by Pro Se Press
I can’t say the same for the boys from The Outfit, or the drone whose face I’d remodeled. The beauty of beating on criminals is that they can’t complain.
When we arrived at Center Street, much to my surprise, the little Karman Ghia was toward the low end of the block, and my ride was in the driveway at 321. Parked neat like it was used to being there.
“See that Ghia down there, it’s the one that flirted with me earlier,” I said slowly.
“Well let’s see what I can shake out of that little ashtray,” Jones growled through a smug grin.
“Have fun. I’m getting in my ride and going home,” I reached for the escape hatch.
“What about your cupcake?” Jones sober tone was almost enough to send me over the edge.
“I’m going on a diet starting right now.”
I had no more than stepped out of the cruiser and shut the door when that Ghia took flight. The second I stepped away Jones took up the chase. He was right. Maisey had it where it counted.
There were no lights on in the little shotgun house, so I went to my ride and tried the door. To my surprise, it was unlocked. I’m no dumbass, and I was on edge anyway, so I drew my gun and made a fast check of the back seat before I got in the car.
Nothing.
Why did I have the sneaking suspicion that I was missing something very important?
I sat down into the driver’s seat and pulled the door closed. Out of habit, I felt my pocket for the keys. When they weren’t there, I reached for the ignition, and was relieved to find them hanging there. Odd, like maybe she’d been planning to just run into the house and come right back.
I turned on the interior light and looked around. I was considering checking under the hood and opening the boot, when the stupidity of it started to give me the willies.
I turned the key and dropped it into reverse as soon as it fired up. I backed out of the driveway and slipped the transmission into drive. Just as I was about to put pedal to metal, Candi was there. Where’d she come from? Why didn’t I run her over and save myself the trouble? Why’d I stop and unlock the door? I have no idea.
She just stood there in the road with a large red duffle bag hung on her shoulder, cradling it like it was weighing her down. She looked lost and terrified.
She got in and I hit the gas.
“I ought to run you downtown for taking my car.”
She gave me those brown eyes. “I really am sorry, can you please just drop me off at the bus station?”
I was steamed and she wasn’t getting off that easy. “Nope, I got questions, and I’m going to get answers. Way I figger it so far is one of your bosses got to you right after I left White Walls, and you told them something to get ‘em off your back. Or you promised to deliver up the cop that rousted the joint.”
She hit me with the brown headlights. This time they were wet, and pulling my heart-strings again. I wanted to backhand her right in the mouth.
“Take me someplace safe, and I’ll tell you anything you want to know.”
I was getting to the end of my rope with her. I had no doubt she’d tell me anything I wanted to hear just to drag out the chance of my sympathetic participation in her game, whatever it was. I knew I should have pulled over and set her sexy little can out on the curb, like this week’s garbage, but I couldn’t. Not until she was square with the house again, but her tab just kept running up.
I was wrestling with what to do with her like playing beach blanket bingo with a squid. Should I wash my hands of her? Turn her in? For what, taking my car? Taking me for a ride? So far, all I had her for was having my number, which aside from pissing me off, wasn’t really a crime.
“I know I’m going to regret this, but I’m taking you to my place.”
“You got any food? I’m hungry.” she was soft voiced and pathetic, like she really meant it.
I’m a bachelor. I mostly eat out and don’t keep much on hand. I knew the only food at my place was a half-eaten sub from Shifty’s, and a couple of day old doughnuts.
“Since I been with you, I’ve gotten bad service at every dive in this burg save one.”
I should have thought of this before, but like I said—I’m a bit slow sometimes, especially where very pretty girls are concerned.
I drove into Pleasant Hill, thinking about her. I was saved by the small glowing sign that said, “Billy Goat’s Tavern.” I slowed the car and turned into the lot. I parked in the back, so nobody driving by could see my ride.
I got out of the car and Candi did likewise. She brought that big damned duffle bag, and she was struggling with its weight.
“You can leave that here, unless you’re planning to scat again.” I said it slow, and kind of mean, but I wasn’t putting it past her.
“I’d rather hold on to it.” She gave me her sexy smile and batted her eyes.
“I’d rather you didn’t.” I took the bag off her shoulder and was stunned by the weight. It was fifty, maybe sixty pounds easy.
“Damn, what’s in here—a body?”
She gave me a smug little smile, “Nope, about four million dollars.”
I laughed. I knew she was putting me on. How could she not be? She was a bar maid from Pleasant Hill.
“It’ll be safe in here.” I unlocked the boot and dropped the bag in.
Now that I think about it, the bag didn’t roll or settle, and it wasn’t soft. I should have unzipped it and took a look inside. Damn.
I shut the boot and we went inside.
“Boy, don’t you know we about give you up for dead?” Billy croaked as I came through the door.
I gave him the nod, affectionate condemnation was just his way. Billy was my Aunt Hazel’s second husband. He was mean and coarse on the surface, but if anybody ever tried to hurt Hazel, he’d carve his name in their gizzard. A lot of Marines left something in Korea. Billy left the warm fuzzy part.
“You better brace up; Hazel’s gonna mother the hell out of you,” he growled, giving me the eye. Then he noticed Candi standing beside me. She wasn’t exactly hiding, but she was going out of her way to be inconspicuous. When his eyes fell on her, a little fire started to burn behind them, and he mapped out every inch of her.
I knew what was coming, and there is no way to shut him up once he gets started. Luckily, Hazel walked in from the kitchen just as he was getting warmed up.
“Looky here what a fine little split tail you brung to see your Uncle Billy.” The heat started to run up the back of my neck, and Candi was blushing like a beet in spite of herself.
“Don’t mind him, honey. If he had any sense I’d let him out more often,” Hazel hissed at Billy, and shot him a look that would have killed a lesser man.
“It’s quite all right. I get worse than that all the time. You do when you work in a bar,” Candi said in a no nonsense sort of way; serious enough to let everyone know that pretty didn’t mean fragile by any means.
“This is Candace, a friend I met earlier today. We’d like to have something to eat before I take her home.” I didn’t lie, but the whole truth was neither pretty, nor anyone’s business. I was about to grab Candi by the arm and steer her toward the back, when to my surprise she took me by the hand and smiled at Hazel in some girly espionage sort of way. Hazel began to glow, and I could swear I heard an organ.
“Do you have anything in a quiet little corner?”
“There’s nobody in the party room,” Hazel said through a girlish grin I hadn’t seen in years. Uncle Billy may have never seen it, because her sudden swell was visually agitating him, which was almost funny in a pathetic sort of way.
“Take me to the party room,” Candi simpered, giving me the eye and turning her wiles up on high.
I led her through the barroom and into the small party room in the rear left corner of the building. We sat in the farthest corner. I had my back to the wall facing the door. Candi tried to sit beside me, but I checked the chair and directed her to sit across the table where I could keep an eye on her.
“Look you might have my aunt snowed, but you and I both know this ain’t no social call. You owe me some answers, and I want the truth. I’m not so sure what you’re into, but right now it ain’t lookin’ too good.”
I was expecting some lip, but she looked me in the eye and didn’t talk. She was giving me her full attention and I was glad. It had already been a long night, and it wasn’t even late.
When Hazel came in a minute later, we ordered steaks and potatoes. Candi ordered a glass of wine, and I ordered coffee, Black.
Hazel also sold us on a Buckeye Brownie, a sinful concoction for couples (which me and Candi weren’t) consisting of a warm brownie, 2 scoops of vanilla ice cream with hot fudge, peanut butter, caramel, whipped cream, nuts, and cherries served on one plate with two spoons. She calls it a couple’s dessert. The idea being like a milkshake with two straws, only for people who are really into each other.
“By now, I’m sure you don’t want to hear anything I have to say,” she took the words right out of my mouth, “but you have to understand, I’ve tried to stay out of the mess The Outfit runs in Pleasant Hill, but now things have gotten to the point where I need to get out.”
I nodded. My eyes never left her and she seemed to age right in front of me. She relaxed a little when she realized I was listening and she started to unfold.
“You’re right not to trust me. Those guys think I’ve told you about their rackets. Either way, numbers or protection, or talking about the way they shake down a joint by butting into the business. The worst though is when they strip all the cash out, and then run up the debts on the owner before they torch the place. That’s if you cooperate. Otherwise, they just outright kill you.” Her tone was grave, and she looked a little pale.
This was all sounding pretty large for a barmaid from the hill, and I was only giving her partial credit until the next—
“So why haven’t they killed you yet?” I just laid it out there. Admittedly, I was just trying to bait her into another round of tears.
“They can’t. Like Antonio told you, I got something that they like more than hurting people who are too afraid to say no.”
Even a brick of ballistic goop like me knows that the only thing the mob likes more than blood is money made off of strong-arming people who worked hard to get it.
“Money?” I asked for the sake of rhetoric, whoever the hell he is. I already knew, and she knew I knew.
She smiled and nodded. “A lot of money. The kind of cash that can get you killed.”
“How much is that?” Like I said, I’m not real smart when it comes to committing crimes.
She gave me a look, like I’m over cooking her grits. “I already told you, about four million dollars.”
I was just floored, thinking about all the arbitrary stuff people say; raining cats & dogs, penny for your thoughts, rob Peter to pay Paul, and it takes a barmaid to bag the big bucks.
“Was that really in your duffle bag?” I knew she was gonna say yes, I just knew it.
She gave me her big brown eyes again, and nodded.
Sometimes I hate being right.
“Yes, I told you that already.” She was working those eyes again, and it was getting on my nerves, bad.
“You know these aren’t the kind of people who go to the police?” I knew she knew, but I had to say so.
A few minutes later Hazel brought our food. She sat a glass of red wine on the table in front of Candi, and left a mug of black coffee for me.
“You might just want to leave me the pot,” I said to Hazel, who grinned at Candi like they were setting me up for something. A few minutes later, she returned with the pot and a second glass of wine for Candi.
The nutty aroma of the steaming mug was more enticing than that of the slab of meat and baked potato, never mind the salad. I took a sip of it and felt rejuvenated. I downed half the cup. The night was getting long in the tooth, and I wasn’t up for any more funny business.
“So what’s your angle with The Outfit? I know you gave me the song and dance about your dear sainted mother, but I’m not buyin’. Give me the beans, or I’ll drive you down to the brewery district and kick your ass out of the car and scram, but not before I dump your ill-gotten gains all over Delapina’s playground.”
She recoiled as if I’d offended her. I knew better, but I didn’t let on. She was a regular Red Skelton—a broad of a thousand faces, and the one she was giving me now had poker written all over it. The subtle way that she went from pouty, to jinxy-minxy was sort of sensually deceptive in its way. She wasn’t any too happy that I was on to her.
“Look, I’m here to get and you’re here to give answers. Another way to play your angle is that I have probable cause to believe that you’ve robbed the owner of White Walls.”
She gulped hard, “That’s what the other policeman said.”
Now it was my turn to sit like an ape with egg on my face. Well no harm in asking, “What other policeman?”
“A detective named Johnny Rosales,” she said firmly. “He said he was from the protection squad.”
I couldn’t believe she’d be so easily fooled by a racket that had been in the papers, on TV, and the radio. It takes one crook to get one over on another.
“Oh yeah, well what did ‘Detective’ Rosales have to say about it?”
“He told me that the cops felt that a crook like Angelo Delapina, or Joey Catanza getting pinched really wasn’t a crime.”
“I can’t say I don’t agree, but I’m surprised you were reeled in by that rat. Johnny Rosales is a twice-pinched nickel bag dealer and wanna be hit man, nothing more. He’s walking around because we can’t hang anything on him right now, but if you’d be so kind as to tell me who was in that back room, and what really happened to Bull McCaffrey, I’d gladly go pick him up.”
She was about to dispute, I knew it, and I could almost guess what was coming next.
“Well he had a badge and I.D.” She was confident in her argument.
“You know how many fake I.D.’s I see every day?”
“Not as many as I do. Remember, I work in a bar in a college town.”
She had a point, at face value, but White Walls was not trendy enough for the college set. It was mostly blue collar, with a few upper middle class regulars, but not many.
“Oh yeah, tell me about the I.D.” I was about to tear into her, but the aroma of my steak reached up and got me by the eyeballs. I turned to the steak and went after it like I was mad at it. The potato was merely collateral damage. I ate, she ate, and we sat in silence. There had been an unspoken truce declared. Well maybe call it a cease-fire.
When I’d finished, I downed the rest of my coffee. I didn’t mention it, but I was very doubtful that I’d be able to wring the truth out of her about the money, or anything else. I gotta say though, it was a real pleasure to watch her eat, and not talk.
“Take me to your place,” she said, as soon as she finished eating.
I’d been finished for a few minutes, and I was on my third cup of Joe. Hazel came around, asking if we wanted that Buckeye Brownie. I passed, and Candi just gave her a demure, girly smile and Hazel left with the impression that we’d be having dessert later.
I gotta say that Candi was one hot ankle. I’d have been all over her if she wasn’t such a minx.
So after a palaverous hugging from Hazel, and a semi-meaningful molestation from Billy, who got a very chesty hug from Candi, we were on our way. I made note of her moving his roving hand from her very shapely backside to her waist no less than three times.
When we got to the car, I unlocked my door and I was about to get in, when I noticed Candi standing by the back bumper.
“Can I have my bag please?” She was subdued and very cordial. I was beginning to wonder if being felt up by an old shell-shocked marine hadn’t had an effect.
“If I’d known all it would take to make you compliant was having your ass grabbed by an old man.”
She didn’t say a word, only nodded, and didn�
��t make eye contact. I went to the back of the car and opened the boot. There, just as we’d left it, was the duffle bag. I dunno if it really contained the four million like she said it did, but somebody would. I grabbed the heavy thing and dropped it into her outstretched arms. She hefted its weight and smiled. We got in the car and I started it up.
“You sure you want to go to my place? I mean you been steadily avoiding telling me the truth ever since I entered that gin palace this morning. I’d hate for you to break your streak.”
“Ouch.” For some reason she looked stung. I wasn’t trying to be mean. I was just pointing out the obvious. Ever since I picked her up, we’d been on the run. Every time she started coming on, trouble came up. Every time I started to get sympathetic, somebody either busted her chops or jammed a gun in my face.
“Is this really the way you are, all Brutus all the time? How does anyone ever get close to you? I’m hard because I have to be, because those guys are after me, but it’s like you get off on being a hard ass.”
She was on the verge of tears again, but I think it was for real this time. It was different, Her throat was tight when she spoke, and she was having real trouble keeping it together.
“You want to get to me doll, you gotta ante up with the truth. I’m a cop. I’m not some face, or some drone, so into you being the queen bee that he hasn’t found a way to get honey someplace else. I think the boys from The Outfit rousted your joint for their money, and poor old Bull McCaffery was trying to help you when they gave him the business. You called the cops and they either decided to scram, or they were in the back of the joint icing down Bull when I showed up. Up to that point you are either innocent—which I doubt, or complicit, which makes you responsible if Bull McCaffrey calls it in dead tomorrow.”
She was giving me those brown eyes again. This time they were hot, scared, but hot, “So how am I responsible for them putting the kibosh on Bull? He was just too stupid to mind his own business.”