Body on Pine

by DeMarco, Joseph R. G.

  “Like what?” Ty looked at me with distrust. Why should he trust any man? I understood that.

  “Like you won’t let this goon hit you ever again. And you’ll let me have a talk with him this time not next time.” I’d make sure the guy not only got the message but also got a one way ticket out of town.

  “S-sure, Marco,” Ty said and lay his head back against the chair, drained of his ability to resist.

  I almost felt guilty, as if I’d beaten him into submission with the promise of money. But if I didn’t give Eddie a talking-to, Ty wouldn’t stand up to him and he’d get another black eye, or worse.

  “Let him rest here, Marco. We need to go over some details for tonight anyway.” Anton gently nudged me out of the office and into the hall where some of the other dancers stood chatting and primping.

  “What’s up, Anton?”

  “I’m glad you pressed him on Eddie. You’ve gotta have that talk with Eddie soon. Or I will. The bastard can’t keep hitting this kid.” Anton’s eyes darkened, his face clouded with anger. When it came to something like this, Anton’s temper equaled mine. “You can’t let it happen again. Next time it’ll be worse.”

  “I’m on it, kiddo.” I stroked his cheek with the back of my hand. “Don’t scrunch your face up like that. I’ll take care of it. These are my guys just as much as Brad’s case is my case.”

  “Make sure Eddie won’t… or, I swear, I’ll…”

  “Believe me. Eddie won’t be hitting Ty again after I find him.”

  “You want me with you, I’m there.” Anton said. His hands balled into fists at his sides. The muscles of his arms flexed, and I could only imagine what Eddie’s face would look like if Anton had a “talk” with him.

  “No need, Anton. I’ve got just the enforcer in mind…”

  Before I could say more, my cell phone started ringing.

  “Fontana.”

  “I got your note.” Shuster’s voice brimmed with rage.

  “Ready to talk?” I winked at Anton and signaled that it was business. He turned to enter the dressing room.

  “Let’s get this over with,” Shuster hissed. “Now.”

  “I’m at Bubbles. You know where to find me.”

  “I’ll only meet somewhere neutral. It’s one thing to walk into that bar on a political pub crawl, it’s another to be seen there as if I’m a regular.”

  “I do see you here, bucko. Don’t go getting all coy on me.”

  “You’re a bastard, Fontana.”

  “Sometimes. Right now I feel generous. Where do you want to meet?” Wouldn’t hurt to give the guy a break, especially if I might get information out of him.

  “The Cocoa Café in ten minutes. I haven’t got all night.” He disconnected without another word.

  The Café was around the corner from Bubbles and picked up the overflow from Bubbles’ own café, but it was straight enough for a closet case like Shuster to feel comfortable.

  I ducked into the dressing room to let Anton know where I’d be and was surrounded by a sea of naked amateur contestants pulling on g-strings, thongs, or micro-underwear. Even in the bright lights of the dressing room most of them looked fantastic. And they knew it. As they posed and practiced dance moves, their thongs or underwear strained and bulged. The room barely had space for everyone. I squeezed through, sliding past sculpted bodies and breathing in the heady aroma of men. It was surreal. All that flesh, all that beauty. It never gets old.

  Anton stood at the back, ticking names off a list. I sidled up next to him and told him where I’d be, and a sad frown passed across his face.

  “I suppose I can get someone to MC for you.” He sounded world weary.

  “I won’t be long. It’s a lead on Brad’s case. I’ll be back in time. I said I wouldn’t let you down and I won’t.”

  ***

  The Cocoa Café did a booming late-night business. Customers rolled in at all hours for the sweet confections and desserts. Exterior flood lights swept the walls of the converted bank which housed the café and several eateries. Inside, the Café buzzed with conversation and background music.

  Denny Shuster sat at a table toward the back next to a wall of windows facing Juniper Street. I made my way to him and sat down.

  “Okay, Fontana. You got me here. What could you want from me?”

  “One of my guys tried asking you something on the phone today but you hung up on him? Kinda rude. He asked about you being a client of Brad Lopes. Remember?”

  “So you say. I’m not affirming anything.”

  “Don’t have to confirm it. Brad did that for you. He’s got you in his database.”

  Shuster stayed mum. One of his chins quivered a little. I took that as a good sign.

  “What I want to know, Shuster, is if you saw or heard anything unusual during your sessions with Brad in the past month or so. Anything out of the ordinary.”

  When the pudgy campaign manager shifted in his seat, I noticed something in the tiny street outside the plate glass windows. Standing a few yards away, staring intently at Shuster and me, was a tall man with blond hair and a face like a brick wall.

  I shifted back to Shuster, pretending not to notice the stranger.

  “So, Shuster? Got anything for me?” I stared at him but slowly lifted my gaze to take in both Shuster and the man watching us.

  “You’re assuming I had appointments with him.”

  “Not assuming anything,” I said, leaning in as if he were about to tell me something good. I caught a glimpse of the stranger inclining toward the window as if he wished he could hear what we said. “Brad had you scheduled for several appointments. Must be nice having a massage anytime you want it.”

  Shuster squirmed. He knew I had him and glared at me before finally giving in.

  “They were just massages. Running campaigns for prima donna politicians is tough work. I need to relax. If you think anything else went on with Brad…”

  “Listen, pal. I don’t care if you two played hide the salami, did a jig between the sheets, or just played canasta. I just wanna know if anything odd happened at the spa when you were with Brad. Any disturbance or something that broke the routine.”

  The stranger edged closer to the café window but kept to the other side of the street. He looked like he wanted to jump through the glass to hear our conversation.

  “As far as I remember nothing unusual happened. Nothing.”

  “No strangers turned up? Nobody came looking for Brad?”

  “Nothing. Nothing but a massage. Just a massage. Satisfied?”

  “Not really. Don’t think you’re off the hook, pal.”

  Shuster snorted contemptuously.

  “Listen up,” I snapped. “On my signal, we leave this place together, understand?”

  “Who do you think you are?” Shuster looked startled, indignant.

  “Somebody’s been watching us. Not sure if he’s got his eye on you or me.”

  Shuster twisted his head this way and that.

  “Stop moving. You’ll spook the guy. Just do what I tell you.”

  “W-who is it? Are you sure…?” Shuster’s face darkened. “You’re trying to scare me. You think you’re so…”

  “Shut up and listen, Shuster. When I say so, get up from your seat. Casually. Straighten your clothes and tie. Stay casual. As you’re doing that, glance out the window nonchalantly. Don’t make it obvious. The guy’s standing against the wall across the street. Light hair, tall, unshaven. Take a brief look, then head out. I’ll be right behind you.”

  Shuster nodded tentatively.

  “Okay, let’s both stand. Be nonchalant.”

  Shuster stood clumsily. I supposed that looked natural enough.

  “Straighten your tie. Nice, by the way. What’d that tie set you back, like two-fifty?”

  Shuster glared at me and, as they say, if looks could kill…

  “Don’t forget to glance outside… that’s right. Good boy.” I spoke while smoothing my shirt and brushing o
ff my pants. “Make your way to the door. I’ll follow.”

  On the sidewalk, Shuster looked shaken and confused.

  “D’you know the guy?”

  “W-What guy?” Shuster said. His voice quivered and his hands shook. “That man s-standing by the window? I don’t recognize him. No.”

  “You look shaken up, Shuster. You sure you don’t know the guy?”

  “I’m shaken up because you’ve shaken me up,” Shuster gulped some air. “I don’t know the man. Besides, he’s looking at you, not me.”

  The oddball could have been staring at me. But Shuster was shaken. Of course, he was already upset at being caught on Brad’s client list and now I’d let him think someone was spying on him.

  “Who else knew you were meeting me here?” I asked.

  “No one. You seriously think I want people to know why you’re badgering me?” He fiddled with his tie and buttoned his jacket. “Look, Fontana. I’ve had it. First you bother me with nonsense, now you try to scare me half out of my mind. All I did was have a…” He stopped himself, lowered his voice so no one passing could hear. “All I did was have a massage. Okay?” he said whispered. “There. Now you have it. I’m guilty. Of being pampered, not of committing murder or anything remotely close. Satisfied?”

  “Doesn’t take much to rattle you, does it? I mean, all I did was call your attention to somebody spying on us.”

  “I’m in the middle of a tough campaign. My face is all over the news almost every day. Now you tell me someone is spying on us…”

  “He was staring at you and me with a lot of interest. Why’d that rattle you?”

  “The sonofabitch could be a tracker. Know what that is?”

  “Sure. So you think he’s from Terrabito’s campaign doing oppo research?”

  “Trying to catch the candidate or someone close to him in something that’ll make headlines and sink the campaign. So, sure, I’m flustered. Maybe he reads lips, maybe a lot of things. He connects me to a dead masseur and Kelley’s campaign will stumble over that for days. Did you notice if he used a cell phone or a camera?”

  “Didn’t see one but he might’ve had one. Too bad, Shuster. Things do come back to bite you in the ass, don’t they?”

  “With your help, they do. You’re a bastard… This makes the news, it’s all your fault, Fontana.”

  “Just doin’ my job.”

  “Your job. Give me a break.” Shuster looked past me at something. “Well maybe you gave me new white hairs for nothing. That ‘spy’ is just meeting his girlfriend or something. See? They’re together. Doesn’t mean he’s not a tracker, but…”

  Sure enough the guy did look like he was meeting someone, but the woman in question didn’t seem all that comfortable. Maybe she didn’t really know him.

  “See what you wanna see, Shuster. The guy had you in his sights.”

  “Are you finished? I have a campaign to run.” Shuster drew himself up, expensive suit making him look more important than he could ever look without it.

  “I’ll be seein’ you, Shuster. I’ll probably have more questions.” I turned to walk back to Bubbles and realized Shuster was right behind me.

  “Goin’ my way?” I said and let him catch up. “How’s the campaign going? Your boy Kelley going to win?”

  “Do you really care, Fontana, or are you just trying to get me to trust you? Because it won’t work.”

  “Oh, I care. Politics is kind of a hobby with me. I sorta like knowing all about the people trying to screw us over while they make money hand over fist.”

  “Kelley’s not like that. He’s a rarity. An honest politician.”

  “Nice talking point, but I don’t believe it.” I glanced over at the crowd in Starbucks as we walked by. Kinda sad. Seemed like they wanted something else out of life but didn’t know where to look.

  “You’ve got a choice,” Shuster said. “Terrabito won’t do a thing if he wins. If you think he’s a good guy, you’re deluded. Terrabito’s been on the take from day one.”

  “I guess there’s ‘on the take’ and there’s ‘on the take.’ I don’t like any of the candidates. Can’t we start over with a new bunch?”

  “Kelley is as good as you’ll get this time around. I should know.”

  “I get off at this stop,” I said when we rounded the corner and Bubbles came into view. Sure you won’t have a drink?”

  “Be serious, Fontana.”

  “In that case, I’ll see you around.”

  I ducked into Bubbles and headed upstairs, taking the steps two at a time. When I got to the landing, Anton stood there, clipboard in hand.

  “Just in time, tiger. Curtain’s up in ten minutes.” Anton smiled.

  “Here I thought I was in for another lecture about being late.”

  “You said you’d be here and here you are.” Anton smiled again. “I never doubted you… much.”

  I took the clipboard from him and our hands touched. I grabbed Anton around the waist and pulled him close.

  “I told you I wouldn’t let you down.” I brushed my lips against his and felt his breath on my face. The warmth and the closeness felt good. I didn’t want to let go.

  “You’ve got a job to do,” Anton said, gently pulling back. “And I’ve got dancers to herd.”

  He seemed uncomfortable, ill at ease. I felt rebuffed.

  “Are we still on for dinner? Just the two of us?” I tested the waters.

  “You haven’t said when or where yet,” Anton said.

  “Tomorrow. Let someone else handle scheduling. You have some back-up who can do it?”

  “I’ll see what I can do. Nothing special on tap here tomorrow anyway,” he paused. “Now get down there to meet the finalists and start the show.”

  I zipped down to the backstage area where the contestants waited nervously. Some paced back and forth, others jogged in place, others waited motionless as stones.

  “Okay, guys. We’re about ready to start. Everybody fill out a form?”

  Heads nodded with nervous speed. One very cute amateur, looking as if he’d just fallen off a school bus, peered up at me as if he’d done something wrong.

  “I… uh… I didn’t have proper ID. Is that okay? I can go home and get…”

  I asked him to step aside for a talk after I got everyone set up. He moved to a dimly lit corner of the backstage area as if he’d been scolded. I hadn’t wanted to scare him but I run a legitimate business and having a kid dance, especially one who looked like he’d just stopped wearing diapers, was a no-no without proper ID. I didn’t understand how he’d gotten through the door. Someone had slipped up.

  After I’d instructed the others, I turned to the kid. The look in his platter-sized green eyes nearly melted my resolve. Except getting Bubbles closed down and being put behind bars were not on my list of things to do. I explained the consequences for the bar and for me if we used an under-age dancer. I told him to run home and fetch his ID or just run home and come back when he was twenty-one. Eyes glassy with guilt and regret, he appeared defeated. He nodded and headed slowly back to the dressing room.

  Before long I walked out from behind the curtain of glittering tinsel and faced the rowdy crowd. A sea of young and old, drawn to strippers like bees to flowers.

  “Welcome to the Amateur finals. Who’s ready to take part in choosing new dancers for StripGuyz? Let’s hear it if you are…”

  Cheers and whistles. Clapping. Hoots and howls.

  “Then, let’s get warmed up with Bruno and Pete! Everybody’s favorite soldier boys! Remember, when they come around, tips go into the side of the g-string only! Put your hands together… Heeeeeeres Bruno and Peeeete!”

  The duo’s music started as they snaked their way on stage in camouflage fatigues. The evening was finally underway. Both dancers sported buzz cuts. They danced together, writhing against one another, generating heat between them. Bit by bit, starting with their green camo tank tops, they removed their clothes. Just before hopping onto the bar top, they
ripped the pants from each other and stood, g-strings bulging, hips gyrating forcing patrons to moan in unison. Connecting with their eyes and sometimes with a touch, Bruno and Pete knew what to do. Their oiled skin glistened in the focused beams of the baby spots and the audience went wild. Hands reached out beckoning the dancers with dollar bills, like a field of grass in the wind. Bruno and Pete each worked his part of the bar, pulling in bushels of cash.

  Standing with the patrons, I surveyed the room for potential trouble spots. With two dancers on the bar and more to follow, it wouldn’t be easy keeping track of errant hands or people trying to get more than a peek.

  I did my best to keep problems to a minimum. Kent still worked overseeing things. He’d been here part time for quite a while and had proven good at his job, so I’d put him in charge of training new House Eyes, as he liked to call them. Even with all the help, on overly crowded nights, it never hurt for me to join in scanning for trouble before it developed into something major.

  Moving around the floor greeting regulars and newcomers, I caught sight of the man who’d been spying on me and Shuster. He didn’t seem interested in Bruno or Pete. When his eyes locked onto me, he’d obviously found his mark. Maybe Shuster was right and he’d been after me all along.

  I don’t like making a scene, but I really hate guys who think they can intimidate with a stare. The would-be spy kept his eyes trained on me with a cold, vicious gaze. Takes a lot more than a set of steely eyes to make me quake. So, I sauntered toward him.

  At first he seemed confused. Like I’d caught him with his hands down his pants. I drew closer and he glowered as if to say, ‘Back off.’ Yeah, like that was gonna happen, and on my own turf. The stranger had another think coming.

  “What can I do for you, pal?” When I stood next to him, I realized I was at least half a foot taller.

  He remained stolid. Then turned to stare at the stage.

  “If you’re here to look, house rules say you need to buy a drink now and then.” Not that we ever paid attention to that rule unless we needed to hassle somebody. “If you’re not gonna play by the rules, then I’m gonna have to…”

  “Hey! Stop! Stop that guy!” Kent’s voice sounded over the music and the crowd noise.