stunt like confronting Poe without telling him again, he’d kill me himself.

  It was a little over a month since I’d left Maggie’s house, and a lot had happened.

  She’d been charged with two murders and was being held under a suicide watch in the county jail. California had no death penalty, but I thought that sooner or later she’d take her own life. What she’d done, what had been done to her, was soul destroying, and I doubted she had the resources to recover.

  Dr. Wainright had called me a week ago to tell me that his wife had passed away, and to thank me for not turning him in.

  I expressed my condolences while feeling ashamed of his thanks.

  The local media buzz about the murders of Hunter Davis and Katie had quieted some. Hunter’s wife was rumored to be at her villa in France, and no one seemed to know when or whether she’d ever return. The police investigation was ongoing, but no one expected anything to come of it.

  Poe’s casino had reported record profits, which meant record revenue for the city and county of San Francisco and the state of California.

  I’d visited Poe three weeks ago, making sure to set up a formal appointment with his people in advance. At that meeting, I gave him the audio recording from Hunter’s cell phone. He seemed as shocked as anyone to find out that Maggie had killed both Johnnie and Leonard.