03_Cornered Coyote

by Dianne Harman

  “Sure, Slade. Go down the hall. The door’s open. You can’t miss it.”

  “Thanks,” replied Slade as he began walking. Even after all these years later, he never knew why he hadn’t gone directly to the bathroom. Instead, he lingered by the door and heard his uncle talking. He stepped closer to the den door to listen.

  “Josie, I don’t know how to tell you this. I don’t think you know that your husband, Max, has been working for me. Stop, I know what you’re going to say. That he’s a butcher and he’s not working for me. I own the meat market and I made sure that loser you married had a job. I didn’t want you and my nephew to starve. Here’s the thing. One of my boys caught him stealing from the cash register. You know in my line of business that’s grounds for a death sentence. My boys don’t steal from me. Sets a real bad precedent for all the rest of them. I had to stop Guido from taking matters into his own hands. I told him I’d take care of it. Max is going to have to leave town. I can’t guarantee his safety.”

  “I don’t believe you,” Josie said. “Max got that job on his own. You didn’t help him. He knows how I feel about your line of work. Everyone knows you’re part of the Mafia. He’d never take a job that was tied to you.”

  “Josie, believe me. Max is a liar and a cheat. Leave him and I’ll take care of you and Slade. If he stays here, I can’t guarantee that something bad won’t happen to him.”

  Slate’s mother stood up. “We’re leaving. I never want to see you again. I hate everything you stand for. You’ll never see your nephew again as long as I’m alive!” She grabbed her purse and walked out into the hall.

  “Slade, it’s time to go. Hurry up.” As soon as he heard her, he’d hurried into the bathroom.

  “Josie, please don’t leave. I want to get to know Slade. You and Slade can live here with me. He’ll have a good life. I’ll make sure he gets the education he needs to become a doctor or lawyer.”

  Just as Slade walked out of the bathroom, Josie turned to Papa and said, “Over my dead body. Slade, come with me.”

  She strode down the hall practically pulling Slade, slamming the door behind her. It had been a long day and he slept most of the way going back home. The next morning his mother told him that the three of them were leaving on a trip to California that very day. She told Slade to pack his clothes. He never knew what happened between his parents after Slade and his mother returned from Papa’s.

  The trip to California turned out to be a permanent move. Within two years, Josie and Max were both dead, Max dying in prison, and Josie of a heroin overdose. Slade went to a live in a Catholic orphanage. He didn’t see Papa again for several years.

  CHAPTER 7

  He’d searched every corner of his mind looking for ways to avoid a rendezvous with Chico. In the last twenty years, Slade had come a long way from the ghetto orphanage where he’d grown up, but the only way he could help Maria was to get in touch with Chico. Slade remembered the last time he’d seen Chico Ruiz as though it was yesterday.

  Chico was his best friend in the orphanage. They were both the same age, seventeen, but Chico was large and muscle-bound. Slade recalled that Chico spent hours lifting weights and working on his body. He thought of Chico as a machine made for one thing - slaughtering. By the time he was fourteen, he was already a legend among the Mexican gang members in the area. He never lost a fight and he fought a lot. His best friend was a switchblade and at night there was always one within easy reach under his pillow.

  They were as different as two young men could be. Chico used to tease Slade about always having his nose stuck in a book. Chico joined a gang when he was twelve, an open secret the nuns conveniently overlooked. Slade heard that Chico had made his bones when he was sixteen, killing a rival gang member. He’d left the orphanage shortly after that and the last time Slade had seen him he had gang tats on his neck and a shaved head.

  On that day some twenty years ago, Slade was working part-time at Gino’s Pizzeria as a dishwasher. He looked out the kitchen window and saw Chico pinned against the wall by three members of a rival gang. Two of them had switchblades in their hands while the third held Chico against the wall at knifepoint.

  “Kill the little fuck, Miguel. Slash his fucking throat and take his head off when you do it,” one of them shouted. Chico’s eyes were dark as night and emotionless. “Naw, gonna cut his balls off first, stuff ‘em down his throat, then I’ll cut his head off. That way, when the boys in blue find his body, they’ll call it the case of the man who ate his balls. Heh, heh, pretty clever, don’t you think, Chico, my man?”

  Slade had seconds to act. He took his ankle gun out of its holster as he moved towards the door. Gino saw him and growled, “Don’t do it, Slade. It’s not your fight. You’ll be a marked man for life.”

  He ignored Gino and ran out the door. One of the gang members saw Slade, but it was too late. Slade shot him in the head. The other two raised their hands, but Slade had no option. Two more rounds and it was all over. Gino rushed to the open door, saw the bodies, and pulled Slade and Chico into the kitchen.

  "Quick, follow me.” He stepped behind the large brown kitchen refrigerator and pushed it out far enough from the wall to expose a hidden door behind it. "These steps go down to a secret room in the basement. At the end of it you’ll see a bookcase. Pull it away from the wall and open the door concealed behind it. You'll be in a tunnel which is several blocks long and leads to a storm drain. Near the end is a set of steel stairs. Climb them and you'll be in the kitchen of a safe house Papa owns. No one lives there. Lie low until it's dark then split up and leave. No one needs to know what happened, and Chico, I don't want to ever see you around my place again. May God be with you. Go, run!"

  They raced down the stairs to the basement room and hurriedly crossed it, pulling the bookcase away from the wall as fast as they could. The tunnel stretched out in front of them. Their pounding footsteps echoed in it as they ran. They saw a dim light up ahead and heard the sound of water splashing against the drain. Just as Gino had said, near the end was a steel staircase with a door at the top. Chico and Slade ran up the stairs, opened the door, and stepped into a kitchen complete with a table and chairs. They fell into the chairs and stared at each other in disbelief, hearts pounding, as they tried to control their ragged breathing.

  "Man, that was close! Them motherfuckers was gonna kill me. God damn Tijuana Cartel’s tryin’ to move in on me and my boys’ turf. I owe you a big one, Slade. Think it's time you joined up with me. You're probably gonna need some protection after today. What were you doin’ at Gino’s anyway? Usually have your head stuck in some book.”

  Slade walked over to the sink and poured himself a glass of water. His throat was dry and he didn't trust himself to speak. He took a long drink from the glass and turned and looked at Chico.

  "You’ve probably heard of Papa Romano…”

  “Who hasn’t?” Chico interrupted. “What’s he got to do with all this?”

  “Papa’s my uncle. He told Gino to hire me and look after me. Him and his sister, my mother, had a falling out over his ties to the Mafia. She hated them. She and my dad left Chicago and came out to California to get a new start. Dad got drunk one night and killed a guy. He was convicted of manslaughter and died in prison during a riot shortly after he was sentenced. Mom didn’t have any money and started turning tricks to feed me. Her pimp got her hooked on heroin and she overdosed. After she died, didn't have no relatives I knew about, so the county put me in the orphanage where I met you. Coupla years later, a man came to visit me. It was Papa Romano. I hadn’t seen him in years. The last time I’d seen him he and my mother had a fight. We left for California the next day.”

  "Yer’ shittin me! You're Romano's nephew? Why didn’t he adopt you? Why’d ya’ stay in the orphanage?"

  "Tol’ me he knew how much my mother hated his lifestyle and the Mafia. Said she’d turn over in her grave if he adopted me. Tol’ me he’d look out for me and help me as much as he could. Whenever he comes out
to LA we get together. Thought it would be a good idea for me to work at Gino’s and Gino could keep an eye on me and report to him. Papa and I became close, even though I still lived at the orphanage.

  “He tol’ me my mother would want more for me than gangs and the ghetto. Said he’d set up a special fund for me to go to college. He remembered her saying she wanted me to be a lawyer or a doctor. A few months ago when he was out here he introduced me to some politician who was workin’ to get votes in the ghetto. You probably remember the guy. We met him at church. Had a good lookin’ daughter you were always talking to. Anyway, he has some alumnae connections at UCLA and he got my admissions request accepted. Goin’ there in the fall and leavin’ the orphanage for good."

  "Yeah, I remember her and her dad. I'm glad for you, man, but I'm gonna make somethin’ of my life on the street, not in some school. Gang house I moved into’s fine. Think I can make it to the top. You always were the one with book smarts. I got me some big plans. Probably better we don't see each other anymore. Ever need my help, just say the word. I'll be there for you, bro. I'm leavin' now that it’s dark. Give me your wrist."

  "Chico, what in the hell are ya’ doin’? Why’s yer’ switchblade out? We're safe now."

  “Gonna share a little blood, bro. Gimme your wrist. It'll only hurt for a minute,” he said as he made a small cut on each of their wrists and joined Slade’s wrist to his. “There, we're blood brothers now." He took the yellow do-rag from his head and wiped away the blood.

  They stood and bumped fists. The last thing Slade saw of Chico was his large keychain glinting in the moonlight as he walked down the darkened street. Slade stood at the window for a few minutes, thinking how close he’d come to ending up dead, just like his father.

  Even though he had a master's degree in criminology, a law degree, a Porsche Spyder, a condominium with an ocean view, and all the trappings of a successful life, he would have to revisit his ghetto days. There was no other way. Chico held the key to Maria’s safety while she was in jail. He spent the rest of the night weighing the pros and cons of the plan he’d come up with. A few hours before dawn, the rest of it fell into place and he drifted off to sleep.

  CHAPTER 8

  The next morning Slade got out of bed, made a pot of coffee, and called Brad. “It’s Slade. Did ya’ find a woman for me? Great! Pick me up about 10:30 at my house tonight. We’re goin’ back to the Naughty. Fill you in on what we’re gonna do later. How about O’Shaughnessy’s daughter? Got anything on her?”

  He listened for a moment. “Good. I’ll be in the office later.”

  Slade sat down at the kitchen counter and looked out at the ocean, the calm sea and sky seamlessly blending hues of blue and pink in the beautiful minutes that followed dawn. He took a large sip of coffee and placed a call to a plastic surgeon who’d been a client of his. Using the doctor’s computer-assisted appointment process, he made an appointment to see him at 4:30 that afternoon.

  When he got to his office the file Brad had prepared on Maureen was on his desk. He read it twice and spent a long time looking at Maureen’s photo. As usual, Brad had been thorough and fast. Memories from the past flooded back as he looked at the photo of the woman he had known as Maureen O’Shaughnessy, but whose married name was now Maureen Shapiro.

  She’d graduated magna cum laude from the University of Southern California and gotten an MBA from Columbia University in economics. Her job history was blue chip, take it to the bank. It was clear she’d been on the fast track to success from the time she graduated. It hadn’t hurt that her father was one of the most powerful senators in Congress. Now, thirty-eight years old, she was a senior vice-president at a large bank. Although it was headquartered in Geneva, Switzerland, she was in charge of the United States branch and her office was in downtown Los Angeles.

  Maureen had married Nathan Shapiro when she was twenty-five. He was from an early California family with vast dealings in the oil business. They lived in Brentwood, California and had no children. Brad’s research had unearthed no scandals; in fact, the Shapiros were well-known philanthropists and attended many major social events. Several times he saw the words “power couple” in newspaper and magazine clippings Brad had provided. Every photo showed her dressed in “designer labels” and it was pretty hard to overlook the six carat canary diamond ring she wore on her left hand.

  * * * * *

  Promptly at 1:30 that afternoon the intercom on Darya’s desk buzzed. “Mr. Kelly is here to see you.”

  “Good, I’ve been expecting him,” she said, walking over to the door. “Slade, come in. I’ve been dying to hear from you.”

  "Well, I'm gonna take the case," he said, as Darya let out a big sigh of relief. Slade decided to keep it light. “Ya’ know, Doll, yer’ growin’ on me. Kinda nice bein’ around a classy female. Bitches I’m usually around don’t smell half as good.”

  “Well, coming from you, I take that as a compliment. It looks like our working arrangement is doing well for both of us.” She remembered the pure carnal lust she’d felt for him and how she’d waited for his call yesterday, a call that never came. While her words indicated it was business as usual, the growing flush on her cheeks said something quite different. She wondered if he’d noticed.

  I’ve got to get this back on an employer-employee relationship. What happened the other night was a fluke. I was just worried about Maria. Slade and I have nothing in common. We’re worlds apart and I want to make sure he understands that, without me having to come right out and say it.

  Gotta keep this light. Evidently she has no intention of bringing up the other night. Course, what would a class act that looks and smells like her see in a rundown PI like me? Wonder if it would help if I showed her my collections and my condominium. Nah. She just wanted something from me and thought a little tit action might help.

  “You’re never going to change,” Darya said, rolling her eyes. “However, I'm very grateful to you for taking on this assignment. Now, if I may, let’s get down to business. How can we help Maria out?”

  Slade sat down on the grey and burgundy plaid upholstered chair in front of her desk, putting an ankle on his knee. She noticed a hole in his shoe and a half-worn heel.

  “Doll, ya’ know better than to ask me how I’m gonna get somethin’ done, but yeah, I got a plan. Called in a coupla of chits and was able to get her isolated for the first three weeks. Sorry to say this, but the rest of it’s gonna cost ya’.”

  She sat behind her large mahogany desk and picked up the pen from her jade desk set to write a check. “What else is new? I was pretty sure that keeping someone safe while they’re in jail wouldn’t come cheap. I’m sure everyone has their hand out. So how much is it going to cost me?”

  Slade shifted uneasily in his chair. “Well, Doll, let’s start with a friend of mine who’s a doc. Saved him a ton of money when I caught his wife bangin’ the pool boy, so figure he’ll give me a good deal. Gonna need around 100 G’s to change some physical landscape on a broad. Plus, I got lotsa expenses. Had to take a little day trip to Florida. Then gots some bar bills and other things. Sooo, bottom line is yer’ lookin’ at somewhere between 125 and 150 G’s. Jes’ write me one for $50,000 for now. I’ll let you know as the expenses add up. Okay by you?”

  Darya wrote the check, handed it to him, and put the pen back in its holder. She stood up and walked over to a pale lavender orchid in the center of the mahogany conference table and pinched off a flower that was a little past perfect. She tossed it into the bin and turned back to him.

  “Yes. If Maria can be kept safe while she’s in jail, there’s a very good chance she and I will become legitimate business partners. If that happens, I won’t have to worry about money in the foreseeable future. I consider this a low risk investment. Who knows, I might even expand that tiny mud and dirt orphanage on the outskirts of Kabul and build a larger place in Provence for the little girls. We’ll see. Of course if Maria’s convicted, that changes everything.”

&nb
sp; “Whatcha got in mind, Doll? Yer’ makin’ me curious.”

  Her deep blue silk skirt made a sliding sound as she sat back down on the padded grey leather swivel chair behind her desk. “Slade, you don’t tell me everything, and this is one of those times I won’t be telling you everything. How sure are you this plan of yours will work?”

  “Well, Doll, ain’t no guarantees in life, but ya’ already know that. Few more pieces in the puzzle need to fit, but I think it’s gonna work. Got the outside edges in place, jes’ need to fill in the center. I’ll let you know. Meetin’ with coupla more people today to set the whole thing in motion. Be ready for phase two in about three weeks. Gotta go, Doll,” he said as he kicked his ankle off the shiny blue pant leg where it had been resting and stood up. “Two more meetins’ comin’ up. Talk to you later.” He grabbed his weathered old grey fedora hat from the brass valet stand in the corner and walked out.

  Darya sat and stared at the door after he’d left.

  I’m beginning to warm up to this crazy guy. A couple of times he’s let his guard down with me and beneath all the smoke and mirrors he puts out, there’s a very intelligent, caring human being in there. Wonder what it would take to get him to drop the façade?

  Okay. Darya. That’s enough. This has got to stop. He’s nothing more than a hired PI and smart employers never get romantically involved with their business associates.

  CHAPTER 9

  Along with several other well-known banks, Maureen’s office was located on Spring Street in the heart of the Los Angeles financial district. Slade looked at his watch. It was now 2:30 p.m.

  Well, jes’ enough time for me to pay Mrs. Shapiro a little visit, kind of talk about ol’ times.

  The bank building’s valet opened Slade’s car door and took the key from him. “Don’t park it too far away, son. This ain’t gonna take long,” Slade said, as he took the claim check from the pimply-faced young man in the grey uniform. He entered the bank and walked over to the reception desk.