A Trace of Revenge

by Lyle Howard

  His panic was growing exponentially. He never should have come here! Now God was punishing him for his depraved transgression! He reached out to yet another passerby. “Do you know where the office is?”

  This time, he latched onto a disheveled punk who reeked from the foulest case of body odor he ever had the displeasure of inhaling. “The what?”

  What was going on here? Had a bus from a carnival sideshow broken down outside this place? “The…office!” He made sure he spoke slowly and succinctly. “Where...is...the...office?”

  The malodorous teenager almost lost his balance as he turned and pointed toward the far corner of the building. “Jeez, Pops, do you think it might be over by that big neon sign...,” he burped, “...that says ‘office’?”

  He pushed the obnoxious teen away with enough force to send him sprawling onto his back and into the women’s restroom. Enough of this garbage! He had to get his wallet back! Forget the cash, what if she started charging things to his credit card? She had all of his identification! She’d know his address! What if she showed up at his front door demanding more? What if she did her research and found out how much he was really worth? It wouldn’t take her very long to realize that she had just plucked the golden egg from the proverbial fucking goose! Oh, this was trouble! This was all the ammunition his wife needed! She was just itching for an excuse like this to dump his ass and suck his bank account dry!

  He muscled his way back through the nightclub toward the glowing orange sign that indicated the office. Two colossal bodyguard types stood post on the door. “I want to see the manager!”

  The behemoth on the left remained stone-faced, while the one on the right let a slight grin crease his lips. “The manager isn’t seeing anyone right now!” he grunted.

  He studied them both standing as stationary as the statues on Easter Island. “You don’t understand! I’ve been robbed right in the middle of your club! A woman lifted my wallet!”

  The one on the left pouted contemptuously but remained silent.

  “Don’t ‘ya just hate when that happens?” the one on the right chuckled.

  He couldn’t let these two bruisers intimidate him. Not now. Not with his entire financial future on the line! “I demand to see your boss about it!”

  The silent one tried to stifle a laugh, as the talkative one jabbed an elbow into his ribs. “This guy’s demanding to see the boss!”

  With every warning bell going off in his head, he had no idea how he was managing to stand his ground. “Yes, I am! Doesn’t Nick Coltello own this club?”

  Both of their faces turned hard. Their eyebrows meeting in the middle. “You a friend of Mr. Coltello?

  A chink in the armor! “No, but I have a feeling he wouldn’t want me calling the police to investigate this problem.”

  That’s the last thing he wanted either! A police investigation meant questions, a paper trail, calls to his house...his wife would toss him out for sure! “I’d be willing to bet Mr. Coltello wouldn’t want them questioning all of your customers...” Keep it going, you’ve got their attention now! “Who knows what else they might find once they started looking? Are you aware of what’s going on in those bathrooms?” How was he finding the nerve to talk to them like this?

  The two goons stared at each other uncertainly. “Wait here a second,” the one on the right grunted.

  Two minutes later, he returned with another tall, sophisticated looking man.

  “You’re not Nick Coltello!”

  Jimmy Diaz smiled politely. “No sir, I’m not.” He said as he held out his hand courteously. “My name’s James Diaz, and I am the manager of the One Eleven Club. Mr. Coltello is the owner, but he isn’t available right now.”

  Something about this guy made him think of earthworms. Slippery, slimy, living deep down in the soil kind of worms. “No disrespect to your position, Mr. Diaz, but I’d still prefer to speak to your boss! This matter is of the utmost urgency.”

  Diaz’s smile never faltered. “Mr. Coltello is feeling a bit under the weather right now, but rest assured, my associates here,” he said, wrapping his arms around the two bodyguards, “have briefed me on your problem, and I promise I will do everything within my power to retrieve your wallet. But I must tell you, I fear the chances of recovery are very slim. These people are professionals. They prey on innocent people for a living. Unfortunately, they found you an easy mark.”

  This wasn’t the first time someone tried to screw him over. Working in accounting and collections, he had been bullshitted by the best! “So, that’s it?”

  Diaz stepped down a step from between the two guards. “Excuse me?”

  He stepped forward and leaned toward the manager. “Do you think you can just blow me off, and everything will be coming up daisies? I’m not part of your cocaine snorting riff-raff out there! I know she’s a God damned criminal! She set me up!”

  “Just what are you implying?” Diaz asked.

  He pointed a finger at the manager’s chest, but he was mindful not to make actual contact. “I’m not implying anything! What I’m telling you, is that I know this woman was a regular here. She called herself Rain, although I doubt that’s her real name. She knew one of the bartenders, and some of your customers as well. She has to be a regular here!”

  Diaz stared down at the encroaching finger and bit his lower lip to control his rising indignation. “And what would you suggest we do? Run a background check on all of our customers? Maybe install a metal detector at the door? Do you think that would help?”

  He took a deep breath and sighed. This flunky wasn’t getting him anywhere. It was like beating his head against a brick wall. “Well, it’s obvious to me, that you don’t know the first thing about what goes on in your own nightclub, Mr. Diaz!”, he said as he started to walk away. “I guess you leave me no choice, but to call in the police! Perhaps they can help me find this Rain character!”

  Diaz turned and glanced back ominously at the office door. “Sir…please wait!”

  He stopped dead in his tracks, making sure the manager didn’t see the satisfied smile that brightened his face. “Having a change of heart?”

  Diaz waved him back like a used car salesman afraid to lose a prospective buyer. “Why don’t you give me her description and I’ll talk to my bartenders. You said she knew one of them, right?”

  “She said she did.”

  Suddenly, Diaz was treating him like a long-lost brother, patting him on the back and putting his arm around him. It was too touchy-feely for his own liking. “Why don’t we walk on over to the bar together and see what we can find out, okay?”

  He wriggled out from the manager’s clinging embrace. “Why don’t you go and I’ll just wait for you in the office?

  Diaz shook his head.

  “Why not?”

  Diaz’s men instinctively closed ranks to defend the door.

  “Because we’re in the middle of having new carpet installed and the office is a mess! For liability purposes, we can’t let you inside.” He pointed to a vacant table just behind a brass railing that separated the office hallway from the rest of the club. “Why don’t you take a seat over there, and one of my men will get you something to drink. Anything you want! It’s on the house!”

  He crossed his arms over his chest. “Really? A drink? You think that’s going to make this all better?”

  Diaz escorted him to the table. “Just give me five minutes, and hopefully, I’ll have some good news for you!” He snapped his fingers, and the silent one guarding the door stepped forward. “Jorge, get our friend here a drink, or maybe something to eat. You hungry?”

  He shook his head in disbelief. “No, I’m not hungry! Just find the woman who took my wallet, and I swear, I’ll never step foot in your club again!”

  Diaz excused himself and vanished into the crowd. It was nearly eight o’clock now, and time was quickl
y running out. If he didn’t find the billfold soon, he was going to have to come up with something that would explain its disappearance. A mugging? Possibly. Just misplaced it? His wife would never believe that. She knew him better than he knew himself sometimes. He didn’t get to be this successful by losing his wallet. If he didn’t get it back, he was a dead man!

  He peered through the railing at the two gorillas guarding the office door. The more he studied them, the more he came to realize that guarding was too loose a description. It seemed more like they were defending the office...like it held the gold deposits from the Federal Reserve or something! And then there was Diaz’s suspicious reaction at his suggestion of waiting inside...what was that all about?

  In desperate situations, the mind can become one’s worst enemy. It plays tricks with your ability to reason rationally, turning the absurd into reality. As he sat at the table, drumming his fingers idly on the black Formica surface, ideas that would generally seem far-fetched suddenly didn’t strike him as being so preposterous. What if this club was just a front? Maybe this entire place was riddled with professional crooks! He looked around suspiciously. To his unhinged mind, everyone suddenly looked guilty to him. Other people seemed to know her. What if they were all part of some clandestine organization of thieves? Maybe Coltello was running this whole operation! He read the newspapers, he listened to the radio and watched the news on television. He knew Coltello wasn’t the saint some of the media made him out to be! He was aware of the stories that connected the owner of the One Eleven Club to organized crime!

  No one could comprehend the chain of disastrous events that losing his billfold would start into motion. His wife would hire the most cutthroat lawyers his money could buy! His impeccable reputation would be in ruins! It would mean starting all over from scratch! He’d never be able to find a commensurate position at his age! This was no ordinary corporation he worked for! The head of the business was his brother-in-law, and no matter how much of a drunk his wife was, she was and would always be the little sister.

  Now, the irrational thoughts were whizzing through his head. What if Rain was still in the building? That had to be it! She was probably lying low in the office...and that’s why they didn’t want him in there! That meant...he still had a chance at salvation!

  “Hey fellas,” he shouted up to two guards as he rose from his chair. “Would you mind if I made a quick phone call? My cellphone’s dead.”

  The guards looked at each other skeptically as he jaunted up the steps towards them.

  “It’s getting late, and the wife’s gonna really start worrying if she doesn’t hear from me. You know how it is, right? Women, what can I say?”

  Their faces remained expressionless, their posture, stiff as granite.

  “Hey,” he gestured at the office door, “it’ll only take me a second. One quick call.”

  The chatty one, Jorge, reached into his breast pocket and pulled out his phone. “Here...take it...talk all you want...be my guest!”

  He looked down at the phone and hoped his frustration wasn’t apparent. This temporary setback only served to stoke fuel on the wildfire that was running amok in his brain. Now more than ever, he believed that the con artist whose despicable act had threatened his very existence was holed up behind that door!

  He pretended to dial a number and waited, smiled at them, tapped his foot impatiently, rolled his eyes, smiled again...anything that might lull them into a false sense of security.

  Did he still remember what his high school football coach had taught him? Hit ‘em low, and hit ‘em hard! He counted the seconds down in his mind.

  Three...Remember, the wallet is all that matters! No pressing charges, no big scene. Just get the billfold and go!

  Two...Everyone can just forget that this evening ever happened! He’d never breathe a word of it to anyone...ever!

  One...Our Father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name...

  Fortified by his faith in a benevolent God, he spun around and lowered his shoulder all in one flawless, aggressive movement. Jorge and his silent partner were outsmarted by the sudden gambit. He was like an unstoppable train thundering toward them! When he slammed into the door, he heard an earsplitting crack! He only prayed that it was the lock giving way, and not his vertebrae. Completely off balance, he went reeling into the office, just to end up tripping over a carelessly placed bolt of carpeting. Stunned and sore, he found himself sprawled out on a cold, barren, concrete floor.

  “What the fuck is going on here? Who is this prick?”

  Even dressed in a bathrobe and with his hair sopping wet, Nicky the Knife was still one of the most recognizable figures in Florida.

  Jorge grabbed the intruder by the scruff of his jacket and brusquely yanked him to his feet. “I’m sorry, Boss. He’s crazy. He busted right past us!”

  Standing beside his desk, Coltello reached into the top drawer and withdrew a keen-edged pair of scissors. After wiping off some excess moisture from his forehead onto the sleeve of his robe, he flipped open the humidor on the corner of the desk and pulled out a hand-rolled Dominican Corona. Before cutting off the tip, and lighting it, he savored the sweetness of the tobacco by running the cigar under his nose. “Did he break my fucking door?”

  Jorge walked over to the door, checked the lock, and scowled.

  The words shot out of Coltello’s mouth like bullets from a machine gun. “Hey, dickhead! You broke my fucking door!”

  Instinctively, although probably more out of self-preservation than anything else, he shied away, tumbling backward over the large spool of floor covering again. When he collided with the roll this time, the bolt uncoiled just enough to expose what appeared to be a human foot!

  At that same inopportune moment, Jimmy Diaz came sprinting into the room, breathless. “Oh, Jeez!”

  Nicky the Knife took two puffs from his Corona and sent a set of smoke rings floating lazily toward the ceiling. “Nice of you to join us, Jimmy! Now, would you like to tell me just what the fuck is going on?”

  The second in command bent down and tucked Padron’s wayward limb back into the carpeting. With his back to Coltello, Diaz gave the innocent businessman, who was still on his hands and knees, a doleful look that seemed to say, “Now you’ve done it. You should have waited for me!”

  “Is somebody gonna tell me who this asshole is, and why he’s laid out on my floor?”

  Although his hands were spotless, Diaz found himself rubbing them briskly as though he were trying to cleanse a stain only he could see. “This guy,” he said, pointing his chin at the accountant, “says, that another customer stole his wallet.”

  Coltello leaned back on his desk and rolled the cigar between his lips. “So when did my office suddenly become the lost and found department?”

  Diaz scratched his forehead. He wondered if the businessman realized that his life hinged on whatever happened in the next few seconds. “I was handling the situation, Mr. Coltello,” Diaz said, formally for the businessman’s benefit.

  “But then he threatened to go to the police.” One of the bodyguards chimed in, trying to rescue his own reputation.

  Diaz’s head snapped around in the guard’s direction, and he immediately shut up.

  “The police, eh?”

  Diaz held up his hands defensively. “Would have never happened, Mr. Coltello. I had the entire situation under control.”

  Nicky the Knife spun the scissors around his finger and watched as the hypnotizing blade glistened in the light. “This would be a really inopportune time for the police to show up!”

  Diaz felt like an eyewitness to an impending train wreck. He could sense that sickening knot building up in the pit of his stomach, as he helplessly watched the two engines heading towards each other. No matter what he did, no matter what he said, nothing could avert the looming catastrophe. “Look at the poor guy, Nick! He’s harmless!” />
  Coltello wiped a few strands of wet hair off his face. “Harmless?”

  Diaz rested his foot on the roll of carpeting. “Like a gnat!”

  Nicky the Knife walked over to the businessman, and grabbing a handful of his hair, lifted him to his feet and jerked his head back until they were staring eyeball to eyeball. Then he spoke softly. “Are you harmless as a gnat?”

  The businessman’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down in his exposed throat. “I’m…harmless,” he managed to stammer. Coltello’s lips peeled back into a wicked smile. He leaned forward and whispered into the man’s ear. “I don’t think so...”

  9

  Jimmy Diaz leaned against his bosses’ desk and stared down at the floor. The only thought going through his head was where he was going to get another bolt of carpeting at this time of night. With his arms crossed over his chest, he could feel a headache coming on. Nicky was out of control. Diaz knew that if he actually owned a dog with his boss’ temperament, he would have put him down years ago. But then, one doesn’t bite the hand that feeds them, and Jimmy Diaz was paid very well indeed.

  While one of the guards fumbled with the knob and lock on the office door, the other stared hesitantly up at the ceiling. Neither wanted to watch what was about to happen next.

  A speck of blood dripped down the tip of the scissors as the blades pricked just below the stranger’s exposed throat.

  “You don’t want to do this, Nicky,” the interloper said uneasily.

  “What the fuck did you just call me?” Coltello growled.

  “I’m sorry, I meant Mr. Coltello,” the stranger faltered.

  “Do I know you, pal? Are we suddenly best friends?”

  Diaz let out a long sigh of air as he shook his head in exasperation. This didn’t have to end like this. I tried, I tried, I tried. He actually seems to be enjoying this. It’s like watching a cat corner a lizard and play with it for awhile before he finally kills it and then walks away like it never happened. Someone else would always come by and scoop up the remains. The cat only makes the mess and never considers the aftermath.