16 Hitman

by Parnell Hall

  I will if you'll answer one more question without asking one of your own."

  "Shoot"

  "You happen to talk to Louie Russo?"

  "Why, is he dead?"

  "Jesus Christ! You couldn't do it! One fucking question, and you couldn't fucking do it!"

  "Is that a yes?"

  "Yes, he's dead. Shot a couple of dozen times by someone who was really mad at the fuck. Now, do you think you could do me the courtesy of assuming I know my job and answer a fucking question?"

  "A couple of dozen times?"

  "Yeah.Whoever killed Louie was really pissed off. I start thinking what could piss someone off that much, and I think of you."

  "I didn't talk to Fusilli."

  "No, you talked to the guy who got shot. Which I'm sure is a coincidence"

  "You being sarcastic again?"

  "Read my face."

  "I didn't get the guy killed, MacAullif."

  "How do you know?"

  "Our conversation was unenlightening."

  "I'll be the judge of that."

  "You expect me to remember what we said?"

  "I'd like the gist"

  "Just what you'd expect. I ran a bluff, trying to get information."

  "What did you get?"

  "Not a damn thing. Guy called me cold, accused me of running a bluff, told me to get lost."

  "What did he spill?"

  "Not a goddamned thing."

  MacAullif shook his head. "That doesn't compute. You talk to the guy, he goes upstairs, someone's so pissed off they shoot him six ways from Sunday. Now what did the guy let slip?"

  "Not a thing."

  "He must have"

  "He didn't."

  "All right, if that's what you think, he must have told you something you didn't get. He let something slip that would have meant something to anyone with half a brain"

  "Thanks a lot."

  "Oblivious Man doesn't get it. But Tony Fusilli, who doesn't realize he's dealing with Oblivious Man, thinks Louie's spilled the beans."

  "What beans? The guy didn't tell me anything"

  "You just think he didn't.You gotta go back over the conversation, see if anything sticks out"

  "It doesn't."

  "Thank you for your open-minded attitude. That will make this so much easier"

  "I can't help it, MacAullif. The guy gave me nothing. I can go over it and over it, and he still gave me nothing."

  "All right. What did you tell him? What did you say that might put his boss in a rage?"

  "I didn't say a thing."

  "That's how you bluffed him? I can't imagine why it didn't work."

  "I told him Kessler was in protective custody and they'd never get to him."

  "That's not quite nothing."

  "That's not quite news, either. He's been in it since yesterday."

  "Nonetheless, it illustrates what you mean by nothing. Now, what other nothings did you tell him?"

  "I told him Marsden and Frankie Delgado were dead. I said the cops knew they were Fusilli's button men, they just couldn't prove it"

  "This is also nothing?"

  "This is nothing that's going to send Fusilli into a rage and make him shoot his own man. Why would he do that?"

  I have no idea, because I don't know the context. Neither do you, but you write it off anyway because you're too lazy to figure it out"

  "Come on, MacAullif. I told him the two dead guys worked for him. This is not news to him. Why would it piss him off?"

  "I don't know, because I wasn't privy to the conversation."

  "Privy?"

  "Right. Like an outhouse. Like your mind. Is there anything you're not telling me?"

  I thought about it.

  "There was another guy there."

  45

  THE COPS SWEATED THE SECURITY guard for hours. He'd have ratted me out if he'd known who I was, but the guy didn't know my name. I'm sure Crowley would have loved to put us together, but I was nowhere to be found. I wasn't answering my beeper, at least not officially. I was knocking off cases, I just wasn't calling cops.

  MacAullif didn't give me up, bless his heart. The minute I mentioned the security guard, he suggested I get out of there. I did, not a moment too soon. I barely got to my car before my beeper started going crazy.

  To the cops' credit, they questioned Fusilli and his men, for all the good it did them. As one would expect, Fusilli's henchmen presented a united front. Louie had stopped in the lobby to talk to some troublemaker, and was never seen again. It was suggested that the cops question the troublemaker. Since they couldn't find him, they sweated the security guard instead. That was his comeuppance for being an asshole. I wish I could have seen it. I would have in a book.

  As things were, I wanted no part of Detective Crowley. Instead, I wound up in another no-win conversation with my wife.

  Alice was waiting at the door when I got home. "Stanley! Are you crazy? You called on a mobster!"

  "What, no amenities? No `Hi, honey, how's your day?"'

  "Where have you been?"

  "Working."

  "It's eight thirty!"

  "I worked overtime."

  "Why didn't you call?"

  "I didn't want to get my messages."

  "I'll bet. The police called."

  "Just once?"

  "No, a lot. I let the answering machine pick up."

  "Good girl."

  "Bad boy.You called on a mobster?"

  "Is that what the cops said?"

  "The third or fourth time. You called on a mobster, and now he's dead!"

  "I don't think it's cause and effect."

  "But you did?"

  "We got anything to eat?"

  "I made chicken"

  "Great."

  "Two hours ago it was great. Now it's food."

  We went in the kitchen and Alice zapped the chicken curry in the microwave while I gave her a rundown of my meeting with Louie Russo.

  "I don't get it," Alice said. "You didn't tell him anything. He didn't tell you anything. And he gets killed."

  "That's right."

  "So you had nothing to do with it."

  "I must have had something to do with it."

  "Maybe it's just coincidence."

  "How can it be coincidence?"

  "What, exactly, did you tell him?"

  "I told him Hitman Number 1 works for Tony Fusilli. And I told him Hitman Number 2 works for Tony Fusilli."

  "That's gotta be important."

  "How can that be important."

  "Maybe it's important that you knew it."

  "He didn't kill me. He killed Louie Russo. Why is it important if Louie Russo knows it? He already knows it."

  "What if he didn't? What if this is the first Louie heard these guys worked for Fusilli? So he goes to Fusilli with that information."

  "That makes no sense"

  "Why not?"

  "Everybody knows they worked for Fusilli. The cops know it. The mobsters know it. It's in their record. You check out these guys, it's what you come up with."

  "All right, so what else did you tell him?"

  "I didn't tell him anything."

  "You just think you didn't" Alice opened the microwave, took out the plate of chicken. It smelled delicious."You want this chicken?"

  "Of course I want that chicken"

  "Then tell me one other thing you told this mobster."

  "Alice!"

  "What?"

  "You're going to withhold food until I tell you?"

  "Why not?"

  "That's as bad as withholding sex."

  "There's an idea."

  "Alice!"

  "Come on. Think. What else did you tell him?"

  I took a breath, blew it out. "I told him the cops had the schoolteacher and there was no way to stop him from talking."

  "I'm not sure that's worth chicken"

  "Alice"

  "Come on. What else you got?"

  "I told him if he didn't let me warn Fu
silli, he'd be sorry."

  "And he was." Alice slid the plate in front of me. "Interesting."

  I'm glad Alice thought so. As far as I was concerned, it was utterly irrelevant, boring as hell, and had nothing to do with anything.

  But the chicken sure was great.

  4 6

  I GOT A LATE START next morning. I stayed asleep, and Alice walked the dog. I usually take Zelda out, but today I didn't even hear her. I guess I was really wiped.

  And not from lack of sleep. Just from stress. Just from being on constant guard to defend myself on all sides. I don't mean from physical attack. I'm a NewYorker. I'm generally wary. I mean from getting in too deep. With cops. And mobsters. And lawyers. And clients. And meter maids. And IRS auditors.

  You're probably wondering where some of those personnel come in. The tax man and the meter maid, for instance. Well, I live in Manhattan, we have alternate side parking, and I keep the location of my car, and what day and time I have to move it, in my head, or I risk a parking ticket even more expensive than a tank of gas. That's where the IRS agent comes in. Deducting the ticket I can't afford as a business expense and seeing if he buys it.

  Anyway, I sprang out of bed at ten after nine with a full twenty minutes before my car, parked on the north side of 104th Street, had to be moved. I showered at the speed of light, climbed into my clothes. I was still tying my shoes when the elevator arrived. I hopped in on one foot, pushed L, finished my laces, and started in on my tie. I had it loosely knotted by the time we hit the lobby. I snatched up my briefcase, and darted for the door, shirt collar up, tie trailing behind me in the breeze.

  I came out the door at nine twenty-nine. Sure enough, my Toyota was the only car on the north side of the street. And there on West End Avenue, waiting for the light, about to turn the corner, was not just Lovely Rita, Meter Maid, but Courtesy, Professionalism, and Respect himself, a genuine police officer in a genuine police cruiser, who would be happy to accept my illegally parked car as quota from heaven, a gift from the alternate side parking gods, the very second that nine thirty rolled around.

  I sprinted half a block to the car, fishing the keys from my pocket and punching the remote button for the code alarm as I came. Headlights flashed, the locks popped open.

  I snuck a look behind me.

  The cop hadn't even turned the corner yet.

  Hot damn.

  I wrenched open the door, flung my briefcase on the seat, hopped in, and started it up.

  I couldn't tell if the cop was coming because my mirror was folded in. On the side streets, you always fold the mirror so it won't get sheered off by someone passing a double-parked van. I lowered the passenger side window and leaned across the front seat to push the mirror.

  A bee flew by my head. I knew it was a bee because it buzzed, and because I'd just opened the window, which could have let one in. I have to tell you, I don't mind bees outside, but not in a car. A bee in a car has nowhere to go. It keeps bumping into you until it gets pissed off and stings you. And who wants to get stung in the face by a bee?

  Anyway, I ducked my head to avoid that happenstance and hit the window button to let the sucker out.

  That's when I saw the hole in the windshield.

  Bees don't make a hole in the windshield. Or, a bee that does is a bee to be reckoned with. But I didn't think that was the case.

  Trembling all over, I peered over the edge of the seat in time to see the cop pull up behind me. I kicked the door open, slid out, and flattened myself against the side of the car.

  The cop, who'd just gotten out of his cruiser, was surprised to see me. "Hey, buddy. Can't park here."

  "Officer!" I gasped.

  "I was just going to give you a ticket. I didn't see you in there."

  "Yeah, yeah! Look, you gotta help me!"

  "Sure, buddy. First you gotta move your car"

  "Shit!"

  "Hey! Watch it, buddy!"

  "Oh, for Christ's sake! You see the bullet hole in the windshield?"

  His eyes narrowed. "You got a gun?"

  And there I was, once again, caught in a shaggy dog story with a moron who wouldn't listen.

  "No, I don't have a gun, I'm not moving my car, and there's something I want you to do right now!"

  "What?"

  "Arrest me!"

  47

  "THE BULLETS DON'T MATCH."

  "Oh?"

  Detective Crowley shook his head. "The bullet from the upholstery of your car doesn't match the bullets from the body of Victor Marsden."

  "I wouldn't expect it to, since that gun is in police custody. At least I hope it is."

  Crowley looked lost for a moment.

  "The bullet that killed Marsden is a bullet from the gun on the body of Frankie Delgado, the man Sergeant Thurman killed. That better not be kicking around."

  "You're talking very wise for a man in your position. 11

  "Someone who just got shot at?"

  "No. I mean a murder suspect.You've been ID'd as the last man to see Louie Russo alive."

  "Really? I don't recall being picked out of any lineups."

  "You're identified from the picture."

  "What picture?"

  "Your mug shot. From your booking for obstruction of justice."

  "Oh, that's fair. Show your witness a bunch of photos, one of which is a mug shot"

  "That's not what we did."

  "Were your other photos mug shots?"

  "Most likely."

  "Most likely?"

  "The police supplied the pictures for the identification. I'm sure they were the same."

  "There's your reasonable doubt right there. I hope the rest of your investigation's better managed."

  Crowley stuck his chin out. He shouldn't have. It made him look more boyish. "You're a wiseass son of a bitch, and from what I hear, you got no reason to be."

  "People are shooting at me. It makes me cranky."

  "That hasn't been confirmed."

  "What? Oh, I'm on the Upper West Side, so you expect a stray bullet?"

  "You could have fired it yourself."

  "What?"

  "The cop who found you doesn't recall hearing a shot. Just seeing you pop up out of your car."

  I put up my hands. "Wait a minute, wait a minute. I fired a shot through my windshield into my car, ditched the gun, and hid on the floor and waited for a cop to arrive?"

  "I admit it sounds unlikely."

  "No kidding."

  "Except it was nine thirty. Just in time for alternate side parking. The cop was due to arrive. If you shot the bullet earlier and ditched the gun, you could go out just before nine thirty, wait till you see a cop coming, and duck down on the floorboards, knowing he'll stop at your car because at nine thirty you're illegally parked"

  I stared at him. "You know, if you'd apply half as much logic to solving the crime, we wouldn't be here."

  "Oh, we're working on that too," Crowley said airily. "It's just every time we turn around, you pop up. I thought I told you to butt out."

  "I did butt out. I don't care what you think, I didn't shoot at myself."

  "No, but you got Louie Russo killed, and you don't even know why."

  "I don't even know if. You're making a lot of assumptions, Crowley."

  "Oh, we can ID you all right. You're the guy who spoke to Louie."

  "I mean about the conversation getting him killed."

  "Well, what do you think got him killed?"

  "I have no idea."

  "Well, I do.You talk to the guy and he gets killed and you get shot at"

  "You're admitting I got shot at?"

  "Say you did. Then there was something in that conversation that was dangerous to someone else."

  "Well, you're wrong."

  "You admit you had the conversation?"

  "I'm not admitting anything. But if I did have that conversation, there would be nothing in it of harm to anyone."

  "How do you know?"

  "Because I wouldn't have
mentioned anything anyone didn't already know, and neither would he."

  "This conversation you're alluding to-the one you're not admitting you had-if you had had it, what would you have said?"

  "What do you mean?"

  "Without admitting you had a conversation, could you reconstruct as closely as possible what you might have said?"

  "You want me to speak hypothetically?"

  "Yes. Can you do that?"

  "Just don't tell my wife"

  48

  I TOLD ALICE ANYWAY. MUCH as she hates hypotheticals, this one was different. In the absence of Richard, I had to look out for myself. After all, people were shooting at me.

  "Why aren't you in protective custody?" Alice wanted to know.

  "You mean like in a hotel room with two police guards?"

  "The schoolteacher's in police custody, isn't he?"

  "That's different"

  "Why?"

  "They want to kill him for himself. Killing me is incidental. I just happen to know something"

  "What?"

  "I have no idea. I stumbled over something in my pursuit of this English teacher. I don't know what I know, but they don't know that"

  "Then you need protection."

  "I haven't been abandoned. Cops are watching me."

  "That will be small consolation when they watch you get shot."

  "Alice, there's a cop outside right now. I call this number, tell hint I'm going out, he meets me at the door. He gives me the allclear, escorts me to my car, gets nie on the road. Tags along to see I haven't got a tail."

  Alice's eyes widened. "You're going to work?"

  "We can't stop living-11

  "You're going to work!"

  "Alice-"

  "Someone's trying to kill you, and you're going to work! You're going into these rough neighborhoods where you almost get killed anyway. These housing projects and drug dens where anyone can hide anywhere. You're going to make yourself a sitting duck, and it's all right, because some beat cop in a cruiser is going to see it happen!"

  "You're getting all worked up."

  "Are you crazy! These are mobsters! They shot one of their own because they weren't happy with his performance. They missed you, so you want to give them another chance?"

  "You want me to hide from them forever while you walk Zelda and do the shopping and everything else?"