Easy (A Flap Tucker Mystery Book 1)

by Phillip DePoy

  When everything settled it was like a beautiful oil tapestry on the surface of the water, so transparent you could see down into the depths. But the image wasn’t complete. It couldn’t have been. It wasn’t right.

  There was Lenny in the center of it all, sitting on a lion’s head, holding a red rope that seemed to tie him to every other piece of the puzzle. Overhead there was a blue-gold half-moon. And like the Three Graces in a beautiful pre-Raphaelite pose, Augusta, Neena, and the dead Florida dancer stood — three redheads. Finally, a lonely little boy in a red cap sat in the center of a mound of gold and jewels, crying. All the other pieces but those three began to drift away on the tide. And everywhere there was the smell of mint. Then Neena winked.

  She looked right at me and winked, and it startled me out of the trance. None of the puzzles had ever looked at me before. Suddenly there I was in the dark in my apartment, someone downstairs yelling at her pimp.

  “You don’t own me!”

  “The hell I don’t!”

  “You don’t own me!”

  “Get in the damn car!”

  “You don’t own me!”

  It was her mantra. I don’t think it did her any good though. I could hear a scuffle and a car door and then the peeling of rubber as they rode off into the night.

  I’m not usually brought out of the thing with such a shock, such a force. I didn’t know what to do. But the image of Neena winking at me wouldn’t leave — that and the strangeness of Lenny riding the lion with his crimson cord.

  As soon as I could I stood up and plugged the phone in. I had to look through about a hundred pieces of paper stuffed into the phone book, but I finally found it: Neena’s number in New Mexico.

  I didn’t know what time it was, but I called anyway. It rang ten or twelve times before she answered. “Neena?”

  “Jesus, Flap, that you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You’re calling me?”

  “No. I just gotta ask you a coupla things.”

  “What time is it?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “No, I mean, what do you wanna ask me?”

  “Oh. Do you remember a night in the looney bin when you were trying to play chess with some guy, but Lenny was talking to you about something and some big brouhaha ensued that got Teeth fired — do you remember that night?”

  It took her a second. “Sort of.”

  “What was Lenny talking to you about?”

  “God, Flap, I don’t remember. I was probably pretty wacked at that point, you know.”

  “Think.”

  She took her time. “I popped that guy pretty good.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Teeth bit him.”

  “Hence the name.”

  “The guy was pretty mad.”

  “He made a pass at you?”

  “That guy? Naw.”

  “What?”

  “That guy didn’t…we were playing chess. I was winning, of course. I think his king was at pawn two —”

  “Neena.”

  “You want me to remember or not?”

  “Pawn two.”

  “And Lenny’s there — strange little guy — and he won’t shut up and it’s kind of distracting for the other guy, even though Lenny’s only talking to me and I’m not distracted…”

  “But you’re winning.”

  “Of course.”

  “So Lenny’s talking about…”

  “Man, I hardly ever paid attention to him — you know.”

  “Uh-huh. Think.”

  I heard her shift the phone to her other ear. “Okay, it was something about Indian stuff.”

  “Like Native Americans?”

  “No, like chakras and kundalini and how to arouse the sexual power in the universe, that stuff.”

  “What?”

  “It had something to do with posture. Like this one where you stand on one leg and —”

  “Dannen, are you telling me little Lenny was talking to you about spiritual sexual postures?”

  “Yeah, and it cheesed the guy I was playing chess with — what was his name?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Anyway, the guy got all bent outta shape and he goes, ‘Try this posture,’ or something on me and I got evil.”

  “How?”

  “Stuffed his jewels back in him.”

  “Right. And thereby…”

  “…mayhem ensued.”

  “I’d imagine.”

  “Teeth bites man. Man sues Teeth. Teeth gets fired. The world goes ’round. Why do you ask?”

  “Lenny was talking to you about tantric sex.”

  “He was?”

  “Did he want you to play?”

  “Did he want me in the postures of India? Yeah, maybe. That was part of it. But it wasn’t a weird thing. It was kind of sweet, in a way. You know Lenny.”

  I took a breath. “Maybe.”

  “And anyway, I’m naturally a blonde. He said it had to be a real redhead.”

  “Right. And your red was mainly from the henna plant.”

  “You wake me up to insult me?”

  “No, that’s just a bonus.”

  “Well, thanks, but I gotta get back to sleep.”

  “You don’t want to know what this is all about?”

  “Your case. You won’t tell me. It’s none of my business anyway. I’m busy. I’m sleepy. I got troubles of my own. Beware of the dog. Take your pick.”

  “Bad night?”

  “Bad year.”

  “Okay, but maybe this’ll help: You got me worried about Tibet. Turns out I sorta got friends there — friends of friends.”

  “So…it’s personal. I know that goes a long way with a guy like you.”

  “Right.”

  “Hey, I’m good for something.”

  “Maybe.”

  “Yeah, well, thanks for calling.” I heard a noise in her room, wherever she was, and then another voice. “Oh, man, I gotta go.” She took the phone away from her mouth. “Jesus, Becky…” Then: “Flap, I gotta go.” She hung up.

  So that’s what I was stuck with: Lenny at the center of it all. Maybe it was just the fact that Lenny had started all this, but maybe there was a whole lot more. He was talking to Neena about tantric sex before he met Augusta. And why did I repeat the image of the little paper airplane he played with when I was riffling through her room at his house?

  See, all this is just like having a very vivid dream, only you’re awake. Anybody can do it. And the images probably mean something, only you can’t quite put it together right away. The eye beholds, but the mind does not see. It’s a message in a bottle from yourself to you. Maybe it’s something you’ve seen but didn’t immediately understand. It works that way a lot. Sometimes the images really mean something wild — and sometimes a cigar is just a cigar. In most cases you have no idea. That’s when you’re glad you’ve got friends. You call them up; sometimes it takes a while to talk it over, but eventually the meaning comes into focus.

  The main part of the message for me was that Lenny and Tibet and redheads were all connected and in the middle of the soup — maybe even asparagus soup. Beyond that, I couldn’t tell you what the hell was going on.

  So, this time without looking anywhere, I dialed the phone again.

  “Hey.”

  “Flap?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “You do it?”

  “Yeah, but it’s a jumble.”

  I could hear the whisper of the covers as Dally sat up in bed. She was probably just getting to bed. I could hear her lighting a cigarette. Finally: “Start from the beginning.”

  “I know you like that — a beginning, a middle, and an end — but it’s not really the way of the universe.”

  “Shut up and tell me.”

  “Lenny’s in the middle.”

  “Sure, because it’s his nickel. Not for him, we wouldn’t be on this ride…right?”

/>   “Maybe. But he was riding a lion’s head, holding a crimson cord. Also in the middle were three redheads and a little boy in Tibet.”

  “I told you Tibet had something to do with it.”

  “No, I told you Tibet had something to do with it.”

  “No, Linda and her father told you. But you have a more important and — how shall I say this — paying customer to worry about right at the moment. Could just as well be that this thing with Linda and her dad can wait. And I told you about the importance of the Tibet thing first.”

  “Yeah, did you think that maybe all this telling me from everybody was what caused it to be in the dream thing in the first place?”

  “Can that happen?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t know how this thing works.”

  “I know. You’ve told me. What else was there?”

  “I saw your face, Tony, naked women —”

  “Natch.”

  “— shut up. Parking lots, Buicks, you know, the main things. But there was this one I don’t get. When I was over at Lenny’s house…”

  “…where he’s got banisters with lions, which explains that one part…”

  “…yeah, and anyway he’s kneeling on the floor in what he said was Augusta’s room, playing with a little paper airplane that I didn’t think anything about at the time…”

  “…but there it is in the dream thing…”

  “…three times.”

  “Bingo. We have a winner.”

  “What?”

  “Three times a charm.”

  “It means something important. Where’d Lenny get the paper?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Think.”

  “Well, he ran up to her room before me, I took my time, cased the joint a little, and by the time I got there…it was a piece of paper he found in her room!”

  “That’d be my guess.”

  “That he didn’t want me to find maybe.”

  “I’m with you.”

  “That could have had something on it he didn’t want me to see.”

  “Go on.”

  “And it was almost as if he was taunting me with it. Zooming it right in front of my eyes. And I just waltz on by thinking I’m the one with the handle.”

  “Boy, you are slow. What’s next?”

  “Like always: I improvise; answer some of the questions.”

  “Such as?”

  “What if Lenny’s not the guy he seems to be? What if Tony and Augusta got me suckered? What if something really is happening in Tibet? What if I mess with the whole international-trade thing? What if somebody gets killed again?”

  “What if you just stay in bed?”

  “Love to, but I got a million things to do. I gotta check the facts, I gotta clear the vision. Plus, I have to shake up international trade.”

  Chapter 18: Kay Said Good-Bye

  I didn’t want to wait for daybreak. I took a gander at the watch. It was two in the morning again, when every leaf is silver, when every sound is a sigh. If the moon was high and full, it would make the old neighborhood look like something in an old Disney animation.

  I jabbed open the front door, but it was the only sound on the block. Even the crickets had gone to bed. I wanted to see who was awake at the Golden Potala, then head uptown, see could I catch somebody at the “art” cinema, get the name of the tow-truck driver. I had some questions bothering me I thought he might answer.

  Every other building was dark, but the Potala restaurant was lit up like a candy store. Inside there were maybe a dozen diners: guys in bands after a gig, night watchmen just off the early shift, even an Asian family with two small kids, like it was their normal dinner hour.

  Linda wasn’t there, but I asked at the register, and her father was back in the kitchen.

  I spoke to the guy at the register. “Would you mind tellin’ him that Flap is here to see him?”

  His eyes lit up and he practically ran back to get the old guy.

  I took a seat where I could look at the window. The whole front of the joint was big glass windows.

  Without a word the tea was there. The guy who’d been at the register brought it and stood waiting.

  I finally figured out he wanted me to order something, so I obliged. “Maybe I could have an order of spring rolls?”

  He was off.

  In his place came Linda’s father, very tired.

  “Flap.” He sat.

  “Hey.”

  “You come to this next meeting.”

  I nodded. “Could be. I gotta wonder if your little problem and my missing-person case don’t have more in common than I might have thought.”

  He smiled. “You know enough about the Tao to know that everything on your path is connected in some way or another.”

  And with a great flood of fondness for the old coot, I remembered how we used to sit and talk about that kind of stuff in the pre-Neena days. I think it had been around the same time I’d tried to ask Linda out on an actual date. It had been a long while since I’d been in just to talk like that, and I suddenly realized I’d been missing it.

  I nodded. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “So.”

  “I’m wondering about the new Panchen Lama.”

  “A fake. The ruination of my country.” He said it plainly, without any noticeable emotion.

  “I’m wondering how that affects this flow of artifacts or what have you that your family’s been sending.”

  “The Chinese government is stealing everything with religious meaning and shipping it out of the country.”

  “And?”

  “My family is in danger. But they have always been in danger.”

  “Could someone be putting the muscle on your brother to step up his…activities? I mean, could the demon-man somehow be aware of the availability of more stuff from your country now that all this Lama business has come down? And could he be pushing for more, a steady stream of artifacts, through your brother — especially seeing as how your brother is invisible and all? I mean, it gets him practically free artifacts that he can sell for a tidy profit.”

  He nodded, staring off into space. “That must be it. Brother give him some few things; this monster want more and more.” He turned his eye on me. “How you know this?”

  “I’m not quite as stupid as I look.”

  Before he could crack wise — if he was even capable of such a thing — my spring rolls arrived.

  He stood. “So you come to the next meeting with this bad man and my brother?”

  “Yeah. I will. When is it?”

  “Dawn.”

  “Where? Here?”

  He nodded. He started to walk away, then, without looking at me, stopped. “You got a gun?”

  I made a face. “No. What’d I need a gun for?”

  “You don’t know how bad this man is. And this may be your last chance at him. He might be gone tomorrow.”

  I shrugged, took a bite of the spring roll. “So, problem solved, right? He’s gone, no more hassle.”

  That made him turn and look at me. “He’s gone, maybe no more brother, maybe no more family…” His voice dropped off. “Maybe no more world.”

  But I wasn’t buying it. “Wrong. If he’s gone, all it really means is that he’s gone.” Another bite of the roll.

  He turned away again. “Spring rolls on the house tonight.” And he vanished back into the kitchen.

  Any place else I was a regular, that would have been no big deal. But I’d been coming to the Golden Potala for years, and this was the first time I’d ever had a bite gratis. Made me feel strange.

  *

  The drive down Ponce and then Peachtree at that time of night is pretty calm. Only the drunks and the cops are on the road, and I look to avoid them both, so it took me longer than it might have to get to the movie house.

  Considering the hour, it was doing a fair business. Fifteen or twenty cars were in the lot. Still, there was plenty of space for me. I pulled in and glanced at the
corner where the Buick had been. All the yellow police tape had blown away just like nothing had ever happened there.

  The lobby was dark and the mildew smell was something to deal with. A round little guy was behind the counter. He didn’t even look up when he spoke.

  “Eight dollars. And we’re about to close.”

  “Don’t wanna see the movie. I’d like to ask you some questions.”

  Then he looked up. “About the girls in the trunk.”

  “Uh-huh. Where’s Kay?”

  “Quit.”

  “Really.”

  “You’re not Flap, are you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “If you are, Kay said good-bye. What were you, dating her? Old guy like you?”

  “Speaking of which, you must be Jerry.”

  “I suppose I must be.”

  “So Kay said…”

  “…’Bye. That’s all. What can I do for you?”

  “She go home?”

  “She didn’t tell me her life story, she just quit. I’ll get another girl in a week. It’s nothing. Is that all?”

  “Can you tell me the name of the tow-truck driver who hauled away the big Buick where they found the girls?”

  “The guy’s name?”

  “Or the name of the towing company.”

  “Why?”

  “He smelled the bodies.”

  “So?”

  “So I wanna ask him about it.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m helping out with a family investigation.”

  “I think I’m about to understand something here. You came in and talked to Kay about the two dead girls and you got her all stirred up about how a girl could get dead in this town and she took off to Hicksville and now I gotta put an ad in the paper and interview and everything. You’re something in the way of being a troublemaker.”

  “Not me.”

  “Well, you cause me trouble.”

  “Kay’s the first girl that ever quit this palace?”

  He blinked. “All right, so she’s not. But you ran this one off with how safe it was in her own little town and how mean it is here in the big bad city.”

  “I thought she didn’t tell you her life story.”

  “Didn’t. But I’m wise to your type.”

  “Type?”

  “You, my sleepless friend in the middle of the night, are the type that goes around listening to stories and getting answers — and often in a town like this, that’s trouble. You might get a reputation as a guy who wants to know something.”