“Bose Wave Radio.”
“The fuck?”
“The boss gave this guy a Bose Wave Radio with a CD changer. They’re about the size of a big clock radio, but put out this incredible fucking sound. This one was top of the line. We’re talking a $900 fuckin’ clock radio.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
“Hey, Bud, God’s honest. I swear. The only thing is, when the boss comes in, he sees the thing is missing. It’s fuckin’ gone.”
“So he sold it.”
“Boss says no way. This guy would never have gotten rid of it. Didn’t need the money. Was a freak about the thing. It was like a religious artifact. But now, it’s gone.”
“And based on that, you think it’s a murder and clock-radio robbery?”
“It’s pretty fucking thin, I know. Boss says there’s a bunch of CD’s missing, too.”
“Is the boss still there?”
“No, but he said he can come back if we need him.”
Bud looked at his watch and sighed. “Let me call the wife and I’ll be there. Address?” Mayer gave him the address. “I’ll be there. Call the boss and tell him he might need to be there. You be there, too. If I gotta be there, everyone has to be there.” He hung up. Bud opened his desk drawer and pulled out his emergency flask. He poured three fingers of whiskey into his coffee mug and called his wife. He knew it was going to be a long night. He would have said no, except for Mayer’s mention of the theatrical lighting. The mention of that made him think of Al and, in turn, Dirk. He called his wife, who said she’d keep his dinner warm, pounded his drink, and headed off to look at a bathtub he’d never be able to afford.
20
Al and Sunny walked into the foyer of the restaurant. Al went to the lectern at the host station. “I have reservations for four for McNair. I think my other two may be waiting in the bar.”
“Yes. I have you right here. Your other guest has arrived. If you want to find him and come back, I can take you to your table.” The host was an articulate young man of about twenty-three years. He had visible tattoos on his hands and large-gauge earrings in his ears. Al remembered being here in the early 1990’s. G and G’s wouldn’t have allowed anything but a neutral looking, formally dressed man of at least middle age to be in this position back then. Oh, man. Times they are a changin’.
“Thank you. We’ll retrieve our friends and be right back.” Al and Sunny proceeded into the lounge area. The place really hadn’t changed that much. Different styles of dress, but it was essentially still the same old chop-house. Al was excited to be here with a beautiful woman on his arm, an old friend waiting to reminisce, and some excellent food just around the corner.
He spotted Gill sitting at the bar. “Gillan.” Al said in a voice loud enough to carry but not of sufficient volume to spoil the atmosphere.
Gill turned and saw Al standing with Sunny to his right. “Hey, Al. My date had to cancel last minute. I hope that’s OK.”
“Any trouble?” Sunny asked.
“Nah. We’ve been rocky lately. It usually goes that way when I get close to opening a show. I tend to be a self-absorbed prick when I get close to opening night. You two look very nice.” He took a sip of a rather large martini. Al remembered that Gill’s choice of poison was always a gin martini with onions, not olives, chilled and served up. Al liked the same drink, only with vodka, not gin. They had often tried to convince each other to change. It never worked.
“Still drinking the juniper juice?”
“Yeah, man. Do you guys want to have a drink in here first?”
“If it’s OK with Miss Sunny, here, I’d just as soon go to the table and do our thing in there. More intimate, don’t you know.” He said this last part with a pure Midwestern delivery. It was one of the things he did without really trying. Wherever he was, he picked up the dialect and syntax almost immediately.
“Whoa, there, big fella. Intimate? I know were old friends, but I can’t get involved in any threesome behavior with my best old friend and my stage manager. It might get uncomfortable.” He was joking, but Al could tell he was already half in the bag. Food would be a good next move if they wanted Gill to make it through the evening.
The three of them went back to the host station and were led to a quiet table away from the kitchen. Al had requested to be away from the front door and the kitchen when he made the reservations. “We’ll be three tonight. I’m afraid our fourth had a last minute engagement.”
“Certainly, sir.” He said pulling out Sunny’s chair for her. After she was settled and the men had chosen their seats, the host said, “Manny will be your waiter tonight. Can I get you any drinks to start with?” He said this as he was clearing the fourth place on the table and looking expectantly at Sunny. Al could tell he’d been at this a while. He was good, tattoos notwithstanding.
“I’d like an Old Fashioned with rye, not bourbon. Do you have Bulleit Rye?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Excellent. Bulleit Old Fashioned. No soda in that please.”
“Very good.” He turned his face to Gill, eyebrows raised.
“I’ll have a Gin Gibson. Tell the bartender just like the last one. I think I’m the only one in the world who drinks Gibsons anymore.”
“Very well. And for you?” He looked at Al.
“I’d like a grapefruit juice and tonic, please.”
“I’ll leave these menus and a wine list. Manny will be back with your drinks.” He turned on his heel and was gone in a nonce.
Gill looked at Al. “No martini?” He looked somewhere between curious and hurt.
“I quit drinking. I was starting to have some problems with it, so I gave it up. I don’t do well when I drink. If I have one, I always keep going, and I found that all bottles of alcohol, no matter what size, had turned into single serving portions. I quit before it got bad. I don’t mind being around it. I like to be around people that can enjoy a drink. I’m just not one of them.”
“Wow. You don’t mind?” Sunny was looking at him guiltily. “It isn’t hard?”
“If it was hard, I would be around it. I figured out, albeit a little late in life, I don’t have to do things I don’t want to do. No one can force anyone to do anything. You can let yourself get guilt-tripped into doing things, I suppose, but that’s never really been my scene. I think I stopped putting up with shit like that for good and all after my divorce. I figured out I just didn’t need to keep heaping a bunch of the bullshit on myself.”
A small square man in his mid-fifties glided up to the table with a tray of drinks. He gave everyone the correct drink without having to ask who ordered what. “Good evening and welcome! I’m Manny, and I’ll be taking care of you tonight. We want to make sure you have the best experience possible, so if something isn’t to your liking, no matter how small, tell me and I shall set it to rights. Have you been here before?”
“Two presidents ago,” said Al. This elicited a chuckle from Manny. “My partners in crime here have been in the interim. I hear everything is still excellent.”
“It is. A couple of changes have taken place since you have been away, Mr. McNair, but by and large, G and G’s will always be the best.”
“Al. Call me Al. This is Gill, and this is the lovely and talented Sunny. We’re working on a play here in town. Macbeth at the Boardwalk.” Al reached in his pocket and handed him a card. “It says Private Investigator, but I’m taking a break to do a little acting with these fine folks. If you want to come, call me. I’ll get you a couple of tickets.”
“That’s far too kind, Mr…Al.”
“Nonsense. If you like it, you can tell about a zillion people to come. If you hate it, you won’t mention it. You seem like that kinda guy. Could we get some bread and ice water? I think we’ll need a minute to order.”
“I’ll give you a moment and the bread and water should be here momentarily.” Manny turned and as he was walking he made eye contact with a bus boy and gestured to their table, communicating Al’s reques
t.
“You two order anything you want. I already know what I’m getting.”
“What are you getting?” Sunny asked.
Gill said, “He’s getting the Caprese Salad and the Broiled Ribeye. He’ll want the Ribeye seared on the outside and purple on the inside. How am I doing?”
“And Gill will have the Caesar salad with extra croutons and dressing on the side with the broiled pork chops. He’ll want the chops still pink on the inside.” There was a moment of silence then Al and Gill started laughing. After a moment, Sunny joined in and proposed a toast.
“To a night on the town. To friends old and new.” They all clinked glasses.
The meal was splendid. Everything was perfect, and Manny was Johnny-on-the-spot with everything. He was a perfect waiter. Sunny had ordered the lamb chops, rare, and a garbage salad--a large salad with whatever salad vegetables happened to be hanging around in the kitchen at the time. Gill had two martinis with dinner. He ordered one more at the end of the meal.
After Manny had left with the drink order, Al said, “Remember, we have fight call tomorrow. If you’re hung over, and you puke on me, I’m gonna be pissed.” He said this pleasantly enough, but the subtext was clear. You, sir, are cut off. Any more drinking you do tonight will be on your own.
Just then, Al’s phone began to buzz in his pocket. “I have to check to see who’s calling; could be something on the home-front.” The caller ID said “Bud” with a number below it. “Excuse me.” Al stood up and headed for the restrooms while answering.
“Hey, Bud.” He said into the phone on the way to the vestibule outside of the bathroom. “Something happening?”
“I just thought you should know. I have an unexplained death. It looks like accidental drowning in a bathtub.”
“Child?”
“No. Adult male.”
“Little person?”
“You mean a midget?”
“Not politically correct, but sure.”
“Nope. Not huge, but not a little person. 5’7”. Big ass tub.”
“Wow. So I assume you aren’t just checking in because you miss me.”
“No. I’m pretty sure this is accidental, but it was a theatre guy. He was into lighting and stuff. Fuck. I am learning fast that I know almost nothing about theatre.”
“No one does, including most people who are in theatre. That could be a coincidence. Why don’t you think it’s accidental?”
“It probably is. The guy had smoked a joint, drank a beer, and probably took a couple of Vicodin as well. Probably just fell asleep.”
There was a silence on the phone. “Except?”
Bud sighed. “Except he had this very expensive radio with a CD changer. His boss says he loved the fuckin’ thing. He’d never get rid of it. It started with a B…”
“Bose Wave Radio. They’re super nice. Great sound. Really pricey for a little gadget, but they put out amazing music.”
“Add that to the list of things I don’t know shit about. So the boss says the radio is missing and a bunch of his CD’s. A lot of semi-classic stuff from the 80’s and 90’s.”
“How do you know that?”
“Boss spotted it. There were gaps in this massive wall of CD’s the guy had. He had his shit all alphabetized. There were gaps in the CD shelves, but there were bookends at the ends of the shelves so he could make the CD’s fit tightly together. Evidently, this guy was some kinda OCD neat freak.”
“And this is bothering you?”
“Seems stinky. It’s my gut saying it doesn’t feel right.”
“OK. Thanks for keeping me in the loop. Any news on the other stuff we talked about?”
“Yeah. I got the file on that chick. I was gonna see if you wanted to meet up tomorrow at the bar. Now, I’m thinking we might wanna meet somewhere else.”
“Like someplace you can show me a huge bathtub?”
“The fucker is quite large.”
“I’m out of rehearsal around 5:00. I might have someone with me.”
“Oh. I talked to your friend, Selly. He said you check out and I should trust you. Said Bear, Sam, and um some guy’s name…”
“Nick?”
“Yeah! Him. They’re all wading around in unicorn shit happy as clams. So I’ll call tomorrow around 5:15?”
“K. What was the guy’s name that pulled the Aquaman routine?”
“Dave Parcel. Talk to you tomorrow.” Al walked back to the table deep in thought.
When he got back, Gill and Sunny were laughing about something. Sunny had consumed two Old Fashioneds. She wasn’t drunk, but she certainly wasn’t feeling much pain. Gill was holding his martini glass out to the side. He looked like an Irish version of Noel Coward. Sunny saw Al walking and thinking. When Al was in deep thought, he looked mad. It was just the way his face looked when he was in deep thought. When Al was mad, his face was usually as blank as a piece of slate. It also had the same amount of warmth in it.
“Al? You OK?” Sunny asked, putting a hand on his forearm.
“Yeah. I just talked to someone from here who mentioned the name of a lighting guy. It sounded vaguely familiar, but I can’t really place it.”
“What’s the name? We ran in the same circles. Maybe I’ll remember.” Gill was still holding the martini glass casually out to the side.
“Dave Parcel. Ring any bells?”
“Yeah. He was hustling way back, even before you were around. What about him?” Gill’s face had grown a little green and grave.
“They found him in his bathtub tonight. Apparently he’d mixed some beer with Vicodin. They think he may have fallen asleep. He’s dead.”
Al was looking at Sunny when he said this. His attention was ripped away from her by the sound of a fragile martini glass hitting the floor and exploding into hundreds of tiny fragments. Gill had dropped his drink and was staring blankly at Al. He stood abruptly, banging his thighs on the table. “I have to go to the bathroom. I’m gonna puke.” And Gill hurried quickly off to the men’s room with his napkin held to his mouth.
Manny came over quickly and asked if everything was alright. “We’re fine, Manny. Gill’s just getting over a little gut bug. He’s OK, but figured, better safe than sorry. Can we get the rest of this boxed up?” They all still had enough food for a meal or two. G and G’s served inhuman amounts of food.
“Very good. Can I get you a desert menu or just the check?”
Al looked at Sunny who shook her head at him and patted her stomach. “Just the bill will be fine.” Manny walked off to get the bill.
“That was weird. It looked like all of the blood drained out of Gill’s face when you said that name. He looked like he was going to pass out.”
“Yeah. He did.” They made small talk as they waited for Gill to come back, but a little part of Al’s mind was stuck on the new information he received. If Gill was close to Dave Parcel, why didn’t he say “Great guy!” or some shit? Instead he’d said, “He was hustling back when you were around.” It was as if he had expected bad news at the mention of the name.
Al didn’t like where this was going. He decided then and there that he’d get a cab for the three of them, drop Sunny off first, then drop off Gill, He’d walk Gill up to his place and try to pry more information out of him. He was a bit irritated. He’d wanted to spend a little more time with Sunny, but he thought she’d understand. At least, he hoped she would.
21
“Al, thank you for such a lovely time. Everything was perfect. When you spend all your time stage managing, you forget how nice it is to go out on a ‘big girl’ date. You’re a doll for taking care of Gill…” she trailed off.
“But?”
“He’s an adult, sort of. I’m sure the taxi could find his place, and he’d get upstairs just fine.” She was inviting him to come up and spend some more time with her. He wanted to, but the business with Gill seemed like it might not only be illuminating, but time-sensitive.
“If I take a rain check, will it rain any tim
e soon?”
“It might. You’ve been spending some time with Frieda lately. Will you be able to pry yourself away?”
“I think she’s one of the busiest ladies I’ve met in the last four years. So I’m sure I’ll have some time. I don’t think you assume this, but I’ll say it anyway, I had a lovely time with you tonight, and you don’t owe me…”
She grabbed the scarf around his neck, pulled him in, and gave him an aggressive, hungry, open mouthed, sexy kiss. “You’re cute. If I thought I was supposed to owe you anything, we wouldn’t be having this chat. I’ll add to that by saying, I’m married to my job, and you live 2,000 miles away. I think there are some distinct possibilities. Next time, I’ll cook for you.” She kissed him once more and turned to unlock her door.
“Hey, Sunny! Sorry I got sick! I’m fine now. He can stay!” It was Gill. She didn’t look at the cab, she just flashed her middle finger over her shoulder to Gill. As she was closing the door, she said in a quiet, husky voice, “Goodnight, Alistair,” and closed the door. Al considered throttling Gill to death.
They drove most of the way to Gill’s place in silence. Gill kept making attempts at conversation and Al rebuffed each try with stoic silence. They got to Gill’s place. Al gave the cabbie a couple of twenties. “Keep the change, Mac. Drive safe.”
“I woulda stayed with the dame,” said the cabbie, who then zoomed off into the night.
They got up to Gill’s apartment. It was only a second-floor walk-up. Gill was getting his color back. Al had been entertaining visions of having to carry the little Irish fucker up four flights of stairs. Gill opened the door and turned on the overhead lights.
The apartment was nice, but it looked unkempt. There were dishes neglected in the sink, and several empty bottles of beer, wine, and gin seemed to be circling the kitchen garbage can like the rings of Saturn, alcohol asteroids not quite caught in the gravitational pull of the refuse container.
Gill went directly into the kitchen and made a martini. “You want anything?”
“You have anything without alcohol?”
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