I drove around the back of the development on an unsealed road with tall oaks on either side and smart million dollar-plus homes in the background. There didn’t appear to be anyone around within surveillance distance. I drove back around to Telegraph Road to check there were no vehicles with darkened windows parked on the nearby hard shoulders.
My cell rang as I got back to my room at the hotel.
‘I’ve spoken to Cargill. He’s at his home and would like to see you as soon as you can make it. He sounded keen to meet you.’ Tomas gave me his cell number. ‘When will you be back?’
I said, ‘Tonight, I hope. We’ve got a late hotel checkout and we’ll get an evening flight.’
I called the number Tomas had given me. The call was answered on the second ring by a jaded voice. I repeated the directions to Cargill’s house as if I didn’t know the way, and left a message for Jonah telling him where I’d gone. Cargill asked me what sort of car I’d be driving.
I parked outside the double garage of the Bloomfield townhouse, at the rear of the development. The front door opened as I got out. Cargill was in his forties and had a few days’ ragged growth on his face. He moved wearily. He was drowsy. He looked like shit.
He grabbed a couple of beers from the fridge, and we went out onto a wooden-decked patio at the rear of his townhouse from where a couple of squirrels sprinted to the tall trees behind. A cicada chorus stopped abruptly.
‘I’ve spoken to your associate in Miami and made a couple of calls about you and your firm. You’re investigators. Private.’
I nodded. ‘That’s us. And Tomas is a broker and is related to my partner Dooley, of Milo and Dooley. Here’s my card and my licence.’
‘I spoke to Dooley who put me onto someone he knew in the Detroit PD who I called through a friend, and he said you guys are kosher.’ He gave my licence and card a wearied once-over.
I had a pull on my beer. ‘Shall I start?’
‘Yeah.’
I told him about Tomas’ situation, leaving out any reference to the Mob connections. That certain people were leaning on him to move MCP stock in the forthcoming Initial Public Offering. I said I’d come here on other business, and Tomas had asked me to contact MCP while I was in the vicinity. He kept nodding as I spoke.
I said, ‘I called your number several times. Even visited your offices but no one was there.’
‘I’m vacating those premises so I don’t spend much time there. It was you who broke in and sent me back the files, wasn’t it?’
I looked at him impassively. ‘What files?’
Seeing my lie he said, ‘I think you know. But thanks for returning them. I need them. I shouldn’t have left them there.’
He passed the burglary off lightly, relieved he now knew it was not done by the heavy brigade. I guess he thought it came with the present territory. I shook my head and decided not to take this conversation any further in case he was recording us.
I said, ‘So. They leaning on you?’
He watched some of the squirrels trying unsuccessfully to climb the metal pole of a bird feeder on his lawn between the patio and the trees behind. He picked up an acorn from the patio and threw it at the scavengers. His aim wasn’t bad, but they ignored him and continued with their raiding party. He watched them resignedly for a while and sat down again, by which time one of them had now reached the bird feeder by leaping from a nearby tree and it perched gloatingly, before plundering its booty.
‘I’ll be straight with you. I’ve got to be straight with someone. I’m scared. Shit scared. I’ve sent my family away to friends across the river in Ontario after I had a visit from some tough guys at my office. I’d refused to go any further on this deal. One day, just as I’m closing up, I take the trash out to the back of the building. Two guys are there. They had my kids’ bikes from our garage. They threw them in the dumpster as I approached and told me I maybe won’t be needing these any more. The fuckers even said the names of my kids. And my wife. And where she works part time.’
‘You been to the cops? The FBI?’
A shrug. ‘The next day I was driving down Woodward on my way downtown. To see a lawyer. Maybe even the Feds. My car phone rang and it was the same guys. They tailgated me, flashing their lights till I stopped. They asked me where I was going.’
‘What’d you do?’
‘Went back home. The phone was ringing as I walked in and I answered just before my wife did. They told me they’d left some mail at my office for me so I went there. Jesus. It was a Polaroid taken that morning of my wife dropping the kids off at school.’
Sounded familiar. ‘What do they want you to do?’
‘I’m to keep the company in existence and sign the prospectus and make various statutory declarations about the product and the IPO. Plus tell any callers or visitors that everything’s on track. Which is why I haven’t been spending much time at the office or taking its calls – so I don’t compromise myself any further.’
I looked at my watch. I wanted to be on the late afternoon flight out of Metro.
‘Listen. I’ve got to get a flight back to Miami. So I suggest you hang tight until you hear from me. My buddy Tomas doesn’t want any involvement in this scam either and I’ve a hunch it won’t happen. And I’ll talk to a friend of mine in the Feds if that’s OK with you.’
He took in what I had just said. ‘Wait until I tell you. I might call you in Miami tomorrow.’ He took a couple of deep breaths. ‘Shit. I feel a bit better knowing I’m not alone in this.’
I showed him photos of Bezzant and Moresco. ‘These the guys?’
His eyes widened. ‘Where did you –’
‘You don’t want to know. Just believe I’m on your side. And I’m gonna sort this out.’
He shrugged and nodded resignedly and saw me to the front door. On a table nearby was a Ruger .38 revolver, alongside a double-barrelled shotgun with birdshot cartridges in the break-action breeches.
I said, ‘You just hang in there.’ He shook my hand with both of his.
We checked out of the Marriott and pointed our rental due south, hooking up with the I-75 to get us to Detroit Metro. We called Ann and Anne en route to bid our farewells, tempted to stay another night and getting more than gentle persuasion from them. They wanted to be taken to The Russian Blue Boy. Next time I promise, I put on a card, as I sent Anne flowers from the airport.
Jonah and I dozed on the flight after a couple of scotches, having an empty seat between us.
Rafe met us at Miami airport. He gave me my Sig Sauer in its rig. It felt comforting against my hip in the smouldering Miami night.
22
We sat in Lori Reichardt’s office at South Federal, drinking coffee and sipping Evian water while we waited for her to finish a meeting. I reread the report I’d written that morning. I gave it to Jonah to look over.
Her office was large and expensively furnished in leather and walnut, and its corner position signalled an elevated position on the corporate greasy pole. Her computer screen had the Sergeant Pepper cover as a screen saver, suggesting a life form under the facade.
Jonah read my report through reading glasses with thin black frames. I’d only seen him wear shades before. He said, ‘My corporation look for the lady.’
Lori walked in and greeted us almost warmly, less staid in a short skirt, tight blouse and slightly less sober shoes. She removed her glasses. Her hair was let down at shoulder length. She sat behind her large oak desk while Jonah contemplated carving their initials inside a heart-shaped border.
‘How did you get on, gentlemen?’
Gentlemen. That was a start.
Jonah passed the file containing my report across to her, his eyes above the glasses perched low on his nose.
I said, ‘It’s all in there. We traced the person who paid the rent on the WPP Corporation office as a Mr Ricky Bezzant aka Anvil aka probably made guy for the mob ex the Bronx and an alumnus of the Federal pen at Marion, Illinois. The premises is part of a rental
suite of offices and is never used by them except for one past meeting with some Oriental gentlemen, presumably the openers of said letter of credit. Rent was paid in advance in cash. The only contact the office managers have for Bezzant is the cell phone number, which is in our report. The Feds will know Mr Bezzant and will think that you’ve done your homework.’
‘Good. You got a photo or a description of him?’
I couldn’t give her the FBI photo given to us by Cza.
‘There’s a description of him in the files. And I bet the FBI or the cops will have a mug shot along with his rap sheet. It may jog the memory of whoever dealt with him here in the first place.’
She skimmed the file briefly and turned to her computer where she brought some data up onto the screen.
‘We’ve had a telephone request for confirmation of payment by us from Mr Hill aka…’ She looked at the file. ‘Bezzant. It came this morning, we checked back, it was from a pay-phone. He was impatient. We told him we’re still processing the documents and we apologised for the delay. He was uncivil. The FBI will be seeing me later today to tell us what to do next.’
‘Anything else?’ I said.
‘No. You’ve done your job well. Now the bank will be seen to have done its job as well.’
I said, ‘Always pleased to be of service. I wish everything we did was as straightforward as this one.’
‘Send me your invoice.’
We stood up to leave.
‘Can I buy you guys lunch one day soon?’
Jonah said, ‘Dinner, whatever.’
After she’d discreetly slipped him a business card, I ushered him to the elevator before he suggested breakfast in bed. She gave a small wave with her fingers as the doors closed between us.
Jonah now removed his glasses so he could see clearly again, and read what she’d handwritten on the card.
Tomas looked less than relaxed behind his desk as he started his third cigarette since we’d entered the room ten minutes ago. We waited while he signed some documents, and his assistant left the office.
He tilted his chair back. ‘So now we have burglary to compound our list of misdemeanours and felonies. Plus felonious interstate transmission of stolen documents.’
I said, ‘Stop fucking complaining.’ I pointed my finger Quaranto-style to endorse my point.
It took a while, three long draws on his cigarette to be precise, but he got the point. ‘Sorry. It’s all getting a bit much.’
‘We met with Les Cargill. He’s legit and scared. Plus he’s had the same frighteners as you. Pictures of his wife and kids at school, etcetera.’
‘He been to the cops? The Feds?’
‘No. He’s been threatened off. But I’m waiting to get his OK to tell them.’
‘They want to push this stock in the middle of next week. I’ve had a call from Hendrych in New York. He was belligerent.’
‘What’d you say to him?’
‘Nothing really. I said I’m still wanting to talk to MCP Inc in Michigan. I didn’t say I’ve talked to Cargill. He said not to worry about them. That everything’s fine there. All under control. He talks all the while like it’s a legit deal. The guy’s got nerve.’
I said, ‘You didn’t notice his fuck-you-because-I’m-going-toget-a-red-Testarossa look in his eyes?’
Tomas stood and did a short pace around the office. He took another cigarette out of the packet and deliberated awhile before putting it back. He sat down again.
‘Quaranto wants to see me. He left a message,’ I said.
‘When?’
‘He called the office who told him I was away. As soon as I’m back then, he said.’
‘What you think he wants?’
‘I’m going to find out. Can you get him on the phone?’
He called a number and left a brief message. About ten minutes later someone called us back. I took the call.
‘Mr Quaranto will see you here at two this afternoon, alone,’ said the Brooklyn voice. It was now one. He gave me the address of a club on Washington in South Beach called Tommy Teats.
The phone went again with the same voice at the other end.
‘Mr Quaranto said to tell you that Ernie’s out of town so you don’t need to expect no trouble from him.’ He hung up.
‘What’s this club?’
Tomas said, ‘A topless dance joint.’
Jonah said, ‘Every villain’s dream. You get to nibble the merchandise for free.’
Tomas looked despairingly at us; things were in freefall for him. ‘This is nothing to joke about.’
‘Wish me luck,’ I said to Tomas. He didn’t hear, as he wasn’t listening. He was combusting instead.
We went back to our office where Dooley was waiting. I updated him on our visit to Detroit and today’s meetings with the bank and with Tomas.
Dooley said, ‘So. You’re off to meet with Big Paul.’
‘Sure. But not alone. Jonah’s coming. Sounds like his sort of joint.’
Dooley said, ‘The man’s not stupid enough to hit you in his club in the middle of the day with Feds probably nearby.’
I said, ‘I hope. If there’s a fortune teller nearby, I’ll go there first.’
‘I’ll have someone drive you and wait. But you both go in together.’
I said, ‘Yes ma. And I got clean Jockeys in case I end up in hospital again.’
Rafe pulled up in a metered park directly across the road from the club. It had the frontage of an old movie theatre, with Tommy Teats Live in uneven foot-high black lettering. White lights flashed around the doorway to act as a homing device for middle-aged male outof-towners. It was the type of joint where the bouncers are there to keep you in while your credit cards are maxed to the limit. A couple of tough guys, one built like a Kelvinator, the other a few pizzas less, stood outside in the afternoon adding their cigarette smoke to the smog. A welcoming committee of Rotarians they were not, as we sized each other up. I recognised them as card players from Quaranto’s pool. One of them went briefly inside.
Jonah and I walked across the road toward the club.
‘Just you,’ said Kelvinator, putting his arm in front of Jonah. His accomplice, unencumbered by a neck, leant against the building like The Leaning Tower of Lard. He skilfully flicked his cigarette into the street.
I said, ‘He don’t go in, I don’t go in. Go tell your boss.’
He did nothing besides think about it for a moment and chew a little harder on the toothpick clenched in his teeth.
‘Let’s go,’ I said to Jonah and started to walk away.
‘Whoa,’ said the refrigerator’s companion, and he went into the club. He reappeared and nodded to us as he held the door open. He let it close on us as we walked through, to show who’s in charge here.
It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark interior. On the lighted stage three robust nubiles in star-spangled Gs, stilettos and bobby sox were starting a set against shiny poles, to a Bee Gees mix.
A dozen or so male customers were sitting around the stage taking their minds off their wives out shopping. The stetsons of good ol’ Alabama boys were curled like tacos, and logo’d with Confederate stars and bars as the Southerners exercised their God-given and constitutional rights under the Sixty-Ninth Amendment; the right to drink cold beer while glad-eyeing the pendulous breasts on beautifully toned bodies of intimidatingly healthy babes.
I could see Quaranto at one end of a long bar which ran the length of a wall. He was talking to a couple of guys who looked as if they would rather be watching the T&A than keeping him company. As he saw us he walked between the guys and put his hands on their shoulders and said something. He slapped them on the back. They walked to the exit without a glance at us or the dancers, dead cigars clenched in their mouths. It just wasn’t their day.
Kelvinator reappeared.
‘You. Here.’
He pointed Jonah to a nearby table.
‘You. Follow me.’
His head and shoulder
waved me towards Quaranto at the bar. I nodded to Jonah and followed him. Quaranto moved behind the bar and took a bottle of Chivas from the shelf and filled two shot glasses. He passed one to me. Kelvinator moved a few stools away and sat so he could keep an eye on me and Jonah.
Quaranto downed his glass in one as he stared at me from across the bar. I downed mine. It was watered down. He poured us another.
‘You and me. We’re gonna take a bath together. Bring your drink.’
I followed him up steps with the fridge behind me. He motioned me into a room at the rear of the club. It housed a large hot tub partly sunken into the floor. He pointed to a door at the rear.
‘Some boxers in there. Put ‘em on.’
This was getting to be a habit. I did as I was told, tucking my Sig Sauer into my clothes and returned to the tub room. Quaranto entered through a rear door in a white silk bathrobe. He was smoking a torpedo-sized cigar and he waddled as he walked in his bare feet. He disrobed to his Speedos and climbed into the circular tub and leant over the side and pressed a button. Pumps kicked in and the water frothed slightly. Fridge walked to the wall and turned a knob. Some piped-in classical music started. It was Handel’s Water Muzak but I doubted that these goons got the pun.
I climbed in and Quaranto waved the fridge outside. He took a seat near the door which he left partially open so he could keep an eye on me and Jonah. Quaranto looked at the recent scar on my shoulder, but said nothing.
‘Fucking Feds are so up my ass all the fucking time, I inhale ‘em. Then I sweat their cheap Brut through my armpits and crotch. ‘Specially my crotch. Here we can talk and I wash the stink out at the same time.’
I finished the other half of my scotch.
‘So these tub rooms are swept every day by the best hi-tech gizmos money can buy. Plus I get to relax here. Unwind from the stress of life in this metropolis.’
He lay back against the edge of the tub and closed his eyes to make his point, his cigar clamped in one side of his mouth. In a while he switched himself back on, his eyes wide open.
Kill City USA Page 21