“He give you a deadline?”
“No. He said I should think about it. Said he had more and he’d send that soon. Once I get the new stuff, he wants an answer. Fast.”
“And you want me to do what?”
“Find him. Stop him.” Marty said, his voice raw and angry. “I can’t let some unknown little shit ruin my life. I can’t afford the money he’s asking, and I’m certainly not quitting my work. These pictures—”
“May not hurt you as much as you think. Could even make you famous.”
“But he said he has more. What if he has something really bad?”
“Is there something? Really bad, I mean?”
“N-not that I can think of. I sleep around. I take pictures for investigative pieces I’m doing. There’s nothing illegal. I swear, Fontana.”
“So what’s to fear if he releases the pictures?”
“My sources would dry up. They’d be afraid their pictures would be taken. That I might hold pictures and materials over their heads for personal gain. I’d never do that. I want this little turd stopped.”
“That begs the question, Marty. How’d this guy get those pictures?” I looked at him for a few seconds. “Do you have camera equipment installed in your place? You photographing yourself for posterity?”
Marty was silent. I could see the answer on his face. He didn’t need to speak.
“You’re even kinkier than I suspected. Not to mention sleazier and more unscrupulous.”
“I still deserve my privacy. No matter how sleazy anyone thinks I am.”
“Any idea who could have stolen this stuff from your place?”
“None. I bring lots of guys home with me. Then there’s the housekeeping staff, the building staff gets in on occasion, maybe others. I don’t know.”
“It’ll cost you, Marty. My fees for this kind of thing aren’t cheap. It’s dangerous work.”
“I can pay. And you won’t regret it, Fontana.
***
“What is all this, Marco?” Luke said, picking up a pile of papers then sitting down in the best chair in the office. He looked sexy even in his wire-frame glasses.
“Material for Martin Van’s case. These,” I pointed to a stack of news clippings, “are his most recent columns. I’ve got to generate a list of names. People who might want to blackmail him.”
“Blackmail?” Luke said.
“This goes no further, Luke.” I peered at him. “Understand?”
Luke nodded. He looked so sad when he was being serious.
“Marty’s sure his whole life will topple if the blackmailer releases the pictures,” I said and then explained but without showing the photos. “I’m not so sure it’d be that bad if the photos came out. Marty’s already got a bad reputation. Stuff like this can’t really hurt.”
“What if the blackmailer has a way of carrying out his threat? I mean, maybe he’s got more.”
“You sure you weren’t listening in when I talked to Marty?”
Luke smiled. “Why?”
“The blackmailer said he had more to show Marty. Stuff that would convince him. So, he’s got Marty running scared.”
“Wow,” Luke said. “How’d he get himself into this situation? I thought he was cagier than that.”
“He likes what he likes and it ain’t always free, y’know? But even Marty doesn’t deserve to be blackmailed.”
“Yeah,” Luke said.
“I’ve gotta jump on this and make some progress fast. Photos like those don’t stay buried long. The guy wants Marty to leave town and never come back. All I can figure is that Marty burned this guy bad and now he wants to get even.”
“Sounds like Marty needs your help a lot more than Sammy.”
“At least the police will be workin’ Sammy’s case. Marty goes to the police, he’s finished.”
“I thought you said the police probably won’t work all that fast on Sammy’s problem considering what else they’ve got to do.”
“They probably won’t. But they won’t be working Marty’s case at all.”
“I’ve known Sammy quite a while, not as long as you. He’s a strange guy but he’s a friend and I hate seeing his case ignored.”
“They won’t ignore it. And neither will I, Luke.”
“But what about Marty’s—”
“This wouldn’t be the first time I worked two cases at the same time. With you helping, it’ll all work out.”
“I’ll do what I can,” Luke said. “Where do I start?”
“Go through Marty’s columns, make a list of names. Almost anybody Marty mentions in his column would love to see him gone. But one of them will probably have a bigger motive than the rest. We’ve got to see which one that might be.”
“Sure, boss. And…?”
“And get Olga to suss out some information on the names you find.”
“Where will you be while we’re working off our asses for you?”
“Trying to get some information out of Sassy.”
“Good luck with that,” Luke said and chuckled.
“I’ll need it.” I took his face in my hands and planted a kiss on his very kissable lips. “For luck.”
“Get going,” Luke said. “I promised I’d check in with Chip to see if he needs anything.”
“Treat you to dinner later,” I said as I left the room.
***
There were too many possibilities in Sammy’s case. They had to be narrowed down. Thinking about my next moves as I exited the building, I walked to Locust Street headed for The Dilworth. I needed to start with Sassy. She’d been on duty the day Sammy got his head bashed in so maybe she’d recall something significant. Sassy was usually pretty good at remembering who belonged in the building and who didn’t, especially the male tenants and guests. As long as she was paying attention, she’d have something to tell me.
Locust Street had become a mixed bag lately, drawing an assorted variety of underbelly types who did nothing for the ambiance. Drug dealers dodging the police, prostitutes and johns, and lots of other action had become routine. Passing by Uncle’s, I noticed the early crowd gathering for their first drinks of the day. Laughter spilled out of the huge open window fronting the place, a reminder the scene kept going no matter what else happened.
A couple of blocks later I entered The Dilworth, and Sassy flashed a big, bright smile. Her platinum-blonde wig was all curls and crimson ribbons. The lavender dress she wore stretched tightly around her generous form and did nothing for her image. For a change, her make-up was subtle.
“Hey, Marco!” Sassy greeted me like I was saving her from something awful. I figured she was bored.
“How’s my favorite front desk diva? They keepin’ you on your toes?”
“Nah, this job’s a cinch, nothin’ to do, doll, and that’s a fact. Sometimes I wanna curl up and go to sleep under the desk, it’s so boring.” She tossed a fashion magazine aside and peered at me. I was probably the most entertaining thing she’d seen all day.
“Got a question for you, Sassy.”
“Shoot, dollface.” She smiled, and her nut brown face brightened.
“You were on duty the day Sammy got hit, am I right?” I knew I was right, but it helps to let them think they’re telling you something.
“Damn right, I was. And there was nothin’ I could do about it. ‘Case somebody told you otherwise. Lotta busybody types here think I can wave my gorgeous hands and make everything all right. Well I can’t and that’s a fact.” She glared.
“Whoa! Don’t get excited, Sassy.”
“They don’t think I was to blame, do they?” Her angry expression melted into one of fear and, I was guessing, guilt. Guilt that she might’ve let Sammy’s assailant into the building. The job might bore her out of her mind but she loved being in charge. Anything that called her competence into question was an affront.
“Nobody thinks you’re at fault for anything, Sassy. Has anyone said anything like that to you?”
She shook
her head, eyes sad.
“You let me know if they do, got it?’
“You got it, doll. So, what’s in it for you? Why’re you askin’ about all this? Besides bein’ Sammy’s friend, I mean?”
“You know I was the one that found Sammy. I guess, I kinda feel I should help find out who did this to him. The police are working but not fast enough for me. I’m in the dark right now. Sammy had a lotta friends.”
“Had a lotta people who didn’t like him, too.
“That’s my point, Sassy. Too many avenues to follow. I’m trying to figure out where to start.” Hinting that you might need a little help made some people open up. Of course, sometimes they’d lead you in the wrong direction, if they had something to hide.
“How can I help? I can’t remember much from that day. Not a whole lot went on.” She stopped, looked embarrassed. “Uh, I mean, except for Sammy. Poor bastard. Is he gonna…?” She let the question linger.
“Think, Sassy. There must’ve been a lot of people in and out that day. Any of ‘em stand out? Anybody connected to Sammy?”
“Lemme… well, wait a minute. No. It’s not easy to remember in a building like this. Lots’a people in and out all day long.”
“Maybe there was somebody you hadn’t seen in a long time? Old friends of Sammy? Or, guys that Sammy… you know.” I winked and Sassy smiled.
“Sammy’s not the only guy’s got friends in the building. Or, that other kind of friend, either. I could tell you some shit.” She paused. “But you don’t want none of that other gossip. Lemme think on it.” She placed a hand to her chin and stared off as if floating back in time. “Friends, huh? That who you think did it?”
“I don’t know what to think, Sassy. I’m looking down every alley right now.”
“Was a boatload of people in and out that day. None of ‘em signed in but most of ‘em said hello.”
“Anybody stand out in your mind?” Questioning her was like scratching labels off bottles.
“Lemme think a minute, just wait. Seems to me that day there was some new faces in with the same old tired bunch that traipses in and out.”
“Can you describe any of them?”
“One cute blond. He was a pretty-boy. I gave him all I got but it wasn’t nothin’ excitin’ for him. Then this girl came bouncin’ in, too. All sunny and sweet, I wanted to throw up.” Sassy gagged then looked up and smiled. “One little short guy came marchin’ in that day. All dark curly hair, you just wanna run your fingers through it. But I remember him most because of his eyes. Deep, brown eyes. Hard eyes that look right through you. Gave me the chills. Didn’t say ‘Boo’ to me and I didn’t care. He walked past and got on the elevators. Everybody else that came by waved to me or smiled. Not that little man. He was intense.”
The description she gave could fit a lot of guys and there was no reason to think he went anywhere near Sammy’s floor. “Anything else about him?” I hoped she’d remember something that connected him to Sammy.
“Nah. He was just a cold, short guy in a long coat. Looked familiar, but he’s like a lotta Italian types I got the hots for.”
“Anybody else you remember? Somebody you see all the time or somebody you haven’t seen in a long while?”
“One other guy. Looked real familiar but different. He’s just like a guy who came in and out with Sammy some time back. I’m talkin’ a ways back. Maybe they was living together back then, for all I know. I keep myself to myself, you know?”
“I do, Sassy.” Of course, I knew Sassy was a gossip sponge, and if there was something to know, she’d try her best to know it.
“But I ain’t seen that one in a while. I heard Sammy kicked him out. But that’s just rumors, and I don’t pay them no mind. Maybe you know who I’m talkin’ about? You and Sammy are friends, you’d know the one I’m talkin’ about. Looks like a kid. Innocent. And sweet except, he ain’t.”
“That’s one of Sammy’s types,” I said. “You saw him the other day here?”
“The one I saw the other day was different. He had curly red hair and blue eyes. Looked real sweet. The guy that used to be with Sammy had blond hair and he had a smile that said ‘dirty dirty dirty’ all over his face. The guy I saw the other day could’a been his twin. Well, ‘cept he had a more innocent smile, and red hair and, yeah, a little more of a tummy. Still, I wouldn’t mind being in a sandwich with ‘em both.”
Except for the red hair and the tummy, it sounded like Bart. Innocence was an act he had down pat. He could’ve dyed his hair. Sammy had a thing for redheads. Maybe he was using that to worm his way back in since he and Sammy had broken up. As for his tummy, well, he might have let himself go after the breakup.
“Thanks. That gives me something to go on, Sassy.” I smiled. This was another witness who’d seen Bart in the building that day. I could confront Bart with it, if I managed to find him. “Did you catch the redhead’s name?”
“Can’t say I did. You know how it is. Busy in and out.”
“Did he check in with you about who he was seeing in the building?” Strangers in The Dilworth were supposed to check in at the front desk allowing the person on duty call the intended apartment. Obviously Sassy only followed procedure when it suited her.
Sassy’s face darkened. She looked up at me, her eyes half closed in a defensive-threatening stare. “I was busy. Like I said. I can’t catch everyone goin’ in and out.”
“You got a good look at him, though.”
“I always get a good look. Don’t mean I get a chance to ask ‘em all where they goin’ when they come in. Shit happens. Got a lot to do here.”
“So you don’t know where the redhead went?”
“Didn’t I just say that, Fontana? You beginnin’ to get on my nerves. He didn’t tell me, and I was too busy with other things to ask.”
Not too busy to get a good look at him. Not to busy to watch him go to the elevators.
“So that’s it?”
“Yeah— No! Wait,” Sassy said, eyes brightening, smile returning to her face. “I seen him again. On his way out. They was arguin’ then.”
“Arguing? ‘They?’ The redhead was with someone and they were arguing? Who was he with?”
“That short mean little guy I told you about. The elevator door opened and they was there yellin’ and carryin’ on like old housewives. ‘Course, soon as they spotted me, they shut up. But when they passed by my counter, that redhead was hissin’ under his breath and pointin’ a finger at the short guy’s chest.”
***
Sounded to me like Bart had been there a lot earlier than I suspected. Even before Dan spotted him. That zoomed Bart to the top of my list. Bart and the unidentified short guy. At least, I had more ammo to confront Bart with, when I found him. All I had was the address he’d moved to after he and Sammy split. I had to hope he was still living at that address.
Bart hadn’t gone far after the breakup, in hopes that he might change Sammy’s mind and move back in. So, he’d chosen The Chestnut Arms, a rundown apartment building a short hop from The Dilworth. The buildings might have been only blocks apart, but the Dilworth was light years away in design, upkeep, and clientele. The Chestnut Arms was a tired old place on a deteriorating section of Chestnut Street. The building looked like it wanted nothing more than to be imploded so it could rest. But that would never happen. It was an historic old hotel, now in the hands of apartment moguls. Over the years The Chestnut Arms had housed a herd of rough tenants and had long ago given up trying to seem like a nice place to live. That Bart had been reduced to such quarters must have offended his royal sensibilities. But he was stuck, from what I’d heard. One boyfriend after another came his way, but none of them had money.
The lobby of the Chestnut Arms had a faded grandeur about it, but it had been badly handled over time and now looked haggard and cavernous without any of its former beauty shining through. Finding the elevators wasn’t hard, but riding in one took an iron stomach. The smell in the small box of an elevator was like
decomp. Fortunately, Bart lived on a low floor and the ride wasn’t long.
I reached his apartment after climbing over a drunk sprawled in the hall and found Bart had left his door open. I watched from the hall and saw him scuttling to a back room after dropping something into a suitcase, then returning with more. I guessed he’d endured these living conditions as long as he could. He was ready to leave the rat hole. I wondered how he could afford anything better on his waiter’s salary.
I walked in and Bart turned to me, a startled look on his face.
“Marco! H-how’d you get in?” He dropped the underwear he’d been carrying. His carrot red hair was strikingly different from his formerly blond curls.
The living room was threadbare and dull. Walls with plaster that had been white long ago were now grey and dusty. He’d placed a couple of suitcases on chairs and had just about filled them up.
“You left the door open, Bart.”
“Why’re you here?” Bart picked up the underwear and placed it into one of the suitcases. “What do you want from me?”
“Glad to see you, too. Looks like you’re about to blow town.”
“I’m just blowing this pig sty and moving into better quarters. I’ll still be here in town.” He tossed me a look and a wink. Then he turned his back and bent over to pick something up from the floor, thereby showing me his glutes. He was a looker and though he had a bit of a tummy, he’d kept his buns in perfect condition. Still had a slutty streak a mile wide, too. Bart never stopped trying to bed anyone he was the least bit interested in, which is why he had a list of bed partners larger than the Manhattan voter rolls. “Things have changed and I’m glad.”
“Good for you, Bart. New job with better pay?”
“New boyfriend. One with money. I won’t have to lift a finger or live like a mudpuppy anymore.”
“Do I know the lucky guy?” I wondered who he’d managed to snag. Who in town wasn’t aware of Bart’s reputation and would fall for him?
Crimes on Latimer: From the Early Cases of Marco Fontana Page 21