by M. Ravenel
I resisted the urge to spew out a most un-ladylike response.
The man whistled. “Daaamn, I picked th’ right spot, then. Lotta fiiiine honeybees come walkin’ dis way. Maybe one o’ them’ll be my girlfriend, too, huh?” He laughed.
Mitts snorted. “Out here in these parts? Depends on how much bread you got.”
He took a long swig. “Y’know, I saw dis one broad earlier. Real sweet thing. Looked like a… angel. Sooo perfect. Was gonna ask her t’ marry me, but she had ta go an’ run off…”
Good for her. I caught shadowy movements in an abandoned lot next to the building. Moments later, the movement stopped, blending with the rest of the darkness.
“Them’s the breaks.” Mitts chuckled.
“Hah! I think I seen her in a movie. I don’t see no pretty broads like dat ’cept in movies.”
“Did you get her autograph?” Mitts joked.
“Naw…”
Wait a minute… I halted and looked back at the stranger, who enjoyed another chug of his mysterious drink. I was about to question him about the pretty woman he’d seen when the shadowy figures appeared again and emerged from the lot. Three young men who looked barely in their twenties stepped into the dim light. They were clad in denim vests and bearing colors—red bandannas. Two of them displayed the bandannas prominently around their foreheads, and the oldest-looking one had it tied around his forearm. They crowded the stranger.
“Hey, old man!” One of the youths kicked him in the ribs. “We told you once to get your crazy ass off our turf.”
The stranger groaned and curled into a ball. “C’mon, I ain’t do nothin’!” he whined.
“Guess we gotta teach you a lesson,” another kid said, then he punched him in the stomach a few times.
Clenching my jaw, I exchanged glances with Mitts. The old man just might know something about Luanda. It was worth finding out. Mitts seemed to have read my mind, because he was already waggling his eyebrows at me, cracking his knuckles.
I sighed and gave him a nod, with a slight flick of my wrist. Yeah, yeah. Go have your little fun.
Grinning, Mitts approached the group. He tapped the back of one of the youths. “Hey, quit botherin’ the old man.”
The kid spun around. He was the youngest looking of the bunch and wore his red bandanna around his forehead. He looked Mitts up and down, and his jaw dropped open. “Oh, shi—”
Mitts did a double take. “Theo? That you?”
The kid shook his head. He stepped back, pulled out a pair of brass knuckles from his pocket, and hastily slid them on. “I don’t know what you’re talkin’ about, man. Get outta here.”
Theo’s friends abandoned the stranger and confronted Mitts. They, too, gave him the once-over but didn’t appear intimidated.
“You wanna be next, chump?” the older kid warned, flicking out a large switchblade from his back pocket. His other friend did the same and sidled behind Mitts, holding the blade to his back.
I lifted an eyebrow.
Mitts held up his hands slowly, eyeing the three. “Hey, now. We can do this the easy way, or—”
“Shut up,” the older kid barked. He glanced in my direction then smirked. “Damn. What do we have here?”
Why Mitts didn’t waste these three punks already, I didn’t know, but it was really starting to annoy me. It was just my luck that Mitts happened to know one of the thugs. With my head lifted, I stood before the oldest gang member. He held the knife in a way that showed he had some skill with it, but he was an amateur compared to some of the junkies and ex-military criminals I’d seen during my short time on the force. I kept my main focus on him and the weapon in my peripheral vision. “Look, I don’t want any trouble tonight. So I suggest you three just crawl on back to your dark hidey-hole where you came from and leave us and the old man alone.”
The older kid grinned then laughed mockingly. “Feisty broad. I like that. How ’bout it, baby? Let’s tangle.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I’d rather kiss a dead rat.”
His smile turned smug, and he stepped a little closer, his knife now pointed at me. His two friends flanked Mitts.
I cast a glance at Mitts. His head turned slightly, his gaze swiveling between the three young men again. Then he met my eyes for a second, and I practically heard his silent message: “My turn.”
In one motion, Mitts spun, grabbing his rear attacker’s knife hand, and torqued it until the weapon dropped. The kid yelped, and Mitts hurled him into Theo like a football. The two young men crashed onto the sidewalk.
The oldest one growled, grabbed my arm, then tugged me closer. He brought the edge of the knife to my throat. “Hey, cool it, chump, or your girlfriend’s gonna need stitches!”
Mitts halted and watched him carefully.
Eyeing the knife, I inhaled. Then I grabbed his wrist with my free hand, holding him firmly, while I yanked my other hand out of his tight grip. I spun, keeping the knife in sight, and gave his wrist a sharp twist.
Crack.
The knife dropped, and the kid howled. He keeled over and held his disabled hand. He looked back at me with fire in his eyes. “Bitch!” He gritted his teeth then straightened again.
I stabbed my leg into his gut with a bone-crushing side kick, my tough boot folding him back over like a book and knocking the wind out of him. His eyes bugged out, and he staggered backward. I whipped out my gun and aimed it at him. “Still wanna tangle?”
His face turned snow white, and his one good hand shot up in surrender. “H-Hey, baby… easy… easy with that!” he said between gasps.
I scowled. “Don’t call me baby. Now get outta here, sucker, before I pump you full of lead. And don’t let me catch you or your friends’ ugly mugs around here again, dig?”
He swallowed once then took a nervous step back.
“Scram!” I clicked off the safety.
The kid turned tail and ran, tripping over his two friends. He stumbled but quickly recovered and bolted down the sidewalk. His friends struggled to their feet and hurried after him. Soon, the three disappeared around the corner.
Sighing, I reset the safety and put away my gun.
Mitts raised his eyebrows. “Whoa. Who are you? Bruce Lee? Those were some bad moves. Where’d you learn that?”
I gave him a coy grin. “I was one of the few students who actually paid attention in self-defense class at the academy.”
“That’s dynamite.”
“Anyway, I’m more partial to Jim Kelly.”
“Oh yeah. He’s a bad mother too.”
“And he’s fine.”
Mitts laughed. “Don’t tell Roy that.”
“Roy can stick it up his nose.”
“That’s not very ladylike.”
I snorted. “I’m not a lady today.”
He gave me a funny look. “Okay…”
Mitts stood guard as I approached the old man, who was leaning on his elbow, holding his ribs. He looked up at me in awe. “Man… you two are somethin’ all right…” He winced suddenly.
“You gonna be okay?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.
“Maybe… I’m just… tired…”
I chewed my bottom lip. “Hey, don’t sleep on me now. I need some answers.”
He closed his eyes and smiled. “Anything… for you… sweet thing…”
“The pretty lady you saw earlier. Do you remember where she went?”
“Mmm…” he mumbled. “Somewhere dat way…” He flicked his wrist in the direction farther down the street. “Think she said somethin’ ’bout… gettin’ some clothes. Don’t think she got very far, though…”
I arched an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“Got picked up by some nice-lookin’ cat… Had a funky walk.”
“Was he driving a car?”
“Dunno. Maybe… I’m so… tired.” The man’s face turned paler.
A sinking feeling started in my gut. I checked the man for injuries. He had multiple bruises around his ribs and midsection
, and a few ribs were broken as well. The severity of those injuries must’ve been internal. While Mitts stayed behind to keep an eye on him, I rushed to the nearest telephone booth and called an ambulance. When I returned to the old man, he was already dead.
Chapter 8
Lu’s trail ended up going cold in Hunt’s Point, and after I’d called in the old man’s death to the chief, Mitts and I took a bus back to Queens. Before I decided to call it a night and head home, I needed to take care of one last thing. Around a quarter to three in the morning, we stepped off the bus at the corner near Kronos Lounge. As we walked, Mitts stuffed his hands in his pockets and looked ahead, his face clouded with gloom.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I’m fine,” he muttered.
“Don’t sound like it. You still bent up about the old man?”
“Naw… well, yeah… well… I mean… I’m just…” He sighed. “Damn… I can’t believe Theo joined a gang.”
I scrunched my brow. “You mean that kid you knew? What was up with him, anyway?”
“I’ve known Theo since we were kids. My grandma used to babysit us after school sometimes. Theo was swell. I was eight years older than him, but we still had fun playing together. He always looked up to me like a big brother. I never had a sibling, so he pretty much took that role.”
“When did you last see him?”
“After I left home.”
“You mean ran away.”
He bristled. “Hey, I was sixteen and stupid. But there ain’t no harder lesson than life, I’ll tell ya what.”
“You’d think after thirteen years, he’d be happy to see you.”
Mitts frowned. “Yeah… I don’t get it.”
“Maybe he felt lonely after you left. No more, uh… ‘positive’—in a manner of speaking—role models to look up to, so he eventually turned to alternatives.”
He averted his gaze to the ground and sighed. “I wish there was something I could do to help him. He don’t deserve that life.”
I shook my head. “He’s gotta help himself first. Maybe now that he’s seen you again, he’ll rethink his choices.”
Mitts looked back at me pleadingly. “Can you at least make sure he doesn’t get charged for murder? I mean, he was the only one in the group who didn’t actually touch the guy.”
“I can’t make any promises. But I didn’t mention him when I talked to the chief. Let’s just hope that if his friends end up getting caught, they don’t rat Theo out.”
“Yeah…” Mitts said in a choked-up voice.
We arrived at Kronos Lounge. Only a few cars remained parked along the curb, and no new patrons were on the way inside. Collins, another of Roy’s doormen, leaned against the wall next to the entrance, looking more bored than a kid in an empty room. He saw us and perked up, pushing off the wall.
“Mitts? What are you doing here? Roy said you were sick,” Collins said.
“I was. Now I’m not.” He flashed a gap-toothed grin.
Collins’s gaze bounced from Mitts to me, then his eyes widened. “Wait… Were you two—”
“Hey, lay off that jive talk,” I warned. “Is Roy still here?”
Collins nodded. “Yeah, but he’s not in a good mood.”
“When is he ever?” Mitts muttered, rolling his eyes.
“Eh, a couple came here earlier, looking for him.” Collins swiveled his gaze to me. “They said you sent them here.”
“I did.” I nodded. “I need to see them.”
He held his hands up in surrender. “You’re gonna have to talk to Roy about that. Like I said, he ain’t in a good mood.”
“I’m sure I’ll be able to lighten his mood.”
“Yeah, I hope so. Roy promised me some extra bread for taking over tonight.” He cast an annoyed look at Mitts then opened the door for me.
I entered, while Mitts stayed outside and chatted with Collins. The loud, upbeat dance music from earlier had been replaced by a low, mellow, relaxing buzz that matched the lounge’s dim lighting. A scantily clad bar girl was leaned across the counter, chatting with an inebriated patron slumped over his drink, barely keeping himself steady on his high-backed stool. A few late-night stragglers occupied tables, making the most of their last-call liquor. A woman wearing a bright-yellow jumpsuit swayed awkwardly back and forth to the jukebox’s slow tunes on the empty dance floor.
I didn’t see Cheryl or Alex, so I strode toward the back, passed the restrooms, and reached a closed door labelled Private. I tried the door, but it was locked, so I pounded on it with my fist. “Roy! Open up!”
Moments later, the door unlocked and swung open. “Hey, I said I was bus—” Roy appeared, dressed to the nines in his bright-green leisure suit, his half-unbuttoned shirt revealing a flashy gold chain strung around his neck. His handsome brown eyes burned with rage as he chewed on a toothpick, which bobbed up and down from his mouth. He took one look at me, and the anger ebbed like a calming storm. His eyes widened as if he were shocked to see me alive, and he plucked the toothpick from his mouth. “T-Tootsie? Holy—”
Sighing, I crossed my arms. “Nice to see you too.” I craned my neck, trying to look past him. “Where are they?”
“Who?”
“Cheryl and Alex, that’s who.”
He rubbed his hands over his face. “Oh, for crying out loud… Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve put me through?”
“What trouble? All you had to do was to put ’em up somewhere safe till I came.”
“First, you take my best bouncer during one of my busiest nights, then you send some random people down here for me to hide away because of another one of your jive ‘cases.’”
I scowled. “It’s an important case! A woman’s gone missing, and I need those two for information. You better not have let them go.”
He leaned against the doorframe and looked me up and down. “They’re here.”
“Good.” I pushed past him. “I need to talk—”
“Hey.” He placed his hands on my shoulders, stopping me. “Can you just… wait a minute?”
I glared. “Did you not hear me the first time? I’m on an important case. A woman’s gone missing, and some dangerous people are looking for Cheryl. I don’t have time to wait a minute.”
“Damn it, Tootsie! Stop!” He tightened his grip.
“Let go of me.”
His nostrils flared. “Will you at least listen to me?”
“Depends on what you have to say.”
His gaze dulled, and his hands fell away from my shoulders. He didn’t move from the doorway, though. “Look, I don’t know what in the hell is going on, but you need to slow down.”
I groaned. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you. When was the last time you got some sleep?”
“I took a nap early yesterday.”
“Yeah? Well, I called you yesterday, and you didn’t pick up. Are you ignoring me?”
“No, I was obviously either asleep or busy. You know this.”
His jaw clenched. “Maybe I don’t know. You don’t tell me anything.”
“Who are you? My mother?”
“C’mon, Tootsie. When are you gonna give me a chance?”
I grimaced. This helpless romantic was headstrong and not backing down. “There ain’t no chance. Look, I don’t have time to talk about this right now. I really need to see Cheryl and Alex.”
He looked at me skeptically. “Can we talk afterwards?”
“I’ll think about it.”
He grumbled under his breath. “They’re down there.” He prodded his thumb toward a closed door at the back of the office.
I smirked, pinching his cheek. “So you are good for something.”
He wrinkled his nose and pulled his face away. “Ugh. I hate it when you do that.”
My smirk turned coyer. “I know.”
He grunted then unlocked the door. “I’ll be waiting for you to… ‘think about it,’” he said, opening the door
to reveal a set of stairs going down. Roy had been lucky enough to haggle a bargain deal for his building five years ago, before it got demolished like so many of the others in the area.
I rolled my eyes and headed downstairs. I reached another closed door at the bottom of the stairs, and gave a small knock. “Cheryl? Alex? It’s me, Tootsie.”
The door opened a crack, and Cheryl appeared. “Hey.” She stepped aside and let me in.
I entered the ambient-lit mid-sized room. Roy had a swell setup after converting the old speakeasy into a cozy guest pad. My feet sank into the soft fiery-orange shag carpet. His flashy taste in decorating went beyond his fashion sense.
“I’m making a drink. Want one?” Cheryl asked, heading to the minibar.
“No, thanks.” I approached the leather couch, where Alex lay holding a cold compress on his forehead. A notable black-and-blue mark surrounded his left eye. He looked up at me and frowned.
“Hey, Alex.” I gave him a nervous smile. “Uh, how are you feeling?”
Alex groaned and closed his eyes.
“He’s all right,” Cheryl said from behind me.
I looked up at Cheryl’s reflection in the large mirror hanging on the wood paneling behind the couch. Cupping a glass of liquor in her hands, she approached me.
“He’s got a splitting headache,” Cheryl continued. “Your boyfriend’s got some punch on him. Maybe he oughtta take up boxing.”
I turned. “Been there, done that. It ain’t his bag.”
“Shame.” Concern swept through Cheryl’s big brown eyes. “Did you find Lu?”
I shook my head. “Not yet, but I got some more clues after I left your place.”
She sank onto the arm of the couch and frowned as I filled her in on my adventures in Hunt’s Point. Finally, when I finished, she said, “I can’t believe that Curt guy was a creep. He seemed straight when we met him at the gym. Why would he send Lu out on a bogus trip like that?”
I shrugged. “I’m thinking that my suspicions are true, in that he thought Lu and Darin were a couple.” I tapped my chin. “Do you remember if the guy had a funny walk?”
“Uh… No, I don’t think so. He seemed to walk pretty fine to me.”