by John L. Monk
“Mona,” I said. “Did you say you used to date Lionel?”
She nodded. “Yeah, and don’t ask me why. He didn’t hit me or nothing, but Lionel’s got a wandering eye. He’s just a little boy in a man’s body. All he wants is what’s in front of him.”
“Well,” I said, “I’m looking at what’s in front of me, and I think he must be blind.”
Mona smiled brighter than anything I’d seen yet. I dazzled her with a modest one of my own.
Laughing, she said, “I think you’re a player, Bo. But thanks.”
I thought for a second. “You wouldn’t happen to have his phone number, would you?”
“Yeah, but he don’t like it when I call him.”
“That’s all right,” I said. “Mind if I have it?”
“I could give it to you.”
“You mind if I take the snake?”
Mona looked from me to the snake and back again, her expression skeptical.
“Only if you promise not to bring it back,” she said.
Chapter 28
I’d handled snakes and frogs growing up, so it was no trouble at all to reach in, lift Titan out, and slip him into one of Lionel’s silk pillowcases. I made snake faces while I did it and got a laugh from Mona. He was a heavy snake, about fifteen pounds.
Back in her apartment, I told her how nice it was to meet her, promised to stop by sometime, and then got out of there.
The elevator was closer to Mona’s place, so I used it. The building front door opened in time for me to see a young black guy wearing an orange do-rag come inside and take the stairs.
After I got to the car, I put Titan on the back seat and called the Starlight Lounge. When Elvin picked up, I told him what I had in mind. Admittedly, I was pushing his loyalty to Debbie’s memory pretty far.
“Fine by me,” was all he said.
I asked about the customers and he said, “What customers?”
Next, I called Lionel.
“Hello?” he said.
In a low, raspy tone, I said, “I’ve got Titan. Meet me at the Starlight Lounge in fifteen minutes with a hundred dollars or the snake gets it.”
“Say what? Who the hell’s this? Titan … hold on… Where is he? Hey!”
“Starlight Lounge, fifteen minutes. If you’re not alone then the snake gets it. Capiche?”
“Why you take him for? Leave Titan alone, he ain’t ever done nothin’!”
“Then you better bring my hundred dollars,” I said and hung up.
I had to laugh. My resume had grown in a new and unique way. Bo Mosley: cat burglar, identity thief, drug runner, money launderer, computer criminal, and crown of them all: snakenapper. Bill Mason had nothing on me.
I found a spot out front, then strolled into the club with the boa slung over my shoulder. Silently, I added health code violator to my resume.
The place was dead—even the old man had left, along with the stripper. Elvin stood waiting behind the bar. He came around, laughing, and said, “Is that it?”
“Yeah, want to see?”
I opened the pillowcase and showed it to him, then laughed when he jumped back.
“Goddamn, that’s a big snake,” Elvin said, grimacing.
“Kind of empty, isn’t it?” I said, looking around, then wished I hadn’t when I saw Elvin’s face.
I started to apologize, but he waved it away.
“No, that’s fine,” he said. “You right. Used to be a nice place with regulars I could depend on. Now, with every freaky thing you want on the Internet, it’s too hard to stay open. This’ll be the last year for the Starlight, things don’t get better. All that revitalization money going around, be a fool not to sell.”
I found it difficult to get emotional about a strip joint, but it clearly meant a lot to him.
“Sad to hear it,” I said.
Elvin took me to the back, where I hung the pillowcase up on a coat hook through a knot I made. Then I joined him up front for a beer. Five minutes later, the door opened and there stood Lionel of the orange do-rag, blinking as his eyes adjusted to the club’s dim lighting.
“Where’s my snake?” he yelled.
“Yo, Lionel,” Elvin said. “You want a drink?”
Lionel rushed the bar, fists raised and murder in his eyes, ignoring me completely. Which is why it was so easy to trip him as he went past. He fell hard, skidding on the smooth tiles, then scrambled to his feet and turned toward me. As hot as it was outside, he had a jacket on. He reached into a pocket, but that’s as far as he got before Elvin grabbed him from behind in a sleeper hold. Ten seconds later, Lionel was out cold.
Elvin checked if he was still breathing, then said, “Gimme a hand?”
I clapped my hands and cheered.
“Very funny,” he said and retrieved a little black gun from Lionel’s jacket, which he put in his back pocket. “Grab his feet.”
Together, we carried Lionel through the office, then around the side past a dressing area, then through another door. An old, dusty staircase led down to who knew where. Halfway down, the stairs turned a corner. As we negotiated the turn, Lionel began to wake up. At the bottom, I slipped and let go. A tense moment followed where Lionel got his feet under him. Elvin took it in stride and dragged him deeper into the room.
“Get off me!” Lionel shouted, struggling weakly against the more powerful man.
Something shiny flashed in Elvin’s hand, then I heard the sounds of two different types of metal. When Elvin stepped away, Lionel stood handcuffed to a big heavy pipe running the length of the wall.
“Take this fucking thing off me, man,” Lionel said, rattling the handcuff against the pipe.
The room was mostly empty—just an antique furnace and a few broken chairs. Best of all, it was quiet. I couldn’t hear the music from upstairs or any other sound. I did hear Lionel though.
“Where’s Titan?” he shouted. “What you do with him?”
“Quit yelling,” Elvin said.
Lionel shook his head, smiling evilly. “Oh, you gonna regret this, Elvin. When Manny finds out, you gonna—”
“I’m glad you like talking, chivato,” I said, getting in his face. “Because you’re going to answer some questions.”
“I ain’t saying shit, bitch.”
“Oh, no?”
I pulled out Marco’s gun.
Lionel snorted, eyeing me derisively.
“You ain’t gonna shoot no one,” he said. “Not with Elvin right there.”
To Elvin, I said, “If I shoot him in the foot, can you wrap it up so he doesn’t bleed to death?”
Lionel looked at Elvin.
Elvin said, “I’d have to get some bandages, could be a while before I get back.”
Lionel looked back at me.
“I could do a toe first, give you more time.”
Lionel swallowed and licked his lips, then swept his gaze back to Elvin.
“What if you shoot the snake? Then we could throw it away. Lionel’s too big to just throw away.”
“Leave Titan alone!” Lionel shouted. “Why you so mean to animals for?”
I spread my hands apologetically and said, “I like snakes, personally. But Elvin—he hates them.”
“Yeah,” Elvin said. “He do.”
“But what I want to know is more important than your life, your foot, your toe, or a snake. Even Titan. Tell me what I want to know and we’ll give him back—after you give me my hundred bucks, of course. A deal’s a deal.”
Lionel said, “It’s in my shirt pocket, you can have it.”
Elvin reached in Lionel’s pocket and handed it to me. I made a show of counting it—five twenties—then put the bills in my wallet.
“What you wanna know?” he said.
“Where’s Anna? And her son, Jimmy?”
Lionel wrinkled his brow like that was the last question he expected from me.
“I don’t know nobody named that,” he said.
Elvin said, “I called Debbie for you yest
erday. When I told you she didn’t answer, you walked off smiling. Why is that?”
Lionel stared off into the room.
“Answer me!” Elvin said, and slapped him hard across the face.
Lionel shrieked and Elvin hit him again. He shrieked again and got hit again. Elvin hit him twice more, the last one knocking off his do-rag. I almost stepped in, but then Lionel looked at me—and then I stopped seeing him and instead saw Debbie in her apartment, alive and well and flirting with me, concerned for her friend and living how she saw fit. And now she was dead because of this creep and his associates. I didn’t bother slapping him—I balled my fist and belted him in the jaw. Lionel rocked against the wall, then slipped and fell with only his chained hand holding him up.
“The man asked you a question,” I said in a low, mean voice.
Lionel stared at the floor, not saying anything.
Elvin went upstairs and came back down with the pillowcase, holding it carefully away from his body. He put it on the ground in front of Lionel.
“Recognize that?” I said.
Lionel considered it blankly, then said, “You took my pillow.”
I opened it, lifted the snake out and tried not to smile when Elvin jumped back, then returned it to the pillowcase and tied it back off.
“Man, shit,” Lionel said, anguished. “If I tell you, you can’t tell nobody it was me. Okay?”
“We won’t,” I said.
He took a moment to collect his thoughts. “Okay. Well. Yesterday, Fruit told Manny to find out if the bi … uh, if Debbie was still, uh, you know, breathing. Sorry—I ain’t got nothing to do with that. I was supposed to go over and look if the police were around, check the place out. Only that’s way over in Springfield. Then I remembered, hey, she used to work at the Starlight. I figure I come here and get Elvin to call her and save me a trip.”
“She was my friend, motherfucker,” Elvin said.
“I ain’t hurt her, for real! I ain’t even know shit was gonna go down like that till after.”
“Where are my friends?” I said, and fought down the urge to hit him again.
“Fruit got ‘em at his aunt’s house, locked in a room.”
Just when I thought I’d heard everything.
“You’re telling me Fruit’s aunt is involved?” I said.
“No, it’s just her house—she died last year. She left him the house.”
I asked if he knew the address, but he didn’t. He did know how to get there though, and gave me directions.
To Elvin, I said, “You got Wi-Fi?”
He snorted. “Since Windows 98.”
I had one more question for Lionel. “How did Fruit find out Anna was staying with Debbie?”
“Um, that’d be Charise. Everyone know not to tell that ho anything. She also told him about that rich lady and the kid. I ain’t have nothing to do with that, like I said. Now give me my snake!”
I shook my head, disgusted, and motioned to Elvin I was done.
Elvin grabbed a bucket and stood it near Lionel. “That’s where you shit, okay? I find anything on the floor I’m gonna feed it to you.”
“What, you just gonna leave me here?” Lionel said. “In the dark? Hey! Come back, where you going?”
Heading to the stairs, Elvin said, “Don’t worry. Later on, if you good, I put some grass clippings down and a piece of lettuce.”
Lionel started yelling for help.
“Go ahead and yell all you want,” Elvin said. “Maybe Debbie hear you and pay you a visit.”
Lionel’s screams followed us upstairs to the dressing room, then died off completely when we shut the door.
“How did you know Lionels eat lettuce?” I said.
Elvin pulled a small, mean smile. “You know I can’t keep him down there forever.”
“I’m going to get my friends back,” I said. “Fruit said he’d call with instructions on where to go. I’m pretty sure he wants me dead. Can you give me a few hours?”
“I can do that,” Elvin said.
With the help of the Starlight’s Internet access, I traced Lionel’s directions by map to a little blue house just across the Potomac, in Old Town Alexandria.
When I got up to leave, Elvin reached over and shook my hand.
“You think you can use that piece if you have to?”
Looking down, I noticed the gun sticking out of my belt. I covered it with my shirt and said, “Where did you get those handcuffs?”
“One of the girls who worked here used them in her act. She was pretty popular at the time, if I remember.”
Something in his voice made me wonder.
“She wasn’t…?”
Elvin turned back to the bar.
Over his shoulder he said, “Go on, Bo. Get your people back.”
Briefly, I wondered if it was safe to leave Lionel here with the big man, considering how he felt about Debbie. But I couldn’t live Elvin’s life for him, the same way I couldn’t live Lionel’s. All I could do was help the people I cared about and make sure it was enough.
After getting in the car, I checked my phone and found I’d missed two calls from Mrs. Swanson.
She’d left a message: “Bo, where did you go? Tom’s fit to be tied. He’s got this wild idea that you kidnapped Jimmy and had Anna help you. He doesn’t know you the way I do. Now listen, once you find out where they are, contact Kate and let her know.” She gave Kate’s number. “Her plane lands just after one o’clock. If you were here in front of me you’d promise to contact her, and as such I consider it a promise anyway. A virtual promise. So do it.”
“Wow,” I said.
Hypothetically, I had no choice now. I pecked out a text to Kate—I hadn’t virtually promised to call her, only to contact her.
The car was hot and I began to sweat. The liquid from the beer had helped, but not the alcohol. I felt weak. That’s what happens when you run around stealing snakes and skipping meals.
I pulled out, found the ramp for I-395, and tried to stay sharp for the Crystal City rat’s maze. A few minutes after I crossed over the bridge to Virginia, I saw a fast-food place and veered off at the last second. If I fainted I’d be no help to anyone.
Two bites into my burger, Kate texted me back: Where the hell are you?
Tom said you have a crush on me, I wrote back, and took a sip of my drink. Fluids. I needed fluids.
A minute later, the phone started buzzing.
“Hello?” I said.
“What’s wrong with you, anyway?” she said.
“Sometimes I sing in the shower,” I said. “Now listen: I know where Fruit’s taken them. Some house in Old Town.”
“Give me the address. I’ll come now.”
“Don’t you think we should call the police?”
Kate didn’t say anything, not immediately, and when she did she sounded guilty. “If we do that … it could turn into a hostage situation. So it’s probably a bad idea.”
“Yeah, and Fruit might helicopter in a few senators and congressmen as human shields. Something like that?”
She sighed. “Look, forget the police. We needed something he wanted, and now we have that. Money. Plus, we know where they are. We’ll just go there with the money and make the exchange, now, when he’s not expecting us. That way he’ll be more inclined to take the deal. If you let him pick the spot, some shipyard or warehouse or dark alley, we could lose everything.”
“You’re a really cold bitch, you know that?” I said, and hung up the phone.
She tried calling me back, then texted me some more. Then Mrs. Swanson called and I let that go too. I went back through the drive-thru and bought an ice cream, then got back on the road in search of a little blue house.
Chapter 29
With the car smelling like fry oil, I pulled into a spot one house up from a small, blue, ranch-style home. It had tall evergreen trees along both sides and a fenced-in yard that stretched back for as far as I could see. Fruit’s white SUV, parked rear-first in the driveway,
dispelled any doubts I’d had about Lionel’s information.
The houses in this section of Old Town were well maintained. Not the kind of place you’d expect to find pimpy kidnappers. Next door, in a one-car garage, a young woman helped two small children into a minivan. Off to do something normal, no doubt.
The garage door rolled down after she pulled out, revealing two small windows. They’d probably been marketed as shatterproof. I wondered if anyone had secured the safety lever against a hook-and-wire breach. Just pop a stiff wire through the weather seal and watch with a flashlight as you angle the hook to the lever on the ceiling track. A hard tug and the door would open right up. Almost nobody took the two seconds to twisty tie the lever shut.
The house I was parked in front of had the same setup. It wasn’t unusual for a home-improvement crew to roll through a neighborhood doing one house after another during a good economy. Joe Homeowner would see how nice his neighbor’s house looked with the new door and want one too. And maybe later those same contractors would come back and rob whichever of them had the nicest stuff.
Aunt Fruity’s house had the same style garage door, which put the count to three. Fruit had backed his big SUV up close to it, and that would block anyone from seeing me from the street. Because of the evergreens, anyone breaking in would enjoy plenty of privacy from the neighbors.
I considered Kate’s suggestion: go up with her, knock on the door with the money in hand, and offer a trade right there. What’s he going to do, shoot us in broad daylight? Of course not. He’d cave and hope we didn’t change our minds and call the police. We’d be a hundred thousand lighter, but we’d totally win.
Only that’s not how it’d actually go down.
Fruit would surely look outside before answering, so he’d see us and know what we wanted. All he’d have to do was threaten to kill one of the hostages immediately if we didn’t come inside right now, and then he’d win. Instead of some dark alley, he’d shoot us inside the house, then follow with Anna and Jimmy, the only other witnesses.
This was one hundred percent, absolutely, a job for the SWAT team. Maybe even the A-Team. Not the Bo-Mosley-door-opening-trick team. So why was I even considering breaking in that house like I was in Die Hard?