by Karl Tutt
“Do you know why M’s girls wear the ribbon around their necks?” I asked.
Bingo looked away for a moment. He stared at the glistening pool and put his forefinger to his lip. I wasn’t sure he was going to speak. His eyes panned from Sunny to Chris to me and locked onto Fritz.
“Doc,” he said quietly, “I’m not sure you want to know.”
“Do we need to?”
He paused again, looked at Fritz, “You got a daughter. Me, I never had any kids. Maybe if I did, I’d be working at the bank. As it is, I do what I can with what I got and don’t try to hurt anyone. My girls are important to me. I try to keep them out of trouble, not get them into it. A lot of people would say that’s bullshit, them up there on the stage shakin’ their tits. Believe me, it’s a lot more innocent than it looks, but there are creeps out there. I got some big boys working for me. They know you don’t touch my girls. Sunny will tell you.” He looked at her and she nodded.
“I can’t tell you about the ribbons. But I can call in a favor, maybe even scare somebody a little. He might.”
Fritz had gone white. His lower lip quivered and his jaw was set in stone. He squeezed the gold can until it burst in his hand. The jagged metal bit into his flesh and the blood ran onto the shiny tile. Raoul gave him a towel from behind the bar. In a quiet stupor, he wrapped it around his palm. It oozed red within minutes.
“I got to get her,” he whispered. I watched for a minute and spoke.
“Bingo, can you find out when she gets to town and where she’s dancing?”
“I’ll make a few calls. Put you in touch with a guy who may or may not talk to you. She gets in, I got my money on The Gilded Lady down on 11th Street. M’s girls work the joint. But I’m warning you. Be careful. Anybody gets hurt, I’m not responsible. As for Angel, one of my girls may know. They kind of have their own sorority. Give me a day. You need to get your kid out of there. Now. I’ll find her, but you’ll have to do the rest. I can only get involved so much. Got a business to run. Don’t need any complications. This is for you, Sunny. Your friends are my friends. That’s all.”
The dinner was fabulous. Red Snapper with a white wine sauce and capers. Cristal in long stemmed champagne glasses. Home made rum cake for dessert, and a snifter of Hennessy, but not much conversation. Chris tried to turn things to something light and convivial, but it didn’t work. Bingo’s chef came out of the kitchen and we burst into applause. He beamed, bowed gallantly at the waist and retreated to his chrome studio.
We thanked Bingo and Raoul drove us back down Collins to Ocean Boulevard. The lights flashed and glared as the night came alive. More young beauties, more dandies and the lurid promise of music, sex, and lines of cocaine flooded the sidewalks. Then we were at the marina. Raoul opened the doors for us, still fixed on Sunny’s ass, but nobody cared. The magnificent fiberglass toys were lit up like small cities. Refined laughter and the clinking of crystal and expensive china trailed us down the dock. We settled in and sleep struggled to overtake us.
Chapter 16
The expensive bourbon, champagne, and brandy had pumped my head full of thick gauze. I finally crawled out of the v berth, stumbling and moaning. I popped four ibuprofen and started the coffee. Fritz was already up, sitting in the cockpit sucking down a morning Marlboro. He grunted at me and mumbled, “Wages of sin, Cap.”
Sunny soon joined us. The sun was high and startling, but the salt air began to restore me to the land of the living.
“Hell of a night,” I said.
‘Yeah, I been up since four, must have burned through a pack of these damned things.” He stared at the crumpled red paper.
“Well,” said Sunny, “we’ve got to eat. I’ll rustle up some eggs and sausage and you guys lick your wounds. The only thing we can do is wait.”
About ten the phone rang. The voice on the other end was muffled. I thought I heard the word ‘patient’ in the background, but I could barely make out the words.
“There is a parking lot around the corner from the marina. Clothing store for the gay blades. It closes at six. You will recognize it by the display in the window. I’ll pull up, but I won’t get out of the car. Come to driver’s side. No one but you, Dr. Fleming. I am offering you five minutes. No more. Be there at eight. That’s all. Should I observe anything the least bit alarming, I’m gone.” He hung up.
Fritz looked puzzled. I told him about the conversation, he said, “It’s my kid. I should go.”
“He warned me, Fritz. If he sees you or anyone else, he’ll split. We need the info. I’ll be okay. No problem.”
He didn’t like it, but he didn’t argue.
We’d been in Miami for two days. I called Bama. I had a thing creeping up my spine that said we’d need him soon. I didn’t tell him about our meeting with Bingo or my mysterious caller. I was going alone. He had talked to Frank again.
“Don’t worry, T.K. You tell Fritz I got your back. You find Angel, let me know and she’ll be on her way home.” The sound of his voice inspired confidence. That was something I needed right now.
At eight I was in front of LE HOMME JOLI, the pretty man. The name fit. The window was filled with shades of mauve and pink on manequins in feminine poses. The few prices I could make out were in the stratosphere. Ferraris, Porsches and Cadillac limos in a frenzied rush toward the glitter of South Beach, but I was alone. Or so I thought.
A black BMW pulled up. 700 series, I thought. Seventy or eighty thousand minimum worth of rolling thunder. I heard the whir of the driver’s window coming down. I stepped to the door. He wore a broad brimmed felt hat pulled down over his eyes. The dash lights were dimmed. Even in the darkness, I could smell the cut of a dark Armani with a matching silk shirt. I couldn’t see any of his face. I barely made out a parking sticker in the corner of the windshield. It said Mount Seneca something.
“Stay where you are,” he commanded, “you don’t know when they’re watching. The ribbons cover the marks. That’s where they extract the blood. Once a month, sometimes more. It’s a Fountain of Youth. At least that’s how they bill it. Fresh young blood spiked with some vitamin supplements, a hit of laudanum and just a taste of ecstasy. Makes you feel like you could wrestle Godzilla. Some drink it, some shoot it, some take the whole pint in an IV. Twenty-five to fifty thousand dollars a hit. Nice profit margin. Some of the more extravagant buyers even have a special girl they demand. It’s like call liquor. Costs more than the house stuff, but it rocks your balls. Don’t even contemplate the police. In Miami, they’re deaf, dumb, and blind. That’s all, Doctor. You’d best mind your ass. And now I have a previous engagement. I was never here.”
He pulled away slowly. The license plate was taped over, the light missing. I couldn’t even be sure of the year of the car. I was screwed into the asphalt. It sounded like something out of an H. P. Lovecraft horror novel. Junkies, modern day vampires, girls fed to alligators. I took a deep breath. It was real and Angel was in the middle of it. I wasn’t even sure how I could tell Fritz, but he had to know.
I glanced back to the mauve and pink and headed toward the street. A dark Chrysler 300 cut me off. Two very large guys in muscle shirts emerged flexing and scowling.
One of them growled, “It’s your last stroll, Doc. Get in the car.”
He grabbed me by the forearm. It felt like vice grips. The other sank an iron fist into my belly. I doubled over, drooling and coughing. The back door of the Chrysler opened. I saw the shadow of a figure waiting quietly, not the least bit interested in the action. I felt a violent shove in the small of my back. Then I head the click of a hammer and a shell sliding into a chamber.
“Sorry boys, maybe next time. Now go on home. You Momma’s waiting.”
Fritz had the barrel of the Sig buried in the neck of vice grips. He released my arm, raised his hands and whispered, “Easy, Bud. No foul, no harm.” The other one turned. Fritz twitched and drew a bead on his forehead. He froze. Then he smiled and backed slowly towards the c
ar. “Maybe another time,” he said.
Chris put his arm around my waist and held me up. We stepped away. The doors slammed and the Chrysler screeched out of the parking lot.
“We need to get the hell out of here,” Fritz said, “those boys may be back with reinforcements.”
We stayed in the shadows as we shuffled to the marina. The lights at the entrance and the armed guard looked vaguely comforting as we made our way down the dock.
Sunny stood in the cockpit. She cradled me as I tried to raise my head and fight the nausea. I didn’t want to tell her what had happened, but we were in too deep already. She needed to know. I was still gasping, but the pain had eased. She poured me a shot of Evan Williams. The brown liquid fired down my throat and burned my aching belly. It settled. Soon I was breathing in a quiet cadence. I talked and she listened.
“Some nasty characters,” Fritz said.
“Thanks. I’m not quite ready for that last ride. I guess the nine came in handy.”
“I wish we didn’t need it,” Fritz shook his head.
I thought about calling Bama, but I hadn’t told him about the meeting. I didn’t want him to think he was out of the loop. Cops get very touchy about that sort of stuff.
It was still early and Bingo had mentioned The Gilded Lady. I was close enough to okay. It was time to further our education.
Chapter 17
We took a cab to 11th Street. The Gilded Lady was tucked into an old movie house. The marquis screamed GIRLS, GIRLS, GIRLS. A burly bruiser in a black tux eyed us, but took our money. The interior was dimly lit and the cigar and cigarette smoke lurched into our nostrils. A bleached blond with monster store bought breasts in less than a bikini led us to a tiny table in a corner away from the stage. Chris and I ordered Moosehead and Fritz had the usual. She grinned through vampire red lips and said in sultry tones, “I’m up next boys. Hold on to your pants and get ready to be nice to Miss Sable.” There was no dagger on her forearm and no ribbon around her neck.
I scanned the room. Maybe two dozen men jittering and drinking to a pounding rap song I didn’t recognize. The raven haired girl on stage was jerking and gyrating to the bass riff. She was totally nude except for the heels and a black garter squeezed around her left thigh. Her skin was a flawless latte. Dark nipples and a hint of pubic hair sneaking up her pelvis. No question, she was beautiful. We had the A team tonight. Without the makeup she could have been in one of my English Lit classes. Maybe eighteen or twenty. Still no tattoo or ribbon.
There were another six or so men sitting at the bar feigning indifference. I kept staring in that direction. One of them looked vaguely familiar. We watched the latte with a due appreciation for youth and heathen rhythm. Chris’s eyes were the size of grapes and I could see his leg popping with every downbeat. The vein in Fritz’s neck was throbbing. He was sizing up the crowd and getting ready. I didn’t know for what, but it scared me a little.
The DJ’s voice boomed, “Gentlemen, show your appreciation for the lovely Stella.” There was enthusiastic applause and our star began to make her way though the crowd exacting tribute. Each one of us slipped a dollar into her garter. “Thanks, Honey,” she said and kissed each of us lightly on the cheek. I could smell her thick rich perfume as she bent down to my ear. “One of you boys wants a private dance, remember Stella. I can show you a real good time.” I smiled, shook my head, and she sauntered on to the next group of dedicated patrons of the arts.
I glanced back over to the bar and caught the profile of the closest man to me. I tried to focus in the dim light. He turned and looked in our direction. The aquiline nose, the dark olive skin. He didn’t look much different from the night Angel had brought him in to meet her dad. It was Angelo. He was wearing a white linen jacket, the same Cardin cut with a black silk shirt open at the neck. His dark hair was pasted to his skull. He lifted his glass and tipped it in my direction. Fritz saw him at the same time. He began to bolt up, but I grabbed his arm. “Easy,” I said, “not the place, not the time.” I could hear him huffing, but he sat and put his elbows on the table. I saw his hands flex and watched the forearms turn to stone.
“Give me a minute, Fritz. I’ll go talk to him. He might know something. Maybe he’ll help.”
“Yeah,” Fritz spit, “and maybe I’m Brad Pitt.”
Still he sat. I sipped my beer. Our bombshell came by and we ordered another Moosehead. My belly was aching, but I didn’t know whether it was iron fist or the sight of Angelo in The Gilded Lady. A man sat next to him, but I couldn’t see much with Angelo blocking my view.
“And now, get ready for the shining star of tonight’s magnificent show. Straight from New York, Las Vegas, Washington, Atlanta, and now to you. Treasure,” he bellowed, “ and believe me, Gentlemen, she is a treasure, and her chest is full of goodies. Mick Jagger and the Rolling Stones began to wail, “I’ll never be your Beast of Burden.” She slinked and crawled onto the stage, her breasts hanging like great pendulums swaying to the drumbeat. Her blond hair was slung over her shoulder like a golden mane. It rocked back and forth with every jolt of her ripe body. Men were nailed to the edges of their seats, heads bobbing and hands thrashing at every beat. She shot them coy smiles and shook her fabulous jewels at every opportunity. A couple of times she turned her ass toward the panting audience and squeezed her tight buttocks exposing talent that could only come from Venus, herself. As she got closer, I spotted the horrible dagger with the unholy snake on her forearm. She wore the black ribbon around her neck, but nothing else.
Angelo and his companion had turned slightly on their chairs to watch the spectacle. They seemed to be observing the crowd more than they ogled the glory on stage. I waited until she had given her last thrust. The DJ had pleaded again for the generosity of the eager crowd, but their hands were already deep in their pockets. She glided and cooed and the bills ran freely. When she got to Angelo, he smiled and nodded toward a tall glass of thick blue liquid. She hoisted it, then moved over and put her arms around the shoulders of the two men. She gave each a peck on the cheek and moved on to work the rest of the bar crowd. There was a short lull in the rhythm. I picked up my Moosehead and walked over to the bar.
Angelo raised his glass and stuck out his hand. I grasped it without much enthusiasm.
“Dr. Fleming. I didn’t think you went in for this type of entertainment. And I see Fritz is with you. A little far from your neighborhood, isn’t it? Vacation?”
“Not exactly. We’re here for a good reason. Looking for someone, actually.”
“That wouldn’t be Angel, would it? You probably know we broke up not too long after I met you in Wilmington. Nice girl, but a bit sedate for my tastes. Haven’t seen her in a year or so. She’s not in trouble, is she?”
“I hope not. I hear she is doing well, working, or so I understand.”
His dark eyes gleamed. It was a cat and mouse game. I was sure I wasn’t the cat.
“Pardon me for being rude,” he said. “This is my friend, Mr. Mustapha, an impressive entrepreneur. He has an interest in this place.”
No handshake. A slightly simian face glared at me. The eyes were cunning and feral. Too far apart. His lips were thin and cruel. At a glance, his left arm seemed shorter than his right, but both hands were thick and hairy, the fingers like bands of cable and the nails sharply manicured. A diamond the size of an almond, set in thick 24 karat, adorned his right ring finger. He wore at least two thousand dollars of Hugo Boss. I didn’t have long to study him, but I knew I wouldn’t forget that face. He grunted and returned to his martini.
Angelo spoke. “I don’t know why I would hear from her, but if I do, I’ll let you know. I still have Fritz’s cell number. I know her dad must want to see her. Sweet girl and all that.”
I thanked him and went back to our table. We were about to leave when Treasure came sauntering up. She smiled and swung her massive breasts toward us. They threatened to knock Fritz off of his chair.
“Gentlemen,” she
purred, “I got a message from Mr. Mustapha. He knows you are real ready to get home. He settled your bill at the marina so you can split early in the morning. He says to have a very quick and very safe voyage south. He appreciates you guys coming in. Mr. M is always real generous when you do what he asks you to.” She thrust a hip in my direction and I placed a five in the garter.
I looked toward the bar. Mustapha was starting at us, feral eyes gleaming with malice. He raised his glass in a false salute and nodded. I forced a smile I hoped he would interpret as compliance. I suspected he was used to getting what he wanted and figured we were scared.
I was. We finished our drinks and left.
Chapter 18
There was a cab waiting at the door. He hurried us to the marina. The cabin lights on KAMALA were burning and Sunny was in the cockpit, a glass of cabernet in her hand. Deep furrows and a mouth drawn up into granite dominated her face. When she saw us, she ducked below and grabbed an Ice House for Chris and me and a Diet Coke for Fritz.
“What did you find out?” she asked.
I told her about Angelo and the mysterious Mr. M. She already knew about his questionable kindness. I left out the part about the treasure chest.
Fritz fired up a Marlboro, huffed and spoke. “It was a damned threat. We’re supposed to get the hell out of town. And fast. Screw that sonovabitch.”
“The dock master came to the boat,” she said, “left a copy of the bill and bid us a safe voyage. “Compliments of Mr. M’ were his last words.”
“I think we ought to do it, guys.” Chris said, “that bastard is dangerous and it looks like he’s well connected. Angelo is obviously his go-boy.”
Sunny interrupted. “Angelo’s a recruiter. I’ve seen them. Nice clothes. Fancy cars. Lots of money. Makes the girls feel special. A few of joints, then some cocaine. He asks for a couple of favors. Maybe some photos, a little ménage a trois if he thinks she’s an easy mark. Glamour, excitement. It all seems harmless at first. But the next thing you know they’re hooked. They have a habit they got to feed. And they’ll do whatever it takes to keep the train running on time.”