Dead On

by Michael Paulson

  Chapter 26

  I waited until the next afternoon and then I went to Bascomb's office. He handed me the Portellos' subpoenas and told me he had talked with Delaney. As suspected, the big cop was still out of town and obviously worried about something—probably his own neck due to a Sicilian connection. I told Bascomb to be vague as to sightings of me. He countered that he would like that on a permanent basis.

  I had a late lunch at Eggie's Café and then drove to the Ventura Hotel. It offered rooms with very few roaches, a restaurant without any recent history of ptomaine poisoning and a bar that served highballs as well as draft beer—but not necessarily in clean glasses. Moreover, if you were willing to pay for special entertainment, the bellhops would provide it for a small fee. As far as I was concerned, a night in Texas did not get any better than in McAllen.

  The hotel desk clerk was a self-involved man under thirty with ferret-like eyes, long brown hair clasped neatly in a ponytail, and a nose that rarely dipped below ceiling level. I asked if anybody on the top floor was in. He glanced back at the key coup and nodded his head before walking away. I chalked up his lack of friendliness to a bad case of hemorrhoids and went into the bar.

  A young, clean-cut Hispanic man in a white shirt and black slacks was polishing glasses as I sat down on a stool. I dug out a twenty and dropped it on the bar, then lit a cigarette.

  "What'll it be?" he asked, giving me a wide grin.

  "Beer. I'm also looking for some people. Eight men in expensive dark suits."

  His grin faded. "Friends of yours?"

  I wagged my head. "Have you seen them around, today?"

  He pointed to the door marked 'Café' at the far end of the room. "Went in about thirty minutes ago after having a few drinks."

  While the bartender drew my beer, Tanya walked in. She settled three stools down from me and ordered a Daiquiri. Then she leaned on the bar as if her back was holding up the world.

  The bartender brought me over my beer and asked, "You the one those guys are waiting on?"

  I shook my head, again. "I'm the one they never like to see. Why?"

  "Two of them are nervous as a cat in a dog pound. From what I overheard, they've got a real hard-on for somebody. If it was you I thought I'd give warning."

  He went away and rattled bottles to mix Tanya's drink. I took out a cigarette and pretended to search for a match. Then I got up and walked over to her and asked if she had a light.

  "I think so." Tanya casually opened her purse.

  "How're things going?" I whispered.

  "I hooked up with the creep last night and did what you said. And now I'm waiting to die," she whispered back.

  "Dominic and Delaney connected yet?"

  She nodded. "As soon as I gave out Delaney's number, the creep took out his cell-phone and made a quick exit. If you pass a church in your travels light a candle for me!"

  "Just hang in there," I murmured. "Did you let Delaney know where I'd put the stuff?"

  "I thought he was going to offer me marriage, he was so grateful!"

  "Has Dominic mentioned anything about Delaney getting in touch?"

  "I don't think it's happened yet. I got the impression Delaney was still out of town. By the way, Salvatore told me in no uncertain terms that I was to not wander without telling him where I was going. I'm getting a real bad feeling about this." She handed me a book of matches. I lit my cigarette, dropped the matchbook on the bar and returned to my stool.

  I nursed my drink until Tanya left. Then, I waved the bartender over.

  "Another draft?" he asked.

  I held out a twenty-dollar bill for him. "I'm going to need some help."

  He glanced at the café sign and then waved his hands dismissively. "Not with those guys."

  I peeled off another twenty. "All you do is deliver a note to me after I hand them some paper. Then, you say a guy by the name of Delaney called and left the message in the note. That's it."

  "I got a wife, a kid and the meanest mother-in-law you've ever heard of. I could use the dough, but it ain't worth getting killed over."

  I peeled off another twenty. "The Canola set won't bother you. They'll be too busy worrying about me."

  "You a cop?"

  "Used to be. Now, I'm just a pain in the ass."

  He hesitated a moment and then pocketed the cash. "I tell you a guy by the name of Delaney called, hand you a note and that's it?"

  I nodded. I wrote a cryptic message on a napkin before handing it to him. "This is what you give me. If things get a little rough, ignore it and follow through on your lines. Got it?"

  He swallowed thickly. "How rough?"

  "Nothing coming your way. Just stay loose and follow the routine. You're with me on this, aren't you?"

  He nodded but I was not sure he would turn up on cue. Either way, I had no choice but to finish what I had started. I drained my glass, got up, and went into the café.

  Salvator, Dominic and two of their goons stood out like a Mohawk haircut on a priest at the Vatican. They were gathered at a long table on one end of the restaurant and eating so noisily it sounded like a hog convention at a full trough. If Bascomb had been right on the headcount, four of the Portellos' people were up in the rooms—presumably guarding the cash brought to complete the drug buy-back.

  I took a deep breath, painted on a plastic grin and strolled over.

  "Look what the cat dragged in," Dominic remarked with childlike amusement when he spotted me.

  Before I could take another step, a pair of mountains with greased black hair, big bellies and bulges under left arms barred my path. I had dealt with both men in the past. One was named Herb. The other was called Studsy, for reasons I could not fathom.

  "How's tricks, Dominic?" I quipped. "Glad to see your shrink let you have sharp utensils, again. Can I have a few minutes of your time, Sal?"

  Salvator Portello looked at me with reluctance and no pleasure. Then he pointed to his plate. "I'm eating."

  "One minute," I persisted.

  Studsy gave me a shove. "Scram, Sam."

  I countered with a grin and a hard right hook that sent him spinning across the floor. Herb waded in and I caught him in the groin with my knee before dropping him with a fist to the back of his skull.

  "I hate to be a pest," I said and moved past the fallen men. Then, I jerked out the process papers and tossed them onto Sal's and Dominic's plates. "But, either way you've been served."

  Salvator frowned and jumped to his feet. "What the hell's this?"

  "Love notes from the local prosecutor," I explained. "There was a murder. Some drug runner by the name of Eli Huggins—a business partner of yours I understand. Anyway, the prosecutor wants an informal chat—just to set the record."

  Sal tossed the subpoena back at me. "I just got here, you crazy son-of-a-bitch. I'm on vacation and I got nothing to do with some local-yokel getting whacked."

  "So call a lawyer," I countered. "And while you're at it, ask Dominic what he was doing when the dead man breathed last. Sloppy workmanship, Dom. You left the body right on the front lawn, for Christ's sake. How many times did old Frank and Salvator tell you: 'No bodies; no evidence'?"

  Dominic's eyes went white with surprise. "I had nothing to do with that, Sal. I ain't been down here in years, I swear to God."

  "You've been here all week, Dom!" I insisted. "Nadine, remember? Blond, talkative and likes that burning sensation while roped to a bed. I just talked to her. She thinks you're the cat's pajamas. Or was it the cat's asshole?"

  Dominic dropped his fork and tried to swallow his tongue.

  "What's this bastard talking about?" Salvator demanded.

  "Nothing, Sal. You know Bishop. He's a lunatic."

  Salvator tossed his napkin down on the table. "Since when do you schlep paper around, Bishop?"

  "Since I heard you were involved. You know what a sweetheart I am when it comes to crime-bosses, Sal."

  Herb
was standing and looking sick. He helped Studsy up and then they waddled toward me on rubbery legs.

  There was a light tap on my shoulder. I whirled one hand cocked to find the bartender cowering there. He was shaking so bad I had to reach down and take the napkin I had given him.

  "What's this?" I asked, as I stared into his terrified eyes.

  "Somebody called Delaney just telephoned," the bartender quaked. "He left that message for you. That's all I know, I swear."

  I nodded and watched the kid hurry away.

  "What's it say?" Salvator demanded, hurrying around the table like a hungry tiger.

  I turned back towards Sal and asked, "Friend of yours?"

  The hard white edges of his teeth glinted. "You know where the bastard is?" Salvator demanded.

  I shrugged. "Rumor has it his brother's having a sex change operation. I think Delaney went to visit him or her, whatever the case may be at this point. They were very close."

  "I heard about creeps like that," Herb spat.

  Salvator grabbed for the napkin but I jerked it out of his reach. He snapped his fingers and pointed to me. A moment later, Studsy had me around the neck vowing to tear off my head, and Herb was testing the durability of my wrists. I let the note slip from my hand.

  "If I'd noticed you drooling sooner I'd have offered, Sal," I wheezed through my flattened windpipe.

  "Let the bastard go," Salvator told Studsy. Then he read what I had written on the napkin before asking, "What money?"

  "What's that to you?" I asked, feigning indignation.

  "What goddamn money, you fucking sack of shit?" Salvator's voice warned me I had pushed him to the limit.

  I casually adjusted my suit. "I helped Delaney a couple of days ago," I replied. "He has this cut-rate kitchenware sideline that needed babysitting. And since he had to be out of town because of his brother, he asked me to deliver the stuff to this ranch south of here."

  Salvator's eyes widened. "What kitchenware?"

  "Plastic glasses," I explained. "Big ugly ones. Is momma short on glassware, Sal?"

  Dominic rushed over his face red. "Where is it, you sorry son-of-a-bitch?"

  "None of your business," I countered, not very cleverly.

  He grabbed me and I give him a quick combination that sent Dominic toppling backward over the table. I turned to Salvator. "When are you going to put a leash on him?"

  "How many crates of these—glasses are there?" Salvator growled.

  "About a hundred. It was hell loading and unloading from that damn rental truck, so I wasn't worried about keeping track. Now you'll have to excuse me. I met this blonde with the biggest…"

  "Where are the glasses, Bishop?" Salvator interrupted, giving my check a light tap.

  Dominic struggled to his feet and staggered back, this time staying beyond my reach.

  "Like I told you, Sal, a ranch. I put the cases in the barn as Delaney asked, and then left. You got a problem with that, talk to him."

  "I'd like to!" Salvator gritted. "But he's been out of pocket since I questioned him about things. I guess I must've rubbed him the wrong way."

  I fanned one hand in front of my nose. "Maybe it was your breath, Sal," I quipped. "That garlic can be a real exit-line."

  Salvator jabbed me hard in the chest. "You're going to take me out there."

  I countered, "My blonde is waiting—sorry."

  Salvator jabbed me hard in the chest, again. "You're going to take me out there, now."

  "How about I just give you directions?" I suggested forcing a grin. "I haven't had a real good time in a very long time, and that blonde…"

  "You won't be having a good time ever again, you lousy bastard," Salvator screamed, "unless you see this thing my way. Now move."

  Studsy took out a sap and tapped it against his empty palm. Herb opened his coat and jerked out a Makarov pistol. Like it or not, I was going with them.

  "Say 'pretty please'."

  He grinned. "Pretty please, you fucking dead man."