The Squandered

by Putnam, David;

  What an insensitive ass, not thinking about his awful situation. “I’m sorry. I’m just worried about Marie and didn’t think about the other problem. It was stupid of me.”

  The kids—they needed to come first.

  “What are we going to do?” he asked.

  “They have Noble now, so I don’t know what’s gonna happen. We lost what we had to negotiate when they took him.” Even that sounded insensitive, poor Noble. Noble, this kid’s father.

  “What do you think’s going to happen?”

  “I don’t know,” I lied. I had a pretty good idea. “Come on,” I said, in a lower tone so the cop couldn’t hear. “Cut me loose.”

  “Not gonna happen.”

  “I have the card from the lady on the pier. Cut me loose, and I’ll call her, and we’ll see what’s going on.”

  Bruno came closer. Nothing wrong with my hearing—his footsteps, the light swooshes of his clothing, came in loud and clear. His hands went in my pockets, searching for the card.

  “Hey? Hey?”

  He found it.

  “Don’t,” I said. “Don’t you call them.”

  “Why?”

  “Think about this, Bruno. Who’s better qualified to talk to these people, me or you?”

  His hands went to work and freed my left hand from the soft restraints. With a snick of his knife, he cut the tape binding my head as I untied my other hand. I sat up, taking it slow and easy. I didn’t want the nausea to return. My swollen nose forced pressure up into my face. The tube for the IV snaked over to the IV tree. I’d leave that for now. I plucked off the EKG leads and let the wires hang off the bed. My head pounded worse in the sitting position.

  The nurse, a harried Hispanic gal, came in to check on the alert from the EKG going silent. “You shouldn’t be sitting up.” She scowled at Bruno for releasing me. She took hold of my shoulder and tried to ease me back down. I didn’t let her move me an inch. “You have something for this headache?”

  She gave up and took a step back. “I can give you some aspirin, but you’re not going to get a painkiller until the doctor sees the x-rays.” She turned and left to get the aspirin.

  My nephew had changed his clothes. He no longer wore the gangster attire familiar on the street where he lived, clothes he wore to blend in, to not draw undue attention. Now he dressed like a yuppie college student with bleach-faded denim pants and an in-style button-up shirt cut to fit tight. He looked good this way, like someone who had his life together. And he did, until his father decided to intervene with one of the dumbest moves I’d ever heard of.

  I stuck out my hand. He handed me the card. I no longer needed the card; I’d memorized the number. I just didn’t want him to have continued access. He gave me his phone.

  I dialed.

  Bruno moved in closer and put his head next to the phone.

  The woman picked up on the first ring. She spoke cool and collected. “Hey, you’ve got a big problem, ass-wipe, and it’s too late to come sniveling to me about it. You had your chance.”

  She hung up.

  I sat there, stunned.

  What would happen to Rebecca and Ricardo now?

  CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

  I REDIALED AS I watched Bruno. His expression showed no emotion until I looked in his eyes; they pleaded for relief from his agony.

  I’d never met the children, but felt as if I knew them just from visiting their home. Seeing the pictures Bruno had framed and spread about the house. Seeing their toys and the Crayola drawings on the wall, drawings of stick figures and dinosaurs and trees and of the house they lived in. The same house I grew up in. And of course, the cotton-top picture of Dad.

  How had this whole mess gotten so screwed up?

  The woman answered and said nothing.

  “You have my brother,” I said. “Now do what’s right and give me the kids.”

  Saying the words helped their meaning to sink in even more. Noble, at that moment, sat before tormentors, strapped to a chair as they tried to get blood from this turnip. Noble’s own words.

  She didn’t answer for a long beat. “What are you talking about? We don’t have your brother. You no-showed in Lancaster, in Pear Blossom. You’re in deep shit, my ape-brained friend.”

  My breath caught for a moment and then I realized: of course they would deny it. They planned to bury Noble out in the desert after they got the information, or tortured him to death trying. The end result was the same. They just wanted to cover their tracks now for limited liability in future death-penalty charges—kidnap, torture, and murder.

  “You didn’t show up to the meet. You’re not a man of your word. And now you’re trying to delay by saying you no longer have your brother.”

  “Don’t play games with me. You rammed our car on Sunset out in front of our motel and you took Noble.”

  She said nothing.

  “Come on,” I said. “Quit yankin’ my chain. We’re in the hospital right now. And you’re the ones who put us here. You don’t believe me, you can check it out. I know you have your informants in the police, so check it. Check out the accident, too, you’ll see I’m tellin’ the truth.”

  I had to play their game, pretend they didn’t take Noble until I had a chance to figure the angles. There had to be an angle here; I just couldn’t get at it through this ringing headache. And if by some unfortunate circumstance, if fate had intervened un-announced and “The Don” Brodie and the crazy woman didn’t have Noble, then once they checked out the story, they’d know we didn’t show up in Lancaster for good cause.

  I couldn’t think of any other reason why they’d say they didn’t have Noble.

  I slid off the edge of the bed and stood.

  I hadn’t been thinking clearly. The three cops, the deputies who came into the hotel room, had wanted Noble as well. Would they go as far as ramming a car with two separate trucks? Risk killing the occupants, one of whom was the target they’d come for? I needed time to ponder it.

  “Well,” she said, “if you don’t have your brother, then there isn’t anything else to talk about, is there?”

  Bruno leaned away and took the phone with a yank. “Wait. Wait, I have the diamonds,” he said into the phone. “Don’t hurt my father. You can have the diamonds, I don’t want ’em. I want my family back safe. I’ll give ’em to you for my kids and for my father.”

  I looked on, my mouth sagging open. I didn’t know which would be worse—if he really had the diamonds, or if he had the guts to bluff like that. He did have my brother’s blood, but still … he’d just thought awful fast and made a dangerous play without considering the fallout. I moved over to listen. Bruno let me and didn’t even flinch.

  The woman said nothing for a long moment, then, “Who is this?”

  “Bruno Johnson. You have my father. You have my children, Ricardo and Rebecca.”

  “Why should I believe you?”

  “My dad told me where the diamonds were hidden. He told me in case something happened to him. I guess he was right—something did happen to him. You happened to him. I got ’em and don’t want ’em, not if I can trade them for my family.”

  “Prove it. Give me some details, tell me where you got them from.”

  “My dad hid them in a green Folgers coffee can that was rusted through when I dug it up from under the porch at our house on Nord.”

  “How many are there?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Seven hundred and fifty two-carat diamonds in a purple Crown Royal sack in a rusted-out Folgers coffee can under the porch.”

  How did my nephew have all of that detailed information? My mind spun around the pain and locked in all on its own. When Marie and I first entered my old house on Nord, Bruno stopped reading a novel, walked in the kitchen, and put the book on top of the old Amana refrigerator. And this was before I knew of the existence of A Noble Sacrifice.

  The crazy woman on the phone hesitated. “Okay, I’ll call you
back with the location—”

  “No,” my nephew said. “No more bullshit. If you want the diamonds, if you really want them, you bring me my family right now. Same place as before. In two hours.” He clicked off and put the phone in his pocket.

  He picked up on things quickly, handled the call like a pro.

  He looked at me, his expression still blank. “You coming, Uncle?”

  “I have to find out about my wife,” I said. “Bruno, do you have the diamonds?”

  “Hell, no. What, you fall down and hit your head or something?” He grinned at his inappropriate joke. “No, I don’t have them,” he said. “The conversation you had with that crazy woman wasn’t going anywhere. I thought I’d give them something to think about and at the same time give us some wiggle room.”

  Man, this kid even talked like me. “You really only twenty years old?”

  “Twenty-one next March, and in June I want to attend the Sheriff’s Academy.”

  “Come closer and let me look in your eyes when you say it.”

  “If you knew me better, you’d know I never lie.”

  He did as he was asked and came closer. His eyes were green, unlike Noble’s brown.

  “I swear to Pete I don’t have them,” he said. “Never did.”

  His words shook me a little. That was Dad’s expression: “Swear to Pete.” My nephew could only know the words and syntax from contact with my father, Bruno’s grandfather. Bruno’s words reminded me that Dad had known all along about Noble and his family outside prison, a secret that hurt. Why had he not told me? Why didn’t anyone tell me?

  Sure, why would they tell me? I’d been the one who didn’t believe in my own brother. I’d also been the guy who pistol-whipped him and sent him to prison for the rest of his natural life. It made perfect sense. Why would they want me around?

  CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

  BRUNO EASED OFF his intensity. “So,” he said, “if these guys want something we don’t have, then there’s nothing we can do but bluff. It wasn’t that big of a leap. You would’ve done the same if you hadn’t been in that car accident and if you weren’t so worried about Aunt Marie.”

  His words made a hell of a lot of sense.

  He watched me close and said, “What do you think?”

  “I think that woman on the phone didn’t deny having your dad and tacitly agreed to return him. I think your story, all those details, convinced her. You did a great job, kid.”

  I pulled out the IV and bent my arm up in case of a bleeder.

  “What are we going to do next?” he asked. “We have two hours.”

  On the other side of the curtain, Mack came up and spoke to the uniformed LAPD officer standing guard. “Hey, man, could you go down there and stand by that doorway?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks. Keep your eyes open, these guys are highly motivated.”

  What guys? What kind of scam had he set in play? Mack could never play by the rules. He’d been thoroughly corrupted by Robby Wicks and sometimes preferred to play in the gray area even when it was unnecessary. He liked the added threat level.

  Mack pulled the curtain aside, entered, and pulled the curtain closed, as if the thin material had the ability to muffle all sound to those who wanted to listen. He’d changed out of his uniform pants and black work boots and now wore denim pants, a long-sleeve blue chambray shirt—his favorite look—and dark-brown leather boots. His blond hair, cut in a flattop, was two weeks overdue for a tune up. Not like him to look scruffy, but working the jail—a concrete cave with the six percent of the country’s antisocial population—tended to wear away self-discipline.

  “Looks like you’re feeling better,” Mack said. “Ooh, that nose looks like it hurts.”

  “How’s Marie? Is she in surgery?”

  Mack looked uncomfortable. “Bruno?”

  “Mack, tell me.”

  “She’s fine.”

  “Bullshit, you’re lying. How can she be fine? I saw the car. You saw the car. How can she be fine? They airlifted her. So don’t bullshit me. Give it to me straight.”

  “They airlifted her as a precaution. And as for the car, sure, now it’s nothing but a hunk of scrap. It used to be a top-of-the-line, late-model Caddy. That car had state-of-the art crumple zones to absorb the transferred energy from the impact. It had side airbags and seatbelts. No, she’s shook up, no doubt about that, but she’s gonna be fine. I swear to you, she’s gonna be fine. She can’t be moved for a while, though. Maybe not even for a couple a weeks.”

  I wanted to believe him, I did. I just couldn’t get the image of the Cadillac out of my head, all of that twisted metal. The thought of how my wonderfully soft Marie came in violent contact with her door and the huge truck on the other side of it traveling at high speed—that’s what scared the hell outta me.

  I missed her.

  The anger returned, stronger now. I started to believe Mack a little at a time, which automatically moved me on to what needed to be done next. I’d get the children back first then—

  “Wait,” I said. “What are you talking about? You said she couldn’t be moved for a while. Two weeks? If she’s okay, why can’t she be moved? What’s going on, Mack? Tell me now.”

  “Take it easy, Bruno.”

  More of his words flooded back. “Airlifted as a precaution? Come on, Mack?”

  He took a step back, pulled the curtain open. “Hey, Doc, can you help me out here?”

  We waited. I tried to control my rapid breathing. The pounding headache ramped up a notch. Why call a doctor? What could the doctor tell me that Mack couldn’t? He wanted the doctor to give me a sedative to calm me down. A sedative meant bad news, the worst. I stepped over to him, grabbed his shirt, and yanked him in close as my anger continued to rise.

  He smiled. He shouldn’t have smiled. I punched him in his lying, smug face. He stumbled backward and regained his balance before he fell all the way to the floor. The blue-uniformed LAPD officer ran in, baton out and at the ready.

  Mack held up his hand. “Hold it, hold it. It’s okay. I got this. Go back to your post.” He swiped at his bloodied mouth with the back of his hand.

  The officer hesitated. He looked at me standing feet spread, hands balled into fists, ready to go to war, then looked back at Mack.

  “I said it’s okay,” Mack said again.

  The officer turned and went back to the doorway where he’d been standing watch. From behind him came a large black woman dressed in blue scrubs too tight for her legs. She had a round, flat face and sympathetic brown eyes. “What in the world’s going on here? This is a hospital, not some sort of gladiator school.”

  Mack again wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. “Bruno, I didn’t tell you because I didn’t think you’d believe me. Go ahead, Doc.”

  The doctor came up close, put a hand on my arm. “Come on now, honey, you need to be lying down. It’s confirmed: you have a mild concussion and that nose of yours needs to be set.”

  “No, tell me. What’s he talking about?”

  “I just walked in here. I have no idea what you all are talking about.”

  “My wife’s condition. How is she? Why does she have to stay in the hospital if she’s all right? What’s wrong?”

  “Bruno?”

  I looked over at Mack.

  “She’s pregnant, you big lummox.”

  “Pregnant?”

  My head whipped around back to the doctor, who nodded. She held onto my arm as I slowly backed up to the gurney and sat on the edge before my knees gave out entirely. “Pregnant?”

  “That’s right,” the doctor said. “And all of the tests we were worried about came back negative. The baby’s fine. We want to keep her in the hospital because of the severity of the accident. Just to be sure, you understand.”

  Mack came over to the gurney, his fingers gently probing his split lip. “Marie told me that you didn’t know. She made me promise that I wouldn’t tell you. I promised her, Bruno. She said she want
ed to tell you.” His voice started to rise. He pointed his finger at me. “But, oh no, you wouldn’t just take it easy until we could get you in there to see her. No, no, Bruno the Bad Boy Johnson was going to bring the whole place down, stick by stick.”

  That’s why he’d called the doctor in to tell me, so he could keep his promise to my wife. And my boneheadedness forced him to tell me anyway.

  “Pregnant? She’s really pregnant?” The word turned alien in my mouth. I’d not thought about starting a family with Marie—not ever. Stupid, though, why wouldn’t I? At the wrong end of forty, almost fifty, with Marie twelve years younger, I’d just taken it for granted that a family at my age never entered the equation. I shivered. And loved her all the more, if that were possible.

  “That’s right, buddy boy.” Mack held out his hand. I took it and shook. He pulled me into a hug so hard I couldn’t breathe. “Congratulations.”

  He let go.

  “I need to see her, Mack. I need to see my wife right now.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  WITH THE CONCUSSION, the doctor wouldn’t let me move around unless I traveled in a wheelchair; she insisted on it. She’d have preferred that I stayed in bed. No chance on that happening.

  Mack relieved the orderly of wheelchair duty. Bruno followed behind, along with the rookie LAPD cop. Bruno quizzed him on the difficulty of getting through the LAPD Academy. Once Bruno told the cop he worked at the Lennox Sheriff’s Station, and that he planned to attend the Los Angeles County Sheriff’s Academy in Whittier, the cop opened up and they talked non-stop. Bruno reminded me of the excitement and the adventure of looking forward to a career in law enforcement. I only hoped he never ran into a supervisor like Robby Wicks.

  Mack moved us down the long hall toward the elevator. “Sorry,” I said, “about the lip.”

  “You really have trust issues, pal, you know that? You always have.”

  “That little love tap I gave you wasn’t a trust issue. It was paranoia and fear that the worst had happened.” I lowered my tone. “Hey, what the hell’s going on? Is that cop here as a custody officer so, once I’m cleared medically, he’s gonna transport me to the jail ward?”