‘I could use something.’
I looked at Abby.
‘I’ll just have more coffee,’ she said. ‘I’ve got to watch my figure.’
I looked at Danny, hoping he wouldn’t say, ‘We can do that.’ He didn’t.
‘Yeah, me, too,’ I said, and waved the waitress over. Danny ordered lunch. Abby and I drank coffee while he ate.
THIRTEEN
After Danny finished his lunch, Abby asked, ‘What about the money?’
‘How much do you have with you?’ I asked.
‘Five thousand,’ she said.
‘Give it to me.’
She opened her purse, which seemed just large enough to accommodate the white envelope she took out. She handed it to me and I could feel the thickness of the wad of cash inside.
‘Will it be enough?’ she asked.
‘We’ll see,’ I said. ‘If they’re not the photos we’re looking for, I won’t even make the deal.’
‘I would like . . . all the photos he has,’ she said, haltingly. ‘I mean, even just . . . modeling photos.’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘I’ll get whatever he brings with him.’
‘Thank you. I have to go, now. I’m supposed to meet Joey for some publicity for the show.’
I got up to let her out, and Danny got to his feet, as well.
‘We’ll talk later, Abby,’ I said.
‘Thank you, Eddie.’ She turned to Danny. ‘And thank you for your help, Mr Bardini.’
‘I’m happy to be of service, Miss Dalton.’
She smiled at him, and left the coffee shop.
After she left, Danny and I sat back down. I poured more coffee for each of us.
‘You’ll need back-up for this meet, tonight,’ Danny said.
‘He’s just a middle-aged photographer, Danny,’ I said. ‘I don’t think I’ll have any trouble.’
‘He might have some friends who aren’t so middle-aged.’
‘I’ll take Jerry.’
‘You said he told you not to bring Jerry,’ Danny pointed out. ‘Besides, he’s seen Jerry. He’s never seen me. I’ll get to the bar early and get myself a ringside seat.’
‘All right,’ I said. ‘Thanks.’
‘And keep Jerry away from there.’
‘I’ll tell him.’
‘Make sure he understands,’ Danny said. ‘You don’t need him rushing in and queering the deal.’
‘It’s a simple swap, Danny.’
‘I’ve seen many simple swaps go wrong, Eddie,’ Danny said, dead serious. ‘Believe me, you can’t be too careful.’
‘Yeah, OK,’ I said. ‘We’ll do it your way.’
‘For a change, you mean,’ he said.
‘Yeah,’ I agreed, ‘for a change.’
Together we walked out to the street. The sun was bright, and the day was busy already, valets running back and forth, parking customers’ cars. We watched women exit their automobiles in flashes of nylon and heels, men in suits and fedoras. People dressed to gamble in those days. Many of the women wore their Jackie Kennedy influences: dark glasses, shift dresses, pea coats. At night, when the sun went down, they’d put on white gloves, pearls, designer dresses and gowns from Cassini to Valentino to Givenchy just to attend the shows, and then gamble late into the night.
I didn’t usually get to rub shoulders with women like that, not while I was in the pit. When they played blackjack they had their men right next to them, guarding their women like possessions. Even the pros, who were on the arms of the men who had rented them, dressed the part.
Danny and me, we still had Brooklyn inside of us. We were more comfortable in some of the downtown casinos, where the people were more concerned with the actual gambling than with what they wore while they tossed the dice.
‘My car’s in the back,’ Danny said.
‘We could have gone out that way.’
‘I’ll walk around,’ he said. ‘I wanted to see some of the pretty people.’
‘Where will we meet after?’
‘Downtown,’ he said. ‘The Horseshoe. In the coffee shop.’
‘OK.’
He put his hand on my arm.
‘Don’t take this lightly, OK?’ he asked. ‘If Irwin’s a blackmailer, then he’s more than just a middle-aged photographer. And if . . . if you’re planning on breaking into his house, I don’t wanna know about it. Got it?’
I nodded, and watched Danny as he worked his way between the cars, and then rounded the corner. Despite what he said, I couldn’t help thinking Barney Irwin was just a wannabe Hugh Hefner, out for a fast buck or an even faster fuck.
I went back inside to find Jerry. I had to tell him I didn’t need him that night, and make him believe it.
FOURTEEN
The club on one side of Irwin’s house was called The Diamond Club. The other was called Foxy’s. The house was a rundown, one-story wood A-frame.
‘We better pull around back, Mr G.,’ Jerry said.
‘Go ahead.’
He whipped the Caddy around to the back and cut the engine. As we got out he looked at the two buildings.
‘No doors or windows on this side,’ he said. ‘Nobody’ll see us.’
‘You gonna pick the locks again?’
‘This cracker box?’ Jerry asked. ‘I’ll just slip the lock.’
He used a piece of celluloid to slip the lock and open the door. Nobody would ever be able to tell.
We were in the kitchen.
‘He’s got to have an office here,’ I said. ‘Maybe a darkroom in the basement.’
‘I’ll take the basement,’ Jerry said.
‘OK,’ I said, ‘I’ll snoop around up here.’
The living room was cheaply furnished; the linoleum had worn through to show the wood floor beneath it. The furniture was marked with cigarette burns, rings, scratches. I didn’t find an office or a desk on the first floor. As I got to the basement steps Jerry called up, ‘Hey, Mr G. You better get down here.’
I went down the steps, found Jerry standing among some file cabinets, trays of chemicals, and clotheslines for drying photos. There was a black light in the ceiling.
‘This is where he develops his photos,’ Jerry said. ‘And look here.’ He opened the top drawer of a file cabinet, reached inside and came out with a handful of photos. He spread them out on the table. They were all of nude, young girls who looked anywhere from sixteen to nineteen. Some of the pictures themselves were older than others.
‘The whole drawer?’ I asked.
‘Filled to the brim.’
‘Any of Abby?’
‘Not that I can see.’
‘We’ll have to go through them all,’ I said.
He shrugged and said, ‘OK with me.’
We started leafing through photos of skinny girls, full-bodied girls, tall, short, blondes, brunettes, redheads. Hundreds of photos, but none of Abby Dalton.
‘He’s got ’em,’ I said. ‘He’s got ’em with ’im.’
‘So he is gonna sell them to you tonight,’ Jerry said.
‘Maybe,’ I said. ‘I’ll find out when I see him.’
‘I’ll come along.’
‘He doesn’t want you there, Jerry,’ I said. ‘If he sees you, he might not show up.’
‘He won’t see me.’
‘Look, Jerry,’ I said, ‘Danny’s gonna be inside. Irwin’s never seen him.’
‘I’ll be outside, Mr G.,’ he said. ‘Irwin won’t catch on and neither will the dick. I won’t come in unless there’s shootin’.’
‘You didn’t bring a gun with you on this trip, did you?’
‘No,’ Jerry said, ‘but I can get one.’
‘Look, Jerry, I’ll tell you what I told Danny. This guy’s a middle-aged photographer, not a hard guy. There’s not gonna be any shooting.’
‘And I’ll bet I’m tellin’ you what the dick told you,’ Jerry said. ‘You never know what kind of a guy somebody is. Sometimes, you find out too late. So it’s better to be ready.�
�
‘He didn’t tell me that.’
‘Well, he should’ve.’
‘He told me a simple swap is not always a simple swap.’
‘He’s right about that.’
I looked down at the photos in my hand.
‘What do we do now?’ Jerry asked.
‘I don’t think we’re gonna find any photos of Abby here,’ I said, ‘but let’s keep looking, just in case.’
‘Fine by me.’
We spent a good hour searching the whole house. We found more nudes in a bedroom closet, in a cardboard box, but they were more than nude. They were porn, showing men and women engaged in many different types and positions of sexual activity.
‘Man, that’s gotta hurt,’ Jerry said, of one photo in particular.
‘These are not just photos,’ I said. ‘They look like stills.’
‘From blue movies, you mean?’
I nodded.
‘But this isn’t what we’re interested in. Let’s put ’em back and go back downstairs.’
On the way down I said, ‘I’m thinking we missed something in his studio.’
‘Maybe he just kept the pictures of Miss Dalton all someplace else,’ Jerry said. ‘Maybe he’s really gonna give ’em all to you tonight.’
‘You believe that?’
‘No. Blackmailers are the worst. They’re never satisfied.’
‘We’ve got to satisfy this one, Jerry.’
‘I’m ready, Mr G.,’ Jerry said. ‘I love squeezin’ blackmailers.’
‘Well, let me talk to him tonight, and then we’ll see about squeezin’ him.’
‘With me outside and the dick inside, we gotcha covered.’
‘I know,’ I said. ‘I appreciate it.’
‘We gotta clean up here.’ We were in the basement again, the nude photos still spread out on a table. ‘Or he’ll know we was here.’
‘No,’ I said.
‘What?’
‘I want to take all these with us.’
‘All of ’em?’
‘Oh, yeah,’ I said. ‘If he’s plannin’ to blackmail anybody else, I want to throw a monkey wrench into the works.’
Jerry went back to the file drawer and looked inside.
‘We got negatives here, Mr G.’
‘Good,’ I said. ‘We’ll take all the copies, and the negatives.’
‘Then he’ll really know we was here.’
‘He’ll know somebody was here,’ I said. ‘He won’t be able to prove it was us.’
‘OK,’ Jerry said. ‘You’re the boss.’
We found some brown envelopes, stuffed them full of photos and negatives, then went out the back door to the Caddy.
Jerry looked around as he got behind the wheel.
‘I don’t think anyone saw us, or the car,’ I commented.
‘Unless somebody came out of the clubs to get a blowjob behind the building.’
I looked over at the parking lots of both clubs as we pulled out. Only a few cars, probably belonging to employees.
‘I think we’re in the clear,’ I said, with more confidence than I felt.
‘Don’t worry, Mr G.,’ Jerry said. ‘Even if somebody saw the car we can just say we were lookin’ for Irwin.’
‘For over an hour?’
Jerry shrugged. ‘So we decided to wait a while to see if he came home.’
‘That sounds plausible.’
‘It’s all plausible,’ Jerry said, ‘just as long as when you lie, you stick to it.’
FIFTEEN
I walked into Clipper’s just before six. I wondered why Irwin had picked this place. One of the strip clubs near his house might have been better for him.
I saw him first, didn’t spot Danny right away, but then saw him sitting at the very end of the bar. Beyond him I could see the foyer with pay phones, and restrooms. I don’t even know how I missed him. He was wearing a Hawaiian shirt, with vivid yellows, oranges and reds. But I figured he must know what he was doing, because I did miss him, at first.
Clipper’s was a typical neighborhood joint, the same as in Brooklyn, LA, or Vegas. A worn bar, chafed wooden floors, the smell of booze, smoke and sweat. The locals would all turn whenever the door opened, greet regulars or stare at strangers for a few moments before turning back to their drinks.
Danny saw me, played it so relaxed he almost looked sleepy.
Irwin spotted me and jerked his head. He got up from the bar with a beer and walked to a booth. I got a beer from the bartender, and joined him. His clothes were still glaring. I mean, who ever wears white shoes? Except Pat Boone.
‘I put this on your tab,’ I told him, sitting.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ he said, sourly. He was wearing a short-sleeved, button-down shirt, and I could smell that he didn’t use deodorant. It was hot, but it was more sweat from nerves than from heat.
‘You got something for me?’ I asked.
He looked around the place, then raised his hand. The bartender came out from behind the bar carrying a brown envelope that looked like it had been used as a coaster.
Irwin put the envelope on the table and slid it across to me.
‘This is what you want,’ he said.
I pushed my beer aside and opened the envelope. We were out of sight in the booth so I pulled the contents out. Photos and negatives. I put the negatives back into the envelope. The photos were all eight by tens of a young Abby Dalton. They were cheesecake, mostly bathing-suit shots, all one piece, but revealing. I stuffed them back into the envelope, pushed it aside and grabbed my beer.
‘Not what I wanted, Barney,’ I said.
‘Whataya mean?’ he asked. ‘Those are the pictures I got of the kid.’
‘None of these are nudes.’
‘I don’t do—’
‘You forget what you were doing when we walked in on you yesterday?’ I asked.
‘That was – I didn’t used to do that back then,’ he said. ‘Things is tough, so I’m doin’ it now.’
‘I don’t buy it,’ I said. ‘You expect me to believe you had a dish like Abby Dalton in front of your lens and you didn‘t try to get her naked?’
‘I didn’t say I didn’t try,’ he said. ‘I tried like hell, but she wouldn’t go for it. She had too much class.’
Abby had all but admitted to me that there were nude photos. A teenager anxious for fame can be forgiven for a lapse in judgment, no matter how classy she actually was.
‘Barney—’
‘I’m tellin’ ya,’ he said, spreading his hands, ‘I got no nudes of her. If I did I’d sell ’em to ya, and not cheap.’
If he had them, they were well hidden, but for Abby’s benefit I couldn’t take his word for it. I was probably going to have to let Jerry squeeze him.
‘All right,’ I put my hand on the envelope, ‘I’ll give you a thousand dollars for these.’
‘You gotta be kiddin’ me,’ he said, scoffing. ‘These shots are worth more than a thousand bucks if I wanna shop ’em around.’
‘Then why haven’t you shopped them?’
‘I was waitin’.’
‘For what?’
‘I figured maybe the kid would become a movie star,’ he said. ‘They’d be worth more then.’
‘Fifteen hundred,’ I said.
Irwin smiled then.
‘She wants ’em, huh?’ he asked. ‘She told you to buy ’em, even if they weren’t nudies.’
I didn’t answer.
‘Ten grand,’ he said. ‘Take it or leave it.’
I thought I could get him down to the five she gave me, and was still convinced he had nudes. If I was going to give Jerry his chance to squeeze Irwin, this was it.
‘OK,’ I said.
‘You got it with you?’ His eyes glittered.
‘No, she didn’t give me that much.’
‘How much did she give you?’
‘Never mind,’ I said. ‘You want ten grand, I’ll get you ten grand.’
‘When?’
; ‘Tomorrow.’
‘Meet me here.’
‘I don’t like it here,’ I said, looking around.
‘Why not?’ he asked. ‘What’s wrong with this place?’
‘The beer sucks.’ He looked at my mug, which I hadn’t even lifted yet. ‘I’ll call you at your studio tomorrow and tell you where.’
‘Oh, no,’ he said, ‘I pick the place.’
‘If you want ten grand,’ I said, ‘then I pick it.’
He thought about that a moment, then reached out, put his hand on the envelope and slid it back to his side of the table.
‘Yeah, OK, call me. But when we meet, you better have the dough with you.’
‘I’ll have it.’
‘Ten thousand.’
‘That’s what we just said.’
‘OK,’ he said, sliding out of the booth. ‘Call me, or these might find a new home.’ He fanned himself with the envelope.
‘Barney,’ I said, ‘don’t make me regret being nice to you.’
SIXTEEN
Outside of Clipper’s, I looked for Jerry, but if he was there he was better at blending in than Danny was.
Speak of the devil, Danny came walking out of the bar. I headed for my car, got behind the wheel and waited for him to join me.
‘That’s a great disguise,’ I said, when he slid into the passenger seat. ‘Why didn’t you shoot off some flares, while you were at it?’
‘See,’ he said, ‘this is why I’m the pro and you’re the pit boss. When people see a shirt like this, they rarely look at your face. Admit it, when you walked in you didn’t see me right away.’
‘Never mind that,’ I said. ‘He didn’t have the right photos.’
‘I noticed you let him keep the envelope.’
‘We made a deal for ten grand,’ I said. ‘I’m supposed to meet with him tomorrow.’
‘Where?’
‘I haven’t decided,’ I said. ‘Someplace . . . quiet.’
‘Quiet?’
‘Yeah, I’m going to have Jerry with me,’ I said. ‘I think I might let him ask Irwin about the photos one more time.’
‘Ask?’
‘Ask.’
‘Ah,’ Danny said, ‘someplace quiet.’
‘Yes.’
‘Maybe I can come up with something. You think Irwin will show?’
It Was a Very Bad Year Page 5