The Arrangement

by M. Ravenel

  “Ah, Tootsie. The universe greets you.” She climbed down the stepstool and approached me. “Will you be joining me for the protests today?”

  I exhaled then staggered my breathing. “Uh, no. I’m in a bit of a hurry. What protest is going on now?” Honestly, it seemed like a day didn’t go by when there wasn’t some kind of march or protest happening downtown.

  Beth looked at me as if I were from another planet. “The war, of course. We must make our voices heard. We cannot stand by and let this go on anymore.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Um, the war is pretty much over.”

  “That’s what The Man wants you to think.”

  “Right… well… look. Sorry, I can’t join you on your protest. I have some important business to take care—”

  “This is a matter of our freedom, Tootsie. Our very existence. The universe is not pleased with what has happened. We must all do our part in this moment of solidarity.”

  “I am doing my part, Beth. I’m trying to stop some bad people. I’m helping to make the world a better place, aren’t I?”

  She looked thoughtful for a moment then smiled softly. “Ah, I suppose you are.” She assessed me from head to toe then extended her hands. “Come. Show me your hands. I must know what is in store for you today.”

  I cleared my throat, trying to stave off the overpowering sensation of her “happy perfume.” “I really don’t have time to—”

  “Don’t argue! The universe demands your safety.”

  Groaning, I stuck out my hands. She examined both sides of my palms then traced her index finger along the lines. Her face suddenly turned somber. “Oh dear…”

  “What?”

  “Today is not a good day for you to go out. You will face a loss of a life.”

  “Yeah, if you don’t let me get going, someone may die. This is… uh, police business. Yeah, that’s it. Official police business, so I need to leave now before—”

  “It’s inevitable. If you leave this building, breathe the air outside, a dark aura will surround you, and you will be a magnet for death.”

  I pulled my hands away. “Well, I’m no stranger to death. And the air outside ain’t clean anyway, so I’m sure I’ll be a magnet for a lot of things.”

  She shook her head solemnly. “Please heed my warning, Tootsie. Don’t leave. You are a bright, shining star that is destined to do great things someday. Maybe you’ll be a peacemaker, like Dr. King. Have you seen and heard all the great things he’s been doing?” She clapped her hands together and grinned. “Oh, I hope he makes time to come here and speak soon. If anyone can get the people riled up about ending this damned war, he can.”

  “You realize Dr. King is…” I rolled my eyes. “Never mind. Sorry, Beth. I need to go.”

  “Oh, Tootsie… May the universe spare your poor, lost soul…”

  I’d never been happier to be outside, breathing in the smoggy morning air. Unfortunately, the hippie weed still lingered on my clothes like a bad dream. A Checker cab was waiting along the curb. I jumped in, and we zipped to Queens as fast as the rush-hour traffic would allow.

  Finally reaching Kronos Lounge thirty minutes later, I paid the fare and hopped out. The building’s exterior looked bare and abandoned—much different than it did at night. I jogged through an alley to the back of the building, where Roy’s beat-up red Corvair was parked, its rusted front bumper barely hanging on by a few bolts. I approached the lounge’s back door, discovered it locked, then pounded on it with my fist. “Open up, Roy! It’s me!”

  I waited a few moments, but there was no answer. I pounded again a few more times, but it was useless. He must’ve been down in the speakeasy or upstairs in his apartment, where he couldn’t hear me. At least, I hoped that was the case. Roy had sounded nervous on the telephone, more nervous than usual. I didn’t want to believe that Curt and his goons might’ve discovered this place. The faint, lingering scent of Beth’s perfume reminded me of her foreboding fortune-telling. My throat tightened. “A loss of life…” No… it couldn’t be Roy… could it? Not Roy!

  I looked up at the second-story window, which was the kitchen to Roy’s apartment. The window was shut, but getting inside didn’t look like it would be too difficult, thanks to the age of this building. I found a small metal wedge next to a covered dumpster and stuffed it in my coat pocket. Then I rolled the dumpster under the hinged ladder of the fire escape. I climbed onto the dumpster and jumped, grabbing the metal ladder. I’d remembered the days of doing this as a kid, trying to spy on the neighbors while I practiced my Dick Tracy sleuthing skills. As I maneuvered my way to the opposite end, the ladder’s hinges yielded to my weight and levered downward with a noisy creak. I climbed around and hurried up the stairs.

  Reaching the window, I pulled the metal wedge from my pocket. The old wooden frame had fallen victim to the elements. Peeking inside, I saw the tarnished sash lock was in its secure position, but the one screw that held it down was halfway out. I peered further into the room to see if anyone was there, but the place looked empty. I stuck the wedge under the bottom of the window frame and jiggled it a few times. The latch wobbled with my movements. I gave the wedge another firm shove upward, and the lock broke, flailing on its lone, wobbly screw like a flag. I tossed the wedge away and pushed the window the rest of the way up with my hands.

  Climbing inside, I glanced around the bare kitchen and listened for sounds. It was quieter than the public library. My heart pounded. I had half a mind to call out to Roy, but that would give me away if Curt was here. I pulled out my gun and quietly searched each of the rooms. Roy’s obnoxious taste in interior decoration continued in his apartment, far worse than the speakeasy. This place was the definition of a shag pad. At last, I reached his bedroom. A massive, king-sized waterbed sat prominently on a raised, red-carpeted platform. Roy had proudly dubbed this place the Red Room of Satisfaction, for reasons other than because it looked like someone had been murdered so their blood could be used to paint the furniture, ceiling, walls, and ankle-deep shag carpet.

  I’d only entered his room a few times, and thankfully, it was never to “get satisfied.” But Roy knew better than to think that I was another one of his mindless dames. Amid the sanguine-hued heaven, something gold sat on his nightstand— a framed picture of him and me from New Year’s in ’72. It was one of the few pictures of us that I actually liked, but the thought of it sitting in this room made my toes curl. How many other women had come in here and seen that picture while they were in the height of their… moment? Obviously, Roy had no shame.

  I left the bedroom in a hurry, my eyes still aching from all the red-hued everything. With his apartment thoroughly searched, I left through the front door and headed downstairs. The bar was quiet and empty. That left only one place to check. Tightening my grip on my gun, I silently approached Roy’s closed office door and eased my ear against it. All was quiet. I tried the knob. It was unlocked. Sucking in a breath, I made my way inside. The office was empty, but the door leading down to the speakeasy was wide open. Approaching the stairs, I began to hear several muffled voices. One of them, a man’s I didn’t recognize, sounded heated. Another was Roy’s, shrill and stammering two octaves higher. I’d known Roy all my life, and rarely, if ever, was he intimidated by other people. Whoever this mysterious stranger was, he meant business. Or maybe I was about to walk in on a certain death. I swallowed a lump in my throat, readied my gun, and padded down the stairs.

  “I’m tired of waiting. That broad better get here, or else!” the mysterious male voice growled.

  “H-Hey, man, she’s coming, I swear. Don’t do nothing crazy, all right?” Roy stammered.

  “I want answers, and I want ’em now!”

  “Hey, easy. Easy. Put him down,” Alex said calmly.

  Taking a deep breath, I rested my hand on the closed door of the speakeasy. Slowly and silently, I turned the knob. As the door crept open, I spotted the back of a man I didn’t recognize holding Roy up with a fistful of his shirt c
ollar. His other hand was cocked back. Roy’s eyes were bugged out, and his face was ghostly white.

  Oh no! Roy!

  I exhaled and flung open the door. “Hold it!” I barked, aiming my gun at the stranger’s back.

  A hush fell over the room. Cheryl huddled herself to the side, her hands clasped over her mouth while she looked on at the fight, wide-eyed. Alex held his arms out to break up the two men. Alex looked at me and gawked.

  The stranger turned around, did a double take, and slowly released Roy, raising his hands in surrender.

  The man was Darin Rivers.

  Chapter 10

  I wasn’t sure whether to be relieved or shocked to find Darin here. I lowered my gun and cautiously slid it back into my coat. Darin’s body stiffened. He came off as the ticking-time-bomb type, and I preferred not to get the champion boxer any more riled up than he seemed to be already. Roy was still quivering, but thankfully, he was unharmed.

  “Tootsie! Holy cow, am I glad to see you!” Roy exclaimed, panting in relief.

  “What’s going on here?” I demanded, my gaze swiveling from Roy to Darin, Cheryl, then Alex.

  Darin marched over to me and glowered. “You the detective looking for Lu?”

  I tilted my head up slightly, gawking at Darin’s solid frame. He sure looked a lot bigger up close than he had in the ring from a distance. His hands, scarred and calloused, had seen their share of battles. Darin was slightly shorter and less bulky than Mitts, but he appeared just as menacing. Still, Mitts had him beat by a few dozen pounds of muscle and a couple more inches.

  I bet Mitts would give Darin a run for his money. That was one fight I would love to see. I cleared my throat, attempting to calm my nerves. “That’s right. Have you seen her?”

  “No.”

  “How did you know about this place?”

  Darin cast a glance at Cheryl then looked back at me. “I went by Cheryl’s place earlier and found her note.”

  I rubbed my hand down my face in exasperation. “Did anyone see you come here?”

  He shrugged. “How the hell should I know? Cheryl’s apartment was a mess. Her door was broken, and I assumed the worst. I found her note in her bedroom and came straight here. After that threat Curt made, I—”

  “What threat?” I raised my eyebrows.

  “The one about him hurting my woman if I didn’t throw the match. I thought he was straight before, but it turned out he was up to something. I wasn’t about to lose to that punk Wesson, so I had to do what I had to do and get the hell out of there fast before Curt followed through with his threat.”

  I tapped my chin. So, Curt was intending to hurt Lu, thinking she was Darin’s girlfriend. But Darin thought Curt was going to hurt Cheryl instead.

  Cheryl edged closer to us. “I don’t think he or his friends were ever going to come. They took Lu instead.”

  “Yeah…” Darin scowled. “And I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch.”

  “Whoa. Hold on.” I held up my hands. “Do you know where Curt and his gang might be holding Lu?”

  Darin sneered. “If I knew that, I wouldn’t be here, now would I?”

  Grimacing, I scratched the side of my jaw. “No, I suppose not.”

  “Look, you’re the detective. Aren’t you supposed to figure these things out?”

  “Well, I can’t do much without information. Tell me exactly what Curt said to you before your match last night.”

  As Darin opened his mouth to reply, Alex headed to the telephone on a side table in the bar area and picked up the receiver.

  I held up my index finger. “Excuse me, Alex. Who are you about to call?”

  Alex grunted, flicking his gaze in my direction. “That’s none of your business, missy.”

  Roy bowed up to him, scowling. “Hey, show her some respect.”

  “Easy, Roy,” I said, resisting the urge to roll my eyes. Alex was not only a few inches taller than Roy but also hefty enough to smash poor Roy into a pancake. “Look,” I said to Alex. “There are some guys out there after your fighter.” I stuck my thumb at Darin. “They might have this place bugged. The telephones might be tapped. Or they might be staking out this bar right now as we speak.”

  Alex gripped the receiver. “Ain’t nothing I gotta say that they’ll care about.”

  Darin’s jaw clenched. His body tensed. “I hope those bastards are staking out this place. Makes my job easier in busting their skulls.” He smacked his fist into his hand and cracked his knuckles a few times.

  “No!” I held my hand up at the headstrong fighter. “Not yet, anyway. I have reason to believe the suspects might be involved in an organized crime syndicate. That’s bad news, y’dig? They have numbers, most likely guns, and leverage. We have to go about this carefully if we’re going to get Lu back safely.”

  “She’s right,” Cheryl said, wrapping her arm around Darin’s and resting her head on his shoulder. “Please, baby, just calm down and let her handle it.” She caressed his arm.

  Darin’s body relaxed slowly. “Fine,” he grumbled. “We’ll do it your way, Detective.”

  “Good.” I turned back to Alex. “Now, I’m going to ask again. Who are you calling?”

  The trainer’s left eye twitched. “If you must know, I’m calling Primo Deluca, the owner at Primo’s Boxing Club, to see if he can hold one of the rings for us for the day.”

  I blinked. “You’re not thinking about training at a time like this, are you?”

  “I’m not, but he is.” Alex nodded to Darin.

  Darin rolled his eyes. “C’mon, man. Last night was rough.”

  “Damn right, it was. That’s why you’re gonna get your ass to the gym and train. It’s for your own good.”

  “But Lu…”

  Alex pointed his finger at me. “That’s her department, not yours.”

  “I would highly advise you both to not leave this place for the time being,” I said.

  Alex’s eyebrow arched. “There’s no sense in us waiting around, twiddling our thumbs, when Darin has work to do.”

  “Yes, but—”

  “This is your case, ain’t it, Detective?”

  “Yes, but—”

  “Then I suggest you do your damn job.”

  I sighed. They weren’t making solving this case any easier.

  Frowning, Roy watched Alex stab the buttons with his finger. Alex turned his back to us and leaned against the minibar counter as he held the receiver to his ear.

  “Hey,” Darin muttered to us in a volume that was out of Alex’s earshot. “Don’t take it the wrong way, Detective. He’s just as pissed about all this as I am, if not more. He’s been in this game longer than me, and even he didn’t see this coming. Curt is one slick mother.”

  “Doesn’t he care that Curt has put a target out on you?”

  “Of course he cares. Alex has been salty as hell about it.”

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s start over. What exactly did Curt say to you last night before your match?”

  Darin’s gaze flicked toward Alex then to me, and he sighed. “He said there was a lot of money riding on this fight and that ‘I better come through and throw the fight, or he’s going to pay a visit to my girl.’”

  I raised my eyebrows. “‘Your girl,’ meaning Cheryl?”

  Cheryl bit her lip, her gaze bouncing between us.

  He nodded. “It completely took me by surprise. I’ve been with him for about three months now. He knew I was trying to make a comeback and saw I was struggling to get fights, so he picked me up as his sort-of-manager-promoter guy. He told me to keep the arrangement under wraps for the time being. I didn’t think much about that, especially since he got me fights left and right. Three fights a week sometimes. It was like Christmas.”

  “Alex didn’t know anything about this?” I asked.

  Darin shook his head. “Nope. I just told him I signed my name up to a bunch of events. I never mentioned Curt. Alex doesn’t care about the politics or business side of things.
” Darin looked sidelong at his friend, who was still on the telephone, then turned to me and lowered his voice even more. “He just likes being a damned drill sergeant to me.”

  Cheryl let out an airy chuckle. “That just means he cares, baby.”

  “What happened next?” I urged Darin.

  “Well, the morning before the fight, Curt and I talked. He stressed about how important this fight was and that in order for me to ensure my comeback, I would need to take a dive.”

  I furrowed my brow. “I don’t understand that logic.”

  Darin shrugged. “According to Curt, I was winning too much. He said I had to slow down a bit. I don’t know what he was talking about. I felt like I got lucky in some of those fights.”

  “But you still won them, right?”

  “Yeah, but barely. Some of those fights were plenty tough. A few, I won by points. Others, I managed to get the KO. And yeah, some guys I fought were pushovers, but I guess I had the luck of the draw. But a win is a win, right?” He shrugged.

  “Did you know any of the fighters?”

  “Nope. Not one. Curt said they were from out of state. But I liked that, y’know? It really put my skills to the test. Alex was cool with it too.”

  I nodded slightly. Smart on Curt’s part to bring in non-local fighters so no one would get suspicious—an easy way for this arrangement to look like fair and challenging fights.

  “Everything seemed legit, until last night, when I was expected to throw the fight. That bothered me, y’know? I got my pride and dignity. Curt told me to think about it, but I already made up my mind. Before the fight, while Alex and I were alone in the locker room, I told Alex everything and what I planned to do. He wasn’t cool with it, but he went along with the plan anyway. After the third round, he snuck out of the arena and headed to Cheryl’s like I’d told him. Meanwhile, I stretched the rest of the fight for as long as I could to give him time to head over there before Curt or his friends did.”

  I rubbed my chin. “I see. So that explains why I found Alex and Cheryl together.”