Buy Back

by Wiprud, Brian M

  Doh sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

  “Here’s how it went down, people. After the first killing, we dug around a bit about Mr. Davin. We found that he owed money. We found that his girlfriend left him. Both of these little items were well known in the neighborhood. Both of these little items interested us. Can you tell me why, Doonan? I’ll tell you why. Love or money. That’s why people kill. Those are the only two reasons. In Davin we maybe had both. We spoke with Huey’s wife, Ariel, and she told us the ex-girlfriend used to come into the shop to buy pastry, and that she was a bombshell. This interested us. Why?”

  Carol folded her arms, so I didn’t say anything either.

  “Because most of the time when the cause of death is love there’s a bombshell. The prettier, the more trouble they are, the more men are likely to kill for them. It’s the way of the world. All the men in the neighborhood stopped what they were doing to watch her go by. All the women stopped what they were doing tohate the bombshell. She had a pattern. She would go to the bistro and buy a single pastry, and then go to a mailbox at the shipping store a block down. We went there, to the shipping store. The people there knew her, she stood out, so we got her full name and ran it. Sure enough, this woman Yvette was walking trouble ever since she got to this country and especially in Vegas. You knew this, Davin, am I right?”

  Carol put a hand on my arm to keep me quiet. “We’re here to help, Detective, with your murder case in any way we can, but I don’t see how it’s helpful for Tommy to openly speculate on the character of his ex-girlfriend.”

  Doh rolled his eyes and continued. “She was never charged with anything too serious, but was hauled into LVPD whenever she was at the center of some sort of altercation. Was there some sort of connection between Yvette and Jonathon ‘One-Ball’ Culobrese? Between Yvette and Huey LaMouche?”

  He cocked an eye at me.

  I said, “I hope not.”

  So he nodded sadly. “Knowing her, you couldn’t be sure, could you? Even now.”

  My heart felt like it was in a block of concrete. I was feeling dizzy.

  “Well, rest easy, Davin. There was no connection. Except you. You weren’t killing these people, so we figured this was a dead end. Until Crispi noticed something. In one of her altercations just before she left Vegas to come here with you. You know this man?”

  He held out a photo from Immigration.

  It was the punk.

  I looked at Carol, she nodded, and I said, “That’s the guy who shot Jocko.”

  “Is it the guy you chased? The one who shot Huey?”

  “I didn’t chase anybody.”

  Carol leaned forward. “Detective, who is this man?”

  “His name is Gustav Urushka.”

  My vision swam, and I had to close my eyes. Delilah was right, I hadn’t been open enough to the possibilities.

  I heard Carol say, “Why is Gustav Urushka trying to kill my client? And the other people around him?”

  “It’s the way his people do things when they want something, his people from back in the old country, Eastern Europe. They want something from someone, they have rules, a way of doing things. First you kidnap someone’s kids or parents or whatever, then you start killing people around their target. Doesn’t do any good to kill the person who has something you want. They call it zevasta. This man Gustav was in a paramilitary outfit over there, as an assassin that killed political opponents, union leaders. A prodigy with a gun—our friend Gustav can shoot people from the hip, behind the back, over his shoulder. Over there, where he came from, they all have guns because they never know when a war might break out again. His father started him shooting melons with hollow points when he was only five. He could have killed you outside Donut House, and at the bistro, but he killed Johnny and Huey instead, zevasta, to scare you into finding Yvette for him. Seems he got impatient and decided to take you out at Jocko’s, or maybe torture you into telling. Only he didn’t expect the old man to be so handy with a razor.”

  Breathe slowly in through the nose; close the eyes.

  Breathe slowly out through the lips; stroke back my hair.

  Breathe slowly in through the nose; open the eyes.

  Doh says, “What’s Davin doing?”

  So Carol says, “Tommy does tantric exercises when he’s anxious.”

  “Tantric?”

  “Like yoga.”

  I exhaled. “He kidnapped the cats.”

  “Cats?” Doh leaned in close.

  “Yvette left me with four cats. I took care of them for a month. Then on Monday night I found my place had been broken into and my cats … Yvette’s cats had been stolen and there was a note signed ‘Gustav.’ And some letters. Look like love letters.”

  “You didn’t think to call the police?”

  “I considered it a domestic matter. I had no idea a guy who would steal cats and leave love letters would also go on a killing spree.”

  Carol put a hand on my knee telling me to shut up.

  “Detective, let’s keep this on the here and now, focus on progress, not recriminations. There’s a killer. My client is a target of this killer, has been from the first murder at Donut House. What are you going to do to ensure his safety?”

  “First, he can hand over those love letters. That would be nice.” Doh flashed a reluctant grin. “Then we could put Davin on ice somewhere until we cuff Gustav. Of course, then Tommy might miss his next payment to Vince Scanlon. You know as well as I do that your client is crawling around for a finder’s fee on some stolen paintings. We put him in a safe house, he isn’t going to be too safe from Scanlon when he gets out.”

  “You wouldn’t protect my client from Scanlon?”

  Doh’s eyes narrowed to nothing. His freckles got redder. “He’s a material witness who has been withholding evidence in this case. We found the lady on Sackett Street. The one who hit Gustav before Davin chased him into the canal. She described someone Davin’s size and general description, and she also said the killer’s gun fell on the ground. I have to assume the killer never recovered that gun; otherwise it would have been a short chase. If we had found that gun back then, it might have told us things that would have Gustav in Rikers right now and Jocko still trimming sideburns and telling Gotti stories. So it’s hard to feel sorry for your client’s predicament when he seems to have an utter disregard for the safety of others.” He took a deep breath, and added with no little contempt, “But if he wants protection, we’ll put him up in a safe house.”

  “Tommy?” Carol was looking at me, and I was staring at my hands.

  Doh had done a pretty good job of trying to tear me down, I’ll grant him that. It was my turn.

  “Detective, I respect the fact that you’re anxious to find this killer, but whatever you believe about me being a material witness, the only information I’ve had that would help you is that this guy has four cats held captive. They’re hostages. I had no idea the killer and the catnapper were one and the same.”

  Doh started the car and began driving. I continued.

  “I doubt seriously that the love letters would lead you to where he is now, but now that I know they are important to you, we can go to my place and I’ll give them to you. I had tried to reach Yvette through connections in Vegas to let her know about the cats. If she hadn’t been arrested in Miami, maybe she would have called him. That was out of my hands, and I had no idea he was the killer. I don’t have Gustav’s gun, but if he dropped it and it was picked up on the street by local hoodlums, I suggest you check your sources nearby to see if they have it for sale. I’ll pass on the babysitting, and that’s a vote of confidence on my part that the PD will quickly find some guy with a major slash across his face. Jocko slit him from here all the way like this. Look for someone who has recently bought ten boxes of Band-Aids.”

  I almost added something else, but once again decided to keep something to myself. At that particular moment, I was feeling hostile toward Doh, and with only my own life in the balan
ce, I didn’t feel much like helping Doh solve the case. I might as well try to find Gustav myself.

  Doh had brought the car around to my building. “The letters?”

  I retrieved them and stood next to Carol at the curb. She handed them to Doh through the open window. “If Mr. Davin can help, tell us how. You have my number.”

  Doh grinned. “Believe me, Davin will be real helpful, whether he likes it or not. Gustav isn’t going to give up. We know now that all we have to do is stick with Tommy and the jealous lover Gustav will show up. Only this time he’s not after anybody but Tommy. So we’re not real worried. Tommy is a big boy and can take care of himself. Aren’t you, Tommy?”

  Doh zoomed off.

  Carol and I hailed an actual yellow cab on Smith, the kind you get in Manhattan. A few moments later we were rolling down Henry Street, back toward Carol’s office.

  “Tommy, I think you need to get out of town. I’ll lend you the money, you just fly out of here. Only promise me you won’t go to Vegas.”

  I kept staring out at the brownstones and sycamores blurring past the window.

  “I hear what you’re saying, Carol, and there’s a logic to it. It’s like Doh said, though, I have to raise that money to get this woman out of my life. If I have to tangle with this Gustav character, too, well, bring it on. I don’t bend much, and I don’t break. I’ll get through this my way.”

  “But Tommy, really…”

  “I made this situation in my own way. I brought Yvette and the four cats into my life. The only way for me to have any self-respect is to get them out of it.”

  “Well, you can’t go home. Come stay with me.”

  “I already have alternate accommodations.”

  “Not the bump-and-thump?”

  “No. A friend’s.”

  “You realize you could be putting this friend in jeopardy, don’t you?”

  “This friend is in jeopardy already, Carol, which is why she asked me to stay with her.”

  “Ah … that kind of friend.”

  I took my eyes off the scenery and met Carol’s. “No, not that kind of friend. It’s complicated. A friend friend.”

  “Tommy, darling, lovers and friends can be interchangeable.”

  “Not this one.”

  “Famous last words?”

  I shook my head at the blur of October Brooklyn. “Not this one. Can I ask you a question, Carol?”

  “Shoot.”

  “You think good things happen to good people?”

  Carol felt my forehead. “No fever. So what’s that question supposed to mean?”

  “I know you’re a lawyer and all and see a lot of people who do bad stuff get off, and a lot of good people get left holding the bag. I guess what I’m asking is if you think it’s worth being the good guy. Is it a low percentage play?”

  “You talking about yourself?”

  “I’m not that good. Better than most, I suppose. I just got to thinking about this because I saw myself in the mirror the other day, without the beard, and I looked like my dad. Then being shot at, knowing I might die. It scared me a little.”

  “Look at me, Tommy. The only thing that matters is whether it’s worth it to you. If you want to know whether I think there’s some sort of outside force where good things happen to good people, that there’s karma … for me, all of that is perception of patterns, wish fulfillment. Nothing wrong with that. It’s a matter of faith.”

  “Patterns like Blue Diamond?”

  “Blue diamond?”

  “Blue Diamond Car Service. The bomber, then the dentist, remember? They had a car parked out in front of Donut House when Jo-Ball got his head blown off. I mean, what are the chances that one car service would keep having these gory episodes? Maybe there’s a reason for it.”

  Carol laughed softly. “Could just be the roll of the dice, like in Vegas. It sometimes comes up sixes three times in a row. Is that karma at work?”

  “Thanks for your perspective, Carol.”

  “Sweetie.” She patted me on the cheek. “Keep being the good guy, Tommy. We like you that way.”

  I looked away, out the window.

  Like Pop once said, Expectations are holes in gratification’s hull.

  CHAPTER

  THIRTY-FIVE

  IT WASN’T EVEN NOON YET and I’d gotten an alcoholic drunk and a barber killed. TGIF. There was still a lot to do before the weekend, when it would be difficult to locate people because they don’t go to work. You have to chase them down at their kid’s soccer game or interrupt them carving pumpkins.

  I had Carol drop me at Atlantic Avenue. Time to go to visit Pet Food Pete.

  My phone buzzed when I was a block away. It was Skip.

  “What do you have for me?”

  “Dude. Like, do you ever say ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’?”

  Part of me wanted to reach through the phone and crush his skull between my thumb and forefinger. Another part of me wanted the information more.

  “What do you have for me?”

  “Did you even hear what I said, Uncle Tommy?”

  “I heard what you said, but I don’t care. If you’re calling me it must be because you have the information I paid you for. What do you have for me?”

  “Excuse me for bothering to—”

  “Believe it or not, Skip, life is too short for all this bullshit. Tell me about Molly Lee.”

  “This chick Molly Lee is quite the, how shall I say, character. Real shady lady. Before the art export scheme and forgery—”

  “Forgery?”

  “Didn’t you read all the stuff I e-mailed?”

  “Not all. Humor me.”

  “Well, Dunwoody Exports was backed by Jimmy Robay, the mobster.”

  “Got that part.”

  “So while they were ripping off galleries and shipping bulk paintings overseas, some to copy, it seems a few masterpieces, like, got in the mix, and some forgeries were hitting the market here, at the auction houses. Nobody could connect them directly with Dunwoody, but because of the materials? Like, they were positive the forgeries were done in China, but, dude, nobody ever made the case against Dunwoody. Molly Lee pretty much vanishes.”

  “You were saying before, about Molly Lee?”

  “She ran a chain of massage parlors, only they didn’t do a lot of massage. You see what I’m saying.”

  I wanted to laugh at that. I didn’t. “I get it, Skip. This woman Molly Lee ran a string of whorehouses.”

  “In a bunch of little cities, too, under the radar, so she thought. Baltimore, Richmond, Scranton, Staten Island, like that. The operation folded like a deck of cards when a newspaper got wind of it. Molly Lee pretended she didn’t know what some of the girls were up to, and there was no proving it, either. Pretty slick. Gets out of a sex scam and then slides right out of a forgery scam. Awesome.”

  “There any pictures of Molly Lee?” I stopped in front of a storefront with a large brown sign reading FIDO FEED, where for the last couple months I’d been getting cat food deliveries from the owner, Pete.

  “Sure. You know, like, that big, in newsprint. Sunglasses, scarf, coming out of court. Could be my mom. Ha! My mom, yeah, right. Ha! She never did anything cool like this in her life.”

  Poor Katie. Did she really deserve this?

  “So any clue where Molly Lee got to?”

  “Dropped out of the news. I’m just guessing, Uncle Tommy, but her name? You don’t suppose that’s an alias, do you? Get real. Like, what kind of name is that? Actually, it’s kind of a cool name for a band, I must admit.”

  Kid was right, of course. “Molly” probably felt she’d squeezed all the traction she could out of that name after those two run-ins. These types of entrepreneurs usually went back and forth between a couple enterprises. Maybe into porn, always money there. Or bootleg movies or handbags. When they made themselves lost they stayed lost.

  Only this time I had to guess she’d resurfaced as Ms. French and was muscling in on my business. Not to
o much of a stretch. She met with Jo-Ball, then went to Billy Bank, where Dunwoody’s offices are, which is where Huey went to get the money. And you have to bet my limo ride with Jimmy Robay was somehow still connected to Molly Lee aka Ms. French.

  It simplified things knowing that the killings were being done by lovesick Gustav. It meant Ms. French wasn’t directing the elimination of people involved with the theft. Which was probably why they thought I was killing people who double-crossed me. Which was probably why Jimmy Robay jumped in to make me an offer to get me to stop before I found Molly. Robay probably knew what was going on, but I wasn’t about to embrace a kamikaze mission and try to press him for details.

  Still didn’t answer the question of how Molly Lee knew my guys were going to lift the paintings for me in the first place. How could she have known? I had to press Frank and Kootie. One at a time for a change. Frank first; he was the more nervous.

  On the back end was the museum. Assuming there was actually a buy back in play, there was more to squeeze out of the Whitbread about all this. McCracken was a tough customer, and her staff wouldn’t be much better. The guards were still the soft spot. Freddy. Atkins, too. Like Frank, Atkins was the nervous type, and according to Freddy, Atkins was actually at the museum when the Hoffman, Ramirez, and Le Marr were boosted. Funny he didn’t mention that.

  “Uncle Tommy, you there?”

  “I’m here.”

  “You want me to look into anything else? I could use more cash. The new iPhone just came out.”

  “Maybe. I’ll let you know. Kid?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Good work. You’re a smart-ass, but I like you anyway, and you’ve been a big help.”

  There was a pause on the other end. I waited for the smart remark. He hung up instead. Well, I guess that was some progress.

  I turned and pushed through the glass door into Fido Feed.

  “Pete?”

  A narrow head with a big jaw and close-cropped yellow hair peered at me from behind some shelves. Pete looked over his round glasses, which were on the end of his beak.

  “Mr. Davin! How is you?”

  Pete dropped his clipboard on top of a case of cat food. The store was crammed with shelves crammed with every conceivable cat and dog food, wet and dry, all the way to the ceiling. At my size, I really couldn’t go more than a few steps inside. The place had the meaty, yeasty smell of kibble.