The Gypsy Queen: A Matt Preston Novel (Matt Preston Series Book 3)

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The Gypsy Queen: A Matt Preston Novel (Matt Preston Series Book 3) Page 22

by Paul Shadinger


  Walter held out the pipe. “Here, you need to take a toke!”

  I’ve been avoiding smoking for general reasons, but at that moment, I decided I did want to take a puff. I held it in, let it out and took another. As I let out the smoke, I told Walter, “I’m not through with Storytime.”

  “Come on, you can’t have a better one that that.”

  “Ah, but I do. Do you remember a cat name Snooker over in Nam?

  Walter jumped in his seat. “That fucker cost me five hundred dollars. Now you’re going to tell me you were supposed to shoot him too?”

  I laughed at how excited he got over his five hundred dollars. “That’s a story I’d like to hear.”

  Walter gave a funny little laugh as he started his story. “A bunch of us were playing pool down in Seoul while we were on R & R. Snooker was there and we all watched as he lost a couple of games. Everybody told me how great this cat was and I just saw him muff some easy shots. Then Snooker makes a bet with another guy that he could beat him, and he lost that one too. Not by a lot, just a little. Watching him play, I thought I could beat him. He asked me if I wanted to try and you know, I’m not a bad player.” Walter used to be very good at pool. “My buddies told me I was crazy and not to do it. I was stupid and wouldn’t listen. I was positive I was going to pick up an easy five hundred bucks. Well that cocksucker never let me pick up a stick. He ran the table five times straight and took five hundred skins off me. I was Snookered.” We both laughed. “Why did you ask me if I knew who Snooker was?”

  “When I was down in Florida I met him.”

  “Do tell. This I want to hear.”

  “After I saw Bullwinkle and Davidson in the coffee shop, Dopey Dave called me at home. Like I said, I have no idea how he ever got my phone number, but he did. He wanted to know why I was in Seattle and I explained it was my hometown. The subject of diaries came up and somehow the subject of Hollis came up from that. Snooker claimed he had seen Hollis in Portland not too along ago.” Walter had just taken a toke and he choked on it. I had to go and get him some water before he had himself under control.

  “Don’t ever do that again. You damn near killed me. Did you say that Snooker said he’d seen Hollis… alive?

  “Yes. That was what Davidson told me. That information did the same thing to me it just did to you. It also scared the fuck out of me. Later when Snooker and I had our chat, I mentioned the Price and Hollis we knew were gay—”

  “Stop, what do you mean ‘the Price and Hollis we knew?’ I don’t understand.”

  “A couple of days ago I got this weird email from McNaulty. We met and had a talk. He claimed he and MacDonald created two extra separate hit teams just like Price and Hollis. Guys who would do anything they were told.”

  “Fuck me!” Walter got up and walked to the edge of his deck. I could hardly hear him. “That explains so much. I overheard some talk one time about Price and Hollis and I just knew what they were saying was wrong. But it wasn’t my place to correct anybody. You know how messed up I was most of the time?” He laughed.

  “Yeah, the whole thing was pretty screwed up! If you needed some black work done, you contacted ol’ CV and they would send one of the three teams, but nobody was supposed to know there were three except for MacDonald and McNaulty. Everybody thought there was just the one team. Snooker had met one of the Hollises back in country. And the best part, the Hollis Snooker knew was Bullwinkle.

  “Get out of town. Really?”

  “Yes. So, I shot and killed a Hollis, and Snooker was still able to see a Hollis and nobody was going crazy!” Walter laughed again. “But it gets better my friend, if you hadn’t been asking so many questions, they were going to approach you to be on one of the teams. But you kept asking so many stupid questions, they decided not to talk to you about it. Instead you were sent on a mission you weren’t supposed to return from. But since you’re here, they screwed up!”

  “Those rotten bastards. I know which mission that was and I always wondered why I was picked to do that one. And now I know. It was pure luck I made it back. I was so pissed at McNaulty and we had a big screaming match. I was lucky I didn’t get busted or worse on that one. It’s a good thing MacDonald is dead because if he wasn’t, I’d happily do the deed myself.”

  By now the sun was staring to set off in the distance and as we sat there, a lone eagle came swirling through the gathering dusk. Once more I was struck by the fantastic beauty of the place Walter lived.

  Walter took a deep puff, held it and when he passed the pipe to me, I succumbed and took a hit as well. “Can we go back to when you saw Davidson?” Walter asked.

  “Yeah. What about it?”

  “You told me when he saw you he seemed frightened that he’d seen you. That ain’t the Dopey Dave we knew.”

  “When I had my talk with McNaulty, he told me ol Dopey ain’t so dopey anymore. He’s dying of cancer.”

  Walter took another puff and this time when he handed me the pipe I set it down. “There are nights when I lay there wondering what’s happening in this old body from some of the shit we inhaled back in Nam.” Walter held up his pipe. “And I’m sure smoking this shit ain’t helping much either, but at least it helps when I think about the cancer thing.”

  I knew exactly what he meant. There were times I wondered what was going on inside of my body as well. I remember being out in the bush and hearing the choppers fly overhead and I knew they were spraying some sort of crap over the forest to kill the trees and make it easier to spot the bad guys. I breathed in a lot of that stuff and I had to wonder. Well, it was too late to do anything about it now. “When Dopey called me and he was so positive Snooker had seen Hollis, well, lucky for me he had an address to find Snooker.”

  “So you went?”

  “Yeah. Turns out he was a really nice old gentleman.”

  “Bull crap. There was never anything nice about that asshole.”

  “Walter, I submit, you’re not the same person you were in Nam. True?”

  “Yeah, so what?”

  “You changed. A lot! Why do you think Snooker couldn’t have changed?” Walter considered that.

  “Now do you see my point? If you changed, why can’t he?”

  “Well, okay.” Walter may have seen my point, but it was obvious he wasn’t too wild about accepting it. Eventually he grumbled, “What does he look like?

  “He was very well dressed and he’s a very mellow individual. His body is giving out, the same as the rest of us,” Walter snorted. “He blows a horn, actually a conch shell every evening at five to honor his buddies who are gone. The whole thing was very touching.”

  “Damn. Who’da ‘ thunk it? Okay, I agree, he does sound as if he’s mellowed. And then he told you he saw Hollis? Damn. Okay. Interesting visit. Tell me some more about this chick you’re looking for.”

  “It turns out she was working on a super-secret project. Her nickname is Gypsy Queen and she is reputed to be one of the top hackers in the world. This project she’s involved with basically could spell the end of the world.”

  “You’re shitting me.”

  “Sorry, but it is true. When she discovered what she was doing, she made a run for it. MacDonald put out the hit on her, but he made it look like Orchard was behind it. That’s why I went and saw Ilox. He’s her godfather. And I hope he can set up something so I can talk to her.”

  “You also said that CV was after both of us. How did you find out about that?”

  I told him the story about meeting the fellow on the ferry and how after he had warned me, he was murdered as he left the ferry. “When I got back to Seattle I called Orchard and told him what I had learned. It was at that point Johnny A asked me to do the dirty deed.”

  “Johnny A? I don’t understand. Why do you call him that?”

  “His full name is Johnathan Apple Orchard.”

  Walter�
��s mouth dropped. “You jest. Nobody would do that to their kid.”

  We both laughed. “Nope. For real. But since it was his middle name, I guess they thought nobody would find out. The parents must have forgotten about school where you learned everybody’s full name. I can just imagine his junior high days.” Both of us cracked up over that.

  “Do you still see Sharon or Gladys?”

  I hung my head. “Sharon has Beanie right now. It isn’t that I wouldn’t like to see more of them, I just haven’t had the chance. I was with Gladys a few days ago, and she was a little pissed I’d been ignoring her. I tried to explain it really wasn’t my fault, but I don’t think she was totally buying it. I call Sharon from time to time and we both say we need to meet, but it never happens. We drop off the dogs once in a while for the other person to watch, but other than that, we really don’t see each other. I don’t think I’ve ever gone this long without a little tail and I have to admit, I’m horny!”

  “Don’t talk to me. Go talk to Ralph!” We laughed.

  “Walter, ever since he met this Melissa chick, he only has eyes for her. He isn’t interested in anything else. She must be one killer of a woman to get his tighty whiteys in such a twist. It’s all he can talk about. I want to find her just to see her!”

  It was getting late and they insisted I spend the night. I was up early and just as I was going to step off the front porch, Thien approached me. She came up to me and put her arms around my neck. “Walter told me last night about some of the things that are going on. I am glad you didn’t have to shoot MacDonald. I knew about him from my father back in the old country and he was not a nice person, but I still would not have liked for you to be the one to kill him.”

  I grinned. “Yeah, I’m kind of glad how that turned out too. When I was out in the bush waiting, I wondered if I could do it when the time came. I’m glad I didn’t have to find out.”

  Thien put her hand on my cheek. “I don’t think you could have. I know you a lot better than you think, Matt Preston. In many ways, I love you just as much as I love Walter. You have a good heart. You really are a good man. I know you don’t think so, but I know better. And you seem to have difficulty keeping women in your life for very long, but you still are a dear, sweet, wonderful man. Someday…” She reached up, pulled my head down and kissed me gently on my lips. “Someday you will meet the right person. I know you will.”

  I hugged her tightly to my chest. When I leaned over and kissed her cheek, as I whispered in her ear I could feel tears in my eyes. “Thien, in ways, I too love you. Walter is a very lucky man to have a woman like you. Be kind to yourself and to Walter. This is my sanctuary to come and heal myself so I can go back and join the human race again. I don’t know what I would do without the three of you.” And I was off headed back to my car and…

  Headed back to what?

  I really had no idea.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Ilox called me on my cell just as I was pulling off the ferry. I was hoping I was going to get an address, or some sort of information to find Melissa and I needed to pull over so I could write down anything Ilox had to tell me. I answered and told him, “Hang on, I need to pull over.” The first parking lot I came across I pulled into and asked if he was still there.

  “I have the information you wanted about Melissa,” he responded.

  “Okay, I’m ready.”

  “I don’t know her exact location. I had to contact a friend of hers. You are to go see him and he will take you to her.”

  “And this friend, where is he?”

  “He’s in Fort Myers. You’ll have to come back. Melissa’s friend is a gay man and he lives with his… friend. Why she went to him instead of me I’ll never know.” Ilox proceeded to give me the information. I wasn’t happy I’d have to go back to Florida. Something about the landscape, as well as a lot of other things just didn’t appeal to me. But it was the lead I had, and I needed to follow it up.

  I headed out to Boeing Field and I checked in with Sharon and asked her if she minded if Beanie was with her for a while longer. I got some smartassed remark that she was seeing more of the dog than she did of me. I tried to explain what was going on, but from her reaction, I could tell she was not happy with our social life. The truth of the matter was neither was I, but what was I going to do about it?

  When I rolled up to the plane, one side was already spooled up and as soon as I was in my seat, I felt the plane getting ready to leave. I was really going to hate giving up the plane. I liked this stuff of no lines, no nasty servers, no nasty attitudes from either passengers or attendants. I wondered what it costs to have a plane of your own. I was sure a lot more than I wanted to spend.

  As the plane lifted off the ground I thought, “Florida, here I come again.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  I don’t know whose sick idea it was to call the development Paradise Estates, but they were certifiably mentally deranged. I’d thought Florida was depressing before, but the entire layout was even more depressing and I could see nothing to suggest Paradise, nor was I finding any estates. The only thing I saw was a lot of trailers in varying stages of decomposition.

  Oh! Excuse me, manufactured housing or are they modular homes? The PC term for them is no longer trailers. I have a question, if the building you’re living in has wheels, even if they’re covered up, and it has a hitch sticking out the front that’s welded to the frame, doesn’t that make it a trailer? A pig is a pig no matter how much lipstick you put on it. Anyway, whatever you wanted to call them, there were a lot of them and most of them were in very sad condition!

  The address I was looking for was on Barkey Lane. After two blocks, there was a sharp jog in the road and without any warning, the asphalt stopped and the road turned to a muddy trail deeply pocked with rain-filled puddles. My car swayed and bucked as it moved through the deep potholes and I tried to avoid as many of them as I could without much luck. Finally, at the end of the lane I came to a tall pine tree with large numbers spray painted on it. Beyond the tree sat three trailers, all of them in various degrees of deterioration.

  The trailer on the left had so many cats wandering around it I could not begin to get an accurate count. I saw that one of the windows was open so the cats could come and go and I decided that was not the trailer I was looking for. The trailer on the right had more windows missing than present, and I didn’t think I wanted that one either. That left the one in the middle.

  I parked my car and walked up to the front door of the trailer and knocked firmly. The door swung open from my knock and for a moment I wondered what I was going to find inside. Sitting on the couch was a slender white man who had more tattoos than I’ve ever seen on one individual. Across his chest was a number. As the door swung open, I noticed him taking a long draw off a water pipe. There were two open baggies of pot on the coffee table. The room was filled with smoke and I wondered if I was getting stoned just from breathing the air in the trailer. The man was holding his breath as he asked, “Who are you?”

  “Are you Roger Peppers?” I asked in return.

  “I asked first.” The man blew out all of the smoke he was holding at me. Even through the smell of the pot, I could smell his bad breath. “You show me yours and I’ll show you mine,” And he let out a loud giggle as if he had just said the funniest thing in the world.

  “My name is Matt Preston and I’ve come from Seattle to see you.”

  “Well Matt Preston from Seattle, why have you come all this way just to see little ol’ me?” He asked.

  “First things first, are you Roger Peppers?”

  “Yeah,” He pointed at his chest and said, “Here’s my number to prove it.”

  “Mind if I sit down and chat with you for a while?”

  I noticed he seemed to withdraw within himself and he sat there staring at me. “I don’t know you, do I?”

  “No, you’ve nev
er seen me before in your life.”

  He picked up the water pipe and took a long draw. Finally, in a smoke-strained voice he asked, “Why are you here?”

  “I want to talk to you about your last cellmate, Lou Sangiovanni. Do you mind?”

  “That sicko. What the fuck do you want to talk about him for? I got a better idea. Why don’t you smoke a little bud here and then we can go next door. There are two sisters over there who ain’t that bad looking. And if you don’t mind the cats, they’re a pretty good fuck. Take a toke and let’s get going.”

  I hesitated a moment, not because I was considering his offer, but I didn’t want to offend him. “That sounds like a great idea, but I have an appointment later and I would hate to try and do it stoned. “‘Sides, I can smell your bud from here and it smells righteous. I really need to chat with you about Sangiovanni. Let’s have a chat and I’ll see how much time I have left. Okay?”

  I wondered if he was too stoned to understand what I had just said to him. Suddenly he smiled at me. “Hey, wanna’ beer?”

  “No thanks dude, too early for me. Go ahead if you want.” As he got off the couch, I saw he was tattooed all across his back. I couldn’t see his legs, but I assumed they were just as inked as he was on the top part of his body.

  When he returned he flopped down on the couch. “So, what’s you want with Lou boy? Do you have any idea how many times I had to save his scrawny ass from getting raped?” Tom started to giggle. “Get it? Saving his ass from getting raped?” Peppers thought he was a real comic. I didn’t the heart to tell him his humor sucked.

  “I’m sure he was very grateful that you saved him.” I felt the least I could do was show a little tact.

  “Well, I don’t like to share. If you get my drift. I could tell the first night in our cell he was a sissy and would do whatever I told him to do as long as I kept him safe. You still ain’t said why you’re looking for him.”

  “We have a friend in common and I was hoping to find him. Our friend is in trouble and I think she needs some help. I’ve been told Lou may know where to find her.”

 

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