by Don Winslow
He swung out the gun and went into a macho-man combat crouch.
I swear that Mr. C didn’t move, flinch, or even blink as his driver pulled his own gun and shot Heinz-57 four times in the chest before Heinz could even raise his pistol. Mr. C just turned his gaze to Sami and asked, “Where’s Neal Carey?”
Sami’s hand shook as he pointed toward the opposite hill.
I got up and ran.
Chapter 27
I don’t know how long it was before I heard the footsteps.
At first they seemed far off and muffled and I didn’t yell because it didn’t matter anymore. I figured that it was Heinz and Sami and that they were about to drop the bodies down the shaft. I didn’t want to see that anyway so I closed my eyes and tried to drown.
Then I heard someone say, “I don’t know, ma’am. I’m afraid he’s dead.”
And Karen say, “Then I want to find his body!”
Karen? “His body”?
“Down here!” I yelled. “I’m down here!”
I could hear the footsteps shuffling around.
“Down here! I’m down here!”
“Neal?!”
“Down here! Down here!”
I saw Karen’s face peek out from the circle of blue sky.
“Hold on, babe!” she shouted. “They’re bringing a rope!”
“Are you okay?!”
“I think I have a cracked rib! Are you okay!?”
“Well, I’m alive!”
“Well I guess that beats the alternative!” she hollered. “I love you!”
“I love you, too!”
“Nathan?!” I asked.
“He’s okay!”
“Hope?!”
“Fine!” she yelled. “Everyone’s fine except for Heinz-57! I don’t think he’s going to make it!”
Actually, I didn’t care if Heinz made it or not.
“You hang in there, babe!” Karen yelled. “They’re coming!”
They came a few minutes later. I saw the rope come down and managed to grab the end with my right hand. Then I saw the barrel-chested guy from the Sands peer over the edge.
“Can you loop that around yourself and tie it off?” he asked.
I didn’t want to say that I probably couldn’t do that standing on dry ground with two good arms, so I yelled, “I can try!”
“Trying won’t cut it!” he yelled. He pulled the rope back up. “Hold on.”
A few minutes later he was in the water with me. He looped the rope around both of us and yelled, “Take her up!”
I could hear the Jeep moaning in the sand. A minute later we were in daylight.
At first the sun blinded me so I couldn’t see Karen. I could feel her, though, as she put her arms around me. When I was able to see her face, there were tears on her cheeks.
I wanted to cry too, to be honest. But Mickey the C was standing there in a three-piece suit, in the desert sun, not even sweating. Not a bead of perspiration on his smooth face.
“Thank you,” I said.
“No problem,” he answered. “Anything for Natty Silver, the laughs he’s given me. And Joe Graham reached out for you. Said you’re like a son to him.”
Okay, maybe then my eyes might have moistened a little bit.
Don’t ever tell Graham, though, okay?
In the distance I heard the basslike beating of helicopter rotors.
“The cops?” I asked.
Mickey the C snorted. “The cops? They take forever to get here.”
A few minutes later I was on a stretcher beside Nathan Silver on a mob helicopter zooming us back to Las Vegas.
We’d been in the air about ten seconds when he mumbled, “So Arthur Minsky says to the Irish kid, ‘Son, you’re never going to be a good errand boy. Can you do anything else?’ And the kid, Costello, says, ‘I want to be a comic.’ Arthur laughs, I laugh, Eileen the Irish Dream laughs, Benny the Blade laughs. Then Arthur turns to me and says, ‘There you go, Natty. Here’s your replacement for Phil Gold. Teach him “Who’s on First.”’ And I say, ‘This kid? He can’t learn it. He’s the dumbest Mick I ever seen! Dumber maybe than you, even.’ I said to Arthur Minsky…”
“Nathan?”
“Yeeees?”
“Didn’t I meet you in Cleveland once?”
“I’ve never been to Cleveland.”
“Neither have I,” I said. “Must have been two other guys.”
And I actually got a laugh out of Natty Silver.
Chapter 28
Ms. Pamela A. HolmstrumClaims SuperintendentWestern States Insurance Co. 801 Flower StreetLos Angeles, CA
Craig D. Schaeffer
Attorney-at-Law
3615 Monterey
Palm Desert, CA
14 August 1983
Dear Mr. Schaeffer,
Congratulations on your fine work on the Muller-Abdullah files. I was gratified to receive your communication that Attorney Eugene Petkovitch has dropped both bad-faith suits. Of course, I imagine that Mr. Muller’s demise and Mr. Abdullah’s incarceration rendered that litigation moot.
Western States Insurance Company is very pleased with your fine work on this file, and please allow me to add my personal congratulations. It has been a pleasure to work with you and I look forward to future collaborations.
Yours truly, Pamela A. Holmstrum
P.S.: See, I told you things would work out.
Craig D. SchaefferAttorney-at-Law3615 MontereyPalm Desert, CA
Ms. Pamela A. Holmstrum
Claims Superintendent
Western States Insurance Co.
801 Flower Street
Los Angeles, CA
17 August 1983
Dear Ms. Holmstrum,
Thank you for your letter expressing your, and your company’s, appreciation for my modest efforts on the Muller-Abdullah file. I am indeed gratified that everything worked out. Let me also express my appreciation for your work on the matter and say how much I have enjoyed our association. I hope it will continue.
Sincerely, Craig Schaeffer, Esquire
P.S.: Dinner Saturday?
Ms. Pamela A. HolmstrumClaims SuperintendentWestern States Insurance Co. 801 Flower StreetLos Angeles, CA
Craig D. Schaeffer
Attorney-at-Law
3615 Monterey
Palm Desert, CA
19 August 1983
Dear Craig,
Please find enclosed a correspondence from Eugene Petkovitch. I am referring this to you for your handling.
Yours truly, Pam Holmstrum
P.S.: Do you believe the nerve of this son-of-a-gun?
P.P.S.: Eight o’clock?
The Law Offices of Eugene E. Petkovitch1500 Mitch Miller BoulevardPalm Springs, CA
Ms. Pamela Holmstrum
Western States Insurance Co.
801 Flower Street
Los Angeles, CA
16 August 1983
Dear Ms. Holmstrum,
This letter is to inform you that I no longer represent Mr. Amin “Sami” Abdullah. If I had thought for a moment that this man was an arsonist, fraud and kidnapper I would never have deigned to take pen in hand-rhetorically speaking-on his behalf. Please accept my profound apologies.
Second, I wish to inform you that I will be filing suit against you on behalf of the estate of the late Heinz Muller. The causes of action will be unlawful surveillance, harassment, assault with a deadly vehicle (his Land Rover), false imprisonment, and wrongful death. I am also naming Mr. Neal Carey, Mr. Nathan Silverstein, Ms. Hope White, Ms. Karen Hawley, and one John Doe aka “Mickey the C.”
I am personally and professionally outraged-OUTRAGED-that an insurance carrier in this day and age would single out for oppressive treatment an individual just because that person happens to be a foreign immigrant. Immigration built this land, Ms. Holmstrum, lest you or Western States Insurance Company ever forget it!
Your conduct has been despicable!
I am certain that a California jury will send a mess
age to the insurance industry-via a large punitive damages award-that this type of conduct will no longer be tolerated.
There is still time for you to avoid litigation.
My client, the estate of Mr. Heinz Muller, is generously willing to accept $100,000,000 for the pain, suffering and unlawful death that your Gestapo-like inquisition and jackboot investigative tactics have inflicted upon him. This sum represents far less than an outraged jury would award, and saves you the cost of a long, expensive, and ultimately futile defense.
This offer expires at close of business, five working days hence, and will not be compromised or renewed.
Sincerely yours, Eugene E. Petkovitch
Craig D. SchaefferAttorney-at-Law3615 MontereyPalm Desert, CA
Ms. Pamela A. Holmstrum
Claims Superintendent
Western States Insurance Co.
801 Flower Street
Los Angeles, CA
20 August 1983
Dear Pam,
Enclosed please find my response to the demand letter of Attorney Eugene Petkovitch.
Here we go again.
Sincerely, Craig
P.S.: Enjoyed watching The Searchers. Was it John Wayne, or you?
Craig D. SchaefferAttorney-at-Law3615 MontereyPalm Desert, CA
Eugene E. Petkovitch
The Law Offices of Eugene E. Petkovitch
1500 Mitch Miller Boulevard
Palm Springs, CA
20 August 1983
Dear Eugene,
I am once again representing Western States Insurance Company. In response to your latest correspondence:
1) Take us to court.
2) Bring your lunch.
The usual bullshit, Craig “Mad Dog” Schaeffer
By Fax
Dear Craig,
I read with great interest your response to Attorney Petkovitch.
I have a triathlon in Laguna next weekend. Can you lend me some testosterone?
Pam
P.S.: I rented Annie Hall, if that will get you here.
Chapter 29
Dear Diary,
What a day!
I went over to visit Nathan in the hospital. He is sharing a room with that nice young man Neal. Nathan says Neal is kind of grumpy sometimes but Nathan puts up with it because he says that Neal is very eager to learn all about the good old days in burlesque so Nathan is telling him all about it.
Nathan is feeling much better even though the ordeal was very hard on him. He has decided to buy a condo here in Las Vegas. At first, Diary, he wanted to move in with me but I didn’t think that would be proper. So I told him to get his own place nearby and I would come over for matinees (blush, blush).
That nice young man Neal is also recovering. He had a dislocated shoulder, a cracked cheekbone, a bruised hip, a bruised throat, a concussion and multiple contusions. He says he is eager to get out of the hospital. In fact the other day, right in the middle of one of Nathan’s lessons about burlesque, Neal said that if he didn’t get out of the room soon he was going to stick his head down the commode and try to flush himself. I think he must have been joking, though, because they won’t let him up to use the bathroom and I think he is a little jealous of Nathan about this. Nathan is already in a wheelchair and Neal is still in bed.
I’m sure he was happy to see his fiancee, Karen. You remember, Diary, the nice girl that Neal would not get in a family way? She came in today as usual, but she had a special gleam in her eye, if you know what I mean (blush, blush). She came in and said hello to us and kissed Neal on the cheek.
“How are you?” she asked.
“Better,” he said.
“Headache?”
“No.”
“Shoulder?”
“Not bad.”
She smiled and dug into her purse. Then she pulled out a twenty-dollar bill and slipped it to me. “Sweetie,” she whispered, “can I treat you to a movie or something?”
She winked at me and I winked back and then I rolled Nathan down to the cafeteria. They have slot machines there.
Karen was pulling the curtain around Neal’s bed as we left. I don’t know what went on in that room while we were gone, Diary! (Blush, blush.)
Your confidante, Hope
Chapter 30
Men are dependable, god bless’em. You can bust them up, throw them down a mine shaft, and half drown them… they can have broken bones, a cracked head, and a body that’s one big bruise… in short, they can just hurt all over, and if that one part works they still want to, you know, do it.
It’s just one of the things I love about them.
Not that I jumped right into the sack. (“Eased” is more like it, anyway. When the moment came I “eased” into the sack, Neal being in a delicate condition and all.) First we made a little small talk.
“Petkovitch is suing you?!” I asked when Neal told me.
“He’s suing you, too.”
“That’s outrageous,” I said. “Do you know a good lawyer?”
“I don’t think we’ll be needing one,” Neal answered. “He’s also suing Mickey the C.”
“That’s not real bright.”
“It’s downright dim,” Neal said. “Mickey the C’s idea of playing rough includes a little more than sarcastic remarks in his correspondence.”
“I noticed.”
“Right.”
“So how are you?” I asked.
“I hurt all over.”
“One big bruise.”
“One big bruise.”
“I gave Hope twenty bucks.”
“What for?” he asked.
“Get rid of her.”
“And Nathan?”
“And Nathan.”
“What for?”
Giving me that innocent look as if he didn’t have a clue.
“Never mind,” I said. “You’re in pain.”
“Actually, I’m starting to feel better.”
“And you need your rest.”
“In moderation,” he said. “With exercise.”
“But you can’t get out of bed.”
“Nope.”
“Nope.”
“So any exercise you’re going to get…”
“… would have to be in bed.”
“Hmmm.”
“Hmmm.”
I shut and locked the door, then got out of my clothes.
“I’m really feeling considerable improvement,” Neal said.
What can I tell you? The guy makes me laugh.
“It must be the tender, loving care,” I said.
“Is that it?”
“It’s about to be.”
Then I eased into the bed.
Epilogue
Karen was just getting out of the shower when I asked her to get me a Diet Pepsi.
“Excuse me?” she murmured.
“I’m in postcoital bliss,” I said. “And when I’m in postcoital bliss I need a Diet Pepsi.”
“Why don’t you get one?”
I shook my head.
“When a man’s in postcoital bliss it’s the woman’s job to get the Diet Pepsi,” I smiled. “Besides, I’m not supposed to get out of bed.”
“I’m in postcoital bliss, too.”
“Too bad.”
I looked at her with what I liked to think was a lascivious expression.
“Besides,” I said, “it’s your fault.”
She got dressed and went out to the little refrigerator in the hall to get me a Diet Pepsi.
The phone rang.
“Hello, son.”
“Hello, Dad.”
“What’s this I got in the mail today?” he asked.
“From me?”
“No, from Elvis,” he said. “Yes, from you.”
“It’s a Father’s Day card,” I answered.
“It isn’t Father’s Day,” Graham said.
“It should be,” I said.
There was a long silence over the phone. Then I said, “Dad, thanks for finding me.”
“Forget it,” Graham said. “So how’s Palm Springs?”
I laughed, then he nagged me about my various terrible injuries and I told him I was okay.
“Well, you take care of yourself,” he said.
“Yeah, you too.”
We would have gone on in that vein but it would have been absolutely bathetic.
Karen came back in, sat down on the bed and handed me the Diet Pepsi.
“Did we attempt to make a baby?” I asked.
I was willing. I thought I could handle it.
Talk about your long silences.
Then she shook her head.
“I still want to, though,” she said.
“I think I do, too.”
“But you don’t know,” she said.
“No.”
She sighed, lay down next to me in the bed, and snuggled her face into my neck.
“Not knowing’s not good enough,” she said. I’m sorry.
“Don’t be sorry. Wherever you go, there you are.”
We held each other as tightly as two people with various broken bones could.
“I think you’re right,” I said. “I think I have a lot of stuff to work out.”
“I hate saying it,” she said. “But I think so, too. I just want you to know. I’ve been thinking about it, too. A kid deserves that, you know?”
“Yeah, I do.”
“I guess you do.”
I swallowed hard and said, “So I think I’ll go see somebody.”
“You mean like a shrink?”
“Don’t sound so shocked.”
“No, I think it’s a good idea,” she said. “I’m just surprised that you do.”
“I don’t. I just don’t know how else to go about it.”
We shared some more silence.
“I think we should postpone the wedding,” she said.
“Is that a gentle way of saying we’re not getting married?”
“No, it’s a gentle way of saying that we shouldn’t get married until we know what we want,” she said. “And I guess we need to be alone for a while.”
That scared the shit out of me. “You’ll be there when I come back?” “If it works out that way,” she said. “And I hope it works out that way. I love you.” “I love you, too.”
I left the hospital two days later. I was still sore and still hurting and had a heroic limp, but it was time to go. I said good-bye to Nathan and Hope. Karen had already left.