"What the fuck," he said as the air rushed out of him. The poor guy went ass over heels onto the wet pavement. His umbrella blew away and he lay sprawled on his back. I glanced from him to Colt who turned right and disappeared.
"I'm sorry." I reached out a hand to pull him up. I was still panting. "Are you... all right?"
"Winded, thanks to you," he said as he attempted to get to his feet with my help. "What's the rush, asshole?"
"Stay right there I'll get your umbrella." It was a few feet away, lodged in a storefront grate.
He stood there dripping and I handed him the umbrella.
"Thanks for nothing." He opened the umbrella and stalked off.
My clothes were soaked through. I felt chilled but I couldn't just turn around, not after all that running. I stood close to the building on the corner and thought.
Colt had turned right on a street up ahead. Sansom Street. The block he'd chosen held The Lockerroom bathhouse and Rudy's Place, a porn emporium. Both were well known and well used. Colt could have ducked into one of them. Getting lost in Rudy's dark rooms would be easy or he could get himself a room at the baths and keep the door shut. That was the same gambit used in the movie The Ritz and if I ever had to keep out of sight, it's what I'd do.
I decided Colt would opt for Rudy's Place. Entry was faster and cheaper, and the darkness afforded great cover.
When I got to the door, I fished fifteen bucks out of my wallet and entered feeling like a drowned rat. It wouldn't be easy finding Colt but the possibilities were interesting.
Sounds of feet shuffling across floors whispered in the dark. A cough punctuated the air now and then. My own shoes made a squishing sound from the rain water they'd soaked up.
Feeble lighting filled the place with heavy shadows and dark corners. Barely enough light filtered through to prevent someone tripping. It took my eyes a while to adjust. I nudged my way past people moving slowly from one area to another. The smell of disinfectant mixed with an odd stale odor assaulted my nose. Tinny eclectic music floated on the musty air. Layered beneath the music were moans and grunts some from the movie on screen, some from the booths where patrons met to satisfy cravings. With so many rooms to choose from, Colt could be anywhere. If he was actually in Rudy's Place. The screening room was a logical place to start. I could maneuver myself to the front then surreptitiously explore the faces lit by light reflected from the screen.
A muscled couple locked lips in the porn flick. Both were still dressed so the main event was yet to be and I felt the anticipation in the audience.
Some heads turned when they heard me enter. I was new meat. One or two stared until they saw me clearly enough to cruise me and beckon me to sit with them. I kept moving. A few more signals to sit were tossed my way as I eased myself forward. Finally reaching the front, I kept my movements subtle, not wanting to be overly intrusive. I had no desire to ruin anyone's evening. People needed to find what they craved where they could. I needed to find Colt.
None of the faces I saw belonged to Colt. A few heads bobbed up and down in some of the rows. When one or two surfaced for air, I saw none of them was Colt.
I decided to go to the next room. As I edged up the side of the screening room, a hand reached out and grabbed me right in the family jewels. I flinched but the guy didn't keep his hand there long.
"Honey, if you're that wet, it's time to go home," he whispered.
I almost laughed. There's nothing more deflating than laughter in these situations and I imagined a room full of flaccidly disappointed, yet still horny, men groaning in anger.
Stumbling my way to the basement playroom, I took a few steps down into darkness. The absolute murkiness existed for obvious reasons. You could be hooking up with Medusa but fantasize any hunk you wanted in the dark. Halfway down I rethought my strategy. Why was I going to fumble around in a lightless pit of men drugged with lust and hunger? Okay, maybe under other circumstances that might sound inviting. But this was not the optimal way to find Colt. There'd be no way I could pick him out in the dark madness which was the theme down there.
So, angering another man close behind me, I turned around and made my way back up the stairs to revise my plan.
I could wait outside and try to catch Colt when he left, if he left. That would probably lead to another chase down wet streets and my bones were already soggy. There wasn't much choice, I'd have to wait him out.
Colt was undoubtedly planning his next move. He'd have two choices. He could assume I'd left and then head for his apartment, unaware I had any idea where he lived. Or, if he was a smart boy, he'd hook up with somebody in Rudy's Place, convince the guy to take him home, and hide there. That'd be his most effective maneuver.
I turned to look back into the dark recesses of Rudy's Place and saw lonely shadows floating back and forth. My skin felt clammy under my wet clothing. The cold air would turn me blue as soon as I stepped out.
At least the rain had stopped. The air smelled fresh and clean. The asphalt glistened, reflecting streetlamps and neon signs. A few ragged gray clouds scudded across the sky as I searched for a vantage point that would keep me hidden. Up the street was an all night parking garage that would provide cover and good sightlines. I slogged over, shoes squishing water as I moved, and found a place behind a sign listing the lot's pricing.
After an hour, during which every part of my body went numb with cold, someone stepped out of Rudy's Place. A tall man, flaccid gray hair, nondescript clothes. Jerky, hesitant movements said he was nervous. He glanced around cautiously as if wondering who might catch him at his illicit games. Stepping onto the sidewalk he looked expectantly back at the door.
A moment later, Colt appeared. Clever boy. He was going home with someone to hide out for the night. Colt was smart but I was one up on him. I had him. He was as good as cooked.
Colt said something to the tall man who bristled at Colt's words. From this distance I heard only indistinct voices. Colt said something again. The man responded, his voice elevated. Colt raised his voice in response. They argued but all I heard was an angry murmur.
The man thrust out his hands like a soccer referee calling a foul. He seemed finished with Colt and turned his back on him. As the man walked away, he glanced over his shoulder at Colt. I suspected he wondered what he was missing by not taking Colt home. Far as I was concerned, he'd just dodged a bullet.
Colt, for his part, didn't waste time. He turned toward Twentieth and started walking. Obviously sure no one followed, he didn't walk fast. I wanted to keep him feeling secure, so I followed from a distance. I was pretty sure he'd go back to his apartment.
He wrapped his arms around himself, undoubtedly cold, and kept trudging. He looked like a man headed home. I wondered how I'd corner him back at his building. Even flop houses want things orderly and peaceful. They weren't going to like me throttling Colt in the lobby.
Best thing would be to get there first. I hustled to Market and found a cab.
"Let's see yer money," the cabbie said. I obviously looked like a deadbeat in my disheveled, wet clothes.
"Here." I pulled out my wallet and flashed a twenty which was four times more than the ride would cost. "Get me there in five minutes and I'll double it."
He turned the key in the ignition and roared off without starting the meter. He zipped me to the Arch Street residential hotel lots quicker than I could've run. I gave the man his money and exited the cab.
Sure that I looked the part, wet, wrinkled and downtrodden, of someone who belonged in a hotel like that, I approached the desk. I needed to work fast, having no idea when Colt would come through the door.
Pulling a fifty from my wallet, I tapped on the desk and cleared my throat to get the attention of the rather broad-bottomed woman concentrating on a computer terminal.
No response. She was probably tuned out.
"Excuse me." I slapped the desk.
"Hold your horses. Lemme finish this," she said. Her voice was familiar.
"
I'm in kind of a hurry."
"Everybody's in a hurry." She turned around and I realized I knew her. Only it wasn't a her. It was Lotta Tush, one of the city's more popular drag performers. "You! I thought that voice was familiar, you bad boy."
"Lotta. This is fantastic."
"If you think I'm cheap and easy, you can just put that fifty away right now, Marco Fontana." She smiled and broke into a hearty laugh. "You were expecting someone else? Hmmmm?"
"I'm trying to catch a guy," I said and regretted the word choice.
"Who ain't, honey? But lemme tell you about the guy I caught last night."
"I wanna hear all about it, Lotta. I really do. But I'm on a case and I need to move before this guy comes through that door. I need to get the jump on him."
"Who you lookin' for, hon?"
"Guy named Colt. Short. Shaved head. Lizard tattoo."
"Oh, him." A look of displeasure planted itself on her face. "That little weasel keeps teasing me, sayin' he's gonna give me a freebie one of these days. Sayin' he's the best lay since who knows when? But he's just talk. And if you take my advice, you'll stay away, Marco."
"Trouble is, I need to talk to him. But he doesn't wanna talk to me. If you catch my drift."
"Who wouldn't wanna talk to you? Whattaya need?"
"His room number."
"Easy, he's in 201. That's it? You don't ask much, do you?"
"Well... if you have a pass key, that would save me havin' to break in..."
"Break... now, you're worryin' me. What's he done? Why do you gotta break into his place?"
"It's a long story and I've gotta get up there now."
She turned away, dipped her hand into a drawer and pulled out a key.
"You didn't get this from me. Understand?"
"You're a doll, Lotta." I took the key and left the fifty on the desk. It was the least I could do.
I took the stairs and found 201 down a threadbare hall badly in need of cleaning and a paint job. Gun in hand, I knocked at the door. I knew he wasn't there but someone else might be. I knocked again. No answer.
The door opened onto a dark, musty smelling room. Shades drawn over windows. The darkness was nearly complete except for light spilling in from the hall. I took a moment, allowing the hall light to give me a sense of the place. It was small, no more than a converted hotel room. A bed, a chair, a table, a nightstand. The bathroom off to the right.
Waiting inside behind the door, I knew he'd have nowhere to run once he entered. I'd be between him and his only escape route. I closed the door and waited in the silent darkness.
It wasn't a long wait.
He fumbled with the key, then entered as if he didn't have a care in the world. I remained still. He tossed the key onto the table. Then there was a click and soft yellow light filled the room. He stood stock still, as if he sensed something was not quite right. Turning around, he saw me and his face was a jumble of emotions. Anger, fear, sadness, frustration. He opened his mouth but no sound came out.
"Why'd you run, Colt?" I didn't move.
Silence. His lips worked but he said nothing.
"I didn't come here to hurt you," I said. "Unless you give me a reason..."
"I..." He began and I almost thought he'd be cooperative but I saw his face harden as he recovered from his initial shock. "I got nothin' to say, Fontana. I heard about you. You ain't gonna hurt anybody with that toy gun."
"Well then," I said and advanced on him. Colt backed up and fell into the chair. I moved in and loomed over him. The kid began to shiver and I knew it wasn't the cold.
"I don't know nothin' about what you want." He looked up at me, brown eyes signaling fear and anger, face marked with a few scars and a pimple here and there. I could see he was just a kid who'd grown up too fast. That made him hard on the outside. But I also saw the scared, soft, little kid crouching down, hiding inside.
"You know more than you think."
"I don't. I got nothin' at all. You can beat me or shoot me..."
"I was never gonna hurt you, kid. Why'd you run? Makes you look like you've got something to hide."
"They told me you was crazy. You was looking to pin some murder on anybody. They said you was askin' about me. So, when I saw you, I just thought, y'know, you was comin' after me for that murder."
"You didn't commit that murder, but I'll bet you know something."
"Knowin' is just as bad to the police. If I know something, they'll put me away just like I did the crime myself."
"Do you see a badge on me?"
"You don't work with the cops?"
"Put it this way, they don't work with me."
He stared at me. Despite his tough exterior, the tattoo, the scars, the mean expression he affected, he was a scared kid trying to cobble together a life the best way he knew how. It wasn't pretty and I didn't want to make things worse. But he knew something I needed to know.
"Somebody gave me your name."
"They told you I did the murder? I didn't. I don't get into that. He was lyin' about me. Honest."
"The kid who gave me your name wasn't lying either."
"How do you know that? People lie. That's what they do. Lie. They tell you one thing then they do somethin' else."
"People don't usually lie when they're dying, Colt. This kid died right in front of me. Nice-looking kid, red hair, baseball cap. Told me to find you, that you knew what was goin' on. You know him?"
"Little B, they... they said he was dead but I didn't believe them. Said he was shot. Little B should'a been careful. I told him..."
"Why would he put me onto you? He said you'd know things. You and somebody named Jared."
"Jared? He mentioned Jared? Little B?"
"Said you and Jared and somebody else knew what was goin' on. Do you?"
"Naw, man. I got nothin' for you." Fear edged his voice.
"Even if Little B spent his last minute on Earth telling me to find you? You can't even talk for him?"
"Who shot him?"
"You were gonna be my number one suspect. But I'm thinking there's gotta be somebody else. Whaddaya think?"
"I think my ass is dead if I say anything."
"Why's that? If you did nothing, like you said. You got nothin' to worry about. Am I right?"
He was silent.
"Of course, if you did something, people are gonna find out. One way or another. You ever hear about crime scene people and forensics? They can find you without even trying. A bit of hair, a little snot, something you brushed against. Anything. Crime's not what it used to be."
"I got nothin' to worry about then."
"The police aren't the only ones you're worried about. Am I right?"
"So?"
"I'm just sayin'. Like, if I went out and spread the word that you talked to me. Told me everything you knew. Whaddaya think these other people are gonna think?"
He kept his mouth shut.
"Maybe I'll find you shot one night, like Little B. Maybe you'll have enough air in you to spill one more name before you die, like he did."
"I didn't tell you nothin'. I didn't. How you gonna lie?"
"Easy. I put the word out that you ratted and it's done. I go home and have breakfast. Maybe you get to have breakfast, too, maybe you even get to have lunch. Maybe not. They'll find you."
"Shit, 'ats wrong, man. I thought you was a good guy. They said you was a pushover."
"They lied," I said. "So, I guess, since you got nothin' for me, I'll be goin' 'cause I got people to talk to." I stepped back without taking my eyes off him. He might be scared and just a hurt kid deep down, but I wasn't about to turn my back on him.
"All... all right. Whaddaya wanna know?"
"Everything. From Little B to you sittin' in that chair."
"Little B's dead because of me. I got him that job and he fucked up, man. Went overboard. He wasn't supposed to kill nobody. I don't know what happened."
"Start at the beginning, Colt. What job we talking about? How'd you find out about i
t?"
"That guy who they said was mugged. That was Little B doin' the work. He was just supposed to scare the guy. 'Ats all he was bein' paid for. Just throw a scare into the guy." Colt's leg jumped up and down in a nervous dance. He rubbed his chin.
"Who wanted the job done?"
"Some dude. I don't know. Found me in Stella's. Tall dude, wrapped up in a long overcoat, floppy hat down over his face. Called himself Augie. He had cash. A lot of it. Told me he didn't wanna know who was gonna do it or anything. He just wanted a guy scared off. He said, 'Make sure you shake him up. Tell him to drop what he's doing.' I took the cash and went to find Little B."
"Anything else you remember about the guy? His voice, the way he talked."
"He was nervous," Colt said, his own nervous leg pumping like a piston. "He talked kinda funny. Said words funny. Like he was a foreigner."
"Did you see his face at all?"
"Naw, he was all wrapped in that hat and the coat collar was up with a scarf. It's dark in Stella's. He had a smooth voice. Real smooth. I was hopin' he'd ask me to go home with him. He had a lotta money. Smelled nice, too. Like oranges."
"How did he know to find you?"
Colt was silent again.
"Who brought him to you? How would he know you'd do something like this?"
The kid stared at the floor and his nervous leg got more nervous.
"Okay, well at least I don't have to lie when I spread the word you told me everything I wanted to know."
"He didn't know what was gonna happen."
"Who?"
"He's... he's special. I don't wanna get him in trouble. He don't really know nothin' about all this. He was just makin' a connection."
"Who? Look, Colt, he could be in a lot of trouble anyway. If they got to Little B, they can get to your friend, too. If I know who it is, maybe I can help."
Colt was silent.
"You're just gonna sit there? He might be in danger and you're gonna sit there. I thought you said he was special?"
"He is... he's... I love him, man. I love him. But he don't know that. And don't you tell him."
"What's his name, Colt?"
"Jared."
Chapter 34
Murder on Camac Page 35