"Sorry it took so long," Quirk said.
"Always does," I said.
"Coulda taken longer," Quirk said.
"I know that, too," I said.
Quirk nodded and rattled the ice around in his glass and sipped some scotch.
"Slug you didn't shoot is Warren Carmichael," he said. "We've known him for years. Says he was hired by one of the shooters, now deceased. Guy with a shotgun: Squirrel Rezendes. Warren says he doesn't know why they were gonna hit you, or who hired Rezendes."
"And Rezendes, being dead, can't tell us more," I said.
"Yeah," Quirk said. "Nice going."
"Sorry," I said. "I was just trying to keep him from killing me."
"Sure," Quirk said. "It's always about you, isn't it."
"Who hired me in the first place?" I said.
"Price was right," Quirk said, and looked at Z.
"How about you," he said. "What do you get out of this?"
Z sipped his scotch.
"Squaw, two ponies," Z said.
Quirk looked at me.
"Who knew he was funny," Quirk said.
"Surprise to me," I said.
"Indians are always amusing," Z said.
"Sure," Quirk said. "What do you figure Jumbo's owners will do now that they've fanned twice."
"If at first you don't succeed," I said.
"Think they'll hire local talent again?" Quirk said.
"That hasn't worked out well for them," I said.
"They haven't hired wisely," Quirk said. "The business with the traffic barrels. Talk about overthinking something . . ."
"They'll send Stephano," Z said.
Quirk and I both looked at him. He sipped his scotch.
"Stephano DeLauria," I said.
"Alice's husband," Z said. "Nicky Fellscroft's enforcer."
"You know him?" I said.
"I've seen him," Z said. "And I've heard about him."
"I'm told he's good," I said.
"Hall of fame," Z said. "Like a man playing with boys."
"Like us," I said.
"Maybe better," Z said.
"I'll see what I can learn about Stephano," Quirk said.
"I'll make a call, too," I said.
Quirk nodded. He looked at Z again.
"Why are you so sure?" Quirk said.
"Been with Jumbo for a while. Pay attention. Everybody got a lot of faith in Stephano, and everybody scared of him."
"But you're willing to go up against him," Quirk said.
"Oh, sure," Z said. "Indians are always optimistic."
"And with so little reason," Quirk said.
"If you're right," I said to Z, "he may bring others."
"So did Custer," Z said.
48
"I DON'T THINK he's changed," Susan said. "You know him better than I do, but I think he has gotten rid of a lot of stuff that wasn't really Zebulon Sixkill."
"How'd he do that?" I said.
"He seems finally to have someone he can emulate," Susan said.
It was Sunday morning, and we were having a breakfast that extended into the afternoon.
"Me?" I said.
"You," Susan said.
She had drunk a small fruit smoothie, which had brought her past noon, and was now eating a single soft-boiled egg, with whole-wheat toast, which would probably take her to mid-afternoon.
"Well, who wouldn't emulate me?" I said.
"Everyone at Harvard," Susan said.
"Oh, them," I said.
"Z is, from my admittedly limited vantage, becoming more like you every day," Susan said. "Which suggests to me that he was probably a good deal like you to start with."
"Big and handsome, with a magnificent physique?" I said.
"Sure," Susan said. "It may be why he came to you in the first place."
"Because he was like me?"
"Because at some unconscious level, he may have sensed that he might be," Susan said.
"Think maybe that might be why I took him on?"
"Yes," Susan said.
"Seeing beyond the magnificent-physique similarities," I said.
Susan nodded.
"He did well at the shoot-out," she said.
"Just fine," I said.
She nodded.
"And so did you," she said.
"Good as ever," I said.
"In neither case was that because of how you looked," Susan said.
"Who you are is not always how you look?" I said.
"Not usually," Susan said.
"You look like a hot Jewess," I said.
"I'm the exception," she said.
"I'll say."
"Perhaps the booze and the broads and the bully-boy posture are all a kind of costume. If he learns what you know, and behaves as you behave, then it allows him to slough off the costume."
"So I haven't helped him change as much as I've helped him get out."
"Might be the case," Susan said.
"You Ph.D.'s," I said.
Susan smiled.
"We both spend our professional lives mucking around in the human condition," she said. "There is very little in there to be dogmatic about."
"I know," I said.
"Have a drink after the shooting?" Susan said.
"Quirk, Z, and I had two scotches each in my office, after everything was over with."
"He seem to want more?" Susan said.
"Hell," I said. "I wanted more."
"But you didn't have any," Susan said.
"No."
"I wonder if he did?"
"Did he go back to his room at Henry's gym and drag a bottle out from under the mattress?"
I shrugged.
"No way to know," I said.
Susan nodded.
"And if he did," I said, "nothing to be done."
"No," Susan said. "He has to do it himself, but if you matter enough, you may be able to help him simply by mattering. For what it's worth, I'm betting he didn't."
"I think he can do it," I said.
"Do you think he's right about Stephano Whatsisname?"
"Need to be ready for it, at least," I said.
"Have you talked with Mr. del Rio about him?" Susan said.
"I thought I'd do that tonight."
She stuck a piece of toast into her soft-boiled egg and bit off a corner.
"Good," Susan said.
49
"I KNOW OF NO ONE in Los Angeles who does not fear Stephano DeLauria," del Rio said on the phone when I finally got through.
He paused for a moment. I waited. The way he paused, I knew it wasn't my turn yet.
"Except Chollo," del Rio said. "To the best of what I know, Chollo isn't afraid of anything."
"If it gives him trouble, he assumes he can shoot it," I said.
"Exactly," del Rio said.
"And Bobby Horse?" I said.
"On his own," del Rio said, "yes, Bobby Horse would be cautious of Stephano. But with Chollo . . . He would go with Chollo into a working volcano."
"And you?" I said.
"I fear my wife," del Rio said. "Everything else Chollo and Bobby Horse take care of."
"So tell me about DeLauria," I said.
"He is an excellent hand fighter, a fine shot with handguns and long weapons. He is skilled with explosives. He is expert with a knife. Even a cudgel."
"Cudgel?" I said.
"I have worked very hard all my life to perfect my English," del Rio said.
"Lot of people have those skills," I said. "What makes Stephano especially fearsome?"
"His willingness," del Rio said. "He has been known, without malice, to kill a man, his wife, children, and dog."
"To make a point?" I said. "Or just because they were there?"
"Either," del Rio said.
"It doesn't bother him," I said.
"I believe he likes it," del Rio said.
"A skilled sadist," I said. "Who's found a profession suited to him."
"Yes," del Rio said. "Oddly, he seem
s devoted to his wife, and is thus entirely loyal to her father."
"Nicky Fellscroft," I said.
"Yes."
"Does he ever freelance?" I said.
"Stephano?" del Rio said. "No. He is Nicky Fellscroft's personal assassin."
"So if he went after somebody, it would be because Fellscroft told him to?"
"Or his wife told him," del Rio said.
"Fellscroft's daughter," I said.
"Yes," del Rio said. "And she would never point him at anyone without her father's agreement."
"Close family," I said.
"Very," del Rio said. "And one to which Stephano is very pleased to belong."
"It's worked out well for Stephano," I said.
"Do you expect him to come for you?" del Rio said.
"Possible," I said.
"Would you like me to have Chollo kill him for you?" del Rio said.
"You're very kind," I said. "But no, I need to deal with him myself."
"Yes," del Rio said. "You probably do."
50
IT WAS SUNDAY MORNING, in the full flower of early June. Susan and I were having brunch at a Boston restaurant called Mooo. The brunch was the stuff that dreams are made of, and so was Susan. I was sipping a passionfruit Bellini and having a very nice time when Tony Marcus slid into an empty chair next to me.
"Morning, Dr. Silverman," Tony said.
"Good morning, Mr. Marcus," Susan said.
"Call me Tony," he said.
"Call me Susan," she said.
He smiled. I checked the room. At a table for two a few tables removed was a young woman who looked like Halle Berry. She smiled at us. Jittering at the bar was a skinny little youth named Ty-Bop who always looked like he was on something, and probably was. Whatever he was on didn't seem to impede him. He could shoot nearly as good as Chollo, or Vinnie Morris. Beside him was Junior, who was the approximate size of a 747 but organized differently. They were always in sight when Tony was around. At the other end of the bar, Z was drinking orange juice and eyeing Junior speculatively. Dueling bodyguards.
Junior saw me looking and nodded at me. Ty-Bop paid no attention. He never did, unless there was someone to be shot. When there wasn't, he seemed to spend his time contemplating the inside of his eyeballs.
"Nice brunch," Tony said.
"Elegant," I said.
"You try them Kobe beef dumplings?" Tony said.
"Soon," I said.
Susan was having assorted berries with champagne sabayon on the side, which had a fair chance of being more than enough for her. I had larger plans.
"We need a brief conversation," Tony said. "I was going to give you a call, but here we both are."
"Kismet," I said.
"Whatever the fuck that is," Tony said.
He looked at Susan, then at me.
"May I talk freely?" he said.
"When have you not?" I said.
"Not everyone likes to let the babe know everything," Tony said.
"I do," I said.
"Babe?" Susan said.
"You surely are a babe, Dr. Susan," Tony said.
"You're too kind," Susan said.
"Got cause to do some business in South Central L.A.," Tony said to me. "Some of the people I do business with do business with a fella named Nicky Fellscroft in L.A. You know who he is?"
"I do," I said.
"Got some interest in, ah . . ." He looked at Susan.
"In killing me," I said.
"Bingo," Tony said.
"Understand he already hire some local help, and they didn't work," Tony said.
"True," I said.
"My people in South Central ask me could I take care of that," Tony said.
"And you told them no, because you were too fond of me," I said.
"Tole them I drop you like a bad habit, you get in my way. But I don't do contract killing."
"See," I said to Susan.
"I make a lot of money. I don't need to hire out, you know?" Tony said. "Don't need the trouble. Don't need grief from the blue bellies."
"Thanks for the tip," I said.
"Ain't give it to you yet," Tony said. "Folks in South Central tell me he got his own man, fella named Stephano something. Say he'll probably send him. Say he badder than Hawk."
"They know Hawk?" I said.
"No."
"That's why they can say that," I said.
"I changed it a little," Tony said. "What they tell me was he the baddest mofo in the world. I sorta reworded it, cause of Dr. Susan. Course, they actually didn't say 'mofo.' "
"Did they say 'motherfucker'?" Susan asked sweetly.
"Matter of fact, they did," Tony said.
"Thought they might," Susan said.
"Other thing," Tony said, " ' fore I go back to my young lady and leave you folks in peace. You want me, I'll send some people over to watch your back. Can't give you Ty-Bop or Junior. They watch my back. But I got some pretty good folks I could, ah, dispatch."
"Thank you, Tony," I said. "But I need to take care of my own business, you know."
"I know," Tony said. "Knew it when I said it. But the offer is real."
He looked at Susan.
"You, too, Dr. Susan," he said. "Things don't go well, you need help, call me."
Tony took a card from his inside pocket and handed it to Susan.
"Thank you," Susan said. "That's very nice."
"He done me a favor once," Tony said. "I owe him."
"And," Susan said, "maybe your bark is worse than your bite."
Tony grinned at her.
"No," he said. "It ain't."
51
"YOU DIDN'T MENTION to me how fearsome Stephano Whosis is supposed to be," Susan said.
"What good would that do you?" I said.
"None," Susan said.
"Besides," I said. "We both know how fearsome I am."
"I'll try to focus on that," Susan said.
Susan was still carefully ingesting her berries. Occasionally she would put a tiny speck of sabayon on one, and eat it.
"But you allowed Tony Marcus to speak of it in front of me," she said.
"I'm going to tell him that he can't speak freely in front of you?" I said.
Susan nodded.
"I might have found that bothersome," she said.
I ate a little tuna tartare.
"You know," I said. "I will withhold sometimes, when I think it's in your best interest."
She nodded.
"Yes," she said.
"But I won't conceal from you."
Again, she nodded.
"Yes," she repeated. "I understand the difference."
"Is it the Harvard Ph.D.?" I said.
"That's more of a work permit," Susan said. "Most of what I know, I've learned for my patients."
"How 'bout me?" I said.
Susan ate half a blackberry and smiled.
"You have been very helpful with my libidinous skills," she said.
"Glad to help," I said.
"Now that the cat is out of the bag," Susan said, "tell me about Stephano."
I told her what I knew. She listened the way she did, which is to say entirely. When I finished, she was nodding slowly.
"How fascinating," she said.
"Fascinating," I said.
"Everything in his life seems to reward his pathology," Susan said.
I was having some steak and eggs, trying to keep my cholesterol up. I ate some.
"Wife approves," I said. "Father-in-law/boss approves. Makes him a good living. He gets some variation on respect from his peers."
"Plus whatever pleasure he achieves by acting out his sadism," Susan said.
"Fulfilling," I said.
We were silent for a time. Susan ate a strawberry. I had some steak. At his table, Tony Marcus was leaning forward in deep contemplation of his brunch companion.
"You cannot," Susan said, "let him kill you."
"And leave you wrestling with your libidinous skills alone?
" I said.
"I'd probably just abandon them," Susan said. "If you were gone."
"Be a great waste," I said, "of some highly developed technique."
Susan ate a blueberry. My left hand was resting on the table. She put her right hand on top of it for a moment.
"Well," she said. "Yes."
52
IT WAS LATE AFTERNOON. Z and I were sparring in Henry's boxing room, and Z was holding his own. We went five three-minute rounds. Z was still breathing comfortably when we stopped and went into Henry's office for beer.
Z held the cold bottle of Blue Moon against his forehead for a moment, then took a drink.
"Stuff I haven't told you," he said.
I drank some beer.
"Never too late," I said.
"I had a problem ratting anybody out," Z said.
I nodded.
"And I didn't trust you," Z said.
I nodded again, and drank some more beer.
"Figured maybe you were helping me out," Z said, "because you thought I knew stuff."
"Reasonable," I said.
"But you never asked me anything."
"It was a ploy," I said, "to gain your confidence."
Z looked at me silently for a moment.
Then he said, "No. It wasn't."
I shrugged.
"Never asked me about booze, either," he said.
"Figured that was up to you," I said.
He got two more beers from Henry's refrigerator and handed me one.
"You was a boozer," Z said. "And Susan said to you that she'd leave if you didn't give it up. . . . What would you do."
"Give it up," I said.
"I was you, I would, too," Z said.
We both drank some beer.
"But I got no Susan," Z said. "So I got to be able to stop on my own."
"Everybody does," I said. "Finally, it's just you."
"Just me," Z said.
"Yep."
"And you been working with me," Z said. "So I can be a guy who can win that one."
"According to Susan," I said, "I'm helping you be who you are."
"If you'd started pressing me for info," Z said, "we wouldn't have made no progress."
"I know," I said.
"Even now, I brought it up," Z said. "You aren't asking."
"No," I said. "I'm not."
Sixkill Page 14