Three Shot Burst

by Phillip DePoy

  ‘I was scared!’ she said. ‘I lied! Sue me.’

  No. There was more to it than that.

  ‘Well,’ I began, ‘I’d like to spend another couple of hours on the subject of how you got guns and got so good at using them, but the more pressing issue may be finding Ellen and her baby, and sorting out this insurance policy business. That’s actually real. I got it here in the apartment. Why would David have arranged such a thing?’

  Silence ensued, so I kept going.

  ‘Ellen is three years older than you,’ I said to Lena, ‘meaning, if you didn’t lie about your age, she’d be seventeen now, right?’

  Lena shrugged. ‘Far as I know.’

  ‘That photo that’s supposed to be a picture of her,’ I mused. ‘Where did you really get it?’

  ‘Safe deposit box. I didn’t put the stuff in there, she did. She sent me the key. Told me if I couldn’t find her, check the box. I don’t know how she got that photo of me.’

  I was about to continue in the same vein when Hachi interrupted my train of thought.

  ‘I wonder why you haven’t asked Lena what happened to her at Ironstone’s house,’ Hachi said softly.

  ‘I was getting to that,’ I told her.

  ‘It was weird,’ Lena said right away.

  ‘Start from when they nabbed you,’ I instructed her.

  She nodded. ‘I saw a tent,’ she began.

  ‘Yeah, I found the tent too, the next day,’ I interrupted. ‘Skip ahead.’

  ‘It was the guy with the wounded leg, Holata, and the other guy, whose name was Taft. They grabbed me and smacked a strip of duct tape over my mouth. I saw you lying on the ground and panicked, so they shot me up with something, don’t know what, and I was out. Woke up in a wood-paneled den that was so perfect I thought I was tripping.’

  ‘That house is very strange,’ Hachi said.

  ‘Next thing I know,’ Lena went on, ‘there’s Ironstone, sipping tea and talking with me like I’m company. He was asking me all kinds of questions about Ellen. Nothing about David.’

  ‘What kind of questions?’ I interjected.

  ‘Like, first, did I have a photo, which I did not. Then what did she look like. Then where she might be. And what about the campsite. And what about the Chalet Suzanne, and why did I go there. It was very confusing, but I think I was still trying to recover from whatever was in the shot they gave me.’

  ‘And Ironstone was just – calm? The whole time?’ I shook my head. ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Neither did I. But now that I know some of the stuff you figured out about the Florida drug battles, I have to guess that it all has something to do with that mess.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘it does. Let’s add up. David’s a cokehead and an embarrassment to his father. David takes advantage of underage girls. David was involved in the cocaine wars and brought business troubles to Ironstone’s empire. Maybe the old man isn’t quite as unhappy about David’s demise as he seemed to be when we first met him.’

  ‘You mean when he tried to kill me,’ Lena said, ‘and you saved my life.’

  ‘What?’ Hachi asked.

  ‘A story for another time,’ I assured her. ‘I come off very noble, but at the moment I’m trying to understand – hold on.’

  Lena looked at Hachi. ‘You can almost hear his brain heating up.’

  ‘I’ve seen this before,’ Yudda agreed. ‘He’s making some kind of calculation, like when he ran numbers.’

  ‘When we first encountered Ironstone at his big old mansion,’ I began, ‘he figured you’d killed David as a part of the cocaine wars; that you were in the employ of the Cubans or the Columbians, right? But then he did some research. Maybe you’ve killed other people and maybe you haven’t, but he soon found out that you had nothing to do with his business. You were just looking for your sister. Now, first he assumed that your sister was the woman in town who was calling herself Ellen Greenberg. But that woman was a federal agent on Nixon’s new – what do you call it – Drug Enforcement Agency. But when he found out that your sister was, in fact, just one more kid that David jumped, he had to spend some time sorting out what you knew and what you didn’t. And to do that, he was only asking you questions about your sister, deliberately steering away from what he actually wanted to know, to see if you’d confront him about any of his business matters. He’s not afraid of you now, he’s afraid of the DEA.’

  ‘How much of that is guesswork,’ Hachi asked, ‘and how much is factual?’

  ‘No idea,’ I admitted, ‘but it sounded pretty convincing to me, so that’s my starter premise.’

  ‘You also have to consider what happened to the DEA agent,’ Lena added. ‘Where is she?’

  Yudda stood up and started clearing the table.

  ‘I just want to cook crawfish and smoke a little weed,’ he said distractedly. ‘The rest of this is too much for me to think about.’

  ‘Look,’ I said to Lena, ‘your sister is on the run with a small child. We need to find her. We need to actualize David’s insurance policy as soon as we can, no matter why he took it out. I’m convinced it’s legit. And in the process, we have to find out what happened to a federal agent, why she was using your sister’s chosen name – all the while dodging bullets and Columbians.’

  ‘Have you heard from Mister Redhawk about the disposition of the policy?’ Hachi asked. ‘He’s looking into it. That’s why you’re sure it’s a legitimate document.’

  ‘You know about that,’ I said.

  ‘John Horse knows everything. He tells me some of it.’

  ‘In fact I’ve been a little busy lately,’ I said to her, ‘so, no, I haven’t spoken to Mister Redhawk for a while.’

  She tilted her head. ‘No one has.’

  It was very spooky the way she said it, and everyone in the room could probably feel the chill.

  ‘What does that mean?’ I asked.

  She shrugged, but it wasn’t a casual gesture.

  ‘Look,’ Yudda inserted, ‘if there’s nothing more, I really got to get back to my establishment.’

  ‘Yeah, how did you get here?’ I asked.

  Yudda inclined his head in Hachi’s direction. ‘She drove. In your car.’

  ‘Why did you come?’

  ‘She’s very convincing,’ he complained. ‘Plus, you know, pretty.’

  I turned her way. ‘And why did you bring him here?’

  ‘So that you could discover some of the things you’ve just told us,’ Hachi answered calmly, ‘and so you could trust him again, see his face; know that he’s not really mixed up in anything beyond his life here in Fry’s Bay.’

  ‘So I could eliminate him from my palate of concerns.’ I nodded.

  ‘And get on with your work,’ she agreed, standing. ‘Let’s go, Yudda.’

  He nodded and headed for the door.

  Lena stood. ‘I’ll do the dishes.’

  Hachi leaned over the table. ‘I’ll bring your car right back. Take a shower. Get dressed. We have things to do.’

  And with that, she was gone.

  I stared at Lena’s back. She was standing at the sink, still dressed in that stupid school uniform look.

  ‘Now are you going to tell me?’ I asked her.

  ‘Tell you what?’ She didn’t turn around.

  ‘You know what.’

  She stopped washing. ‘OK.’

  She turned around but didn’t say anything.

  ‘Just say it,’ I told her.

  ‘David Waters is the only person I ever killed.’

  She held together for about three seconds and then burst into tears.

  SIXTEEN

  A little while later I was showered and shorn and on the phone with Pan Pan Washington. Lena was curled up on the sofa under a blanket, just staring into space.

  ‘I don’t hear from you for three years,’ he yelled into the phone, ‘and your first call is that you want to score?’

  ‘No,’ I interrupted, ‘if you’d just listen
, I don’t want dope, I want information. What I told you the last time I talked to you still goes: I’m sober and I actually have a government job. So stop shouting and listen, could you do that for just ten seconds?’

  ‘Foggy,’ he began.

  ‘I’m in the middle of the great big mess in Florida.’

  That shut him up for a split second, but he recovered.

  ‘You’re in the cocaine wars?’

  ‘You tell me,’ I answered. ‘I almost got killed by a Cuban who was afraid of a bunch of Columbians who are taking over an apparatus that used to just offer weed.’

  ‘What branch of the government do you work for?’ he demanded. ‘The Bureau of Stupid?’

  ‘I told you, I’m Child Protective Services,’ I snapped. ‘The whole coke thing is tangential.’

  ‘Tangential?’ he was compelled to repeat. ‘These Columbians will tangential up your ass and back down your spine, man. They are not nice men.’

  ‘Yeah, I already know that, but could you please just settle down and tell me what I want to know.’

  ‘What do you want to know?’ he growled, attempting to display his ire.

  ‘Names.’ That’s all I said.

  Again, he was stunned. This time he didn’t respond at all.

  ‘So how’s your grandmother?’ I asked him.

  ‘I got her a new wheelchair,’ he answered softly. ‘You know what she did? She embroidered a little, like, banner that she put on the back of it that says “Hell On Wheels.”’

  ‘Sounds like her.’ His grandmother was the nicest mean woman I ever met. She made the best fried pies in Brooklyn every Thursday just because she knew that Pan Pan and I liked them. She also shot and killed her husband because he was seeing another woman. That was years ago. She and the other woman lived together ever since then. Pan Pan’s grandmother lost a leg to diabetes when I was still in New York. Probably all those fried pies.

  ‘Raul Davila-Jimeno,’ he said after a minute. ‘Starts with him.’

  ‘The Black Tuna guy, I know. Everybody knows him. I was hoping for a more local name, meaning somebody here in Florida.’

  ‘Ramon Fidestra,’ he said more seriously. ‘He’s a Cuban guy that the Columbians kept on because he knows everything. He’s like a go-between for both sides. Plus, did you know there was a weed highway from New Orleans to Florida? They’re using that now for the more diversified distribution of product from South America. They boat right up between Cuba and that pointy part of Mexico into the Gulf and take a slight left to Louisiana. From there it’s the same route as the older weed rode: pack the coke in seafood and ice, ship it to Florida restaurants connected with the organization. And Fidestra is in charge of it all, even though he likes to tell people he’s only on the sidelines.’

  I smiled. ‘And that’s why I called you. To get that name. I’m pretty sure I met the guy.’

  ‘No you didn’t,’ he assured me. ‘If you’d met him, you’d be dead, and I wouldn’t have this aggravation.’

  ‘He kicked my ass, if that’s any compensation for you,’ I offered.

  ‘I’m serious, Foggy,’ he said. ‘He’s old. You don’t get to be old in his line of work without being one big badass. He’s, like, one of the Ancient Kamikaze Drug Lords of the Sunbelt.’

  ‘I’ll keep that in mind. Nice turn of phrase, P.S.’

  ‘You want me to tell your Ma and Shayna that you called?’

  I thought about it.

  ‘I guess you’d better not,’ I said after a minute. ‘Why stir it up? So, OK, anything else?’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Such as any other names or any news you would like to relate.’

  ‘Little Phil got iced,’ he offered casually.

  I nodded. ‘Probably had it coming.’

  ‘Oh, wait. What’s that new guy’s name? Hang on.’

  ‘There’s a new guy in Brooklyn?’

  ‘No,’ he said, ‘a new guy in Florida, some rich kid. Thinks he knows what’s on, but don’t.’

  ‘Rich kid?’ I asked, pretty certain who it was.

  ‘David Waters!’ Pan Pan shouted. ‘I knew I could remember it if I – did I tell you I started using your memory system, that stuff you used to teach me when you was in numbers? It really works! David Waters. Jesus is this guy an idiot – somebody’ll shoot him dead before long. But at the moment, he controls the entire supply from New Orleans to Florida. Thinks the money makes him immune. Lords it over Fidestra. Man has he pissed everybody off – like, I hear it’s even his own father that might have him hit.’

  I tried to think of what to say to that, but too many ideas were in my brain. It was very crowded in there.

  ‘Foggy?’ Pan Pan said after too long a silence.

  ‘Hey, Pan Pan,’ I said softly, ‘could you forget all about this call? I mean permanently.’

  ‘Um, OK,’ he ventured slowly. ‘What’s up?’

  ‘Not sure.’

  ‘I thought you left Brooklyn to get out of trouble,’ he admonished.

  ‘Yeah,’ I agreed, ‘that’s what I thought too. I’ll call later just to chat.’

  ‘That’s what you said three years ago.’

  I hung up. I stared at Lena, trying to decide how much she knew, or how much I should tell her.

  ‘Pan Pan is a funny name for a person,’ she said, still staring. ‘Does everybody in Brooklyn have a nickname like that: Foggy, Pan Pan?’

  I sat in my chair.

  ‘The first time I ever boosted a car – an amazing Corvette Stingray, 1953, first year they rolled them out to the public. It was sky blue with a snow white interior and silver wheels. I popped it right away, but I drove it around for a while just because it was so fine. Anyway, I had been instructed to take it to a certain garage, and when I did, there was Albertus T. Washington waiting for me.’

  ‘Albertus?’

  ‘I know,’ I agreed. ‘He was new to the nefarious enterprises, new as me, impatient, probably nervous, and ready to get everything over with. I pulled the car in, he slammed down the garage door and slid under the car. He was mad right away because he said I hit something when I was driving it around. And I said, “Hit what?” And he said, “Oil pan.” But I didn’t hear him so I said, “What?” and he started yelling, “Pan, pan, pan!”’

  ‘Ah,’ she acknowledged.

  ‘I thought it was funny and spread the story around. Within a week everybody was calling him “Pan Pan.” It stuck.’

  She focused, sat up, and eyed me. ‘So what about “Foggy?”’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘How’d that happen? What’s your real name?’

  I stared right back. ‘Since you asked a two-part question, I will offer these two answers, in order: a) doesn’t matter, and b) none of your business.’

  She smiled. ‘That’s not very nice.’

  ‘David Waters wasn’t a dabbler,’ I said to change the subject. ‘He was trying to be the boss – the new boss of the new business. There’s a good shot that everybody wanted him dead. Even his dear old dad.’

  She shook her head. ‘You think Ironstone put out a hit on his own son? Then why would he be so mad that I killed him?’

  ‘You know, a lot of this would have added up easier,’ I began, ‘if you’d just told me the truth from the beginning. Why in God’s name would you make up such a weird story? I was going to ask you before, but you were crying, so.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘I think I related my upbringing, right? Not the kind of environment that encourages trust.’

  ‘You didn’t trust me?’

  ‘I didn’t trust anybody, Foggy,’ she snapped. ‘How was I supposed to know that you were some kind of Jewish Ninja Monk?’

  I blinked. ‘What makes you think I’m a monk?’

  She sat back. ‘I’m straight as an arrow, but even I am attracted to Hachi. And you don’t give her the time of day.’

  ‘Nice change of subject,’ I accused.

  ‘You did it to me first when I asked about
your name,’ she answered. ‘Plus, I think of you as a monk because you never tried anything with me.’

  ‘With you?’ I laughed. ‘Look, one of the reasons I’m so good at my job is that I got a very clear sense of who’s a child and who’s not. As far as I’m concerned, anything goes between adults as long as they agree. But a kid does not have the wherewithal to make such decisions.’

  ‘Oh, yes they do,’ she protested.

  ‘No!’ I insisted. ‘That’s just the problem: you think you’re equipped, but you’re not. You’re an apprentice adult. Nothing more dangerous than a novice who doesn’t know what a novice is.’

  ‘An apprentice adult,’ she sneered.

  ‘We’re getting off the topic,’ I complained.

  ‘What’s the topic?’ she steamed. ‘How to insult me?’

  ‘No the topic is – just a minute.’ I stared at her like I was a cop. ‘If you were raised in the environment you described, how come you’re so smart?’

  ‘Maybe my father was a brain surgeon,’ she snapped.

  ‘Maybe, but you’re educated,’ I countered.

  Her shoulders sagged a little. ‘I didn’t ever want to go home at the end of the day. I stayed at school as long as I could. Extra projects, library time, talking with the teachers. Miss May said I had a real aptitude – she was my sixth grade teacher. I skipped grades, and she had me take the SAT when I was ten.’

  ‘I thought that was the year you left home’

  ‘It was. I got into FSU. I just didn’t have the money. So I left home. Got a job at that new Disneyland, the one near Kissimmee. I was Dopey.’

  ‘Sorry, you were what now?’

  ‘Not what,’ she said, ‘who. I was Dopey the dwarf; followed Snow White around the park. Hot as hell. $2.10 an hour.’

  ‘No.’ I folded my arms. ‘No Dead End Kid ever worked for Disney.’

  ‘Again with the Dead End Kids. Will you shut up about that?’

  ‘No!’ I snapped. ‘How did you get from working in fairyland to shooting people? Jesus!’

  ‘Again,’ she railed. ‘Background! I had a gun in my hand for the first time when I was around seven. My mother had dozens of guns lying around the house. You don’t even want to think about the kind of men my mother entertained. I was scared. I had guns.’