The Arrangement
Page 12
There was a solid thump, two more ear-ringing gunshots, and a man’s groan. My heart stopped a moment. Mitts… Unable to see what was going on, I was torn. No. I need to deal with the source of the problem first.
I peered around the corner. Darin held Curt’s arm down as Curt struggled to grab something out of his blazer. Mel approached them and stopped, his trigger hand wavering as he struggled to get a clear shot without snuffing Curt in the process.
I fired at Mel’s feet. He jumped back, head swiveling, and spotted me. Scowling, he pointed his gun in my direction again. Before I could make a move, a flying green-plaid blur smashed into Mel and knocked him flat.
Curt gaped at Mel, who was struggling to push the dead henchman off himself, then looked my way, eyes narrowing.
“Don’t make another move, Curt,” I said, taking aim.
Curt hesitated. His moment of shock gave Darin his chance, and he landed a solid punch to Curt’s jaw. The back of Curt’s head bounced against the ground, and his body went limp.
Another shot rang out from Mitts’s direction. I swallowed a lump in my throat. “Leave him, Darin. Get Lu to safety!”
Darin lowered his fist and scanned the area. She was gone. He paled. “Where did she go?”
Anxiety rose in my chest. I could only hope and pray that she got out of the area safely. I emerged from my hiding place once more and spotted Mitts. Thankfully, he was still on his feet. The big bear seemed to still be going strong. He held up the pudgy thug by the front of his burgundy shirt and cocked his fist.
Before Mitts could strike, a dark head popped up from behind a ruined cinderblock wall. It was Brown Polo Guy. Light glinted off his chrome weapon. I whirled, my finger tightening on the trigger of my .38, but I was too late. Curt’s goon had the drop on Mitts. I couldn’t warn my friend in time. My throat tightened. If I can’t save Mitts, at least I can avenge him.
Suddenly, Luanda charged out from behind an abandoned car, a length of pipe in her hands, and smashed it into the guy’s ribs with the force of a Hank Aaron homer. The man howled and collapsed, dropping the gun. Darin hurried over to the guy and finished him off with another one of his goodnight knockouts.
Mel panicked, got back on his feet, and fled for the Caprice. Darin pursued until Mel turned and aimed behind him. Darin leapt out of Mel’s line of sight seconds before Mel fired. Then Mel hopped into the driver’s seat.
“Don’t move, bitch,” a man said behind me, followed by the sound of a gun chambering.
My breath hitched. I turned my head slightly. Mr. Flatcap. The only one who hadn’t been distracted by Mitts’s grand entrance.
“Drop the gun,” the henchman ordered.
I did as he said. Mitts and Darin were dealing with Mel’s getaway and Lu’s safety, so they couldn’t help me at this moment.
“I don’t know who the hell you are, but you ain’t leaving here alive.” Mr. Flatcap stepped closer, pressing the gun at my back.
I slowly raised my hands in surrender. “Kill me, and it’ll be the end for you too.”
“You a cop?”
I didn’t answer. No point in wasting my breath on this turkey.
“Okay, then,” he continued. “Let’s find out.”
I shuddered as his grubby hands began frisking me.
“Damn, baby, you’re too pretty to be a cop.”
I checked the weapon with my peripheral vision. He was holding it relaxed in his right hand for now, as he was most likely being engrossed in his “searching.”
“Sorry to disappoint you,” I said, before his hands had a chance to travel any lower. In a flash, I spun, grabbing the man’s weapon arm and pointing it away. Within seconds, he was down on the ground with a broken wrist, his weapon discarded and the sole of my boot pressed against his throat. While he gagged and made weak attempts to wriggle free, I fished my handcuffs from my coat and secured him against a sturdy, tall metal beam sticking up out of the ground.
Tires screeched ahead, kicking up clouds of dirt and dust. Mel veered toward the exit. I grabbed my gun and ran after the car.
“Watch out, you guys!” I shouted to Darin, Luanda, and Mitts. When I was close enough to the car, I fired at the back window. It shattered, and the car fishtailed to a jerking halt, just as Roy pulled up to block the driveway. While Darin and Luanda made their way out of the construction site, Mitts and I rushed toward Mel’s car. Mel lifted his gun and aimed it at Roy, but Roy quickly ducked down in the driver’s seat, out of sight.
I reached the driver’s-side window of Mel’s car and shoved my gun against his cheek. “Don’t even think about it.”
Mel froze then slowly raised both of his hands, dropping his gun.
“Out. Now,” I ordered, taking a small step back and keeping Mel square in my gunsights.
Mel hesitated. Mitts flung the door open, grabbed a handful of Mel’s blazer, and yanked him out of the car. I spotted Mel’s gun on the floorboard under the steering wheel, but I didn’t let my guard down just yet. Who knew how much more that slimy snake was packing?
“Search him, Mitts,” I said, keeping my aim locked.
While Mitts patted him down, my ears perked at the sounds of police sirens echoing in the distance. The daily song of the city. However, these sirens sounded close. I sucked in a breath. Could it be?
“He’s clean,” Mitts said.
“No, he’s the dirty scum of the earth.” I sneered, lowering my gun.
Mel growled. “I can’t believe a fucking broad caused all this.”
The screaming sirens drew nearer.
“Happy to be of service,” I quipped. “You turkeys ain’t gonna see the light of day for a long time.”
It was Mel’s turn to sneer.
Darin and Lu halted halfway to Roy’s car as two police cruisers stopped near the entrance. Then a little red Corona topped with a matching spinning dome light appeared. My heart skipped a beat, then a wave of relief swelled through me. Chief Lewis! I slid my gun back into my coat.
Two officers jumped out of the cruisers and rushed to the scene. One officer talked with Darin, Lu, and Roy, while the other entered the construction site, his gun drawn. He looked at Mitts and me and paused.
Mitts held up his hands and winced in pain.
“It’s all right, sir,” I assured the officer. “This man is my friend.” I pointed at Mitts. Then I noticed a large spot of blood on the back of his shoulder. I gasped. “Mitts! You’re hurt!”
He lowered his hands and grunted, his face still pain-stricken. “Yeah, I’m just feeling it now. Damn, how’d that happen?”
“We’ll get you an ambulance.”
He hissed. “No, I hate hospitals.”
“I’m not going to let you walk around hurt.”
“It’s just a scratch.”
I rolled my eyes. “If you say so.”
Chief Lewis, a husky man in a brown suit and tie, stepped out of the Corona and hustled through the entrance. His bushy eyebrows scrunched together as he assessed Curt and the rest of his disabled men strewn out on the ground. He nodded to the officer. “Lenny, take care of these guys.”
“Yes, sir.” Lenny rushed off.
The chief approached me, his dark face rigid and stern, and his eyes filled with fiery rage.
I swallowed. I knew what he was probably thinking—that I’d gone in way over my head on this one. I knew I had, but it wasn’t like I had a choice. Hopefully, he would understand.
Mitts let out a nervous chuckle. “Ah… What’s happening, Chief?”
“Hmph. Well, if isn’t Mr. Franklin Johnson. Long time no see. You better be staying out of trouble.”
“Yes, sir.” Mitts let out a hollow chuckle. I could tell how much it irked him that Chief Lewis always addressed him formally, like a school principal addressed a misbehaving kid. But sometimes I wondered if the chief did that deliberately to test Mitts’s temper—to see if Mitts was still straight like he’d promised all those years ago after his last run-in with the law.
“Yeah…” He ran his hand over his thick hair and let out an exasperated sigh. “Are you all right?”
I nodded. “I’m fine. But how did you… I mean, I thought—”
“Yeah, just my luck, you had called when I was in the middle of dealing with that ten-thirty-three report right outside the precinct. Got so serious, we had the bomb squad out there and everything. Thankfully, it was a false alarm. Anyway, when I returned, Stetson mentioned there was ‘some crazy stripper broad named Tootsie’ who called. I came as fast as I could.”
Mitts snorted a laugh. “Stripper? Tootsie?”
I shot him a dirty look.
“Anyway,” the chief continued, “looks like you cleaned up around here.”
“I had help.” I made a head gesture to Mitts. “By the way, Chief, I think you’re gonna need to call in a couple wagons.”
“I don’t need no damned ‘wagon,’” Mitts countered.
“Not for you. For them.” I pointed at the incapacitated men strewn on the ground.
“Already took care of it, Tootsie,” Chief Lewis said.
Mitts cringed. “Uh, so, Chief, you’re not gonna arrest me, are you?”
Chief Lewis arched an eyebrow. “Why? You protected my number-one ace detective, didn’t you? Or is there another reason why I should arrest you?”
Mitts shook his head quickly. “N-No, sir, I’m still straight.”
“Good. And you better stay that way.”
My smile returned. Number-one ace detective. I hadn’t heard the chief call me that since I was a kid. “Thanks, Chief. You’ll find Curt over there.” I pointed at the unconscious manager still sleeping like a baby. “There’s enough evidence and witnesses to convict him and his goons.”
Chief Lewis nodded. “Yeah. And this time, I’ll make sure the case doesn’t get thrown out. Good work, Tootsie.”
The three of us walked back to the entrance. Chief Lewis sent Andrew to help Lenny with the thugs, and he took over questioning Luanda and Darin. Mitts and I joined Roy by his car.
Mitts put his hand on his shoulder a moment then lifted it, revealing blood on his palm.
I frowned. “Mitts, I really think you should get that checked out.”
Roy cringed. “She’s right, man. That looks bad.”
“I told you no,” Mitts said sharply. “I don’t do doctors. I’ll take care of it. I’ve been shot plenty of times. This ain’t nothin’.”
“All right, then,” Roy said. “If you think you’re too macho to go to a doctor, then I expect to see you working the doors tomorrow night.”
Mitts cracked a smile. “Right on. It’s a deal.”
I sighed and leaned against the front of Roy’s car. My nerves were slowly beginning to calm down.
Roy leaned beside me and took my hand in his. The warmth of his hand was comforting. “Tootsie? Are you okay?”
I looked at him. Concern and fluster filled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine. What a day.”
“Today was absolute bananas, I’ll tell ya what. We all nearly got iced today.”
“Welcome to my world, Roy.”
Roy lifted an eyebrow. “You still find this detective work ‘fun’?”
“Not fun. Interesting and necessary.”
“There’s nothing ‘interesting’ or ‘necessary’ about playing with death every day.”
“So long as there are bad people in the world, this job is always necessary. Which also makes it interesting.”
Luanda stepped away from the chief and approached us. She smiled at me. “Tootsie, was it?”
She had a cute smile, one that could brighten an entire room. Unfortunately, I was too exhausted to truly bask in her happiness or ogle her beauty, so I simply nodded. “That’s me.”
“Thank you. I owe you my life,” Lu said.
“All in a day’s work, Mrs. Miles.”
“Please, just call me Lu. You’re a friend. A good friend.”
I cracked a weak smile.
Chief Lewis and Darin approached. “Tootsie, I’m going to bring those two down to the station to get some paperwork done,” the chief said, gesturing to Luanda and Darin. “Then they’ll be all yours.”
I nodded. “Sure thing, Chief. You need anything else from me?”
“Not now. We’ll talk more about this later. The boys and I will take it from here. Go get some rest. You earned it.”
Maybe I did earn it, but it didn’t make my day feel that good, knowing there would be a couple of men wheeled off to the coroner’s instead of the hospital.
Chapter 14
By four o’clock, Roy, Mitts, and I had returned to Kronos Lounge. Roy had filled Cheryl and Alex in on everything that had happened. Cheryl had thanked us all profusely, and I’d even managed to get a little gratitude out of the stubborn trainer too. Finally safe and free to go, Cheryl and Alex left the bar and went down to the station to reunite with Luanda and Darin. At Roy’s insistent behest, Mitts reluctantly went home to take care of his injuries. I still wished he’d seen a doctor about it, but Mitts’s stubbornness rivaled his strength.
I had called Greg from Roy’s office, letting him know that Luanda was waiting for him at the Fifty-Fourth Precinct. I’d never heard a grown man sound so ecstatic in my life. I guess it was understandable, being married to such a stunningly beautiful woman like Lu. Needless to say, Greg had already wired over the rest of my payment, along with a hundred-dollar tip. Geez Louise, this was definitely one of my most profitable cases.
There was that limited collector’s edition Dick Tracy comic book I’d been itching to get. And maybe I would pick up a jumbo-sized bag of Tootsie Rolls on my next shopping trip. The rest of the money would get stashed away for a rainy day.
After ending the call, I slid off the edge of the desk and sighed. Another case closed after escaping by the skin of my teeth. These cases were getting more and more dangerous, much like this city. My parents were smart to have moved south six years ago before all the political, financial, and social unrest swept through here like a tornado. Mom and Dad were getting older and no longer had the mental strength or patience to endure the nonsense. At least Dad understood why I had to stay here, like he always did, ever since the day he’d given me my first Dick Tracy comic book. I was the apple of his eye, his spunky little girl. He trusted that I had enough street smarts to survive the New York life. Mom, on the other hand, would have preferred that I was more of a lady. Not today, Mother. Not today.
Roy returned to his office and sat in his chair behind the desk. He propped his feet on top of the desk and leaned back in his chair. “All done?”
“Yeah. Case closed. Greg is over the moon, being able to see his bombshell wife again.”
“Meh. She ain’t a bombshell, but she’s all right.”
I blinked. “All right? That’s some jive talk right there…”
“She ain’t got nothing on you, Tootsie.”
“And how exactly do you figure that? I’m not a model.”
“Exactly, and that’s what makes you one fine, foxy lady.”
I gave him a skeptical look then twisted my lips into a small smile. As much as he got on my nerves, he was charming in his own way. “I’ll never understand you, Roy.”
“You only need to understand one thing, Tootsie…” Not taking his eyes off me, he swung his legs back to the ground, rose from his chair, and whipped around the desk to stand in front of me. “That I’m crazy about you.” He closed his eyes, puckered his lips, and inched his face closer to mine.
I coyly pulled my face away and pressed my finger against his lips. “No, you’re just crazy.”
He opened his eyes. “After all that happened today and not even one damn kiss?”
“Nah, but I’ll take you up on dinner.”
His face lit up. “Oh yeah? Finally ‘though
t about it,’ huh?”
“Yeah. I could sure go for a Tootsie Roll milkshake.”
“Tonight?”
“Let’s make it tomorrow night. I need some sleep. Pick me up around seven.”
“Hell yeah. It’s a date.”
* * *
Marlene’s Diner was packed at seven thirty on a Friday night. Luanda was back at work, all smiles and laughs, as if yesterday had never happened. Maybe she was just one of those types who found peace in staying busy. To each their own. Still, it was nice to see her smiling face. The wolfish gazes she kept getting from most of her male customers didn’t seem to faze her. She was definitely a pro at this. On the other side of the diner, Theresa hustled from table to table, doing an impressive balancing act with her serving tray stacked full of empty dishes. Meanwhile, Nat manned the front counter.
The diner’s evening buzz was like white noise to me. There was only one thing that mattered at that moment, and I savored every thick, creamy, chocolatey drop of the best Tootsie Roll milkshake in town. But such delicacies didn’t come without their consequences, and mine came in the form of a throbbing brain freeze that felt like a thousand knives being stabbed through my skull. Cringing, I sat back in my booth seat and rubbed my forehead.
Sitting across the table, Roy slid the tall glass away from me. “Don’t drink it so fast, or that’s what’ll happen.”
The painful sensation finally ebbing, I pulled the glass back to me. “You know how long I’ve been waiting to have one of these milkshakes?” I pouted.
He rolled his eyes. “What happened to you being a lady tonight?”
“When I want to be a lady, I make my own rules. And I think a lady can enjoy her milkshake any way she pleases.”
“Right…” He cleared his throat. “I was just assuming, since you’re dressed all nice for a change instead of in that ridiculous Dick Tracy-wannabe outfit.”
“That’s my uniform, Roy. But I’m not working now, am I?” Still, I missed my pants, boots, coat, and hat. It wasn’t often I had my legs exposed, thanks to my wearing my one burgundy pleated skirt and the brown knitted sweater that my mother had gotten me two Christmases ago. I felt so naked and vulnerable. What if I fell and skinned my knee? And these two-inch, close-toed platform shoes were killing my poor dogs. I could only hope and pray I didn’t have to make a fast getaway anytime soon. How do some women deal with dressing like this every day? But alas, tonight was a rare, special occasion for many reasons.