Dirt

by Stuart Woods

  The cop’s head snapped around. “Huh?”

  “Where we going?”

  “Bellevue,” the cop said.

  Stone winced as they hit a bump. “Let’s make it Lenox Hill,” he said. “They know me there.”

  Chapter 52

  Tommy and Charlie Bruce checked into the Mansfield Hotel on West 44th Street. It was a small hostelry, originally designed as an apartment hotel for well-to-do bachelors, as was its larger counterpart, the Royalton, farther down the block toward 6th Avenue, and It had recently been remodeled.

  “I just don’t get it,” Charlie said. “How the fuck could he find us? How could he know who we are?”

  This annoyed Tommy, who was accustomed to knowing everything. “He knows Louise, too.”

  “You should have let me kill him, talking like that about Louise.”

  Tommy whipped out a cell phone and called Rahway.

  “Hello?” Sleepy voice.

  “Hi, Sis,” Tommy said. “You sound as though you’ve been well fucked.”

  “What?” She was awake now.

  “You told him where to find us.”

  “I most certainly did not. I told him nothing.”

  “Tell me the truth.”

  “I am telling you the truth. He asked; I didn’t tell him.”

  Tommy thought for a minute. “Did you write anything down?”

  Her silence answered the question.

  “Did you fall asleep after he fucked you?”

  More silence.

  “He looked around the house, didn’t he?”

  Still silence.

  “You still meticulously keep your address book, don’t you?”

  “All right,” she said, “he looked around the house; I caught him at it.”

  “How did he find you?”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Come on, Louise, think. He must have said something about why he was there.”

  “He said he was a lawyer, but he wasn’t there as a lawyer. He was looking for you for personal reasons.”

  “Did he say what he meant about that?”

  “He said you stole his watch. Also, that you’d stolen things from other people. Is that true, Tommy?”

  Tommy’s turn to be silent.

  “Speak to me.”

  “I had reasons to do what I did,” he said finally. “We’re right on the verge of something really big.”

  “What is it? What are you up to?”

  “Let’s just say that Charlie and I possess some very valuable information, and it’s going to make us a lot of money.”

  “You’re going to end up in jail, Tommy, just like Charlie. You two are more alike than I ever knew.”

  “Listen, if he turns up there again, I want you to call me.”

  “Where are you?”

  “I’m going to give you a telephone number, and I don’t want you to write it down; memorize it. It’s a cellular phone.”

  “All right.”

  He gave her the number. “Have you got that?”

  She repeated it to him. “Listen, I want you to understand something.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I live on alimony and child support; I have no other funds.”

  “So?”

  “So I don’t want you to expect me to raise bail or money for lawyers for either of you. I did that once, when I was married, and it was thrown up to me for years by my husband, who had to come up with the money. I’m not going to do it again. So if you two get yourselves arrested, I’ll read about it in the papers, but I don’t want to hear from you. Got that?”

  “I got it, Louise. You’re a great sister.”

  “Better than you deserve,” she said, then she hung up.

  “I’m hungry,” Charlie said. “We didn’t get any lunch.”

  “There’s an Italian place down the block,” Tommy replied. “I saw it from the cab. Come on.”

  Gaetano Calabrese checked his tie in the mirror, then turned to his boss. “Take a picture of me, okay?” He fished the Instamatic out of his locker and handed it to his headwaiter, who laughed and took his picture.

  Gaetano had been in the country for seven months, and he had worked every day of it as a busboy. This was his first day as a waiter, and he was enjoying the tips. He worked days, and in the evenings, he ran numbers for a guy in his neighborhood. Gaetano fished a photograph out of his wallet and looked at it again; his boss had given it to him the night before. Five hundred bucks, that was what it was worth; he memorized the face and put it back in his wallet.

  “Let’s go, Gaetano,” his boss said. “Break’s over; customers in the restaurant.”

  Gaetano strode into the dining room, a smile on his face.

  Tommy and Charlie Bruce walked into Figaro and asked for a table. It was late for lunch, and there were plenty. A waiter brought them a menu.

  “Did you see that?” Charlie asked.

  “What?”

  “That waiter.”

  “What about him?”

  “The way he looked at me. At you, too.”

  “Charlie, don’t get paranoid on me.”

  “Tommy, a guy just busted into our hotel room that nobody was supposed to know about, looking for two guys whose names he didn’t know, but he knew about the hotel, and he knew our names. Now you’re telling me I’m paranoid?”

  “Okay, now we’re in another hotel under new names, and we’ve got ID to back them up, right?”

  “Right.”

  “So how could anybody know about us?”

  “I still think he looked at us funny.”

  “Shut up and order.” The waiter was coming back.

  “Gentlemen,” he said in a heavy accent, “what is your pleasure?”

  “I’ll have the spaghetti bolognese, Tommy said.

  “Pizza margharita,” Charlie said.

  “And a bottle of the chianti classico.”

  “Of course, sirs, and welcome to our restaurant.”

  “Thanks,” Tommy said as the man walked away. “He’s new on the job; he’s just trying too hard, that’s all.”

  “Maybe.”

  The waiter was back in a moment, and he was holding a camera. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” he said, “but I have a new camera, and I wonder if I could take your pictures, you are both so very handsome.”

  Tommy started to speak, and then the flashbulb went off in his face. When he could see again, the waiter was gone.

  “Jesus,” Charlie said. “What the hell is going on?”

  “I’ll admit, this is very screwy,” Tommy mumbled. “I think we ought to get out of here.”

  Gaetano was on the phone to his night boss. “I got them,” he said.

  “What are you talking about, Gaetano?” the boss asked. “You’re not on until tonight.”

  “The two men you want for five hundred dollars. I got them.”

  “Where?”

  “At Figaro, where I work, on West Forty-fourth Street.”

  “Keep an eye on those guys, Gaetano. Somebody’ll be there very quickly.”

  “Don’t worry, I took their photograph, too.”

  “You what?”

  “I took their picture with my camera.”

  “Did they see you do it?”

  “Of course. My camera has a flash.”

  “Holy shit, are they still there?”

  “Hold on, please, I’ll see.” Gaetano let the receiver fall, then stepped into the dining room again. The two men had vanished. He ran back to the phone. “They are gone!” he screamed.

  “No fucking kidding!” his boss yelled. “Go after them; don’t let them out of your sight! We’re on the way!”

  Gaetano hung up the phone and sprinted for the street. He ran out the door, nearly knocking down two customers, and looked left and right. Nothing, nothing but traffic. He ran to the corner of 6th Avenue and looked up and down. Still nothing. He ran back to 5th Avenue. Still nothing. His heart sank. Not only was he not going to get the five hund
red dollars, he was, as his boss liked to say, going to get his ass kicked.

  Tommy and Charlie Bruce burst out of the Mansfield Hotel less than a minute after the waiter had disappeared back into his restaurant and dove into a cab.

  “What now?” Charlie asked.

  “We’ve got to find a hole long enough to get the computer out of storage and get off one more issue of DIRT. That’s all it’s going to take; the groundwork has been done.”

  “But where? I don’t want anybody else taking pictures of us.”

  “I know just the place,” Tommy said. “It belongs to a friend who’s not using it at the moment.” He gave the driver an address, then sat back in the seat. “Just one more issue,” he said, “delivered to just one customer.”

  Chapter 53

  Stone looked up at the resident, who was stitching the cut above his eye. “Where’s the cop who was with me when I came in?” he asked.

  “He’s out in the hall.”

  “Could somebody ask him to come in, please?”

  “You just lie quietly, and let me do my work; you can talk to him later.”

  “It’s very important.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Are you going to call the cop in here, or am I going to have to do it myself?”

  “Oh, all right. Nurse, will you get the cop in here, please?”

  “Thank you.”

  “Will you please shut up? We’re getting tired of seeing you in here, you know. What was it last time, a concussion?”

  “Careful how you talk to me; I’ll take my business elsewhere.”

  The cop walked in. “Somebody ask for me?”

  “I did,” Stone said. “Will you call Lieutenant Bacchetti at the Nineteenth and tell him I’m here, please?”

  “Sure thing.” The cop left.

  “See how easy that was?” Stone said to the resident.

  “Are you a cop, Mr. Barrington?”

  “Used to be.”

  “You look too young to be retired.”

  “That’s what I told them, but they retired me anyway.”

  “There,” the resident said. “What with your scalp wound and this one, you have seventeen stitches in your head.”

  “A record,” he replied.

  “I sincerely hope so.” She turned to the nurse. “Dress these two wounds, and let’s get him admitted.”

  “I don’t want to be admitted,” Stone said.

  The resident paused at the door. “Put restraints on him if he gives you a hard time.”

  Dino walked into the hospital room. “Now what?” he demanded.

  Stone had the bed cranked to a sitting position. “I want to make a complaint,” he said.

  “A complaint? You look very happy to me.”

  “I want to file aggravated battery charges against Thomas and Charles Bruce.”

  “It’s already been done. When the cop called me I got it in the computer and onto the street.”

  “So now you can arrest them.”

  “Their photographs are being printed up as we speak; the next shift will be carrying them.”

  “Check hotels,” Stone said. “I don’t think they’re going apartment hunting now.”

  “Right.” Dino said. “You really look like shit, you know?”

  “Thanks.”

  “By tomorrow morning you’re going to look like you fought for the championship and lost.”

  Stone shifted the ice pack on his face. “They’re looking to make some kind of a big score, Dino, but I don’t know what.”

  “Another burglary?”

  “Doesn’t sound like that; they’re talking big money. That’s what Tommy told his sister, anyway.”

  “What I don’t understand is why they beat you up so bad.”

  “I told them I fucked their sister.”

  “Oh, you wanted them to kick the shit out of you.”

  “You ought to see the other guy. He should have a door sticking out of his forehead; I kicked it in on him.”

  “Great, that’ll really help nail them for battery, you kicking in the door of their room.”

  The door opened and Arrington walked in, carrying two large suitcases. She dropped them and rushed over to the bed. “Is he dead?” she asked Dino.

  “Not yet.”

  “I’m just fine,” Stone said.

  “Oh, sure.”

  “It was just some bruising and a couple of cuts.” He tried to sit up, but winced with pain. “And a couple of ribs. What are the bags for? Are you going somewhere?”

  “I’m moving in with you,” Arrington said.

  “I thought you already had, pretty much.”

  “The difference between ‘pretty much’ and moving in is two suitcases.”

  “Oh.”

  “If it were Mary Ann,” Dino said, “it would be two moving vans. That’s what it’s going to take to cart our stuff up to Sixty-sixth Street.”

  “The doctor says you’re going to need two or three days in the hospital,” Arrington said.

  “Fat chance.”

  “You’re not going to get out of here talking like that. They said they’d let me take you home tomorrow, if I promised to keep you in bed.”

  “Promise them anything.”

  “Well,” said Dino, “I think my work here is done.”

  “Thanks, Dino,” Stone said. “You’d better find those guys before I do.”

  Dino threw up his hands. “I didn’t hear that,” he said, walking out of the room.

  Arrington pulled a chair up to the bed. “What am I going to do with you?” she said.

  “Take me home at the earliest possible moment, that’s what.”

  “I’m so sorry I got you involved with Jonathan.”

  “His name is Tommy Bruce, and you didn’t get me involved; Amanda Dart did.”

  “And I’m very sorry, too,” Amanda said from the door.

  “Not your fault, Amanda,” Stone said. “Take a pew. How did you know I was here?”

  “I have a source in the emergency room,” she replied. “Arrington, I know this is a terrible imposition, but may I speak to Stone alone for just a moment?”

  “Sure, I need some coffee, anyway,” Arrington replied, then left.

  Amanda settled herself in the bedside chair. “How badly are you hurt?”

  “Only superficially. I plan to get back on the horse tomorrow.”

  “Stone, I asked you to drop this investigation.”

  “Don’t worry, Amanda, it’s not costing you a dime.”

  “I resent that.”

  “Sorry, I guess I’m a little irritable today.”

  “Dick Hickock and I don’t want anything else done on this, do you understand?”

  “Quite frankly, no; would you explain that to me? A couple of weeks ago you were both nuts to find these guys.”

  “We got over it.”

  “Amanda, don’t you think it’s a little out of character for you to get over something like this?”

  “I know when to cut my losses.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t.”

  “You’re going to keep looking for these people, then?”

  “As soon as I can walk upright and make a fist. In the meantime, the police are looking for them.”

  Amanda made a small noise.

  “What?”

  “Is there anything I can get you?” she asked.

  “I’m fine, thanks.”

  “I hope you won’t continue this,” she said, standing.

  “You can always hope.”

  “Believe me, it’s not in your interests to do so.”

  “Amanda, do you know what these guys want?”

  “No, I don’t.”

  “Does Hickock?”

  “Not to my knowledge.”

  “They’re looking to make some big money; are you buying them off?”

  “No.”

  “Is Hickock?”

  “He’s said nothing to me about it. Look, Stone, Dick has dropped the girlfr
iend, and he and his wife have managed to patch things up. Don’t go pulling the scabs off their wounds.”

  “I’ll be as discreet as I possibly can,” Stone said.

  “Thanks for that, anyway.”

  “Thanks for coming to see me.”

  “Good-bye, Stone.”

  From her car, Amanda called Dick Hickock. “He’s not going to give it up,” she said.

  “That’s his misfortune,” Hickock replied, then hung up.

  Chapter 54

  Tommy and Charlie Bruce spent the afternoon and evening in the movies, seeing four features in three theaters, their luggage on the seats beside them, not venturing onto the streets until after dark. They ate a late dinner at the back of a Chinese restaurant, lingering until long after midnight, then found a cab and got out a block from their destination.

  “How are we going to get in?” Charlie asked as they walked quickly down the street.

  “I’ve got a key to the apartment, but it’s a doorman building, and we have to get in the back way. Stop a minute.”

  They put down their bags and looked up and down the block. It was after one o’clock, and there was no traffic.

  “Down here,” Tommy said, trotting down a flight of dark stairs to a door. He switched on a penlight, clenched it between his teeth, and from his wallet took a set of lock picks. In less than thirty seconds they were inside. “We can’t use the elevator,” he said. “The doorman will know if we do. We’ll have to walk up.”

  “How many floors?”

  “Nine.”

  “Shit.”

  “Shut up, and let’s get moving.” They stopped twice to rest and finally stepped into the ninth-floor hallway. They tiptoed to the door, and Tommy let them in and switched on a light.

  “Not bad,” Charlie said.

  “There’s only one bed; one of us will have to sleep on the sofa.”

  “Toss you for it.”

  “Fuck you. And keep the noise down; we don’t want to attract attention from the neighbors.” They busied themselves with getting settled, and Tommy plugged in his laptop computer, connecting it to the laser printer already on a desk in the apartment.

  “I’m whipped,” Charlie said, flopping down on the sofa.

  “Let’s get some sleep, then. Tomorrow’s going to be a busy day.”