by R. A. McGee
“Never is a long time,” Porter said. “I think I have a way to talk to Hector and maybe do a little good for the Acres at the same time.”
“You were always good at coming up with a plan. Following through, not so much sometimes.”
The comment stung, and Porter let it hang in the air for a few moments.
Trish continued. “So here’s the thing about your arm: I wasn’t joking. It will get infected. You need to do something about it.”
“Can’t you give me something for it? A course of antibiotics or something?” Porter said.
“The prescriptions I write have to be under the supervision of a doctor. I can’t just give you something here; I’m not a pharmacy. You really aren’t going to a doctor?”
“I don’t have time right now, Trish, but I don’t want to get gangrene either, so…” Porter said, and looked at her with mock expectancy.
“I figured as much. I’ll call a doctor at the hospital and ask them to call you in a script for a good antibiotic. Then you go to the pharmacy and get it. Deal?”
“I think that’s fair.”
“Later, when you magically find a good time, go to the doctor.”
“I will.”
Trisha didn’t push the issue any further. “I’ll have the doctor send the prescription to the Walgreens by your house.”
“I moved a while back. I’m not on Leafwood anymore.”
“You moved?” Trisha said. “I… I didn’t know. How long ago did that happen?”
“It’s been a year,” Porter said. “I’m in Town and Country. I bought a little house.”
“That’s really great, Telly. I’m glad you have something that’s yours now. I guess it just surprised me that you moved.”
“I wasn’t going to call you to help me with my couch,” Porter said.
“Maybe you should have. I’m very strong,” Trisha said, flexing her biceps.
They both had a laugh and Porter got up from the couch, heading towards the front door. “Thanks for helping me out, Trish. I was going to have a bad day if I didn’t get this arm taken care of.”
“What else could I do? You’re too dumb to get medical help.”
“I did get medical help,” Porter said with a smile.
“You know what I mean. Where are you going now?”
“Simple. I’m going to talk to Hector Quintana and then I’ll go from there.”
“That doesn’t sound easy,” Trisha said.
“I said it was simple, not easy. But I have a few ideas.”
“You always do,” Trisha said.
At the front door, Porter twisted the knob to leave, but before he stepped over the threshold he turned back to Trisha. “I’m not sure what we’re supposed to do right now. Shake hands? A brisk wave?”
Trisha reached up to him and gave him a hug. Porter hugged back. It wasn’t long or intimate, but it was enough. She smelled like Ralph Lauren perfume, the one that came in the blue bottle.
It had been worth getting shot.
“Don’t get yourself killed,” Trisha said. “My mother would be devastated. She still likes you.”
“Just your mother?”
“Goodbye, Telly-Porter,” Trisha said as she shut the door.
Porter looked at the door for a second and smiled. He turned and walked to his truck, hopped in, and fired it up. By now the sun was up and the temperature was rising. Porter let the truck run for a few minutes, then threw it in reverse and navigated the streets out. After a few minutes winding past houses and playgrounds, he found himself on the main drag that would take him back to the highway. He rolled the windows down in the Yukon to get some fresh air. Then he reached into his ashtray and grabbed the piece of paper with Ashley the pizza girl’s phone number. Porter looked at it for a second, then crumpled it up and threw it out the window.
Thirty-One
As he was rolling around what he’d talked about with Trish, Porter’s phone rang. He plugged his phone into the auxiliary jack and let the call come through his speakers.
“Yeah.”
“What’s going on, you big bald stud of a man?”
“I told you, it’s shaved. I’m not bald. There’s a difference. A guy with your hairline should know that.”
“It’s called a widow’s peak, asshole. I’m not losing my hair,” Ruas said.
“Sure thing, brother. I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about. Kelly told me a long time ago that she would love you no matter what. She meant if you got shot and ended up in a wheelchair or something, but I’m sure that applies to scenarios in which you start looking like a chubby Bruce Willis.”
“I’m big-boned,” Ruas said, laughing.
“Like a dinosaur bone. What’s up?”
“Christina Rivera got with me this morning asking for as much info about the Acres as I had. She said it was for you. I’m gonna give her what I got, that work for you?”
“Sure. I’ll meet up with her and take a look,” Porter said.
“You two working together?”
“Just following up that cold case I called you about. I’m sure it’s nothing,” Porter lied. “I’m trying to tie up a few loose ends as a favor to a family friend.”
“Good luck with that.”
“Should I be expecting problems?” Porter said.
“With the guys from the Acres? Probably not; I know how you are. I’m not so sure about Rivera.”
“Dime lo,” Porter said.
“I didn’t really remember who she was last time you called, so I asked around. My buddy that used to work with her says she’s a snitch. She ratted out some guys for sexual harassment and there was a big lawsuit. That’s how she got stuck on the shit job she has now. I don’t know about her one way or the other, but I figured I’d let you know.”
“Thanks for the heads up, brother,” Porter said.
“Anytime. And Porter? If you need something else, you call me yourself next time. I’d rather hear from you than Rivera,” Ruas said, and hung up the phone.
There was no reason for Porter to go home. It would be in shambles after the events of the last night and Rivera would be calling him soon to go over the new information. Ross’s office was close to hers.
Porter got off the highway and zig-zagged his way through the surface streets to Westshore and Ross’s building. He parked and walked across the lot and into the lobby of Ross’s building. Smitty was at his usual place by the door.
“Morning, Smitty.”
“Mr. Porter. How are you, young man?”
“I’ve been better, Smitty.”
“Not sure why; you look pretty good to me. Mr. Gianullo didn’t tell me you were coming by.”
“It’s a surprise.”
“No problem, Mr. Porter. Let me call up there and make sure you can go up.” Smitty picked up a generic black phone and dialed some numbers.
Porter had been coming to this building for years. Ross had never turned him away. Smitty knew Porter and Ross had been best friends since childhood—and still, Smitty did his job. Porter respected that.
“Just spoke with the nice young lady that runs Mr. Gianullo’s office. She said he’s with a client but that their meeting is over in about ten minutes. She said you can come on up.”
“To be honest, I’d rather stay down here and wait with you.”
Smitty smiled. “I can’t help but notice you got that big bandage on your arm. Get in an accident?”
“I got shot last night.” Porter wouldn’t have told many people, but he liked Smitty, and knew he would understand because of his background. “I’m not a big fan of getting shot.”
“Me either. I got hit a few times, but mine were always in a jungle. How’d you manage in the States?”
“It’s a long story, Smitty, and I know I’m going to tell it all to Ross when I get upstairs. I’d rather hear about you in the jungle.”
Smitty looked surprised that anyone wanted to hear a story of his. Porter knew most people treated a guy like Smitty like the help. That
was a shame, because old school guys like Smitty had the best stories.
“I got a quick one for you. In Vietnam, back when things first kicked off for us over there, I was part of a small team of people that did reconnaissance.”
“Recce work?”
“Yes, sir. That’s even what they called us—Recon. We worked in small groups, sometimes by ourselves. Hell, who am I kidding, it was mostly by ourselves.”
Porter leaned forward on the counter.
“I was out by myself for two weeks. I’d run across a few guys, but no big groups or anything.”
Porter knew what Smitty meant by ‘run across’ a few guys.
“I was creepin’ along and felt like someone hit my hip with a baseball bat. It hurt so bad I almost passed out. Thank God I didn’t, because they would’ve found me.”
“Viet Cong?”
“Yeah, Charlie. I ran into one of their patrols. They were shooting at something else and I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. So I’m all by myself with this shot-up leg and I pull myself down a river embankment to be as quiet as possible.”
“Sounds scary as hell,” Porter said.
“It damn sure was. I’m down there and I hear a few more shots, then this little guy comes diving down the same embankment I’m hiding under. I went for my knife, to make sure he didn’t kill me, but when he saw me, he dropped his rifle and put his hands up.”
“Why was he scared? He had a whole patrol with him.”
“He wasn’t with those other guys. Later, once I got him to a translator, we learned he was a defector. He was trying to get south so he could turn himself over to the US. The shots I’d heard earlier were the patrol shooting at this guy. He didn’t know I was hiding; he was just trying to get away.”
“That’s crazy.”
“You’re telling me. I didn’t know what he wanted or who he was. Once I knew he wasn’t gonna kill me, I figured I had a better chance with him than without him, especially since he knew the area better than I did,” Smitty said.
“So what happened?”
“We hid there for a little while. Then it was quiet, so we decided to get moving. We avoided the patrol for a few hours, but eventually they found us. And when they did, I was real glad I wasn’t by myself. The little guy was a great shot with his rifle,” Smitty said.
“Things worked out?”
“Only downside was I got shot again,” Smitty said.
“It’s like you’re a bullet magnet. Or the unluckiest guy ever.”
Smitty shook his head. “No, Mr. Porter, I’m plenty lucky. Some of my guys never made it back, and all I got was this little limp out of the deal. I think that’s fair.”
Porter nodded. “You both made it?”
“Sure did. Me and that little fella made our way back to our base. The other guys looked at me like I was crazy for bringing Charlie to our house, but I knew he was okay. I never saw him after that. I went to the medic and then they shipped me to a hospital in Germany for a few months. By the time I got back to the jungle, the little guy was long gone. They told me they debriefed him and then helped relocate him to a safe place. I’m just glad I ran into him when I did.”
“No regrets?”
“Not a one,” Smitty said. “I’m sure it’s been ten minutes, Mr. Porter; you should head up. Thanks for letting an old-timer bore you for a while.”
“You didn’t bore me at all, Smitty. In fact, you gave me an idea.”
Porter shook a confused Smitty’s hand and headed to the elevator.
He stepped onto the elevator and rode it up to Ross’s floor. He almost missed getting off, he was so lost in thought. Porter stuck his hand in the closing doors at the last second, and the sensor forced them back open and he got out. He walked into Ross’s suite. “Hey, Tess.”
“Ross’s clients just left. You can go in if you—what happened to your arm?”
“A roving band of ninjas. Those ninja stars are nasty business.”
Tessa giggled. “You’re so stupid. Ross told me what you were doing about the little girl. I hope you find her.”
“Me too, Tess,” Porter said. He realized something when he said it: It was the first time he had allowed himself to hope that Danny wasn’t dead and in a shallow grave somewhere. He didn’t like that development, because he knew what hope got you in a situation like this. “Has he eaten yet?”
“I’m already on it. When Smitty called up a few minutes ago, I ordered you guys some food. It should be here in a little bit.”
“I swear Ross doesn’t deserve you. You know that, right? Is he paying you enough? When’s the last time you got a raise?” Porter said, raising his eyebrows at her.
“He’s too cheap for a raise, Porter. Don’t even tease me.”
“Well, he should pay you more. I’m gonna talk to him and get this straightened out.”
“You do that,” Tessa said. “Let me know how it goes.”
Porter headed to the big door that marked Ross’s office and walked right in.
“When are you going to marry that girl, Ross?”
Ross was sitting behind his large desk, flipping through some papers. “What the hell are you talking about? Are you drunk or something?”
“I’m talking about that girl out front. The one that makes this place run. The one that just ordered us lunch without being asked to. The one I know you grossly underpay. You know she isn’t working here because of the ambiance. You should ask her out,” Porter said.
“You want to reward her for her hard work by having me hit on her?”
“Good point,” Porter said. “That’s more like a punishment. Could you imagine going out with you? Disregard, forget I said anything.”
“I know you didn’t come all the way over here to talk about my love life. What happened with Rivera yesterday? Why did Steven Ajo call me about a new payment to his firm? And what the hell is wrong with your arm?”
“That’s way too many questions.”
“Don’t make me drag this out of you, Porter.”
“I’ll tell you everything. But I have to wait for something first,” Porter said.
“What?”
He propped his foot up on a chair in front of Ross’s desk.
“You could at least take your foot down. That’s real leather.”
Porter didn’t say anything. Ross looked down at his desk and went back to his papers. Neither of them spoke for five minutes. Then there was a knock at the office door and Tessa came in with a big bag of Greek food.
“Thanks, T,” Ross said as Tessa left the room and shut the door behind her. “You ready to talk yet?”
“Nope,” Porter said. He reached across Ross’s desk, grabbed the bag of food, and walked out of Ross’s office, leaving the door open behind him. Ross looked exasperated, but dutifully got up and followed him.
Porter walked all the way down the main hallway, waving at an amused Tessa as he passed, and turned into the conference room. Setting the bag on the table, Porter moved around to the windows and twisted the blinds open, then pulled the cord that pulled them out of the way. Danny’s picture was staring back at him.
Thirty-Two
Ross stepped into the conference room and looked at Porter.
“I needed a little reminder of why I got shot last night,” Porter said.
“You got shot last night?”
Porter told Ross everything.
Ross was silent the entire time. When Porter finished, the first question Ross asked was, “How was Trisha?”
“I tell you I almost died last night and the only thing you can say is ‘How’s Trisha?’ Not ‘Hey, Porter, sorry I dragged you into this’ or ‘I guess I know what you mean by blowback now’?”
“Getting shot is good for you, don’t be a bitch,” Ross said with a grim smile. “Seriously, though, how was Trisha?”
Porter held his gyro with one hand and searched for the right way to answer to Ross’s question. “She’s… good.”
“Good? That’
s it? You haven’t seen her in over a year and all you can say is ‘good’? How did she look?”
“Great.”
“Now you’re just being obtuse.” Ross stared at Porter.
Porter was quiet for a few moments. “She’s a brunette now, and I liked the way she looked. She was wearing some old perfume I used to buy her, and she smelled like the good times. I didn’t know seeing her would be so weird, but it was. Like there’s a puzzle I look at on my kitchen table every day, but today I noticed there’s a piece missing from it. I’m not sure where the piece is or if I can get it back into the puzzle.” Porter stopped talking and took a bite of his gyro.
Ross didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to disturb the moment.
“It’s just… I don’t understand it. We’ve been split up a long time and I didn’t think it would make me feel like this to see her again.”
“You went to her place on purpose,” Ross said. “You could have gone to the hospital.”
Porter didn’t say anything.
“What were you expecting to happen?” Ross said.
“I wanted to see her, but I didn’t want to miss her.”
They said nothing as they finished their food. When he finished his gyro, Porter picked at the pastitsio, pulling chunks of feta out to eat.
“I have two questions. What are you going to do, and how can I help?” Ross said.
Porter looked over at him. “I’ve got plans for Hector and his buddies. It’s not going to be pretty. You aren’t going to help me. We talked about this.”
“We talked about this, but I’m not going to listen to you this time. I don’t want to swell your head up, but this is my fault. I’ll admit it. I should have never dragged you into this. You told me you didn’t want to work too close to home and I begged you to do it. Now, because you did me a favor, you got shot, your house is a crime scene, and you had to kill a couple of guys. I can’t even imagine how that feels. I’m sorry for that, I truly am. I can own that.”
Porter watched Ross as he delivered his speech, and knew he felt genuinely bad about the situation Porter was in.
“But I think the worst thing about it, and I mean the absolute worst thing, is that seeing Trisha turned you into a little bitch.” Ross erupted with laughter.