Fortune and Pride

by Stephen John

  “Investigation,” I replied, “which would have been smoother and quicker if I had a partner who was sharing information.”

  I waved a piece of paper in the air.

  “What is that?” He asked.

  “Sally G’s address. Interested?”

  He reached for the paper. I pulled it away.

  He leaned back, confused, “Are you giving it up or not?”

  I sat back and folded my arms, “Oh, I will do more than that. I’m going over there with you.”

  He shook his head.

  “No, you’re not,” he said, emphatically.

  I stood, “Then good luck getting all this information yourself. Have a nice day.” I stood to walk away.

  Carter was stewing, “Sit back down, Fortune.”

  I sat back down. He gave me the stink eye, saying nothing at first.

  “Carter, they call this ‘having you over a barrel.’”

  “Give me the address,” he said.

  I paused and raised my eyebrows, “You forgot the magic word, Carter.”

  He sighed, “Please.”

  “That’s not the magic word,” I said.

  “What is it then?”

  “The magic word is, I’m so sorry I didn’t get you involved right away like I told you I would and I promise I’ll tell you everything from here on out. That’s the magic word.”

  He sighed and eye-balled me, realizing there was nothing he could do. He repeated what I had said, not perfectly, but close enough.

  I sat back down, “Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

  “What do you want?” he said.

  “Here’s the way it will work,” I said. “From this point forward, on this case, we are partners. Until we resolve this matter, we are on the job. We’re not friends, we’re not lovers, we’re not neighbors, we’re partners. That means we do this together. I’m your backup, you’re my backup, we share information... all information. Is this acceptable?”

  Carter sighed again. I could tell he was feeling backed into a corner, “Fortune...”

  “I asked, is... this... acceptable?”

  He looked at me for a moment. I could almost hear the wheels turning in his head, but couldn’t make out what he intended to say. For a moment, I thought he would stand and leave, but he didn’t.

  Finally, he stuck his hand out, “Deal.”

  I shook his hand and slapped the paper down on the table.

  “Okay, Paul’s girlfriend is Sally Green. She’s thirty-one-years-old, strawberry red hair, five-foot four and one-hundred-forty-pounds, according to her driver’s license. She’s cute but then Paul is some kind of hunk himself, so why would he date a dog, right?”

  “You have seen him?”

  “I have.”

  “And you didn’t stop him?”

  I blinked. I shrugged. I let out a soft, nervous laugh, “I lost him.”

  “Why didn’t you call me when you saw him?” he asked.

  “It happened quickly,” I said.

  I told him the story of the evening before at El Corazon, well—most. I left out the part about dancing on stage. Carter listened intently, soaking in every word I said.

  “So, he took you by surprise when you approached him?” he repeated.

  I felt a little embarrassed, “Yes.”

  He looked at me; a small smile formed on his lips.

  “Don’t feel bad,” Carter said. “I know you can handle yourself, Fortune, but Paul had special ops training too. In the service, I’ve seen him take out four men at a time in hand-to-hand combat. He’s no slouch. With his speed and at his size, it would be tough for any one person to take him down, even you.”

  “I gathered that,” I said.

  “He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

  “Just my pride,” I said. “No pun intended.”

  Carter let out a sigh and took in a deep breath. “Go on, tell me more about Sally Green.”

  “Sally lives in a small apartment on Queen Anne Hill. How Paul met her is unknown, and whether she knows he’s sitting on $200,000 in cocaine is unknown, but they arrested her a year and a half ago for possession. It was her only arrest and the volume of drugs in her possession was small. She’s on probation which may become a factor, but she has been off law enforcement radar since. She is the manager of a low-end jewelry store that also sells women’s accessories and novelties. Her shift today starts at nine o’clock. I’m guessing when she leaves for work in about twenty minutes, that will leave Paul Pride in her apartment, alone. Since I happen to know he was smoking pot and was out late last night, he is probably still asleep. If we leave now, we might speak to Paul Pride mano e’ mano within the hour.”

  Carter looked me in the eyes as if in deep contemplation. After a minute the tiniest hint of a smile formed on his face, “And you got to this point because of an AC/DC brochure in his mailbox and a casual reference I made about him liking the band?”

  I nodded, choosing not to share the fact I broke into his hotel room and hacked into his computer.

  “You are one scary woman,” Carter said.

  “That’s why you need me,” I said, picking up the check. I handed it to Carter. I pointed at my watch, “Shall we?”

  On the drive to Queen Anne, Carter explained what he had been doing. I had guessed correctly. His priority had been to get Ariel Pride to a safe place. He said he did that, albeit temporary. On the day we arrived in Seattle she reported seeing strange men outside her apartment building, smoking and just sitting in a Lincoln Continental.

  He had moved her that evening.

  “They were waiting for Paul to show up at Ariel’s place?” I asked.

  He nodded, “And it was only a matter of time before they graduated from observation to kidnapping her, or worse, to get to him.”

  “Where did you move her to?” I asked.

  “At first, to my hotel room,” he said. “As far as I know, Manny Montoya does not know of my existence. That’s the one advantage I have. At the moment, I can probe and investigate with no one knowing I exist.”

  I had mentally checked out right after the words, to my hotel room.

  “She stayed in your room?” I asked, not mentioning I knew Ariel looked like a cross between Katy Perry and Wonder Woman, the new one, not Lynda Carter. It also explained Carter’s need for extra towels.

  He looked at me for a second or two, only then realizing the implications of what he had said. “Yes,” he admitted. “For two nights. I finally found a safe house for her.”

  “In your room?” I repeated, incredulously. “I haven’t even slept in your room yet, Carter.”

  And the chances of that happening going forward were becoming slimmer and slimmer.

  “There’s a small sofa in my room. I slept there.”

  It was lucky for him I had seen the sofa in his room. It made me feel a little better—not a lot, but a little better.

  “And it never occurred to you I was staying in a suite with a hideaway bed in the living room—a very comfortable sleeping place for a guest?”

  “Fortune, I was trying to keep you out of this, remember?”

  I nodded with my mouth agape, “Yeah, I now I know why.”

  “Fortune—”

  I raised my hands and shook my head, “You know what, forget it. Let’s focus on what we are doing and we’ll talk about this afterward. And make no mistake, we will talk about it. Take the next right. Sally Green’s apartment should be in the first building to the right.”

  The building looked like it housed four apartments; two on the main floor and two on the top. It also appeared to have street parking only. I saw the Toyota Prius I’d seen the night before at El Corazon, parked right in front of the building.

  I looked at my watch; it was nearly eight-thirty.

  “Let’s park and wait,” I said. “I’m guessing Sally will head out for work in the next ten minutes. Either she will come out alone and take off or Paul might drive her so he can use the car.”

&n
bsp; We parked and waited.

  “Why are you so worried about her sleeping on the couch?” he asked.

  Did he really want to poke that bear? I wondered. Now?

  I glared at him, “Just a minute ago, it was you sleeping on the couch. So which was it?”

  “I said she was there two nights,” he replied. “I was on the couch one night and she—”

  “You know what? I don’t care,” I interrupted with a big, fat dismissive lie. “Like I said, until we finish this, we’re partners. And besides, here comes Sally now. She’s alone.”

  Sally Green walked to her car, smoking a cigarette. Someone took the picture I saw on a great hair day. She was still cute in a skanky way. She was a little heavier than I would have guessed from reading the description on her driver’s license. She had on red lipstick and wore a tube top covered with a half-length shirt, tied above her belly button. Nice work attire, I thought. She wore a short, bright orange skirt with orange and purple pumps. She flipped the cigarette butt out onto the street and blew smoke as she got into her car.

  “Nice,” I said. “I see your friend dates only the classiest of women.”

  Carter shrugged as Sally pulled away, “Some men might think a woman like her is hot.”

  “Yeah, the kind of men who go into strip clubs alone during the day and nurse a near-beer for an hour and sit in the front row, drooling?”

  “I’m just saying...”

  I looked at her again, recalling her driver’s license information.

  “One hundred, forty pounds... right,” I scoffed. “Look at the size of her butt. I’ve seen tractors in Sinful that wouldn’t hold that behind.”

  He shrugged again and smiled, “Okay. Point made. It’s show time,” he said.

  We waited for Sally to pull away. Carter and I walked through the gate and took the stairs to the second floor, reaching Apartment 212. I knocked on the door. There was no answer. I knocked again.

  “UPS!” I called out. “I have a package for a Miss Sally Green.”

  Five seconds went by with no answer. Finally, a male voice called out, “Just leave it by the door.”

  Carter’s eyes lit up, “That’s Paul Pride,” he whispered.

  “I need a signature,” I called out.

  “Just a minute,” he replied.

  Twenty more seconds went by before the door opened. Carter pushed his way through instantly, knocking Paul Pride backwards. He stumbled over the coffee table and lost his balance, landing on his butt right on top of the table. It crushed under his weight.

  He wore only boxer shorts with a long bathrobe that must have belonged to Sally. He was not expecting company—that was obvious.

  “Carter Le Blanc!” he cried out in surprise. “What the hell are you doing here?”

  I slipped inside and closed the door. He looked at me, his eyes widened.

  “You!” he said. “The hot chick from last night.”

  Carter paused at the hot chick reference, but only for a split-second.

  “I came here for you,” Carter replied. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

  “I’m off the grid,” he said picking himself up off the floor. He looked at the demolished table. “Sally will not like that.”

  The table was made of cheap pressboard covered in even cheaper laminate, “Don’t worry,” I said. “We’ll find a good replacement at the nearest flea market. Ten bucks ought to do it.”

  “How did you find me?” he asked, ignoring the slight.

  “You thought you lost me last night,” I said. “You didn’t.”

  “You’re off the grid,” Carter repeated. “Why?”

  “If you’re here, I’m guessing Ariel told you why,” he said.

  “So, it is true,” Carter said. “You stole $200,000 worth of cocaine from a drug lord?”

  He sighed and nodded.

  “And now you have the drug lord looking for you?”

  He nodded again.

  “What area of that pea-sized brain of yours told you this was a good idea?” Carter asked.

  “The part where I needed the money,” he said. “I’m in deep, Carter. I’m desperate. I owe people; people who are not going away. And I needed the money to help Sally.”

  “Help Sally with what?” Carter asked.

  “She’s trying to buy the jewelry store where she works,” he said. “It’s called Queen Anne Collectibles. The owner wants to retire. Sally knows the business. It’s a big opportunity for her... for us.”

  “So, that’s it?” Carter asked. “That’s the plan. Let me see if I have this right. You would use stolen drug money to buy a retail store—in the same town where the murdering drug lord lives and who would continue looking for you every day until he finds you and kills you. That about it?”

  Paul looked at Carter wide-eyed and shrugged, “Well, when you say it like that, it doesn’t sound so good.”

  “And let’s not forget,” Carter added, “that in doing so you also put Ariel’s life at risk.”

  “Oh, crap!” he blurted. “I’ve meant to call her. She’s okay, isn’t she?”

  “No thanks to you, but yes, she’s fine,” I interjected. “Carter has found a safe house for her.”

  I glared at Carter thinking about her in his room. He caught it.

  “Oh wow, thank you man,” Paul said to Carter. “I need to check in on her.”

  “Check in on her?” Carter huffed. “The Paul Pride I know would never put his family at risk. What has happened to you?”

  The big man lowered his head and ran his fingers through his hair. He looked at Carter, then looked at me, making me feel like an intruder. He was uncomfortable talking with me in the room. It was odd to me given I was shaking my booty in his general direction the previous evening. I wondered if that might come up in conversation.

  “I saw a Starbucks across the street,” I said, deciding to make myself scarce so they could talk. “I think I’ll head down there. Do either of you want anything?”

  They both shook their heads, no.

  “Okay, then. Carter, I’ll be back in thirty minutes,” I said. “Give me your car keys. I left my wallet in the car.”

  He nodded at me and tossed me his keys.

  I skipped down the stairs taking two at a time, retrieved my wallet from Carter’s car, then jaywalked across the street to Starbucks. The area of Queen Anne was cute. Small shops lined the streets with condos and apartment buildings built on top of the businesses.

  I stood in line behind over fifteen people wondering how there could be so many Starbucks stores and yet all of them seem to have long lines. After a ten-minute wait, I finally ordered my drink, a Midnight Mint Mocha. I waited another five minutes to have it made.

  I found a seat by the window facing Sally Green’s apartment. I wondered what Carter and Paul were saying to each other. And I wondered how descriptive Paul might be about my little stage appearance.

  My phone rang; it was Gertie. I gave her the update and told her she and Ida Belle should hang tight. I was hoping to have more information about next steps, soon.

  After I had finished the update Gertie dropped a little bomb, “I got a call from Consuelo, the housekeeper at the Camano Bay Hotel. She got my number out of their computer. They listed the room in my name, remember?”

  “Yes, I remember,” I said. “What did she have to say?”

  “They fired her,” Gertie replied.

  “Fired her?”

  “Yes. Apparently, after we left a guest complained to the manager about the altercation between Clerk Jerk-wad and me. The manager questioned him and he pointed the finger at us. The manager was checking into us and reviewed the video from the hallway and saw Consuelo letting us in to Carter’s room.”

  “That’s horrible,” I said.

  As I chatted with Gertie, I saw a black Lincoln Continental pull up and park in a space one building over from where Sally Green lived. I remembered that Ariel had said she had seen a black Lincoln outside her apartment.


  “And to make matters worse,” Gertie continued, “they fired her for cause, meaning she can’t draw unemployment.”

  “Oh dear,” I said, only half focusing on what she said. “But it sounded like Consuelo will get another job easily. She thought there were several places who would hire her on the spot.”

  A young, large Hispanic man emerged from the driver’s side door of the Lincoln. He was huge and imposing. Threat level = 9.9. In the back seat on the driver’s side, I saw an older Hispanic man wearing a white fedora, smoking a cigar.

  Manny Montoya, the drug war lord—it had to be him. It was very difficult to make out much, but he wore sunglasses and sported a thick black moustache.

  “That’s just it,” Gertie said. “They fired her for cause—a serious breach of security. Everywhere she applies, someone will call Camano Bay Hotel for a reference. When they find out why the hotel fired her, no one will hire her. Fortune, she has kids and no job and no insurance.”

  “Dammit,” was all I could say.

  “We have to do something,” Gertie said. “I feel responsible.”

  “We all had a part in it,” I admitted.

  “Any ideas?” she asked.

  The large driver stopped people on the streets as they walked by. He showed them a picture. Each person he stopped looked at the picture and then shook their heads. Somehow Montoya must have identified that Paul Pride was staying with a woman in this neighborhood but lacked the specific address. If they knew which apartment Paul was in, they would have made a move by now. He was now showing a picture of Paul Pride to residents of the neighborhood hoping someone would recognize and point out where he is staying. They were zeroing in on him, which meant we didn’t have much time. From what I could tell, it didn’t look like anyone recognized the picture—not so far.

  “Fortune?” Gertie said.

  “Huh?” I replied.

  “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Yes, I did, and that’s awful,” I replied. I decided it best not take the time to update Gertie on this. I needed to warn Carter and Paul Pride quickly and move them.

  “I’ll see you and Ida Belle later and we’ll see what we can’t do to help her,” I said. “For now, I have to go. Bye.”

  “Fortune, you sound odd,” Gertie said.