I nodded. I was wise. ‘Pascal Henderson. You don’t get to be a guy that rich without having questionable and sometimes seamy associations. Thugs, crooks—’
‘Hookers, perverts, and gymnasts,’ she interrupted. ‘Yes. All that, and more.’
‘I’m familiar with the territory,’ I explained.
‘I know,’ she said right back. ‘I know practically all about you. I know you used to steal cars for a living. I know you were a good P.I. – I know everything. Including the real reason you took this job.’
That stopped me. I did not feel so very wise at all, suddenly. I felt like I didn’t have any clothes on. I felt like I was being X-rayed, even.
‘Look,’ she told me right away, letting me off the hook, ‘I know you don’t want to talk about that, I’m only telling you this stuff for your own good. You have got to get out of here. Right now.’
‘I’ll go,’ I told her, ‘but I am not without recourse myself. As it happens, one Mister Redhawk has given the order to a moose named Philip that McReedy should leave me alone.’
It was her turn to reflect. ‘Redhawk paid you a visit?’
‘Yes. With Philip.’
‘Why?’
I started to tell her, but for some reason, for the first time since I’d met Sharon, I decided not to reveal the entire matter. ‘I’m friends with his sister, Maggie Redhawk. At the hospital.’
That was true, as far as it went. So I didn’t lie to Sharon, I just didn’t tell her everything.
She started pacing. ‘OK, OK. That’s good. That’s why you were asking me about the Seminole Tribal Council?’
‘Yes,’ I faked it, remembering what Mister Redhawk said. ‘He’s the power behind the throne, but I’d like to know more.’
‘I got you a file on the Tribal Council like you asked,’ she said absently. ‘Put it on your desk. Just before I got a call that McReedy wrecked his Corvette outside the donut shop. Understand?’
‘Jesus, you get this information stuff fast,’ I told her. ‘And, thanks for the file.’
I headed for my desk to pick it up.
‘Uh huh,’ she mumbled, ‘but look, that’s it. That’s all I can do for a while. I mean I can’t help you with any of this. You get me? I’m just someone who gives you your paycheck in this particular carnival. Sorry.’
‘OK,’ I said.
‘No,’ she insisted. ‘It’s not OK. But it’s the way it’s got to be. I’ve got to figure out what’s going on. I’ve got to figure it out good and right away.’
‘Figure what out, exactly?’
‘What’s going on with you,’ she told me.
‘Because you like me,’ I said.
‘No,’ she snapped, pacing faster. ‘Because this McReedy? I know him.’
‘You know him?’
She stopped moving and locked eyes with me. ‘He works for my father, Foggy. McReedy works for dear old dad.’
FIFTEEN
I might actually have looked like a cartoon leaving the office. I was moving faster than my feet could carry me. I had the Tribal Council folder in one hand and my wallet in the other. I was checking to see what kind of dough I had on me. I didn’t figure to go back to my own pad; I had to assume that McReedy knew where I lived. I also understood that he knew where I worked, and that he was probably waking up on the sidewalk in front of the donut shop with a headache and a gun. His first stop was going to be my office, because it was closer, and then he was going to ransack my tiny but tidy apartment.
There was no point in hopping into my car either. I figured he knew my ride. I drove a raven black 1957 Ford Thunderbird. It was the only one in town.
Oddly, it was not a stolen car. Not per se. I borrowed it from a guy. He is in the Joliet Correctional Center in Illinois. He’s due to get out in 1995 so I figured to get some good use out of it until then, or until I got dead which, at this point, was very likely to come first.
In short, I eschewed the T-Bird. I wasn’t really thinking. I was more just moving very fast and hoping to run into something that would hide me for a while. Other people referred to this sort of behavior as instinctual, but by me it was panic with a thin veil of improvisational jazz on top.
So no one could have been more surprised than I was, five minutes later, when I ended up in Lynette’s apartment building. I knew that Lynette was sequestered somewhere deep in the swamp, and I didn’t have the notion that her apartment would be the right place for me to hide, but there I was, on her floor, walking down the hall like I owned the place.
Without even giving it a thought, I knocked on the door that said D-10 on it. I was remembering that the landlady or concierge had told me that Gerard lived there, the guy who had called the hospital when Lynette had the baby. I soon discovered that my completely ridiculous plan was that Gerard would be home and that I would barge into his apartment. I would stay there under the guise of investigating the whole baby thing. I mean, I actually did work for the organization that conducted that kind of investigation.
So I knocked on the door.
Miraculously, someone opened it. A delicate face covered in a half a pound of make-up peered out.
‘Yes?’ the face asked.
‘Gerard?’ I asked right back.
‘Who wants to know?’ he snapped.
I produced my sort of badge. ‘I’m with Child Protective Services. It’s about—’
‘Lynette!’ Gerard flung the door wide. ‘Come in. Jesus. I’ve been trying to find out what the hell happened to her, but you’d think I was asking about … I mean, I’ve been getting the biggest run-around, you can’t imagine!’
He was dressed in a tube top and a mini-skirt. The tube top was loaded, so either it was a specially made garment for Gerard’s work or Gerard had made some additions to his upper body real estate. As for the mini-skirt, he had the legs for it.
‘Don’t even start me on the run-around,’ I commiserated calmly. ‘I’ve been all over town, and I think I might know less than I did before. Plus I’m about to drop.’
‘Well, come in and tell me about it, why don’t you?’ He stepped aside.
I sauntered, so as not to seem too anxious, but I couldn’t wait for him to close the door behind us.
His place was the nicest looking hovel I had ever laid my eyes on. It was the exact layout that Lynette had, and even smaller than Jody the pusher’s place. But it looked like the Taj Mahal.
Where to begin? There was a deep green oriental rug that covered most of the floor and looked like a million bucks. Instead of a sofa, he had what they call a fainting couch, like Sarah Bernhardt. It was gold, but not gaudy. There were studio photographs of Gerard on every wall. They were big; like, two by three feet, black and white, and looked like 1940s film star shots. In makeup and the right wig, Gerard looked a lot like a young Jane Russell, and just about as buxom.
By the window there was a nice little bentwood café table and chairs. The set was close to the kitchen, which was immaculate. I actually thought I saw sunlight sparkling off the faucet.
Nearly everywhere there were very healthy plants, some even flowering. Somewhere behind one of them he’d rigged up some sort of little waterfall. You could hear it gurgling over rocks or something.
‘Nice digs,’ I said. ‘I’ve been across the hall and, as you probably know, Lynette does not have your flair.’
‘Nobody does,’ he said, but it was a little sad the way he said it. ‘Look, do you have a card or something besides that junior G-Man badge? I’m not the paranoid type, but you can never be too careful.’
I produced a snappy card from my inside coat pocket. He examined it. It seemed to satisfy.
‘OK, shoot,’ he said.
‘They tell me that you were the one who called the hospital when Lynette went into labor.’ I stood still, not remotely knowing where to sit down.
‘You hear a lot of strange noises in this dump,’ Gerard explained to me, ‘and I work nights, so I’m just coming home most mornings at four. That’s t
he time when all good boys and girls are in bed and the monsters come out to play.’
‘You said it,’ I agreed.
‘Sit,’ he commanded, pointing to a very comfortable looking overstuffed chair in one corner.
He collapsed on to the fainting couch and I slouched down low in the chair. Suddenly it felt very nice to sit in a comfortable chair in a nicely appointed environment.
‘This is just fine,’ I said, brushing the arm of the chair. ‘This might be the most relaxed I’ve been in two days.’
‘It’s the plants,’ he told me. ‘They produce extra oxygen. Plus, can you hear my fountain? The water? It’s incredibly soothing, don’t you think?’
‘I do think.’
‘So tell all. Where the hell is Lynette, and baby?’
‘Baby’s safe in the hospital,’ I said right away. ‘She’s got to kick a habit that her mother gave her, but she seems to be doing quite well in spite of it all. The whereabouts of Lynette Baker? That’s a little more difficult to answer. I think she’s being held captive in the swamp by the Seminole Tribal Council.’
Why lie? Plus, by telling the truth, I got to see his reaction.
It was worth it.
Gerard snapped up, nearly off the couch, eyes wide, then blinking, and his head was cocked just about as far right as it was going to get.
‘What?’ he demanded in no uncertain terms.
‘You heard me,’ I said. ‘I don’t know why, but the Tribal Council is interested in mother and baby, and they’re trying to clean Lynette up.’
‘Oh.’ Gerard relaxed a little. ‘Well, that’s good, right?’
‘I guess.’
‘But, look, cowboy,’ Gerard said, settling back, ‘you do not want to mess with the Tribal Council. They will fry your testicles with you still attached.’
‘Had a bad experience with the Seminoles, have we?’ I asked.
He sighed. ‘In my line of work – I’m a dancer – you meet all sorts.’
‘I’d imagine,’ I told him.
‘And some of the Council members have, what they like to call, investments in all sorts of shady goings-on. And who’s shadier than yours truly, would you think?’
‘I wouldn’t venture a guess,’ I admitted.
‘Right? So I’m working at the only strip club in the county and because of my, what should I say? Attributes? I get a lot of business.’
‘Do you mean that some guys don’t know that you have exterior plumbing, or some guys want it that way?’ I asked, as respectfully as I could manage to.
‘It’s a little of both,’ Gerard said casually, not the least offended. ‘Baby, it’s a wild world.’
‘Like a stampede sometimes,’ I commiserated. ‘But, let me see if I have this right: sometimes you get patrons from the Seminole community who enjoy your wares?’
‘Oh, God no,’ he was quick to answer. ‘They’re all straight as an arrow, no Indian pun intended. No. They own land, which they don’t sell but they don’t mind who rents it. The shady characters who built my shady world are the kind of critter that can’t get a decent howdy from the mainstream hoi polloi hereabouts in the way of cash backing or a place to exhibit, so they need people who don’t care if the white man sinks in the mud and vanishes from the face of the earth.’
‘In short,’ I surmised, ‘your employers can’t get a bank loan or rent a decent building around here, except from the Seminole Tribal Council.’
‘Bingo,’ he assured me. ‘They rent to my bosses, and they loan large sums of money for building, with large interest rates attached and large men to enforce the payment of the large interest on the large loans.’
‘Yeah,’ I told him, ‘I actually met one of those guys today. A Goliath named Philip.’
Gerard swallowed. Like, visibly. ‘You mean that gorilla who follows Mister Redhawk around?’
‘Yes.’
‘Well,’ he said, standing again. ‘Look at the time.’ He did not even bother to glance at a watch or a clock. ‘I have to get my beauty rest.’
I stood too, hoping to calm Gerard. ‘Mister Redhawk spooks you.’
‘Like I lived in a haunted house he spooks me. And if he’s got his goon on your ass, then your ass is not worth a dime.’
‘Agreed,’ I said, ‘but for the record: Philip is not after me. He’s my protector.’
That gave Gerard pause. ‘Say it again.’
‘Philip is not looking to pop me,’ I reiterated, ‘he’s looking to take care of my problems.’
‘Which problems are those?’
‘At the moment, in no particular order, my problems include that I am cold, I am tired, I want to know where Lynette Baker is and why Lou Yahola shot at me and, while I’m at it, why my boss just now told me that she’s related to one of the richest men in the world. But, most pressing for Philip, I would have to assume, is the fact that someone called McReedy wants me dead.’
Gerard stayed frozen like a statue for a little too long.
When he thawed, he said, ‘All right, if you’re OK with Redhawk, you’re OK with me. Plus, you’re interesting.’
‘Oh, I’m interesting,’ I concurred.
‘So McReedy – he’s real?’ Gerard fell back on to his fainting couch. ‘I mean, one hears the name, but I thought it was like the bogeyman or, I don’t know, evil Santa. Like, if you don’t behave, McReedy’s going to get you.’
‘Evil Santa?’
‘That bastard leaves lumps of coal in little children’s shoes or something. You don’t think that’s right, do you?’
‘I’m Jewish,’ I said. ‘This is the first I ever heard that Santa had an evil alter ego.’
‘No,’ Gerard said, ‘it’s not his alter ego. If you’re good, Santa gives you presents and candy canes but, if you’re bad, he leaves you a lump of coal.’
‘Suddenly my childhood dradle seems OK,’ I told him. ‘It’s unconditional. If I was good, if I was bad, didn’t make a never mind, I got a dradle.’
‘OK, I don’t know what that is, but I guess the Jews are just lucky or something.’
‘Chosen people,’ I said. ‘But we’ve strayed from the point.’
‘Which was?’
‘McReedy,’ I said. ‘You say you’ve heard the name?’
‘I’ve heard rumors, that’s all. But relax. When you’ve got Mister Redhawk and Philip on your team, you don’t worry much about the rest of the underworld.’
‘Fair enough,’ I conceded. ‘So how about this, how well do you actually know Lynette?’
He slumped down, then, rather primly, adjusted his hem. ‘I have enough problems of my own without associating with known junkies. And Lynette was a known junkie. So I tried to steer clear. But sometimes she was just so trashed that I had to ask her to settle. She was always nice about it. I don’t think she’d even know who I was she was so wasted when we talked.’
‘But you called the ambulance when she had her baby.’
‘I love babies,’ he said softly, ‘and I don’t see how it’s the baby’s fault that the mother is a louse. I mean, right?’
‘Right,’ I agreed.
‘Plus, as we have already discussed, I know which side my bread is buttered on, let me tell you.’
I blinked. ‘Sorry?’
‘I say, I know which side—’
‘I heard what you said, I just don’t know what you mean.’
‘We already talked about it. I’m very wary of the Seminole brotherhood. For professional reasons.’
‘And that involves Lynette?’
‘Oh.’ He raised his eyebrows nearly to his hairline. ‘I thought you knew, Lynette is half Seminole.’
And there it was, a large and central piece of the puzzle. It hit me in the head like a lead pipe. Lynette Baker was half Seminole. And then I glanced down, realizing that I still had Sharon’s file in my fist. And then I thought, Maybe there’s something in here about that, and about this famous Seminole Brotherhood. And then I put a pretty obvious two and two together; he
r last name was Baker, she left the baby with Lou Yahola at the old Baker building. Did that have anything to do with Seminoles, I had to wonder?
Suddenly, I was having a bit of vertigo.
‘Whoa, cowpoke,’ Gerard said, ‘you OK? You look like you might pass out.’
‘I might just do that,’ I admitted. ‘I’m having the funniest feeling.’
‘Do you need to lie down?’
‘No,’ I said. ‘I think I need a drink.’
‘Can do.’ He jumped up like he was on fire and dashed into the kitchen. ‘I make a martini that causes the angels to weep.’
‘Good,’ I said to his back. ‘Make mine a double. It feels like a two angel day.’
He turned to me and flashed a smile. ‘Doesn’t it, though?’
‘So here’s what is hitting me in the head,’ I told him. ‘Is everyone in this burg a Seminole Indian?’
‘I’m not.’ He shrugged, continuing to concoct the beverages.
‘So that makes two of us.’
‘There was a lot of intermarriage, they tell me, for a while. Why do you ask?’
‘Lynette’s part Seminole, Jody’s part Seminole, Maggie and Philip and the mysterious Mister Redhawk are all Seminole.’
‘Jody? Jody Boyd?’
‘You know her?’ I asked.
‘She’s … I don’t want to tell tales out of school.’ Gerard lowered his voice. ‘But one of the strippers where I work? A female stripper? All girl? She’s Jody’s girlfriend.’
‘Jody has a girlfriend?’
‘Mum’s the word,’ he whispered.
‘So you know Jody.’
‘Jody is exactly the sort of person one avoids,’ Gerard intoned. ‘She has a lot of money, but she doesn’t ever spend it. Plus, her chosen profession pisses me off.’
‘She’s a drug dealer.’
‘So you know. Good. I don’t have to, what’s the expression? Pussy foot.’
‘That may be the expression,’ I told him, shifting in my chair, ‘but please don’t use it. Ever again.’
‘Right. Anyway, Jody’s a pusher and God Damn the Pusher Man, if you know what I mean.’
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