The sun drifted to a position straight above, and it was time for me to get to work, so I walked back to the house. As I approached the gate, I noticed the iguana was gone but Mag was back. She sat there inside the gate, licking blood off her paws and muzzle. She must have decided to put iguana on the lunch menu. I opened the gate, stepped over Mag, and grabbed my clothes.
“Did it taste like chicken?” I said chuckling. Mag never stopped cleaning.
I walked into the house and took a long, hot shower. I dried off and walked into the kitchen where I grabbed a couple cans of peaches, a spoon, and a can opener, setting everything on the counter-top. I opened the cupboard and pulled out a gallon bottle of clear liquid and a toothbrush that was on the shelf next to it.
Walking into the living room, I hit a few buttons on the stereo and heard music start playing out on the patio. I returned to the kitchen, gathered everything up in both arms and walked out to the patio. Setting it all on the table next to my coats, I sat in one of the upright chairs. Latin jazz played while Mag continued to clean herself. Most pleasant, I thought as I opened one of the peach cans and spent the next few minutes enjoying the sweet fruit slices. When I finished, I set the spoon and empty can aside, moved one of the jackets out of the way, and laid the other one out flat in front of me.
I twisted the cap off of the gallon jug and poured a small amount of the liquid directly onto one of the blood-spatters on my coat. The fluid had a tangy smell to it, reminiscent of almonds, oddly enough, considering the fluid didn’t originate on Earth. I replaced the cap, set the jug aside and, picking up the toothbrush, scrubbed at a blood spot on my coat. As I pressed the brush into the fabric, moving in small circles, the liquid slowly evaporated. After a few minutes of working the area, the blood spot disappeared. I poured the liquid on another blood spatter and worked the brush.
I worked for several hours like this and finally finished the first coat. I stood up, draped the now pristine coat over the back of my chair, and stretched out sore muscles. At some point during the process, Mag had crawled up on a lounge-chair behind me and gone to sleep. I had to wonder if the iguana had similar levels of tryptophan as turkey. She always seemed to sleep more after eating one of the lizards than she did when she got hold of a monkey.
My thigh itched, so I scratched it and realized that Bennie’s bullet had finally made it to the surface. I scratched a bit harder, removing a few layers of skin over the hard lump in my flesh. The bullet broke through the surface. Squeezing with both fingers, I pushed the slug out and caught it as it fell. With a spurt of blood, the skin quickly closed up over the declivity left behind. I let out a sigh of relief, dropped the flattened-out slug into the empty peach can, then grabbed the opener and another can. It was time for supper. I opened it up and enjoyed a fifteen-minute break of peaches and ocean air.
As I set the second empty can next to the first, my phone rang. I heard the ring coming from both the coat on the table and the one draped over my chair. I grabbed the dirty coat on the table, reached into the appropriate pocket and pulled out the phone in the baggie. Opening the bag, I pulled out the phone, and answered.
“Hi Rachel.”
“Are you at the zoo again? I hear monkeys.”
I looked up at the trees and saw several monkeys screeching and throwing fruit at each other. “Yeah, I’m at the zoo.” I smiled but felt a little guilty at always having to lie to Rachel about where the house was. I really need to fix that, I thought. “You know I like it here. Needed to think.”
“Well, I’ve been doing some thinking of my own.”
“I figured. It’s not an easy decision to make.”
“I’m in. I talked to my sister about it for hours yesterday. At first she had me convinced I shouldn’t, but by the end we both agreed this is what I want. Besides, why should you get to have all the fun?”
“I hoped you’d say that. You’re just about ready. I’ll know for sure when you and Marsha have your match-up.” I paused, choosing my next words very carefully. “I love you, you know.” I meant it in more than a friendly, respectful sort of way. I heard Rachel breathing on the other end, but she didn’t say anything. “It takes guts and real mettle to want to get into it like this. And like Yvgenny said, you are a rare woman,” I added, doing my best impersonation of the big Russian. “And a hell of a lady,” I said truthfully.
Rachel laughed. “Thanks, Justin.…” A long pause settled between us before she added, “I love you, too.” The phrase was careful, platonic even, without any emotion coming through. “When will you be done at the zoo?” she asked. “I was thinking we could go to dinner.”
“Oh … uhh … actually, I’ve got to finish up something,” I said looking at the second coat. “Then I’m going to hit the sack. I’m still pretty strung out from yesterday.”
“Yesterday? What happened yesterday?”
“Oh, yeah … I forgot to tell you. I went out to the VeniCorp plant and did some snooping.”
“I wish you’d tell me this stuff,” she said laughing lightly. She had gotten used to me going off and doing dangerous things in the way other people go to the grocery store, but I knew she would rather know what’s going on.
“I know you do. Sorry about that.”
“No, you’re not.”
“Well …” I said evasively. “I might actually surprise you one of these days.”
“I won’t hold my breath.”
“As long as I’m in the dog house, can I ask you to do me another favor?”
“You always do,” she said dryly.
“Can you try to dig up anything on an Asian chemist that goes by the name Jack or Jackie? Works for VeniCorp. I think he’s Chinese, but I’m not certain. I’d do it myself, but I won’t be near my computer tonight.”
“You’re not going home?”
“Not tonight. I feel like sleeping on the beach.”
“Got a hot date?”
“You know I don’t. Not unless you count Magdelain,” I said chuckling. The cat raised her head and looked at me. “I think we’re heading into a rough one with DiMarco and all, and I want to get one last good night’s sleep before we do.”
“I understand. Get some rest.” I caught an unusual trace of real disappointment in her voice.
“I’ll take you to dinner this week, how about that?”
“Deal,” she said a bit more brightly. “So the name is Jack or Jackie?”
“Right.”
“And he works at VeniCorp.”
“Right.”
“I don’t suppose you have anything more for me to go on?” she asked with a bit of exasperation.
“Yeah, he’s an Asian chemist, remember?” I pointed out innocently.
“Yes, I do remember. I mean, do you have anything more than that? You can be such a lunkhead.” I could hear her smiling.
“Well … not really,” I said a bit apologetically.
“That dinner better be spectacular,” she warned me, “Like surf and turf or something … you hear me?” She laughed a bit.
“Deal. I’ll figure something out,” I assured her.
“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Hasta, sweetie. You’re the best.”
Resigned, she said, “You say that to all the women in your life.”
“Yeah, but I always mean it.”
“Good bye, Justin.”
“Bye, Rachel.” I sat there for a few minutes thinking about her. I knew she looked at me as more than a good friend. “I definitely need to do something about that,” I said to nobody but myself.
***
Good Kids
Monkeys woke me for the second morning in a row, and it pleased me. Maybe I should let Mag keep one of those monkeys around the house, I thought to myself. Coming to my senses, I rejected the idea, thinking of all the monkey crap, and headed back into the house. I showered and got dressed quickly. With my jackets in hand, I walked through the front door in Costa Rica and stepped back into my loft. A rumbling sto
mach sent me in search of coffee and fritters, so I naturally ended up at Grady’s by way of my Victory V-twin Hammer.
I peered over my coffee at Kenny and his sister Abby as they walked into Grady’s café. I waved at them, and they waved back, giving me great big smiles. Smiles like that were what I considered icing on my daily cake. If I didn’t get smiles from the people in my life, I probably wouldn’t bother getting out of bed … or off the beach … at all. Smiles are intoxicating to me, and I’m a card-carrying junkie for them. Kenny broke off and headed for the back office to clock in. It was the beginning of his shift. Abby, however, came straight at me. As usual, the place was filled with the drone of people joining in the universal celebration of coffee, breakfast, and pastries to start the day.
“Can I join you?” she asked a bit hesitantly as she stepped up. She and I had never really spoken that much—a few hellos and goodbyes when she picked up or dropped off Kenny.
“Of course. Have a seat.” I moved an empty fritter-plate and the newspaper I had been reading out of her way as she sat down. “Can I get you anything?”
“I don’t have enough time. I’m headed to my other job.”
“Hold that thought,” I said, holding up my hand. “Marsha!” I hollered, waving at her behind the counter. She looked at me between customers and gave me a pleasant what-do-you-need look.
I held up my coffee with one hand, raised my index finger for “one” with my other and then pointed at Abbey and made a walking motion with my fingers. “STAT?” I asked.
Marsha nodded with a smile.
“And a fritter in a bag!” I added.
She nodded again and said something to Kenny I couldn’t hear.
“I got ya covered, Abby,” I said smiling. “Consider it payment for the smile.”
“Hunh?” she said a bit bewildered.
“Nothing,” I said warmly, brushing it aside. “What can I do for you?”
“I wanted to thank you,” she said a bit nervously.
“For what?” I couldn’t remember having done anything for Abby ever, let alone lately.
“Kenny would be dead or in jail, or dead in jail if it weren’t for you.”
It was my turn to smile. “Well … I had some help. Marsha’s the one who gave him the job. He’d probably get killed working for me. Or worse!” I added, grinning. We both laughed lightly.
“No, really, I mean it. You know my dad left after Kenny was born, right?”
“Yeah. Kenny mentioned it a while back. Sorry to hear it.”
“Not your fault. But when my mom overdosed a few years ago, it was just Kenny and me. Having to work two jobs meant I couldn’t spend much time with him. I blame myself for him getting into all that drug shit.”
“Never blame yourself. Even a kid makes his own choices, and Kenny made some bad ones. All Marsha and I did was give him an opportunity to make some good ones. That’s all.”
“You really have no idea, do you, Mister Case.” It was a statement, not a question, and there was something in her eyes that humbled me. “I wanted to thank you.”
“Call me Justin. All my friends do … well … most of them, anyway.” I gave her a big smile, and she returned it in kind. I wanted to make her do that more often. She was good at it. “And I just do what I do.”
“Thanks just the same. Whether you want to admit it or not, you saved him.” Kenny walked up with a refill for me plus a to-go cup and a paper bag.
“Thanks, Kenny,” I said. I finished off my original coffee and poured a healthy amount of sugar in the new one. It already had cream. Then I pushed the to-go cup and the bag at Abby. “For the road. Working two jobs must kick your ass.”
Abby blushed. “Thank you, Mister … uhhh … Justin,” she said a bit shyly.
“Don’t mention it. Just keep doing what you’re doing, and things will work out. I’m sure of it, okay?”
“Okay.” She stood up, grabbed the coffee and bag. Kenny and I watched her head out the door to their beat up Ford Bronco. Kenny turned halfway.
“Kenny?” I said, stopping him in mid-stride.
“Yeah?”
“Your sister’s alright, you know that?”
“Yeah, I do. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
“Don’t ever forget that, kiddo. Now get back to work!” I ordered, laughing.
“Yes sir!” Kenny walked off smiling. It must be a family trait, I thought. They were both good at smiling.
I looked out the window at Abby’s Bronco. She was still trying to start it. It finally turned over, and a thick cloud of smoke blew out the tailpipe. I watched her put her head on the steering wheel for a few seconds. She raised her head, and I thought I saw tears on her face. It occurred to me that I might just have to help them out a little more. I picked up the newspaper, stirred my coffee, took a sip, and went back to reading the movie section of the paper. It’s all about the smiles, I thought to myself.
***
One Mystery Solved
I selected Rachel’s speed dial, typed “Can I stop by at 2?” and hit SEND. I’d spent the whole morning at Grady’s, drinking coffee and reading an assortment of theatrical rags from Marsha’s newsstand. I was wired from the highly sugared coffee and planned on skipping lunch after the three fritters I’d downed throughout the morning. I had to get to a bookstore, because what I needed I hadn’t programmed into my system yet. The process took a few days, and I just hadn’t spent the time.
My phone dinged as a message came in. “I’ll be here.”
I typed in “See you then” and sent the message. Putting the phone back in my pocket, I dropped a couple twenties on the table, scooped up my reading material and headed to the newsstand. I put back the magazines I’d read and headed for the door. The Lieutenant who had come with O’Neil the previous day stepped up to the door as I stepped out.
“Here,” I said cheerily and handed over the newspaper. He reflexively grabbed the newspaper and gave me a mild scowl. I get that from most of the cops that work for O’Neil. They’d all had to cover for me at one time or another at the behest of O’Neil, and I’d gotten the sense that most of them really resented it. I’d have to do something nice for the department to keep them smiling. I walked out into the parking lot, hopped on my bike, and headed for Hawthorne Books on the south side of Griffin Park. Ironically, it was only a few miles from the swimming pool I’d demolished.
Once there, I went straight for the Italian language section. It had occurred to me that a time might come while dealing with DiMarco’s men that a working knowledge of Italian might be handy. I grabbed a copy of Italian for Dummies and went over to the reading area. Taking a seat, I opened to page one and dug in.
O O O
My phone dinged with a new message, so I set the half-consumed book down and saw that the message was from Rachel.
“You coming?”
I looked at my watch to discover it was three o’clock. “Oops!” I said out loud. The people on either side of me looked up from their books. “I’m late,” I said apologetically to them, and they returned weak smiles before returning to their reading. I typed in “Sorry … Got distracted. On the way” and hit SEND.
I walked to the counter, paid for the book and headed back to my bike. Slipping the book into one of the leather side-bags, I hopped on and headed for Rachel’s. With traffic it took me another forty-five minutes to pull into her driveway.
I shut off the motor and walked up to her front door, rapping on the screen door. When she didn’t answer, I opened the door and stepped in.
“Rachel?” I yelled into the house.
“I’m on the patio!” she called back.
I walked through her house and out through the open sliding screen door to the patio. She lay face down out on a lounge chair, and wore a bikini. God damn she looked good. And there it was again. That feeling. A stack of printed pages sat on the small table next to her. She rolled over and looked at me through dark sunglasses, and it really put the hook in me. All
I needed to do now was figure out how to … well … I guess I needed to figure out what I needed to do and then I could figure out how to do it.
“You’re late,” she said, scowling.
“Yeah, I know. I’m sorry. I decided to pick up Italian and lost track of time at the bookstore.” I took off my coat and t-shirt and sat down in the chair across from her.
“That’s funny. I decided to learn Italian, too,” she said, smiling. I raised an eyebrow, once again impressed with her attitude of tackling things head-on. “I figured I’d need it if I’m going to start getting more involved with these guys.”
“Smart,” I said through a wide smile.
“There’s iced-tea in the fridge.”
“I’m okay. I’ve got about a gallon of coffee in me. In fact, could I …” I motioned to the bathroom.
“Go ahead,” she offered.
I stood up, headed back into the house and took care of my bursting bladder.
“I think I found some useful data on that guy you wanted me to dig into,” she hollered from the patio.
In the three years I’d known her, my admiration for Rachel never stopped going up. I finished up and headed back out to the patio. There were two glasses of iced tea on the patio table, one within easy reach of both of us.
As I stepped out into the sun, she reached over to the stack of paper and held up what appeared to be a county mug shot, orange jumpsuit and all. “Is this him?”
“Bingo,” I said, recognizing Jackie, despite the close-cropped hair in the photo. “So, he’s got a record?”
“Meth-maker. Busted the first time at the age of twenty-two. Served four in Federal. Two at Terminal Island and two at Metro, downtown. Guess who his bunkie was in Federal.”
“Who?” I asked, but I had a pretty good idea.
“Tommy Molfetta. He’s one of Bennie DiMarco’s guys, right?”
“Correct.”
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