Second Story Man

by Charles Salzberg

  Charlie Floyd

  “Yeah, this is Charlie Floyd. Who’s this?”

  “It’s Tommy Pfister. Remember me?”

  “You’re unforgettable, Tommy. What can I do for you?”

  It was early evening and I was sitting in my backyard trying to decide if it was worth it to fire up the grill and toss on a steak for one since Manny wouldn’t be back for a couple days. He’d called and told me about his episode with Evie Kerns and although he said he didn’t get any useful information, he insisted he wasn’t quite finished with her. He thought he could break her. I was still waiting to hear from that private dick about Melinda Shaw. I’d bugged him with a couple calls and he swore he’d have the information for me in a day or two. I knew exactly what he was doing. Stringing me along so I wouldn’t know how easy it really was for him to get the information. I wouldn’t be surprised if he tried to hit me up for some extra dough.

  “It’s not what you can do for me it’s what I can do for you.”

  “Yeah? What’s that?”

  “You’re looking for Francis Hoyt, ain’t you?”

  “I am.”

  “Well, I know where he is.”

  “Where’s that,?”

  “You think I’m gonna tell you just because I’m a good fucking citizen? You think I’m just gonna hand over a friend? Just like that?”

  “I haven’t given it much thought. And with friends like you I figure Hoyt doesn’t need any enemies.”

  “You want I should just hang up and end this conversation?”

  “Do whatever suits you, Tommy. Do what you have to do. But remember, you called me, not the other way around.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not selling out Hoyt unless there’s something in it for me. I know the insurance company’s probably got rewards out for him. I know if I help you you’re gonna get at least a part of that action, and I want a piece of it, too.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “Can you come down here tomorrow morning?”

  “I could if I had a reason.”

  “Is having Hoyt here reason enough?”

  “I’d say it was in the ballpark.”

  “Listen, I want you should be here at nine-thirty sharp. And I want you should bring some kind of contract between you and me, that says when you get Hoyt I get fifty percent of whatever you get.”

  “That seems a little steep.”

  “Fifty percent of something is better than fifty percent of nothing. You want Hoyt, I can give him to you. But without that deal we ain’t got any business to do. Understand?”

  “I understand.”

  “So, we got us a deal?”

  “I’m not going to haggle with you over the phone. I’ll be in your office tomorrow at nine-thirty. Okay?”

  “And you’ll bring the papers? Because if you ain’t got no papers then the deal’s off. You’ll have to find him without me and that ain’t gonna be easy. So, you’ll bring the papers, right?”

  “Sure, Tommy. I’ll bring papers.”

  Francis Hoyt

  “I did just like you said, Francis. He’ll be here tomorrow, nine-thirty. And I got the feeling this guy’s an on-time kinda dude. I did good, right?”

  “Yeah, Tommy, you did good.”

  “Anything else you want me to do? I mean it. Anything?”

  Sure, there were other things I’d want him to do, but nothing I was going to tell him now.

  “No, we’re good.”

  “You mean it? You really mean we’re good? Like in you don’t hold that other thing against me?”

  “What other thing?”

  “Come on, Francis, you know what I’m talking about.”

  “Yeah, you’re right. I do know what other thing you’re talking about. I’m just pulling your chain.”

  He gave me one of those forced, nervous little laughs people give you when they want you to think they’ve gotten the joke when they haven’t a clue.

  “I thought so. Look, I just want us to be friends again. And to do business again. You’re the best. Ever. And I mean that. There’s no one fucking better than you are. No one.”

  “Okay, I think you’ve crawled far enough up my ass.”

  But yeah, he was only telling the truth.

  “I mean it. And I’d do anything to get your business back. I’ve made some new connections since before. And I’d even give you a bigger cut. How does twenty-five on the dollar sound? That’s more than double I give anyone else.”

  “You’re right. I’m not anyone else. But I’ve got things to do, Tommy, and negotiate over the phone with you isn’t one of them.”

  “Sure. Sure. I get that. So anyway, he’s going to be down here tomorrow morning. What then? I mean, what do I say, what do I do?”

  “You tell him you’re expecting me to come in at exactly eleven-thirty. You tell him I’m always on time. You tell him you’ll keep me there till he shows up. You tell him he should be there no later than eleven-forty-five. Don’t let him hang around till then. Tell him to go out for breakfast or something, and then come back. And, Tommy…”

  “Yeah.”

  “You gotta sell it, man. He’s gotta think it’s legit and not a setup. He can’t think you and me worked anything out. You understand?”

  “Yeah, yeah, I can do that. But I got a question?”

  “Yes?”

  “I don’t mean to pry, I mean it’s none of my fucking business, but what do you have in mind? I mean, why do you want him to come back? Are you really going to be there at eleven-thirty? You’re not going to do something like whack him right here, are you?”

  “That’s at least three questions.”

  “Oh, yeah. Well, maybe you could answer one of them?”

  “I’m gonna refer to the first part of your statement, Tommy, and that is that it’s none of your fucking business.”

  “Sure, sure, I get that. But this is my place of business. I mean, I wouldn’t want anything bad going down here. If that’s what you have in mind, I mean.”

  “Don’t worry, you’re not going to have to clean up any blood from the floor, if that’s what you’re worried about. You’ve got my word on that.”

  “Not worried. Just a little concerned. But hey, I’m sure you know what you’re doing and I’m just happy to oblige.”

  “If you’re happy, I’m happy, Tommy.”

  Manny Perez

  I believed strongly that eventually I could get what I wanted from Ms. Evelyn Kerns, even though she rebuffed me yesterday afternoon. I was confident I had begun the essential bonding process between us and when I sensed that thin filament between us would fray I immediately pulled back.

  I had planted the seeds of doubt in her mind about her paramour, Francis Hoyt. I knew that part of her wanted to cooperate with me while the other part needed to remain loyal to him. Rather than push forward I chose to retreat. But only for the moment.

  The great author, Ernest Hemingway, who was a hero to all of us growing up in Cuba, once explained that when he was writing he often stopped for the day while he was in the midst of a wonderful sentence, when he was in peak form for the day. He believed that by doing so, when he returned to writing the next day, he could pick up at that point and make it even better. To have quit at a low point, when he was having trouble expressing something the way he wanted to express it, would have had him return to that low point. I have endeavored to apply that theory to the art of interrogation. If you see that someone is getting annoyed or tired or bored, or angry, or indifferent, do not continue. If you do, the target of your interrogation will only become defensive and eventually shut down completely. Some, of course, will say otherwise. They will harangue the subject of their interview. They will spend hours and hours in the interrogation room. They desire the person they are interrogating to break down. That, they believe, is how they will come to the truth. However, I have found that you are not likely to obtain information that is useful or even a confession that you may rely on. In fact, you are more likely to get
a false confession than the truth. This is why I do not believe that torture is an effective way to obtain useful and true information. The result of waterboarding or other types of physical and emotional torture, is that the one being interrogated is likely to tell you whatever he or she thinks you want to hear, simply to put an end to whatever torture technique you are using.

  I am not out to obtain what I want to hear through torture, but rather the truth, through a process of bonding with the alleged perpetrator.

  I was provided the work address for Ms. Evelyn Kerns by David Chung. It was a nightclub within the famed Fontainebleau Hotel. From the manager, I found that Ms. Kerns was working the late shift that evening, which meant that she would arrive for work by 8:00 p.m. and work till the early morning hours.

  At 7:30 p.m. I stood by the employee’s entrance to the club. At seven-forty-five I saw Ms. Kerns approaching. She was on her cell phone and so she did not see me until I stepped in front of her.

  “Hey,” she said, obviously not recognizing me. “Watch where you’re walking.”

  “I apologize, Ms. Kerns.”

  A look of recognition crossed her face.

  “It’s you.”

  I tipped my hat. “Yes, I am afraid it is me.”

  “I’ve got to get to work,” she said brusquely, trying to pass by me.

  I got in step with her.

  “I regret having to accost you as you are getting to work, Ms. Kerns, but I wanted to show you something.”

  “What?”

  I removed a sheet of paper out of my briefcase and handed it to her.

  “What’s this supposed to be?”

  “This is only one page of Francis Hoyt’s arrest record.”

  “So?”

  “Did you know he was a repeat offender, Ms. Kerns?”

  “I don’t care what he was. I care what he is.” She looked down at the paper. “And I don’t see anything here that isn’t at least five years old. Why don’t you leave him alone? Don’t you believe a man can be rehabilitated?”

  “Do you?”

  “Of course I do. Francis has done absolutely nothing to make me believe he’s done anything wrong.”

  There was no point in arguing with her. Once someone has established a narrative in their mind it is almost impossible to shake them from that narrative. Logic is worthless. Facts are worthless. And yet, I was not about to give up on Ms. Evelyn Kerns quite yet.

  I opened my briefcase again and this time removed a photograph of Francis Hoyt holding hands with Melinda Shaw. I handed it to Ms. Kerns.

  “What’s this supposed to be?”

  “It is a photograph of Francis Hoyt with another woman.”

  “So?”

  “We have others.”

  “Why should I care how many you have? If this is supposed to get me to tell you what you want, I’m afraid you’ve struck out, Manny whatever the hell your last name is.”

  “It is meant to help you understand what kind of man Francis Hoyt truly is.”

  “How do I know when this photograph was taken? How do I know you didn’t mess with the photograph? I wouldn’t put it past you guys. I’ve heard about these vendettas. I’m sorry you came all the way over here, probably keeping you up way past your bedtime, for nothing. I have nothing to say about Francis. Now I’ve got to get to work or else the boss’ll dock my pay.” Her tone hardened. “Some of us have to work for a living, you know? And if you if you keep harassing me I’m going to file a formal complaint with the Miami PD.”

  She brushed past me and entered the club.

  The bond between Ms. Kerns and Francis Hoyt was far stronger than I had anticipated. Perhaps she would eventually change her mind, but for now all I could hope for was that Charlie Floyd would have had better luck with Melinda Shaw than I had with Evelyn Kerns.

  Charlie Floyd

  When I walked through the door Tommy Pfister was in pretty much the same position I’d left him in almost a week earlier: sitting behind his desk, leaning back in his chair, reading the sports pages of the Daily News. Only this time he looked up as soon as I entered.

  Still holding the paper, he twisted his wrist so he could check his watch. He nodded and smiled.

  “Right on time, Floyd.”

  “So, my friend, what’s up?”

  I walked around the counter and sat on the edge of his desk.

  “You got that paper for us to sign?”

  “What paper’s that, Tommy?”

  “You know, the contract where it says I get fifty percent of the reward you guys are going to collect for bagging Francis Hoyt.”

  “No, I don’t have anything like that.”

  His face sagged. “You’re kidding, right? I mean I told you that’s what it’s going to take for me to cooperate. I can hand you Hoyt on a platter.” He pounded his hand on the table. “That’s what you guys are looking for, isn’t it? By the way, where’s your little partner?”

  “That’s not your business. And have a little respect, will ya?”

  “Cops I know don’t deserve no respect. So, what’s gonna happen here?”

  “That’s completely up to you, Tommy.”

  “How you expect me to cooperate when there’s nothing in it for me? I need incentive, man.”

  “How about I put you up for the Good Citizen Award?”

  “Fuck that. I gotta make a living. And this ain’t no joke. I guess you’re not serious about nailing Hoyt.”

  “Oh, I’m serious, all right. So serious I might consider ten percent, but fifty? That would only be in your dreams.”

  He tucked several of his chins into his chest and thought for a moment. “That don’t seem fair for what you’re getting out of this. But I guess you got me over a wheel barrel. Hoyt got in touch with me yesterday morning. He’s in town.”

  “You’re not telling me anything I don’t already know. Please don’t fuck with me because I had to get up pretty early this morning to make it down here by nine-thirty and I don’t like to get up that early. I need my eight hours’ sleep. I don’t get it I’m cranky all day.”

  Tommy flashed one of those smiles that makes you want to wipe it off his face with the back of your hand.

  “You might know he’s in town, but did you know he’s going to be here, in this office, at eleven-thirty this morning?”

  “What for?”

  “Whaddya mean, what for? Whaddya think what for? To fence some goods, that’s what for. I gotta spell things out for you? Since he’s going to be holding the swag you can nail him for it. That’s still against the law, ain’t it? Possession of stolen property. There’s your case. All gift-wrapped for you.”

  “So, you’re telling me he’s already broken into some homes up here?”

  “How should I know? I only know he says he’s gonna be here with some stuff he wants me to take off his hands. Maybe he got it from before he came up here. Maybe he did break in a couple places already. He don’t confide in me and I don’t have his to-do list. You don’t think he’s coming in just to pay his respects, do you?”

  “I only know what you tell me, Tommy.”

  “Well, that’s what I’m telling you. That he’s gonna be here in—” he looked at his watch, “—in about an hour and a half. You want him, you’ll be here, too.”

  “So, you’re saying I should leave and come back…”

  “Yeah. Come back a little after eleven-thirty. Like eleven-forty, eleven-forty-five. Just to make sure he’s here. If you’re here already he’s gonna see you as soon as he comes in that door and he’s gonna bolt. And he’s gonna know I gave him up. And then my life ain’t gonna be worth shit. So, you gotta leave and come back. Besides, I got other business to conduct and you can’t be here when I do. You’ll spook my clients.”

  “If you’re fucking with me—”

  “I ain’t fuckin’ with you. I swear. He’s got an appointment to be here eleven-thirty. That’s what he tole me. Like you, he’s always on time. So, you come back and he’ll be here. But y
ou gotta make like it was some kind of serendipitous thing or something.”

  “Serendipitous? Where’d you learn a word like that,?”

  “I know plenty of words. Serendipitous is just one of them.”

  “Okay, Tommy, maybe I’ve misjudged you and if I have I’m sorry. I’ll be back here eleven-forty, eleven-forty-five. But if this is some kind of scam—”

  “It ain’t no scam. Hoyt told me he’d be here. That’s the way he is. He says he’ll be somewheres, he’ll be somewheres. But if anything changes I got your number.”

  I told Pfister I’d be back, but my intuition was telling me something wasn’t quite right. Hoyt was much too careful, too meticulous, too smart, to trust the likes of Tommy Pfister. Besides, he was most likely the one who tied Hoyt up with the mob and that connection led to his being arrested and sent up. I had the sneaking suspicion Hoyt was behind this and that he was either toying with us or he had some nefarious reason for getting me down here. Maybe I’d come back when Pfister told me to and I’d find that Hoyt wasn’t here. Maybe it was just a “fuck you” from Hoyt, a way to make us look like amateurs, like stupid fools.

  Nevertheless, I couldn’t take the chance Hoyt really would show up, so I planned to be back just like I told Tommy I would be.

  I found a nearby coffee shop, took a quiet booth in the back, ordered some breakfast, and gave Manny a call. He was at the Miami airport, on his way back to New York. He didn’t have to tell me how he’d fared. I could hear the disappointment in his voice.

  “I am very sorry, Charlie Floyd. I just could not make her talk about Francis Hoyt. She is in love with him and so she does not see him for who he really is. If I could have convinced her how evil he is, how he uses people, how he destroys lives, then perhaps things would have turned out in our favor.”

  “It’s okay, Manny—” I looked at my watch, “—in about an hour and a half I’m supposed to be in the same room with Hoyt.”

  “What did you say, Charlie Floyd?”

  Disappointment was replaced by excitement. His voice became so animated that I could feel Manny’s energy traveling fifteen hundred miles, surging through my cell phone.