I kept my eyes on the car, but spoke to the uncle. “So tell me again: This guy’s been getting your family’s effects and artifacts and whatnot for how long?” “Long time.”
“So how come you just now asked me to help?” Beat. “Thought it would stop. Don’t like to involve…excuse me…foreigners.”
I assured him. “No offense taken.”
He wouldn’t leave it alone. “I mean, you seem to be a fine man, but you American people…are not like us.”
“It’s okay.” Although I’d have to say I actually felt a little uncomfortable about the way he’d said it — not like us. It sounded a little too much like not human. So I pressed. “Still. You didn’t even tell your brother until recently, right?”
His voice changed. “I didn’t want anyone to know.” He looked away. “And I thought we were protected. I thought no one would find out. I thought we were invisible.”
I had no idea what he was talking about, but I let him off the hook. “Okay.” I took in a hefty breath. “This ever happen before, this standing here while he decides to get out of the car?”
“Never.”
The light was only a little stronger, and the day was still trying to decide if it wanted to be cold or not. I rubbed my eyes and made a choice.
“You two guys just hold still; I’m goin’ to speak to our visitor.” And without any further thought, because fools actually do rush in, apparently, I lumbered toward the shark car.
It had an effect. The driver moved. I had the sensation he was reaching for something. I figured it was probably a gun. I was thinking what a cliché it was going to be for a guy like me to end up dead in a back alley at dawn. But for some reason the irony didn’t make it to my feet — poor circulation, maybe — and I kept walking anyway.
Turns out the guy was reaching for the emergency brake, or maybe the gear shift to put it into reverse. When I got fairly close to the car it started backing away. It was slow, no panic. The shark had just decided it wasn’t hungry, I guess.
I got a little cocky and waved at the guy as he backed into the street. It was hard to tell, but I think he waved back. And I think he had longish blond hair and a loud sports jacket — but there was something almost familiar about the way he waved back as he got the car in forward gear and pulled slowly away into the early-morning traffic.
My two companions were floored. For a second neither spoke. Finally the uncle, barely audible, spoke to his brother in their native tongue.
There was an answer, then Linda’s father spoke to me in something resembling my native tongue. “What did you do?”
I was still watching the place where the car had been. “Nothing.”
It was a very satisfactory answer to both of them. See, in a lot of your religions and philosophies around the world, “nothing” is actually the best thing you can do.
The father came up to me. “Could that be it? Could he be gone?”
But I was more worried than ever. “Oh, no, he’s not. He’s not gone at all. He’s more here than he’s ever been, if my current hunch is anywhere close to bein’ accurate.”
He actually put his hand on my shoulder, like Linda did sometimes. “What’s the matter, Flap?”
I looked him in the eye. “The matter is, I think I know that guy. And it’s so very not good you don’t even know.”
He didn’t know what I was saying, but he let me use the phone in the restaurant to call up Dally anyway.
“How’s the headache?”
Her voice was bright. “Better.”
“Glad. Meet me at Lenny’s. It’s One St. Dominic.”
She was excited. “What? You got something?”
“I just…wanted you there so we could collect our money. You know: I found Augusta, didn’t I?”
“You know something you’re not telling me.”
“Okay, I haven’t exactly figured out the trick thing myself. Even in the bold light of a new day, I can still be pretty much in the dark, you know. But something just happened that gave me a jolt. Plus, over and over again my mind keeps turning to Lenny and the lions and the little paper airplane.” Not to mention how come those cops were breaking and entering just like me? But I didn’t even mention that.
She was still sleepy. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Just meet me there in a half hour, can you?”
“My car’s funny.”
“Take a bus. It’s six blocks down Ponce. It’s no big deal.”
She didn’t know what was going on, but she knew from other calls like this one — late into the night, too early in the morning — that she had to get out of bed and jump on the ride. “I’ll meet you. We’ll get our money. All will be revealed.”
I’d have to say I let her think that. She hung up and I dialed again. I called Tony; woke him up real good.
“What is it?” I could tell he was still really asleep.
“It’s Flap Tucker. I know what’s what. You gotta meet me at Lenny’s and bring your sis.”
“What? What for?”
“Because I know what’s what. You care to find out who’s killin’ your girls?”
“Uh…yeah, I do. Where is it?”
“Aggie knows. One St. Dominic, just off Highland and Imogene, close to the Majestic.”
“We’ll find it. Take us, maybe, forty-five minutes. What’s the deal?”
“All will be revealed.”
“I’m not happy.”
“But you’re coming; you and Augusta are coming to Lenny’s.”
“Yeah — long as you don’t think it was me no more.” But he really didn’t expect me to answer.
Okay: Sure, I didn’t know what I was doing. But part of the charm of my line of work is the nature of improvisation. Jazz is everything. Sometimes you hit a clinker, but sometimes you soar with the angels. Sometimes you’re Charlie Parker. And I was feeling pretty high. Something was about to happen at the home of Looney Lenny.
Chapter 20: Streets of the Saints
Only slightly more than twenty minutes later I was parking the car in front of Lenny’s house on one of the streets of the saints. I figured I’d wake him up, but if he was the Lenny everyone thought he was, he wouldn’t mind — and if he was the Lenny I was beginning to suspect, being awakened at an indecent hour was the least of his problems.
So I popped the knocker pretty good this time, like it was the cops or the landlord on rent day. And who do you think finally answered?
It was the Veteran and Tommy, my police friends. Tommy actually smiled. “Look who’s here.”
The Veteran shook his head at me. “Okay, I give: What are you doing?”
“My name is Flap Tucker. I’m a licensed private investigator, and I’m currently working on the whereabouts of Mr. Cascade’s missing wife. Is he in?”
Lenny appeared out of the darkness in the hall. “He’s a dick.” He smiled at me. “Hey, Flap.”
“Hey, Lenny. It’s private investigator.”
“Oh.” But I could already see a different Lenny standing there. I could already tell something different in his voice, and it was making the day a whole lot chillier.
The Veteran held out his hand. “License.”
I handed it over.
Tommy peered around his partner’s shoulder. “Nice picture.”
The Veteran handed it back to me. “Carry a gun?”
I shook my head. “What for?”
The Veteran caught my eye. “Face like yours? I would guess a lot of people want to shoot at it.”
Tommy shoved his way to me. “Let’s just check.”
It took him a while, and it was a little embarrassing for everybody concerned, but he found out I wasn’t carrying a concealed weapon — like I said.
Tommy was mad again. Try as I might, I seemed to aggravate the guy. He thought real hard. “What are you doing here?” It was all he could come up with.
I peered around them at Lenny. “Could I come in? I’ve solved your case. Your wife will
be here within the hour. Dally’s on her way too, so we can settle up our financial account and I can be on my merry way. I haven’t been sleeping that well lately, and I’d like to get on home. Or maybe I could have some more of that great java you get from Seattle. What was it?”
Lenny smiled. He looked at the Veteran. “He’s leading you to understand that other people know he’s here — that they are, in fact, on their way. Do you see that?” Chilly Lenny.
The Veteran nodded. Tommy seemed puzzled.
Lenny looked at me again. “It’s Gold Coast Blend. I’ll see if I can’t get some for you, Flap. Come on in.”
I stepped through the policemen and into Lenny’s entrance hall. There were boxes and bags everywhere, and big white sheets covering some of the furniture.
“I thought you never went on vacation, Lenny.”
He smiled. “I’m going to Paris — to stay. It’s a little gift from my father.”
“How’s your French?”
“Pourriez-vous me suggérer quelque chose?”
“Yeah, I’ve got quite a few suggestions. But how about Êtres-vous marié? for starters.”
He shrugged. “In the eyes of the law? No. I’m not really married. In the eyes of God, who’s to say?”
I took in a deep breath. “So why am I draggin’ myself all over town looking for Augusta?”
He raised his eyebrows. “Yes. You have done something of a better job at that than I expected. I never thought in my wildest dreams you’d get this far in the game. Although I have a suspicion Dalliance might have been of some help in this regard.”
“Your diction’s improving. And by the way: game?”
“We’ll get to that.”
“So how come you hired me to find your wife if, after all is said and done, you don’t really have one?”
He focused a very steady eye on me for a good solid moment, then he looked at the Veteran.
“Bertrand, would you and Tommy like to go to the kitchen for a little more breakfast?”
Bertrand looked at the floor. “Yes, Mr. Cascade.”
“And would you mind asking someone in there to bring us some coffee in the den?”
Bertrand nodded, and he and Tommy took off. Lenny indicated the direction to the den, and I walked in ahead of him.
I sat in my previous location: the Queen Anne job. “So, Dad’s sendin’ you to Paris.”
“I love it in the autumn.”
“Uh-huh. I feel you have a story to tell me.”
He took the other chair. We were very close. He stared into my eyes like he was trying to hypnotize me. It was like I’d never seen the guy before. His face, his hands, his hair, his clothes — everything was a little different. This was Lenny’s big brother — who wasn’t nuts at all.
Finally he sat back. “Well, yes, I am going to tell you a story. Why not? You can’t do anything about it now. As you can see, the police are pretty much at my beck and call, wouldn’t you say?”
“Those guys are really cops?”
“Oh, yes. You know, you wouldn’t believe how terrible a policeman’s salary is. They have to augment it with outside funds. And then, of course, when they get used to the outside funds, it’s relatively easy to control them: One has only to threaten.”
“Threaten?”
“Oh, to remove the outside funds, to ruin their credit, to report the bribe to their superiors. I’ve got quite a hold on them. It’s really quite simple to do. I’ve done it many times before, in many cities. I can — and I say this with all due modesty — manipulate anybody’s life beyond all recognition.” He smiled — for a second, the old Lenny smile. “Money’s wonderful.”
“Yeah, but it’s not everything.”
“Of course not, but it can accomplish everything. With a very few words I could convince the police, for example, that you were a terrible serial killer for whom they are currently searching. Clues would appear, witnesses would come forth, a case would mount. You’d be in prison before Christmas — probably on death row, if there is such a thing in this state.”
“I see.”
“I hope you do. For some reason I actually like you.”
“The feeling used to be mutual.”
“You didn’t like me — you didn’t know me. You knew my character.” He shifted in his seat. “He is very charming, isn’t he? I’ve grown to be very fond of that one.”
“Dally really is on her way — and so is Tony and so is Augusta. The idea being that I found your missing wife, and you’re going to pay up as per the letter from your father, and my case is closed.”
He locked me in that eerie gaze again. “Really. Your case is closed? Can you assure me of that?”
“What do you mean?”
“After I tell you my story — and I’m going to do just that — you may want to do something more.”
“I don’t get it.”
“I believe that once I’ve told you everything, you will have the impulse to cause me trouble. I can deal with the trouble, as I believe I’ve just indicated, but I wouldn’t like to do it. I don’t really want you to go to prison. And I don’t want to miss my flight.”
“I still don’t get it.”
“I never know whether you’re, as they say, playing dumb or you really are just remarkably vague.”
“Now you know how I’m beginning to feel about you.”
He seemed actually enthusiastic. “That’s why I’m going to tell you all about this situation. I think you’ll really appreciate my acting skills, and I never get to talk about them with anyone because most people don’t get to me before I move on — despite the obvious trail I always leave.”
“You’ve done this sort of thing before?”
He nodded. “All over the world. It’s not always Looney Lenny, but he’s my favorite.”
“Why?”
“That’s just it. It’s all part of the story I’m going to tell you. No one really appreciates my artistry the way I think you might.”
Some older woman came in then with a big tray: coffee service, croissants, butter, condiments. Without a word she set it on the table in between us and left.
Lenny held out his hand. “Please, help yourself. Coffee really does make me go to sleep, so I only have it at bedtime. But I think I will have one of these delicious croissants. Marie just made them this morning, and the whole house smelled like a bakery.” He shoveled one up. “I can’t wait to get to the city. There’s a little cafe on a corner near the Hotel de Ville, right on the river…”
And he drifted off, thinking of Paris in autumn. I hated to rouse him from his reverie.
“So, Lenny — what’s the story?”
He settled back in his chair, finished the last of his pastry with one huge bite, and began to talk with his mouth full.
“I’m something in the way of a secret agent. I’ve helped my father’s company achieve trillions of dollars’ worth of profit. And I’m very good. Not to mention it’s great work. I’m an actor in the play in God’s mind.”
“Say it again.”
“Lila. Hindu. It’s the play in God’s mind: life.”
“Heard of it. But I’ve recently been told that a story’s supposed to have a beginning and a middle and so on.”
He loved that. He actually beamed. The old Lenny wasn’t completely out of him yet. “I came to Atlanta not quite three years ago. My father had bought this house. I settled in, researched my part, and began to acquire a reputation, as they say, ‘on the street’ as Looney Lenny — I even started the name. You can’t imagine how thrilling it is to play a character that’s so lovable. I came home every night filled with joy.”
“Lenny was great.” Then I realized I’d said it like he was dead.
He shrugged. “It works. Anyway, I met all sorts, as you might imagine. Of course, you and Ms. Oglethorpe…and your ex-wife and Marsha at the Majestic and Kelly at the club — these were all standouts.”
“I’d imagine this all was for something more than the thrill of s
treet theater.”
He sighed, coldly contented. “Oh, yes. Something considerably more.”
I folded my arms in front of me. “Like, for instance, you haven’t mentioned our friends at the Golden Potala yet.”
He reached over and poured me a cup of coffee then. “You really don’t want to miss out on this coffee, Flap. It may be the last time you ever get a chance to taste it.”
He handed me the cup. I dropped a spoonful of raw sugar into the little cup and stirred like I was at a party.
Lenny watched the motion of the spoon like it was a strip show. Then he looked up at me. “Dalliance and Tony and Augusta — they’re all really on their way here?”
I nodded.
He sat back. “I’d really hoped to leave without seeing Augusta again. I don’t mind seeing Ms. Oglethorpe.”
“And Tony might have a few things to say to you.”
He waved his hand like Tony was a mosquito in his face for a second. We sat in silence. I looked around the room. All the little things that made the place personal were gone — packed up, I guess. The diary-looking book was gone, even the desk or whatever it had been sitting on.
I took a gulp of coffee. “We gonna wait till everybody gets here to finish the story?”
He squinted. “I don’t want to bore you telling the same parts twice.”
“I’m not bored.”
“It’ll only be a moment or two. Traffic at this hour isn’t all that bad. And Dalliance lives…what? Five, eight blocks from here?”
“About that.”
He shook his head. “Smell that. This wonderful coffee and the fresh croissants…what a sensation.”
I took a whiff. Suddenly, like a whack in the back of the head, something else came very clear in my mind. I think it showed.
Lenny leaned forward, very concerned. “Flap? Are you all right? You look sick.”
All I could say was, “Mint.”
“I’m sorry?”
“Mint. That’s the smell in Augusta’s room, the familiar smell, here in Augusta’s room the other night, that I couldn’t put my finger on then.” I looked at him. “It was mint.”
He was confused. “Mint’s a good smell too. Very fresh. It’s probably in some potpourri the maid puts around.”
Easy (A Flap Tucker Mystery Book 1) Page 18