Chapter 6
By the time I reached the city limits, my stomach was gnawing on my spine. On the main drag I spotted a place called the Daisy Diner and pulled into its back parking lot. It had a red neon sign hanging above the rear door that read, Good Eats. Optimistically, I got out and hurried inside.
The place was empty except for a lanky blond waitress and an old Mexican wearing a chef's hat. The ceiling and walls were white enameled Masonite. The freshly mopped floor was red terracotta tile. A stainless steel service counter ran nearly the length of the place. Round stainless stools with blue leatherette tops were spaced equally in front of it, bolted to the terracotta. Everything was spotlessly clean. I could not help wonder if the health inspector had just been there, or was expected.
"Take a pew," the waitress told me with a backward glance. She had a face and figure any young man would remember, any old man would never forget.
"I'll be with you in a jiff."
The Mexican, a cigarette hanging carelessly at the corner of his lower lip, gave me a suspicious glare. Then he strolled into the kitchen. I took a stool at one end of the counter and studied the blonde with a young man's anticipation. She was mid-thirties with big green eyes and lips that made me wish I was twenty, again. While my attention was on her backside, hers was focused upon the revival of an antique coffee maker.
"Take your time," I said, and continued to stare. "I'll keep myself occupied until you're ready. Business always this slow?"
"We cater to the breakfast and late night crowd," she replied without looking back. With a tantalizing shift of her hips she added, "You came between rushes."
"What's the special?" I asked, hoping her hips would shift again.
She pointed over her head, still without looking back at me. "Meatloaf. I wouldn't recommend it unless you've got a cast-iron stomach. Charley likes to lace it with jalapenos. Don't you Charley?"
A gurgle of amusement sounded from behind the grill.
I let my eyes follow her finger. The diner's menu was written on a blackboard above the kitchen entrance. Fried liver with onions was listed under the meatloaf. Both came with mashed potatoes and gravy. There was also mention of catfish and chicken.
"I've never had liver served with gravy," I remarked.
"That's only because you haven't eaten here. Charley likes his gravy and he only makes one kind. I call it mystery slime. Ain't that right, Charley?"
More giggling from the grill.
A few seconds later the coffee maker let out a cough, followed by a gasping sputter. The waitress patted it gently on its top as if it had been a very good boy, then turned and sauntered over to me. The nametag on her uniform read Tanya. She looked as good from the front as from behind. So, I gave her my most endearing leer.
"Some nights it takes a little persuasion," she confided in a soft low voice. "Other nights, a big club."
"Sounds like my ex-wife on our honeymoon," I quipped.
She gave my attempt at humor a dutiful smile and took out her order pad. "What'll it be?"
I ordered a burger, fries and soft drink. "Hold the gravy," I added, hastily. "Heavy on the onions."
"You're new in town," she said. "You got that North Texas accent. Staying long?"
"A few days. Depends on how things go."
Tanya grinned at me like she meant it. "And how are things going?"
I felt a stirring like I had not in some time. "Better than earlier. How late do you cater?"
"I'm the breakfast shift. My relief should've been here hours ago. What've you got in mind?"
"Maybe a tour of your town punctuated by several stops for drinks and dancing. You got something slinky you can slip into? Old men like me prefer a little preview of coming attractions before saying prayers for the main event."
She laughed. "I've got something that could revive a dead man. But, I'm not the roll over easy type. So, don't get your expectations up."
"My expectation rose as soon as I noticed you!"
The café's front door jangled. I turned toward it and saw a pair of Mexican's coming in. Tanya's grin faded and she hurried into the kitchen like she was late for the last bus to anywhere. I saw her rush over to the old cook and tell him something. Charlie peered over the top of the grill and then quickly disappeared from view. Moreover, from the look on his face he was deathly worried. Seconds later, I heard another door shut.
The Mexicans settled themselves at the other end of the counter. One was fat, balding and nearing middle age. The other was about twenty-five, lean and had enough hair for both of them. Tanya returned from the kitchen on stiff legs and went over to where they sat. The lean one told her they wanted coffee. The fat one kept his eyes on me like I was somebody who had gotten his sister in a family way.
After filling their cups, Tanya brought one over to me and slowly poured coffee into it. "You in trouble?" she kept her back to them.
"I usually am," I said.
She gave the Mexicans another glance. "They're the Rodriquez brothers. Enrique's the fat one, the other's Miguel. They hire out as enforcers. From the way Enrique is watching you they've been paid to solve somebody's problem."
"Maybe Enrique just likes the cut of my suit?"
"He might've when it was new, twenty years ago. If I was you I'd make a quick exit while I could. Things'll just get worse if you hang around."
"Tough, are they?"
She set the cup in front of me with shaking hands. "They don't come to a dump like this unless it's on business, Mister. And they know their business."
"Who do they work for?"
"There's a big window in the men's john," she said, ignoring my question. "Charlie's a sick old man with a family. He went out the side door, which leaves just you and me, handsome. So, why don't you do us both a favor and split before your funeral starts?"
"I'm hungry."
Tanya whispered a curse and then carried the coffeepot back to its burner. She glanced over her shoulder at the two men and then returned to the kitchen. I gave the Mexicans a sidelong stare. They were both dressed in white silk shirts, lots of gold jewelry and new black chinos. The fat one was still staring at me, his coffee untouched. The thin one was adding sugar to his. Lots and lots of sugar the way a junkie loads it up when he is overdue for a fix.
I lit a cigarette, tasted my coffee and pretended to ignore the other two. If I was on their agenda, the obvious explanation was Delaney. And, that could only mean he was part and parcel to Eli's killing. I took a deep, satisfying drag on my cigarette. Things were looking up.
By the time I had finished my smoke Tanya returned with my order. "A burger's not much of a last meal," she whispered. "I hope to God, you're not married."
"Do they work for Delaney?" I asked.
She gave me a startled nod before whispering, "Him or some other lowlife. They're not fussy so long as the money's good." She dragged a bottle of catsup from beneath the counter, and set it in front of me. "How long've you been in town?"
"A few hours."
She wagged her head in despair. "Shit. And you already got trouble? Jesus, mister, don't you know how to make friends?"
"I prefer to influence people. Why don't you go look for Charlie and leave this to me? I'd hate to think of him getting lonely."
"He's got a bad heart, no insurance and he doesn't know you from Adam. He's got no reason stick his neck out and you got no right to bad-mouth him for having brains."
"I'm not. He did the right thing and you should follow his lead."
"You want me to call the cops? Not, that it'll do you much good if Delaney's behind this."
"And, have somebody bust up my party? Not on your life. I'm looking forward to the fun."
"For what it's worth, those two usually split up before pulling something. One'll wait for you outside. The other'll dog your heels as you leave. I keep a baseball bat in the women's. I'll set it just inside the men's, as I go out. Grab it and don't pull your swing."
I nodded my appreciation and she went along the corridor toward the restrooms. I loaded up my fries with catsup and then waded into my burger. The diner was not much to look at. But, Tanya could teach a few chefs I knew about frying up a tasty meal. Not to mention what her swaying hips did for a man's appetite.
I was just getting interested in my fries when she came back. Tanya went over to the Mexicans and asked if they wanted refills. Miguel said he did but the Enrique told his brother he'd had enough, and to wait in the car. She gave me a warning glance as the younger one got to his feet. Tanya carried the coffee pot back over to me as Miguel moved out to the rear parking lot.
"I thought you were playing it smart," I whispered to her, as she refilled my cup.
"I'm suddenly short on brains."
"Isn't your pal going the wrong way?" I called to Enrique. "You guys came in the front door."
Tanya stared at me from behind the grill, her mouth gaping with disbelief.
Enrique grinned showing me a gold cap on one of his front teeth. "If my brother gets lost, I'll find him."
In situations where I am outnumbered, outflanked, probably outgunned and no chance in hell of the cavalry arriving to save my sorry ass, aggravating the enemy can give me a much needed edge.
"So you're the bloodhound type," I remarked.
The Mexican's smile faded and his brown skin took on the color of dried grass, but he made no remark.
Tanya disappeared from view.
"Fact is," I continued, taking another shot at Enrique's sensitive side, "I'd bet your brother needs a lot of looking for. Especially when his nose is running because 'horse' is giving him the shakes."
"Anything else you'd like to bet on, amigo?" he gritted.
I had him wound up so I decided to clench my efforts. "Only that you're his source of supply."
Enrique did not say a word but I could hear his teeth grinding. I gave him a wink and added, "Might as well profit from a weakness in the family, Spiffy. Tell me something? Your sister or mother available for tonight? I'm looking for some cut-rate pussy."
Enrique started to get up, but caught himself.
Disappointed in his self-control, I finished off my burger before digging at him one last time. "Tell you what, I'll supply the bag for your mother's head and only charge her half rate. How's that sound?"
Tanya rushed out from the kitchen over to me, her face red with fury. "You want anything else, Mister?"
I shook my head.
She set down my bill and said, "Then, I think you'd better pay up and get out."
I handed her a twenty and told her to keep the change. Then I got to my feet. "No matter how horrible my remarks sounded," I whispered. "I was just winding him up."
Enrique stalled a moment before standing. Then he dropped a bill and some coins on the counter to cover the coffees.
I headed out as I had come in, listening to his footsteps keeping pace at my back. It was now pitch black outside and the interior lights of the diner made it impossible to catch a glimpse of his brother. Regardless, I knew Miguel would not be wanting in the upcoming fracas. Whether I would be was another matter.
I paused at the men's room door to light a cigarette and heard Enrique's footsteps stop a few yards behind me. For a moment, I considered going in and grabbing the bat. There was nothing better than a little swinging after a meal to get the digestive juices flowing. But I decided against it. Enrique would likely turn on Tanya with a vengeance if I tried that. I moved ahead pushing the backdoor open hard as I went out into the night air.
I stopped again, to flick the ash from my cigarette while my eyes scanned the parking lot. Leon's truck was the only vehicle there. From the far side of it I caught a glimpse of movement. Somebody was crouched near the front fender. Clearly, Tanya had been spot-on about their plan. Enrique would draw my attention as Miguel sneaked up from behind and bashed in my brains. While not much in the way of creative effort, it was a tried and true technique. I headed for the truck with a slow, easy gait keeping my eyes on the top of Miguel's bobbing head.
"Hey, amigo?" Enrique called from behind. "You got a cigarette?"
I stopped and half turned, keeping my eye on the black hair bopping just above the truck fender. "Sure," I said and took my time searching for the pack. "Always glad to give you pushers a leg up the ladder. I'm short on matches, though. You got any to trade?"
When Enrique reached me, I tossed him the pack and then hit him with a hard right that caught the side of his skull. He dropped like dead meat, so I turned and rushed the truck, diving over the hood. Miguel brought up a knife and I grabbed his head before I hit the ground. He let out a squeal of terror as I wrapped one arm about his neck and gripped his chin with my free hand. I did not bother asking his intentions. I just gave his chin a sharp, heaving twist. In response, I heard a loud snapping at the base of his skull. He went quiet in my grasp like a sleeping child.
I felt the warm flow running from my upper leg. Somehow, during the brief struggle Miguel had rammed his knife into my thigh. I released the dead man and stood up. Before I could inventory the damage, Enrique raced around the front of the truck, screaming bloody murder. I turned and caught him with a left hook to his big middle followed by hard right cross to his face. His nose bent sideways spewing blood like a fountain. Then he hit the asphalt. He tried to get up but I quickly introduced my right foot to his ribs, and then let my left foot inspect his right ear several times. For a moment, he quivered, then became still.
I went back to Miguel, grabbed his corpse by the shirt lapels and hefted his body up. I planned to handcuff the pair together before calling authorities. However, just as I had carried the dead man over to where Enrique laid, the fat Mexican rolled over onto his back and holding a snub-nosed .38. Instantly, I heaved Miguel forward. As the dead man dropped, Enrique pulled the trigger. The first round went through his brother's throat and past my left ear. The second plowed through Miguel's chest and burned my ribs. I backed away jerking out my Mauser.
But, before I could fire Tanya rushed out of the darkness and hit the Mexican on the top of his skull with a baseball bat. Immediately, Enrique's head flopped back to the tarmac and his eyes closed.
"You all right?" she gasped. Tanya was shaking like a leaf, the bat once again raised overhead.
"I've got a puncture and a hot scrape," I said as warmth ran down my thigh ribs. "But, I'll live. How far to a pharmacy?"
"Do you need a doctor?" she asked, as sirens whined in the distance.
I reached down and forced my finger through hole in my pants, and felt the wound. It was tiny and round, like the kind an icepick leaves. Then I tore open my shirt and glanced at the oozing bullet mark. "A little gauze and some antibiotics should handle it," I said, and stood upright. "But, you'd better get lost before the locals arrive."
She lowered the bat, rushed over to me and grabbed my hand. "If that's Delaney he'll shoot you down before asking any questions. I've got all you need in my crib above the diner. Can you walk some stairs?"
"I meant what I said about winding Enrique up."
She shrugged. "Either way I'm up to my ass in this unless both those bastards are dead. So can we get the hell out of here?"
I pointed to Miguel. "That one is dead. You sure you want to stick your neck out?"
"Nobody else in town will help you, count on that."
I picked my grip from the truck-bed and grinned at her. "I'll say this for you, Tanya, you swing mean!"
Dead On Page 6