Hard Case Crime: Fake I.D.

by Starr, Jason

  I guess I could’ve brought her to my room at Bally’s, but I was so tired I didn’t want to waste the energy crossing the street. Besides, I was rolling in dough so I just rented a two-hundred-dollar room at the Flamingo and took the hooker upstairs with me. I knew I wouldn’t be able to get in two goes this time, but I got my money’s worth anyway.

  Later on, I could barely get out of bed and I had to pace around my room for about fifteen minutes before I could make it downstairs. Two rare steaks and a side order of shrimp pumped me up enough to make it into a cab and head crosstown to Caesar’s Palace for some poker action. Forty-five minutes later I was broke.

  I still don’t know how I managed to lose all my money so fast. It probably had something to do with being the worst poker player in the world and sitting down at a high-stakes table with blue balls on zero sleep. All I remember clearly is sitting across from two guys in cowboy hats, and next thing I knew I was sitting on a chair in the lobby with my head in my hands.

  I only had about forty dollars left on me—enough to get a cab to the airport and to pay to pick up my car from the airport parking lot in New York. I thought about going back to one of my hotel rooms, but I knew there was no way I’d fall asleep so I decided to just head out to the terminal and wait for my flight tomorrow morning. I sat down near my gate, so tired I was dizzy. I noticed that people kept sitting down next to me then getting up and moving away. Then I remembered how the cab driver had opened all the windows and how people at the poker table had been giving me funny looks. I hadn’t showered since Monday morning —over two days ago—and I probably smelled as bad as Pete Logan.

  I probably looked like shit too. I needed a shave and I was wearing the same outfit—jeans and a black sweatshirt with my black leather coat—that I’d left New York in. I had about five hours until my flight left but I couldn’t grab any shut-eye.

  Finally, at around six in the morning my flight boarded. I was hoping to catch some Zs on the plane, but I couldn’t sleep. I was staring out the window, at some clouds, when I saw my father on the wing and my mother was next to him. They were both laughing, then my father pushed me and I was tumbling down a flight of stairs, screaming, trying to stop, but I was falling faster and faster.

  “Excuse me, sir...sir?”

  I looked up at the stewardess leaning over me.

  “Sorry to wake you, but the pilot has put on the fasten seat belt sign.”

  “Thanks,” I said, looking out the window, scratching the scar on the back of my head.

  It was snowing in New York. It wasn’t coming down hard, but there were a few inches on the ground. I was so exhausted I thought I was going to pass out, but I somehow made it out to the parking lot. I brushed the snow off the windshield and the back windows with my hands, then I got into the car. Naturally, the piece of shit wouldn’t start. I asked the parking attendant for a boost and then I had to stand outside waiting for an hour, freezing my ass off. I was almost ready to just leave my car there, take the license off and ditch it. But then they got the car started and, going about thirty miles per hour the whole way, I made it into the city about an hour and a half later.

  It was around three in the afternoon—an impossible time to find a parking space in Manhattan. After driving around for about twenty minutes, I gave up and left the car in front of a hydrant on my block. Let the cops tow the dung heap away—do me a favor.

  Walking up the stairs in my building, I felt like I was climbing the Statue of Liberty. In my apartment, I went right to my couch, not even bothering to open the bed. Then I heard a funny squeaking sound. I thought it was the pipes or something so I tried to ignore it. But it was too damn annoying so I got up to find out where the noise was coming from. It sounded like it was coming from the kitchen sink, maybe inside the pipes, then I looked down and saw the little mouse caught in a glue trap. I picked up the trap with the mouse stuck on it, opened the window, and flung it across the street like a frisbee.

  Back on the couch, I started to dream. I was in the winner’s circle at Hollywood Park. My horse had just won a big race and Jack Nicholson and Robert Redford and Al Pacino were there, shaking my hand. Then an alarm went off and people started running and yelling, “Fire! Fire!” and I looked over and my horse was dead. I tried to run away, but I was stuck to a giant glue trap. I woke up, sweating, wondering why the noise wouldn’t stop. Then I realized what was going on. My fucking phone was ringing.

  Thirteen

  “Tommy? I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  The voice sounded like somebody I knew, but I was so spaced it took a second or two before I matched it with a name—Debbie O’Reilley.

  “No,” I said, wondering why the hell I didn’t just let my answering machine pick up. “What’s going on?”

  “I should be asking you that question. I’ve been trying to hunt you down for two days now. Either you’ve been screening your calls or you went away without telling me. Either way I’m very upset with you.”

  As usual, she sounded drunk.

  “I was in Vegas,” I said.

  “Vegas? Las Vegas?”

  “You calling me for any reason, because I was about to go to sleep.”

  “Sleep? Don’t you have to work tonight?”

  Shit, I forgot all about work. There was no way in hell I was going in feeling like this.

  “I’m calling in sick,” I said.

  “Really? Well, that’s convenient—and timely too. Because I’m feeling kind of lonely and I was hoping I could come over to visit.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I said I want to come over to your place.”

  “Here?”

  “Why not? You’re not trying to avoid me, are you?”

  I was starting to fall asleep again.

  “Look, I really gotta hang up now.”

  “I’m coming over—I just got your address from Information.”

  “Don’t come here,” I said, waking up. “I’m serious.”

  “Why? You’re too tired? It’s all right—I’ll take a nap with you.”

  “Wait,” I said. I remembered that Frank had hired a detective.

  “Don’t come here,” I said. “That’s a shitty idea.”

  “Don’t you want to see me again?” she said, trying to sound sexy.

  “It’s just not a good time right now,” I said. “Trust me, all right?”

  “I really want to see you again, Tommy. I don’t know what I did to upset you so much, but I promise I won’t do it again.”

  “Maybe some other time,” I said. “I’m really not feeling too good right now.”

  “Poor thing,” she said. “Are you sick? Should I bring you over some chicken soup?”

  “No, the thing is there’s a detective watching you,” I said. “Frank told me about it the other day—”

  “Oh, that’s why you’re so worried. You don’t have to worry about that, darling. That slob was following me around all day yesterday and I had no problem losing him. Don’t worry about anything. I’ll be right there.”

  “Come on, Debbie, don’t—”

  She hung up. I said “hello” a couple of times then I put the receiver down, still feeling dazed. I closed my eyes, trying to go back to Hollywood Park, but I must’ve fallen asleep without dreaming because it seemed like a second later the buzzer was ringing. I got up to answer it, forgetting where I was. Then I heard Debbie’s voice on the intercom. Now I was really getting pissed off. Why the hell couldn’t she take no for an answer?

  I buzzed her up, hoping the detective didn’t follow her. No matter what, I was going to tell her to get the hell away from me and to stay away.

  She was wearing a fur coat and black boots. Her fake blond hair was done up like Ivana Trump and she had a load of makeup on. She looked better than she did the other day at her apartment, but she still disgusted me.

  I noticed she was holding a white plastic shopping bag.

  “It was quite a climb to get up here,” she said. “I can’t
believe people actually live in these buildings.”

  She moved in to kiss me with her glossy lips and I was too tired to turn my head. I picked up the Scotch odor right away. Then she backed away, making a face like she just stepped into a big pile of dog shit.

  “What’s that smell?”

  “Me,” I said.

  “My God, you’re filthy...what happened to you?”

  “I told you, I was in Vegas.”

  “Don’t they have showers in Las Vegas?”

  “Why did you have to come over here?” I said. “Why couldn’t you listen to me?”

  “Because I was lonely and I wanted to see you. Aren’t you happy to see me?”

  “This was really stupid,” I said. “If that detective—”

  “You don’t have to worry about him,” she said. “I saw that slob following me again when I left my building. I found a police officer on the corner and told him that a man was following me, then I got in a cab and came over here. Oh, but first I stopped at a Chinese restaurant and bought you a couple of containers of hot-and-sour soup. It always does wonders for me when I feel a cold coming on.”

  “How do you know he didn’t follow you out of the restaurant?” I said. “Maybe you just didn’t see him.”

  “My God, will you stop being so paranoid? The way you’re talking you’d think you did have something to hide.”

  She passed by me and went toward the kitchen counter. I closed the door and bolted it.

  “I hate to be so blunt,” she said, “but you really could use a shower and a maid.”

  “If you don’t like the way I smell, there’s the door.”

  She thought about it a second then said, “No, actually I’m starting to like the way you smell. You smell raw. It kind of turns me on.” She put the shopping bag down on the counter. “Now I have a surprise for you so close your eyes.”

  I just stood there.

  “You’re no fun. Come on, play the game.”

  I crossed my arms in front of my chest.

  “All right, but it won’t be nearly as shocking.”

  She opened her coat and, except for her shiny black boots, she was buck naked.

  “Get out of here,” I said. I was looking away, trying not to see any more. “I’m serious.”

  “Well, that wasn’t exactly the response I was expecting.”

  She came up to me and put her arms around my waist, rubbing against me, then she kissed me on the lips. I pushed her away.

  “Just put your coat on and get out of here.”

  She took a few steps back. She was shaking a little bit too, maybe because she was so drunk.

  “I only came here because I thought you wanted to see me,” she said. “Because I thought we—”

  “Look, whatever happened the other day, let’s just forget about it, all right?”

  “What’s the matter, you didn’t have a good time?”

  “No.”

  “I don’t think this is any way for you to treat your future wife.”

  “Excuse me? What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Frank wants a divorce. He wanted to make an out-of-court settlement with me. At first, I was thinking about trying to milk him for all he was worth, but now I’m thinking about just accepting it. He said something about how he wants to move to Arizona, open a bar there. If I accept the settlement I’ll get the apartment and enough money to live on comfortably, or for us to live on comfortably.”

  “How the hell did you get the idea I’d want to marry you?” I said.

  “Why wouldn’t you? Not only would you be getting a woman who’d pleasure you like no woman could, but with Frank’s money you’d never have to work again.”

  I started to laugh. I couldn’t help it—it was just so damn funny.

  “Why are you laughing?”

  “Believe me,” I said, “if you were me, you’d be laughing too.”

  “I really don’t think you should be treating me this way. I might leave here very angry at you and then there’s no telling what I might do. Maybe I’ll just tell everybody about your dirty little secret.”

  “What do you mean?”

  I wasn’t laughing anymore.

  “You know exactly what I mean.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

  “I saw you the other night—stealing that money.”

  I stared at her, trying to figure out if she was lying.

  “I think you’re drunk and you should go home,” I said.

  “I was on my way to the bar to look for Frank and I saw you,” she said, “walking home with that garbage bag. I was wondering why you were taking garbage home from work with you, but the next day it all made sense.”

  “You’re full of shit,” I said, but I knew she was telling the truth. There was no other way she could’ve known about the garbage bag unless Rodrigo had told her, and I didn’t see why he would have.

  “It’s too bad,” she said. “We could’ve had a good life together.”

  “You’re wrong,” I said. “I didn’t take that money.”

  “Oh really? Then what’s that?”

  She was looking toward the kitchen table where the money left over from the robbery—five hundred dollars, in twenties and fifties—was spread out.

  “I bet you gambled the rest of it away in Las Vegas,” she said.

  She was buttoning up her coat.

  “Where are you going?”

  “Where do you think I’m going? Obviously, you don’t want me here.”

  “Hold up a second,” I said. “Come on—stay. I was just so tired from my trip I didn’t know what I was saying before.”

  “I think you’re lying.”

  “I’m serious,” I said. I opened the buttons of her coat and pulled her toward me. I smelled the Scotch on her breath. “I don’t want you to go—I’m glad you’re here. Why wouldn’t I be glad? You just can’t believe the shit I’ve been through the past couple days. Driving back from the airport I thought I was gonna pass out at the wheel. Come on, stay. I want you here. That’s the real truth.”

  I kissed her hard, swirling my tongue around in her one-hundred-proof mouth.

  After a while I pulled back and said, “So what do you say?”

  “I don’t know. A second ago you sounded like you were really mad at me, like you hated me—”

  “Forget about that. I’m telling you, I really didn’t know what the hell I was saying. If you wanna know the truth, I was pretty excited when I heard you and Frank were splitting up. I’m tired of being single, struggling, waking up alone every day. I’m getting to the age where I want to settle down.”

  She held onto the edge of the table, trying to keep her balance.

  “You know what I think?” she said. “I think you’re just saying all this to shut me up because you’re afraid I’m gonna call the police.”

  “No, I’m saying this because I want you to get into bed with me.”

  I took off her coat completely and let it fall onto the floor. I started kissing her again.

  “Tommy, can I ask you one more thing?”

  “Shoot,” I said.

  “Before, when you laughed about us getting married, you didn’t really—”

  “Of course not,” I said.

  “—because I didn’t mean it the way I sounded. I guess I’ve just been drinking and...I mean that’s what I’d like to happen someday, but it doesn’t mean it has to happen right away...I mean we can let it happen naturally and—”

  “Forget about it,” I said.

  She smiled.

  I kissed her some more, then she said, “Do you have anything to drink in this apartment?”

  “There’s beer in the fridge,” I said. “Help yourself.”

  While she went to get a beer, I went into the bathroom. Standing over the bowl, I felt like the floor was moving and I had to hold on to the shower door to keep my balance. Then I caught another whiff of myself. I smelled so bad I didn’t know h
ow Debbie could stand to be in the same room with me.

  When I came out of the bathroom, Debbie had pulled open the couch. She was lying on her back naked. I turned out the light. It wasn’t totally dark outside yet so I could still see the outline of her body. I didn’t know how I was going to go through with this. I got into bed and climbed on top of her. I was holding her down with my arms, taking it nice and slow at first, then speeding up. She started to moan and then I decided to just get it over with. I picked up a pillow and pressed it down over her face. She fought back awhile, kicking and swinging her arms like a maniac, but I kept pushing down. Finally, she stopped squirming.

  I turned on the light and lifted the pillow slowly. Her mouth was halfway open and her glassy brown eyes were looking at the ceiling.

  I got out of bed quickly. I started pacing my apartment, deciding what to do next. I knew I had to figure out a way to get rid of her body. It was probably stupid to put that pillow over her face without thinking it through first, but what choice did I have?

  Sitting down again, I started to doze off next to her and I knew this was a bad idea. I couldn’t go to sleep now—what if Debbie was wrong and that detective had followed her to my apartment? He could be outside right now, waiting for her to leave.

  I stood up out of bed and went to the kitchen sink and splashed my face with ice-cold water. Then I leaned out the window, looking for the detective. But I just saw a couple of people, on their way home from work, and a black guy across the street, looking in garbage cans.

  I had to come up with a plan. I was shooting blanks, then, thinking harder, I decided that I had to get the body into my car somehow and dump it someplace outside of Manhattan. But there was no way I could do that now, with so many people around. I’d have to wait until the middle of the night—midnight at least. In the meantime, I’d just have to hope that detective wasn’t watching me.

  It was twenty past five. I decided to go into work tonight after all. I had to act like it was a normal night. If the cops came around asking questions I’d have to be able to explain where I was all night. Besides, I knew that if I went to sleep now there was no way I was getting up in a few hours.

  I took a shower. It felt good, getting clean again, but I was afraid I was going to pass out and I held onto the soap rack the whole time.