I smiled at Toughie. I didn’t have a clue what I’d do if we actually found Delilah. “Let’s go,” I said.
Oh well, I never liked Good Morning America that much anyway.
Chapter 34
I wouldn’t have noticed the dwarves following us across the Royal Alcatraz lobby except Toughie warned me not to look.
“Ignore the little people,” she said.
“What little people?”
“The ones you haven’t seen yet.”
“If I haven’t seen them, how can I ignore them?” I asked.
“It’s when you see them and you’re not supposed to see them, that’s when you’ve got to ignore them.”
“Why?”
“Because we don’t want them to know we’ve seen them. That way they’ll think we don’t know they’re following us.”
“Dwarves are following us?”
“They work for Royal Rob.”
“Well, that explains it,” I said as if the whole thing suddenly made perfect sense.
Then I thought, little people? I had to look.
I stopped abruptly. I turned to scan the area, but Jimmy was only a step behind me and blocked my view. I jerked my head to one side, hoping for a glimpse, but it was like trying to peer around the bow of the U.S.S. Nimitz.
Toughie, at my side, touched my shoulder. “I told you to ignore them.”
“Okay,” I said and turned to face James a couple of feet ahead. But as I moved, I caught a glimpse of a dwarf in a sports coat, slacks, and bow tie, hiding under a roulette table and, half-a-second later, I saw one peeking from behind a potted palm – the pot itself was big enough to hide a whole posse of little people.
I wasn’t exactly sure – after all I’d been warned not to stare – but from the telltale bulges under their coats I was pretty certain they were all packing heat. The guns looked big, but then again it was a little hard to tell, the proportions being what they were.
When we got outside the casino the Roo brothers’ Continental was waiting for us. Before we got in, though, Toughie went to the back and popped the trunk. She peered down and shook her head.
“Damn it, Shaq, get out of there,” Toughie said. She reached into the trunk and hoisted a dwarf out. He was wearing an expensive charcoal grey suit with wide lapels, white pinstripes and a white tie. He was holding a fedora. She set him on the sidewalk.
“I thought about hiding in the back seat,” Shaq said.
“We’d have seen you,” Toughie told him and Shaq nodded. “Go tell Royal Rob that he doesn’t need to tail us, okay? I know what I’m doing.”
Shaq nodded, dusted off his fedora, pulled it low over one eye, and headed back into the Royal Alcatraz. I followed Toughie into the backseat of the Continental and seconds later we were cruising down the Las Vegas Strip. In the distance I could see the casino with the roller coaster on the outside, and Las Vegas’ own Eiffel Tower. And the French say we have no culture. Go figure.
“Okay, I know I’m new in town,” I said. “But I’ve got a couple of questions.”
“About the water wings or the dwarves?” Toughie said.
“Both.”
“I figured you’d ask.”
I have to admit I breathed a sigh of relief. I’d just been threatened by a mobster wearing Donald Duck water wings and followed by a pack of nattily-dressed dwarves carrying guns. At least Toughie seemed to understand my lack of clarity.
“So you think it’s odd, too?” I said.
“Not at all.”
“You don’t?” I was starting to channel my inner Dorothy — I didn’t know what was going on, but I knew I wasn’t in Kansas any more.
“This is Vegas, not Des Moines,” Toughie said. “Guys make a living running around this city in gladiator outfits. Odd has a whole different meaning here.”
“But water wings?”
“Royal Rob’s deathly afraid of the water. That’s why he lives in the desert.”
“If he’s afraid of the water, why’s he hanging out next to the pool?”
Toughie exhaled and shook her head. She gave me that look again, the one that says I’m lucky breathing doesn’t involve a thought process. She glanced at the Roo twins. “Can you believe this guy?”
“Maybe he’s blind,” Jimmy said.
“Maybe he doesn’t like girls,” James said.
Blind? Gay? I’ll admit that I’d been pretty focused on those ducks and that casaba-sized tube of sunscreen, plus it’s not unusual for me to miss a detail now and then, but my lack of attention usually involves chemical aids. But, this time I was sober and my eyesight improves a bit when there are women involved.
I closed my eyes and tried to recreate the scene around the pool. Oh yes, of course, those mountains of flesh and the cleavage deep enough to hide a dwarf. It wasn’t that I hadn’t noticed. I was just concentrating on breathing.
I guess I must have started smiling.
“That’s right,” Toughie said. “In Vegas, the bigger the boobs, the smaller the bikini. I think it’s some sort of city ordinance.”
“Yeah, gives a whole new meaning to the term silicone valley,” I said.
Toughie shook her head. “That’s in California.”
“Okay, I get the water wings,” I said. In truth, though, I wasn’t sure that twin demonic Donald Ducks would actually be much of an allure to the opposite sex. But then again when it comes to girls, I’ve been pretty much a window shopper most of my life, so I wasn’t really in a position to judge.
“But what about the dwarves?” I asked.
“Shaq runs the Little Secrets Detective Agency. Their motto is ‘We do it all, no job too big or too small.’ Royal Rob hires them when he wants someone tailed. He figures they can disappear in a crowd.”
I closed my eyes for a second and tried to absorb what she’d just told me. I decided it was best to focus on the future.
“So, what’s next?”
“After the Roo boys drop us off at the motel, you and I will go talk to the man who’ll tell us how to find Delilah.”
“Great. Is he like … ah …” I really wasn’t sure what word to use. But I managed to say “normal?”
“Oh yeah, he’s pretty normal … for Vegas,” Toughie said.
I was beginning to think Kansas might look pretty good this time of year.
Chapter 35
“He’s trying to crossbreed cats and dogs,” Toughie said.
“Come again.”
“Dr. Karl. The guy who’s going to help us find Delilah. He’s a scientist of sorts.”
That expression ‘of sorts’ caught my attention and I was about to say something, but just then Toughie shifted her truck into four-wheel drive, turned off the highway, and headed across open desert toward a geodesic dome amid the cacti in the distance. The best I could figure we were about twenty miles outside of Vegas and a few light years from sanity.
“I don’t think I understand,” I said.
“He’s going to call them cots or maybe dats.”
“But you can’t crossbreed cats and dogs.”
“Yeah, I know. Getting them to mate is really tough. That’s why he moved out here. The neighbors in town got tired of all the howling and yeowling.”
“No. I mean it’s genetically impossible.”
“Don’t tell Dr. Karl that. He doesn’t take criticism easily.”
Toughie had told me the guy was “normal by Vegas standards.” I guess the expression isn’t a precise term like, say, bat shit crazy would be. I decided to focus on the positive.
“So you think Delilah might be here?”
“Oh God no. Dr. Karl doesn’t like company. He’s a little eccentric and he’s heavily armed.”
The dome was perhaps a quarter mile away now.
“Toughie, why are we here?”
“Dr. Karl knows everyone. If Vincent the Hammer is right and Delilah’s working with animals anywhere near Vegas, Dr. Karl will know.”
“And he’ll tell you?”
/> Toughie smiled. “Everyone talks to me. Plus he owes me a favor.”
Toughie stopped the pickup about fifty yards from the dome and honked the horn, three quick blasts. A Hummer, painted a desert camouflage, was parked near the dome’s front door. There were no other signs of life.
Toughie hit the horn again and a moment later the dome’s door popped open and a man stepped through. It was a little hard to tell from the distance, but he looked to be at least six foot five and skinny. He was wearing a white lab coat and he was carrying a rifle. I don’t know much about guns, but I knew that one was really big.
Toughie touched my arm. “Don’t say anything.”
“About what?”
“About anything. Dr. Karl has a short fuse. Living with a passel of pissed-off cats will do that to you.”
Dr. Karl raised the gun and pointed it at the pickup. Toughie pushed the pickup’s door open and stepped out.
“Damn it, Dr. Karl, put the gun down. I just want to talk.”
“Who’s the stranger?” Dr. Karl asked.
“That’s just Joey the Door Stop.”
Door Stop? Story of my life. Other guys get nicknames like ‘Hit Man’ Hearns, or ‘Magic’ Johnson, or even that English woman they called the ‘Iron Lady.’ Me, I get Spare Parts and Door Stop. But I tried to look on the bright side. No way Dr. Karl was going to feel threatened by some dude nicknamed ‘Door Stop.’
I guess I was right. Dr. Karl lowered the rifle, turned, and disappeared back into the dome. Toughie nodded toward the door and I followed her in. I looked around and thought, time for Dr. Frankenstein to phone home.
The place had an open floor plan and straight ahead against the far wall was a stainless steel lab bench with a few bubbling beakers, some microscopes, what looked like surgical saws and scalpels, and an autoclave or a pressure cooker, I couldn’t quite tell. But my gaze didn’t linger long on the tools of Dr. Karl’s trade because I felt a presence to my right.
I turned and saw a row of cages filled with cats and dogs. The closest one held a cat with a strong resemblance to Morris, that celebrity feline that used to sell kitty food. But whatever Dr. Karl was selling, this cat wasn’t buying. The look in its eyes would have terrified a Nazi.
A pit bull was in the next cage. It was the size of a linebacker, bulky with muscles and a blank Neanderthal expression. Drool dripped from its jaws. Despite its size, it was eyeing Morris suspiciously like a fighter who’s lost fourteen of the scheduled fifteen rounds and wonders where the hell the towel is.
Dr. Karl had pretty much ignored me since we walked in but he was chatting away to Toughie. I tried to ignore the murderous cat a few inches from my elbow and listen to him.
“I know it’s probably a fools errand but just think if I succeed, the world will be a better place. We’ll have pets as loveable and loyal as Labradors but as independent as cats.”
I glanced back at Morris then at the enormous pit bull and tried to imagine what it would be like if Dr. Karl actually made it work and turned a horde of these creatures loose on the world. Maybe we could just bring back small pox instead.
“Yeah, that’s cool,” Toughie said, “but right now we need to know about this woman named Delilah. You know her?”
She held up a photo. Dr. Karl looked and shrugged. “Never seen her. But I don’t get a lot of visitors. I don’t get out much either. I heard Ernie has a new assistant, though. Some woman from L.A.”
“Great,” Toughie said. “We won’t trouble you anymore. We’ll check with Ernie. Thanks for the help.”
“Glad to do it,” Dr. Karl said.
We headed toward the door. I glanced back. Dr. Karl had slipped on some huge, thick leather gloves and a hockey goalie’s mask and was advancing toward Morris’ cage. I figured the next few minutes would be worthy of pay-per-view and part of me really wanted to stick around and watch. But Toughie was already out the door so I hustled after her.
We were almost back on the highway when curiosity overrode my better judgment and I asked.
“You said Dr. Karl is a scientist. So, he’s ah … ah got a PhD?”
“Yeah, that’s what I understand.”
“In what?”
“Kinesiology or geology, one of the ’ology subjects.”
It was time to change the subject. “Okay, this guy Ernie, is he a doctor, too?”
“Ernie? Nah, he works with elephants.”
Great. My life was in the hands of a mob boss’ daughter who was hanging out with Ernie the Elephant Man. I watched the desert slide past for a few moments then closed my eyes and thought about my remark to Royal Rob about running into Dumbo. Wouldn’t you know? First time in months I got something right and it had disaster written all over it.
Chapter 36
We were on the outskirts of Vegas when Toughie glanced over at me. “Hey, we’re almost there. Why so glum?”
“Just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Show tunes and sunscreen.”
“Royal Rob means it, you know. He’s buried more people than Forest Lawn. ”
Just what I needed. Positive reinforcement. As it was, I figured Dr. Karl had a better chance of producing dats and cots than I did of getting Delilah to talk to me. After all, I was the guy who’d gotten her puked on, then caught between skinhead Nazi bikers and a flaming drum machine just before I ran off to El Centro.
Oh sure, I’d give it my best shot – I’d go straight to groveling – but if I succeeded in convincing her to return to the City of the Angels to become a rock star, Royal Rob would have me pushing up saguaros before sunset. And if I didn’t get her back to L.A., Vincent the Hammer would come to Vegas whistling some Gilbert and Sullivan tune.
What the hell, I didn’t really have anything much to lose. I turned to Toughie. “Let me ask you something.”
“What?”
I explained my dilemma.
“So what’s the question?” she asked when I finished.
Well, duh, I thought, but I didn’t say anything. Over the years, I’ve learned that when you’re asking people for help, it’s best not to antagonize them.
“I need to know whether to take Delilah back to L.A. or take her to Royal Rob. I was hoping you could help me figure the odds, or maybe figure an angle. There’s got to be an angle, right?”
Toughie laughed.
“What’s so funny?”
“You don’t know much about women, do you?”
I wanted to argue, but then I couldn’t even figure out Grandma Ethel, and her hormones are pretty much in check. In truth, any woman this side of Medicare was a total mystery to me.
“Well, I like to think I know a little something,” I said, not admitting just how little that little was.
“Joey, you don’t know diddley.”
“How’d you know?”
“Because you think you can choose between Vincent the Hammer and Royal Rob.”
“Well, yeah. I’d like to think I have some say in the matter.”
“No, Joey. It’s her choice, not yours.”
Then it hit me. What if she refused to do either? I’d have Vincent the Hammer and Royal Rob arguing over who got to kill me first. I wondered for a second if they’d use Door Stop or Spare Parts on my headstone.
Toughie turned off the highway and into the parking lot of a place that looked like horse stables with two long low barns facing each other across a dirt path that led to a corral out back.
“We’re here,” Toughie said and stopped the truck near the entrance to the barns.
“Before we go in, let me ask you one more question,” I said.
“What?”
“Well, you know both Vincent the Hammer and Royal Rob. So what are the odds that Delilah won’t do either one — go back to L.A. or see Royal Rob?”
“She a smart lady?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Yeah, pretty smart.”
“It’s a slam dunk, then. What woman in her right mind would spend time with
either one of those psychos?”
“Lizzie Borden?”
“Oh, I’d say you’re totally screwed.”
Yup, just what I needed before my life-or-death moment in the sun, more positive reinforcement.
Chapter 37
Delilah didn’t look happy to see me. She was in a corral behind the barns and stared hard as I strolled across the dirt toward her.
Toughie had told me, before she pointed out the corral and headed into the office, that Ernie trained exotic animals for the acts in town and had a “tiger and a couple of lions around someplace.”
“I figured you’d be dead by now,” Delilah quipped with the irritation of someone who’d spent forty-five minutes on hold with the cable company.
I shrugged. “Sorry things didn’t work out.”
“You referring to the rehearsal fiasco, or the fact that you’re still depleting the world’s supply of oxygen?”
“Both, I guess.” Normally I don’t apologize for just being alive, but then I’d never been compared to a coal-fired power plant either. So I have to admit I was a little flustered. Did she mean I was an eyesore blighting the landscape or a cause of global warming?
The elephant didn’t help. Delilah was feeding peanuts to this creature that looked bigger than King Kong and seemed to be eyeing me suspiciously. Cool, a mob boss for a father and an overly protective pachyderm for a pet, just what every girl needs. I watched the elephant closely and edged toward the white board fence.
“I thought you’d be looking after the tiger,” I said and leaned an arm on the top railing. I was trying for a smooth Gary Cooper kind of nonchalance, but judging by Delilah’s expression I ended up closer to Ichabod Crane.
“If I’d known you were coming, I’d have let the tiger out. Come to think of it, I don’t think I locked that cage,” she said and lifted her gaze and looked past me to the barn. “Oh my,” she said and her eyes widened.
She had to be kidding, right? I had a vision of a one-ton Morris stalking me silently from behind. But she wouldn’t really let a tiger eat me, would she? I fought the urge to glance over my shoulder. Then I remembered the projectile vomiting and drum machine – plenty of motivation there. I looked. Nothing there. I turned back. Delilah laughed. The elephant trumpeted and she gave it another handful of peanuts.
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