by Pro Se Press
“So they killed him?” It sure felt like she was admitting it.
“I didn’t say that, and why do you think I had anything to do with it if they did?”
Yep, she was hot all right. “Well aside from what I might suspect, you have, by your own admission, taken four million dollars. It really doesn’t make a lot of difference whether it was from a criminal. Felony theft is felony theft.
She was looking a little green. “I’m just taking what belongs to my family. The racket killed anything that amounted to shit in my life. Two large a week for 30 years, with a little pension tacked on, is nothing compared to what I’d like to do.”
I didn’t want to admit it, but her logic wasn’t that far off from my own. I mean if I was putting my big size 14 foot in her dainty little glass slipper—too bad for Candi that her coach was gonna turn into a hearse. Especially if that glass slipper turned out to be concrete shoes.
“Y’know, maybe if you leveled with me and told me the whole truth, I might be able to help you,” I offered. I was really trying to be genuine. In life you gotta decide which parts of right and wrong are the parts you can live with—I figgered that I’d rather help somebody who had been wronged, than somebody strong-arming the same.
She shrugged me off, “What d’you want to help me for?”
“I gotta admit I’m a sucker for a damsel in distress. I got cleaned up and came to your place because I saw a pretty girl that needed rescued. I didn’t know what was going on, but I had hoped this might have gone down more like a date than a Chinese fire drill.”
She smiled up at me with those big brown eyes, and it was almost enough. “You’d want to date me?”
I would. I mean I don’t usually go for the sexy, but deadly type, and felons are definitely out; but charged ain’t necessarily convicted, and she was smoking hot.
“Sure, why wouldn’t I want to date you?” I was trying to soothe her.
“Cause now you think I’m a crook and you want to charge me with a felony. Regardless of how you dress it up, you want to screw me to get to the top.” The sound of it was harsh, and even though it crashed on my ears, it was not inaccurate.
“I gotta admit you are more than half right about the way my cop brain works in the regular sense.” What? Hell, right is right.
“What about in the irregular sense?”
“How do you mean?”
She batted those eyes at me again, “In the sexual sense is how I mean.”
I turned into the lot at the Shawnee Hotel and backed into a space.
“Shawnee Hotel Security,” she said, aghast. “I thought you were a real cop.”
“I am a real cop. I’ve been the handyman, and security guy here since I was seventeen.” I explained further. “When my old lady punched the clock I had to let the house go, it hadn’t been home since dad died. I came here because I could afford to pay my bills, take care of mom, save a little; not to mention they knocked my rent way down for helping out the maintenance man. The manager knew my dad from way back, and offered me the security job as soon as it was open. He knew I was going to be a cop as soon as I was old enough on paper. We’ve never had anything more than a drunk vet needing help getting to his apartment. I don’t usually have much to do. I’m a homebody, so I don’t mind it.
“Sounds nice,” she said as we walked up the three steps and into the building. I noticed she’d left her bag in the car. I didn’t mention it.
We walked through the marbled lobby. We passed the mailroom, the wall of mailboxes, and old Mr. Weeks who threw up a hand as soon as he saw us coming.
“Now missy if that boy don’t treat you nice, you come right on down here and I’ll treat you right and proper.”
There wasn’t a woman in Champion City that Dick Weeks hadn’t tried to charm at one time or another.
“I don’t think he’ll mistreat me Sir, he’s been nothing but nice to me. He seems like a very kind man, took me out on the town, and even got me a steak dinner,” she said in that rich, buttery, mesmerizing tone that makes you dumber than a sack of spent shells. Mr. Weeks was eating it up.
“He’s a fairly good boy, missy. You two have a good night,” he settled back in his chair.
We went to the elevator and went up to my place on the fifth floor. As we walked to the door I said, “My place is more of a barefoot and comfortable place, it’s clean, warm in the winter, and hot in the summer. There’s cold beer in the fridge, and the john is in the bedroom.”
I unlocked the door, and held it wide for her. She walked in and I closed the door behind us. I gave the deadbolt a twist and flipped on the light. I dropped my keys in my jacket pocket and hung it on the tree. I opened a window, and Candi just sort of stood there, taking it all in. I think it was the nervous anticipation of being in a new and unexpected space.
“Sit down. You want a beer?” I asked a bit more nervous than I intended.
“I would, doesn’t matter what kind,” she said as she settled onto the far end of the couch.
I went to the icebox and pulled out two bottles of Champion City Brewery’s Bohemia Style Beer. I carried them back to the front room, where I opened one and handed it to her. I opened mine, as I sat down a comfortable distance from her and waited. She took a long draw on the beer and then looked at the label.
C.C.B’s Bohemia is world class and I don’t know anyone who doesn’t like it. Dad and Granddad drank it. Billy and Hazel went through it by the keg, and it seemed like every festival and fish fry had at least one tap.
“Angelo Delapina,” she said slowly as she lowered the bottle.
“What about him?”
“He owns the brewery, and he and Joey Catanza run all the rackets on the hill.” She was deadpan.
“Joey Catanza; nothing worse than a small time crook coming down with a case of hereditary ambition.”
“I doubt you can get anything on them, Their beefs are all handled by the roughnecks from the union hall.”
This was, of course, all stuff we (the cops) suspected, but couldn’t do anything about because those cats covered their scat pretty good.
“Yeah, we know that much. In order to get those guys I need a smoking gun, a cooling stiff, and either bulletproof evidence that either one of them gave the nod, or proof that one of them was at the scene.”
She shook her head. “Good luck with that.”
I took a long pull on my beer and gave her a look. “Good luck, huh? I thought you were gonna dish on who was in the back room at White Walls.”
She demurred by shaking her hair over her shoulder and giving me a seductive smile. “Is that the only reason you brought me here?”
“Lookit, mostly gals like you don’t want a bear like me, so I ain’t coming on. Since I know how you operate, I’m about getting the bad guy because it’s generally what I do.”
That babe had me steamed. I was considering giving her the business. That minx bit was driving nails in my nerves. Just then, the phone rang.
I gave her a look that was to be considered a down payment on a future ass chewing and went to address the phone’s impatient ringing.
What happened next, all I can say is—damn.
I palmed the handset and pulled it off the hook. “Yeah, Thurman Dicke.”
As soon as I answered, the graveled voice of Dick Weeks, came over the line, “Hey Thurman, there’s an officer Rosales down here poking around; wanted to know your ‘partment number. Kinda shady lookin’ if you ask me.”
Damn! I shoulda figured. This broad was hot like a Saturday night special.
“Where’s he now? Are you okay?
“Yeah I’m okay. I think he’s on his way up. I don’t know.”
“All Right Dick. He ain’t a cop, he works for the racket.”
“What should I do?” he asked, alarmed.
“Be yourself. I’m on my way down.”
I dropped the handset on the cradle and turned on Candi. “Well, your officer Rosales is here and is on his way up. By the time we
get downstairs you’re going to have come clean or…”
“Yeah, I got it. Let’s get out of here.” She was on her feet.
“So Rosales is what you’re afraid of?”
I drew my gun and went to the door. I opened it and turned the lock as we left. The hall was empty, so we went to the elevator quick. I hit the button and glanced at either end of the hall where the stairwell exits were located.
The Shawnee was an old building. The elevator doubled as a freight elevator, so with the flip of a switch it could be operated manually. So the door had to be opened and closed via the panel buttons, but the car would wait with the door opened at any floor the operator chose, and not return to regular service until the switch was returned to the Auto or Run position.
When we got in, I opened the phone box and turned the switch to manual. I punched the close button and the door slid home. I hit the B for basement, and the car started its steady descent. My plan was to go to the basement and leave the building from the service entrance.
“Y’know he’ll kill both of us?” Candi said nervously.
“Don’t even worry about it. Mostly these punks fall apart when I get a hold of ‘em.” I was trying to reassure her, and me. I didn’t want it to come to that, mostly because I didn’t want to explain my temper about two different incidents in the same day, but you gotta do what you gotta do.
“Why are you so afraid of him?” I asked, just trying to make stupid conversation.
“He’s the one who comes around for Catanza. It was them in the back room today. They…”
“So it would be real bad for you if he found us together.”
“He ain’t as bad as the one who works for Angelo, but he’s a piece of work for sure.” Sometimes when he comes to collect and I don’t have the money he takes me in trade, the sonofabitch.”
Fire started to burn in my gut. The thought of some mook putting his hands on her body to pay for protection. “Remind me to unscrew his head for that.”
When the elevator doors opened in the basement, I stepped out behind my piece, checking one direction, and then the other.
The basement was dark beyond the small semicircle of light from the elevator. In the inky dark, the red exit sign buzzed off to the left.
We headed directly for it. I had Candi by the arm, and I was walking her a bit faster than she liked. Her heels were clicking loudly on the concrete.
“Hey, don’t pull on me so hard, you’re hurting me.” She resisted, and we stopped. I raised a finger to my lips.
“Take your shoes off, you’re making too much racket,” I whispered.
Candi nodded and slipped out of one heel and then put a hand on my chest to steady herself as she slipped off the other. She settled onto her feet and was a good three inches shorter.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Just then, something moved across the darkness ahead of us and rattled one of the storage cages. I holstered my piece and took Candi by the arm again. This time she didn’t need an invitation.
We shuffled through the dark quietly. As we got closer to the storage cages, I felt the hairs on the side of my head stand up.
I pulled up short and shoved Candi backward. I felt the whoosh of air—as what must have been a two by four—sailed by my ear missing by mere inches. With Candi safely away, I moved in on the bastard as he shuffled his feet, no doubt compensating for the weight of that lumber. He exhaled hard as he swung that board again.
Whoosh!
I sidestepped him, and rushed. I knew I’d slipped up when I heard him breathing hard behind me. That board grazed my shoulder as it went by this time. There wasn’t much on it, but it stung enough to get me going. I shot a hand out and caught hold of a shirtsleeve.
It felt like a left arm, so I slammed my fist at where I figured his face ought to be. He must have turned his head because my fist raked along the side of his head and smashed his ear.
I grabbed the scruff of his collar as he tried to raise the board. Too bad for him I was so close, the lumber was harmless. I punched him right in the mouth.
“Drop it asshole.” He didn’t so I punched him in the nose—hard. The cartilage crunched under my fist.
“If I have to take it away, you’re gonna wish you’d dropped it.” I pumped my fist into both his eyes.
You wanna sympathize—Imagine a great big guy slamming a ham into your kisser. Sooner or later, it’s gonna smart.
I cocked my fist and trip hammered another one right in the mouth. He had a knuckle shaped spot where his front teeth should have been. His legs rubberized and he started to go down. The board clattered to the floor soon followed by the jerk-ass himself.
“Come on Candi,” I growled.
“I’m right here,” she said, from just behind me.
I hadn’t realized she was there. She took my hand and squeezed it, and we headed toward the glowing exit sign.
I felt for the crash bar and gave it a stout shove. The mechanism released and the door opened. We rushed to the car, not twenty feet away. I pulled up on the driver door handle just as the basement door slammed shut behind us.
Locked.
Keys.
“Damn!” I looked up in the general direction of the fifth floor. “I don’t believe this.” I was fuming.
“What? Oh don’t tell me,” Candi said, deflated.
“C’mon we don’t have much time.” I took her arm and headed her toward the fire escape on the east side of the building.
The east fire escape went up all ten floors, and at the top, had both a window and a door to the maintenance office.
Carl Wells, the maintenance man rarely, if ever, closed the window and never locked a door. The manager of the Shawnee had talked to him about it. The head of security (namely me) had talked to him about it also. Any resident who’d ever required his services had complained about it. So I was hedging my bet on the lifelong bad habit of the best fixer in the business.
I jumped several times for the ladder, but as I’ve said, I’m a big guy. I just couldn’t jump that high.
“Here, lift me up.” Candi held out her arms.
“Right.” I knelt under the ladder and made a step with my knee. Candi stepped up on it and put her arms around my neck, pushing her chest right into my face. I tried turning my head, but she held on tight.
“If we get out of this, I’m yours,” she whispered seductively in my ear.
I braced her foot and put a hand behind her calf as I stood up.
“Whoops,” she exclaimed, at the sudden boost.
“Can you grab the ladder?” I huffed.
“Nope, higher.”
I heaved her upward, and she grabbed at the ladder, but missed. Candi started to lose her balance, but I caught her.
We tried again. This time I heaved her up and gave her a final boost with a hand under her backside. Candi caught the bottom rung of the ladder and held on tight. The whole fire escape set up one hell of a racket as the ladder rolled down.
“Hurry up,” I said, and shoved her up the ladder.
“Hey, I’m going,” she groused. I gotta admit she was moving faster than I thought.
“Lookit, somebody’s gonna hear this rattletrap. It’s like a beacon for scumbags, and it ain’t gonna be a good guy who comes to check out the noise.”
She nodded her head and hoisted herself onto the first landing. Okay, first floor.
The ladder began its noisy ascent the second I pulled myself onto the landing. Candi had made it nearly to the third floor by then and I was hot on her tail.
I heard hard-soled shoes on the pavement below about the time I made the fifth floor.
“Stop, Police,” Commanded the heavily accented voice of the impostor below.
“Keep going Candi,” I said, as the first gunshots cracked below.
She screamed and cowered as the bullets hit the steel frame of the fire escape. I reached her and put an arm around her to shield her as another round of bullets ricocheted past.
&nbs
p; “C’mon, we gotta go all the way up. The door will be open.” My husky voice in her ear seemed to reassure her, and she looked into my eyes and smiled as she drew herself up the next step.
“Get up there,” the Hispanic accented voice ordered someone below.
I pressed Candi to hurry. "We gotta beat them up there.”
She nodded and started sprinting.
I drew my gun and cracked off two shots at Rosales, who wisely hunkered down. I saw him pointing at something and a moment later, I heard the ladder rolling down again.
“Damn.” I took off after Candi, who’d hunkered down at the eighth floor to wait out another round of gunfire. When I got to her, she was sobbing.
“I can’t,” she said feebly.
I was instantly pissed. It was because of that crooked little minx that I was in this mess.
“Get that jinxy little ass moving.” I grabbed her arm and started up the stairs. Good damned thing she decided to follow, I’d have dragged her.
To her credit, she didn’t even flinch when the next round of gunfire showered us with sparks and shrapnel. She was crowding more to the inside and trying to use me as a shield. Fine by me, I didn’t want her too damaged, because I was considering warming up to her later.
One more flight. I started taking steps by twos when I heard footfalls coming up from below.
On the tenth floor landing, Candi bent to catch her breath and I went to the door. I grabbed the old knob and gave it a squeeze.
“God Bless old men with selective hearing,” I said to nobody, and pushed the door open.
An old toolbox and a couple of small crates slid way as we entered. I pulled Candi inside, slammed, and then bolted the door. I noticed an old refrigerator standing in front of the window as we made our way through to the main door. I reached for the doorknob and remembered my keys were in my jacket pocket, locked in my apartment down on the fifth floor.
I looked over my shoulder for the key box and didn’t see it. I went to the center of the room and peered around. Over between two upright cabinets I found it minding its own business.
I hurried over and opened the metal box. Nothing. It wasn’t a key box at all, just an old breaker box that hung on a hook. I rummaged through one cabinet, and another, until on the third try I found two key boxes hung on the inside of the cabinet door. I opened both and started scanning for 5J among the key tags.