The Complete Matt Jacob Series

by Klein, Zachary;

  I felt a trail of tears scald my face but held the gun steady. “Lou’s using an oxygen tank and I’m catching visits from the friend of a dirty cop. Gang drive-by, my ass. I don’t know what Biancho’s mixed up in, but it doesn’t have fuck-all to do with gangs. And I won’t let you stop me from finding out!”

  Clifford grabbed my eyes with his own. “I don’t have the time or inclination to chase after your fantasies, Jacob.”

  “That’s what your buddy keeps saying,” I snarled. “Well, you might not have time to chase anything. Ever.”

  “Matt!” Boots cried. “Don’t!”

  “He’s not going to kill me, Ma’am.” Clifford’s voice quiet but clear.

  “I guess you’ll just have to ask yourself if it’s your lucky day, Washington,” I mocked.

  “Eastwood you ain’t, Jacob. Put the gun down, for Christ sake.”

  “And take my beating and bust like a man? I don’t think so. Someone jumped us in the alley and got shot with their own weapon. Happens all the time. Sorry it had to be you.” I was talking tough but my frenzy was starting to fade.

  “Not going to be a beating or bust. You hear me? We go back a ways, Jacob, and I’m not going to lie to you about that. No beating, no bust.”

  “There’s always a first, isn’t there? Something we’re both finding out.”

  Clifford’s teeth flashed white in the darkness. “I guess we are. But one new thing a night is enough. Listen up, there’s been rough times between us, but I don’t hate you or even the way you work. You don’t go by the book, but then, neither do I. You got a feel for the job and you’re stubborn. Anyone else standing here telling me Biancho was dirty, I wouldn’t believe it, couldn’t believe it. That white boy is so button-down, he probably strips naked to take a shit. But you’re the one telling me, so I’m listening.”

  “Thanks for your indulgence, only I’m the one holding the gun. And you’re the one who’s been playing Steppin’ Fetchit for Teddy. Now you’re willing to listen? Gee, I wonder why?”

  “I keep telling you, shamus, you ain’t gonna shoot me. And I didn’t come here tonight for Biancho.”

  “So why are you here?” Boots asked, her breath a little easier, though her eyes were still riveted on my hand.

  “I didn’t like listening to Ted Biancho bitch about the way I told your boyfriend to stop making a nuisance out of himself. I came here to remind the shamus here what goes on between us, stays between us.”

  “Why do you keep beating on him?”

  “I learned a long time ago that Jacob isn’t a real good listener until you get his attention.”

  “That’s a helluva reason,” Boots snorted.

  “Did you bother to ask why Biancho wanted you to play drums on my fucking body?” I scoffed.

  “See what I mean, lady? I just got done saying he was ripped that I hit you. Biancho just wanted to keep you from fucking with a police investigation. Said you were getting in his way.”

  I felt the brunt of my anger dissipate and briefly wondered what would take its place.

  A small smile crossed Clifford’s face and the last trace of my rage flared. “Don’t look at me like that. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

  “Sure I am, and so are you. We have us a deal. You’re going to give me my gun, and I’m going to let you do your thing. I’ll also forget this happened.”

  “Ain’t you sweet?”

  Clifford chuckled and stuck out his arm. I shrugged and handed him his gun. Boots bit her lower lip, afraid I think, of what might come next.

  “Not sweet, Jacob, smart. And so are you.”

  “Why? Because I didn’t blow your fucking head off?” Despite my harshness I had no fight left. Fatigue had taken the anger’s place. High risk recreation does that.

  “That has something to do with it,” Clifford said, “but not all. I appreciate your attitude toward your dead wife’s father. Though I got to say it surprises me. I didn’t think you cared about anyone except your shyster friend Simon and your dope dealer.” Clifford turned his granite body toward Boots. “Sorry, I don’t know where you fit in.”

  “That’s okay, neither do I.” Boots was so relieved she seemed giddy.

  “You been beating on me for years, Wash. You should know I’m all heart.”

  Clifford slipped the gun into his back holster. “You’re all mule, Jacobs. And, if you’re right about Biancho, which I seriously doubt, don’t even dream I’ll lift a finger to bring him down.”

  “Gotta be true to the Blue?”

  “We all have our families,” Clifford said. “I won’t stop you, but you’re on your own.”

  “All of a sudden I’m the lucky one, huh?”

  “More than you realize.” Clifford nodded his head toward Boots as he walked past. “Sorry about the ruckus, Ma’am.”

  Clifford ambled down the short end of the alley, his thickripple soled shoes crunching gravel while the two of us stood in immobilized silence. Wash never turned back to say goodbye.

  “I need a drink.” Boots was almost running around the apartment. “Do you want one?”

  “Hell, yeah! I have a joint in my wallet.”

  Boots poured herself a double, slugged down half, and continued to pace between the living room and kitchen. I sat at the table, smoked my joint, sipped my second bourbon straight, and stared at my holstered gun hanging off the back of my ‘Dutch Schultz’ kitchen chair—a legacy from my paternal grandfather’s rum running days. The old wooden chair came right out of the Big Man’s bar.

  “I feel totally wired, Matt. How can you just sit there?” She walked to the refrigerator, handed me a beer chaser, and kept on trucking, her long legs eating a lot of floor.

  I placed the joint on the edge of the table, careful to keep the fire away from the signature on the enamel design and lit a cigarette. “My rush is gone. Want to grab an ashtray on your next lap?”

  Boots brought the ashtray from the living room, sat down on the other side of the table, and sipped her drink. “Jesus, I thought you were going to do him, I really did.”

  “Do him? You’ve been watching too many mafia movies.”

  “Part of me was scared shitless,” Boots said, “but another part almost wanted you to shoot. I felt excited, turned on.”

  “You were pretty hot when you jumped his back,” I said smiling at the memory.

  “I wasn’t turned on then, you asshole. I just wanted him to let you go.”

  “I’ll walk the mean streets with you, doll.”

  “Promises, promises.” Boots gulped the rest of her drink then yawned and yawned again. “What’s happening to me? A minute ago I couldn’t sit down, now I can’t bear the thought of standing. I’m completely wiped.”

  That made two of us. I stubbed out the cigarette and held out my arm. Boots grabbed it and we walked hand in hand to the bedroom.

  The taste of murder does things to you; I didn’t need the television after all.

  I woke the next morning bellied against Boots’s back, my hand cupping her breast. I felt lighter, relaxed, as if someone had loosened a knot in my gut I hadn’t realized was there. For a while I didn’t move, halfheartedly trying to poke holes in my weightlessness. To my surprise, it seemed like it was gonna take more than half a heart to bring me down. A nearcop kill cleansed better than a shrink.

  I carefully unwrapped my arms and legs, tiptoed into the kitchen, and put up the coffee. I showered, ran the Bakelite handled straight razor across my face, and returned to the kitchen. Boots was sitting at the table wearing one of my tees.

  “I tried to keep quiet.”

  “The bed felt empty,” she said sleepily. “Did last night really happen or was I dreaming?”

  “No dream,” I said smiling. “We played Bonnie and Clyde. Now Clyde’s gotta get some clothes.”

  When I returned to the kitchen, the mugs were steaming on the kitchen table. I sat down, lit a cigarette, and sipped. Boots looked like a Cheshire cat. “We really showed that son of a
bitch, didn’t we?”

  “We almost committed homicide, woman.” But I smiled too.

  “How close were you to shooting him?”

  “Too close.”

  “Matt, you were raging! Your hands were trembling and you had your knee pressed against his nuts.” She didn’t seem bothered that her boyfriend was a potential cop killer.

  “Pretty fucking stupid.”

  Boots nodded, “It sure was, but it felt great to bring that fat bully to his knees.”

  “I keep telling you Clifford ain’t fat. And he didn’t exactly beg for his life.”

  “No, he was calm, I’ll give him that.”

  “Better be glad it turned out the way it did. Beats crashing in a prison cell.”

  “We slept good, didn’t we?” Boots said smiling.

  “Catharsis does that.” And that’s exactly what it had been. I’d finally stopped feeling like everyone’s doormat.

  I grinned and drank from the mug. “Do you want your egg fried or fried?

  We kibitzed after breakfast, made long, languid love, then drove to the North Shore. Conversation was easy—easier perhaps than it had ever been. Even when I clutched on the approach to the hospital, I was able to separate my concern for Lou’s health and safety from my pleasure with Boots. It had been a long time since I’d been able to keep my anxieties in a row.

  When we entered his room Lauren was shoulder to shoulder with Lou on the bed. They were huddled together looking like kids caught in the cookie jar. Or maybe, just after the jar was emptied.

  “We didn’t mean to interrupt,” I said, dropping Boots’ hand.

  “No interruption, Matty,” Lou smiled. His voice was strong, breathing almost normal. “Now, a half hour earlier...”

  “Lou!” Lauren actually blushed. “I’ve never met the lady.”

  “That’s Shoes. Shoes, this is Lauren.”

  “Boots,” Boots said with a grin.

  “So now we can get back to that half hour?” Lou joked.

  It was both a relief and surprise to see how well he looked. I usually believed that sick only led to worse. Lou appeared flushed, but I wasn’t sure it his health or the cookie jar.

  “You look terrific,” I said.

  “I feel pretty good. Short of breath but no more IV.” A frown creased his face. “I want to leave today but they want to keep me here for another day.”

  “They’re right and you’re wrong,” Lauren said firmly. “The last thing we need is a relapse.”

  “But...”

  “But nothing. You’ll stay until the nurses can’t put up with you. Now why don’t you and Boots visit with each other? I want Matt to keep me company while I get a Coke.”

  “What’s the matter?” I asked as soon as the door closed. “He looks much better.”

  “He is.”

  I felt myself relax. “Then what’s the problem?”

  “I finally told Lou I wanted to marry him the moment my divorce is final. ” She hesitated then continued, “ ”I just don’t want to be without him. I want to get married as soon as we can.” She finished on a defiant note, as if expecting an argument.

  “Lucky guy, lucky lady. Congratulations.”

  Her body relaxed but she kept her eyes on my face. “Do you really mean that?”

  “Look, I’m not totally comfortable with the rest of your family, but I think you make Lou really happy.”

  Lauren seemed both pleased and put off. “You don’t like the kids?”

  “Like isn’t the issue. They seem troubled and your relationship with Paul makes me uncomfortable. He mostly acts like a go-fer for you. Works on the house, hangs around. That sort of shit.”

  I expected anger but she just shook her head. “I thought as time went on they’d all get used to us. And don’t forget Paul’s anger. It’s been much more difficult than I imagined.”

  Lauren was still ignoring problems that had nothing to do with her and Lou but nobody was perfect.

  Lauren tensed, watching my face. “I told you I wouldn’t accept Lou’s proposal until everything returned to normal but it hasn’t. I’m feeling stalked again.”

  I hadn’t thought about the ‘case’ since my crazed blowup with Clifford and it took a second to find the gear.

  “It’s really bad, Matthew, worse than before.” A shiver ran through her body.

  “What do you mean worse?”

  “I’m afraid you’ll think it’s bullshit.”

  “Talk to me, Lauren.”

  “I’m starting to feel watched all the time. As if I’m surrounded.”

  “When did you notice it?”

  “A week ago, maybe more. I don’t know for sure because I didn’t want to believe what I was feeling. But the last few days it’s been really bad and I can’t ignore it.” Lauren stopped talking and took a few deep breaths. “Matthew, I’m really scared.”

  She looked it. “Does Lou know?”

  “No. He has enough to worry about. I haven’t told anyone.” She chuckled grimly, “You can probably guess why I’ve been reluctant to tell you. Anyhow, I’d like to keep it between us.”

  I nodded. I wanted to reassure her but couldn’t. Her feelings reinforced all my suspicions about the drive-by and the furnace.

  “I’m glad you told me. You’ll come home with Boots and me. I’m not going to clear anything up by tonight and I don’t want you alone in the Hacienda.” I also wanted time to decide whether to use her as bait.

  Lauren looked grateful but shook her head. “There’s no need. I’ll be fine, Matthew. I’m spending the night with Lou.”

  “Here?”

  Lauren smiled, her fear momentarily forgotten. “Yes, but don’t ask how I managed it.” She looked as if she had something else to say but changed her mind.

  “What is it?”

  “I feel guilty about the marriage with this still going on.”

  “I’ll take care of it,” I said with more confidence than I felt. “Accepting Lou’s proposal is just fine.”

  She touched my arm. “You’re taking a load off my mind.”

  I felt embarrassed. “Now, you’re sure about staying here tonight?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Okay, But time to exchange cell numbers.”

  “Do you think that’s necessary?”

  “I know I’ll keep mine on for a change. And it’s the way we’re going to work. The relationship with Lou is your turf, your safety is mine. Now tell me what you know about Ted Biancho.”

  “Ted?” She shrugged. “There’s not much to tell. Serious, competent, and conventional. He’s always been a loner.”

  “What about his personal life?”

  She looked confused. “Why do you want to know about his personal life?”

  “I’m a suspicious guy. He’s married, isn’t he?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know anything at all about his wife. I can’t imagine there’s much gossip about either of them. Teddy is a real straight arrow.”

  “What about his friendship with Alexis?”

  Lauren smiled. “During high-school he used to be over the house all the time. Matthew, why are you asking about Teddy Biancho?”

  “I’ve never been satisfied with his instant conclusion about the drive-by. Were he and Alexis an item?”

  “I wouldn’t call them an ‘item.’ He sort of trailed after her.” She glanced at me and smiled. “Alexis can do that to people.” Her smile twisted into a frown. “Maybe it’s something she inherited.”

  “You don’t seem pleased about the trait.”

  “I don’t want to feed my ego like that anymore,” she said, lapsing into an unhappy silence.

  There was more to her silence than her ego, but it wasn’t the right time to press. “I should probably talk to Alexis about the Chief.”

  “She could tell you much more than I can.” Lauren tossed her head, “When you talk to her, could you please ask her to leave me alone about selling the Hacienda?

  “She’s still at it?
” I felt the knot return to my belly.

  “The girl won’t take no for an answer, and I can’t stop her.”

  “I’ll see what I can do, but don’t count on it.

  “I don’t know how to thank you, Matthew. You make me feel safe.”

  “Thank me by keeping your eyes wide open and taking good care of my father-in-law.”

  Lauren threw her arms up around my neck and kissed me on the cheek.

  “We better go back inside,” I said, “or they’ll think we were out looking for a dealer instead of a machine.”

  The rest of the visit went fine. Boots and Lauren found plenty in common while Lou and I caught up on the buildings and the home stretch of the pennant race. Somewhere in the middle Lou grandly announced the marriage. His declaration triggered a round of real cheer and more excited conversation.

  But back in the Bimmer during the late afternoon, the glow began to dim.

  “What’s the matter,” Boots asked. “Toward the end of the visit you seemed distracted and now you seem withdrawn. Are you upset about their marriage?”

  “No, I’m actually good with it.”

  “So I don’t have to tell you we don’t?”

  “Don’t what?”

  “Have to get married.”

  “No assurance necessary.” I told her about my discussion with Lauren and talked about it through our dinner at a decent bar. But we could riff ‘til morning, and there would be no escape. If something sinister was happening—and something was—Alexis was my prime suspect.

  Alexis was still gnawing on my head when I woke up to an empty apartment. Boots had already gone home for fresh clothes and, truth be told, it was a relief. Despite my ‘walk’ talk, it was tough to have Alexis on my mind with Boots in front of my eyes. This way I could be uncomfortable all by my lonesome.

  It took two cups of coffee and my morning dose of nicotine and tokes to admit that a sizable slice of yesterday’s shine had already tarnished. A few good days do not constitute a personality transplant. Also, I still had a horrible hunch that my investigation would lead to more unhappiness.

  I telephoned the hospital, talked to Lauren, and discovered that our proposal party had been a boon to Lou’s spirits but not his health. The Stethoscopes had already decided his earliest release was at least a day away. Lauren told me she had managed to finagle another night for herself in the hospital.