The Player

Home > Other > The Player > Page 12
The Player Page 12

by Joe Cosentino


  I replied quickly, “It’s the novel about the poor writer who strangles his wealthy wife for her inheritance.”

  “I know the plot of my book.”

  As he started to close the door, I said, “As they say, write what you know about.”

  His fists clenched. “The leading character isn’t based on me. And my wife didn’t have a lot of money.”

  “But her elderly, sick mother does. And then there’s the plot point about the wife cheating on her husband with her personal trainer.”

  He became enraged. “You’re as idiotic as the detective in 2B if you think I’d be stupid enough to mimic a murder in one of my books.”

  “But you can see why people in the building would wonder.”

  He rubbed his forehead. “Not that it’s any of your business, but my wife and I were having some problems. Maybe I subconsciously released my anger when writing I Now Pronounce You Murdered. But I’d never have hurt Alexandria. I adored her. Alexander was trying to help me patch things up.” He grimaced. “You could ask him yourself, but he’s otherwise engaged.”

  “Is Alexander going to pay back Alexandria’s loans to the Russian mob?”

  His face hardened. “One person was killed in this building. You keep butting into other people’s business and you could be next.”

  I stared at Denis’s closed door. Hearing Alexander’s door open down the hall, I leaned against the wall out of sight and watched. Alexander stood in his doorway wearing a black turtleneck and slacks. Next to him was my friend Victor. Alexander gazed into Victor’s dark eyes. “Thank you for checking up on me.”

  Victor said, “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  “I am now.” He smiled.

  “Thank you for recommending me for the role plays in your law firm.”

  Alexander said, “Thank you for telling Detective Shawnee you don’t think I killed Alexandria.”

  Victor said, “You’re an honest, good person who is incapable of hurting anyone—especially someone you love.”

  They embraced.

  Alexander smiled. “Thank you for being such a warm, sweet, and wonderful guy.”

  “Takes one to know one.”

  Alexander blinked back a tear. “After losing my sister, I thought I couldn’t go on. But getting to know you has made my life bearable. No, more than bearable. A little bit wonderful.”

  They kissed again.

  Not wanting to intrude on the new couple and dying to tell Freddy all the news I had uncovered, I climbed the stairs back to the third floor. Upon entering my apartment, I glanced out the balcony window and noticed the sky had cleared. Inside, the sun lit up my living room like a golden harvest.

  I raced to the player piano, loaded in the roll marked “‘Heat Wave,’ Irving Berlin 1933,” and pedaled. The familiar chilled air, flickering lights, and champagne scent metamorphosized into Freddy, looking gorgeous in his Roaring Twenties suit. I couldn’t help grinning happily at seeing him. “Hi, Freddy.”

  “Hello, hotsy-totsy!” He placed a hand on his hip.

  “I’ve been investigating the case.”

  He ran a hand through his slicked-back hair. “What have you discovered, Watson?”

  I sat Freddy on the chaise next to me and filled him in on what I’d learned about Hunter Buck, Alexander Popov, and Denis Sokolov.

  Freddy sat in silence for a while, contemplating the new evidence. Finally, he said, “Alexandria was a Dumb Dora for getting involved with the Russian mob. I was right, as usual, about her affair with Hunter Buck. I was also correct in assuming she panicked when her loans were due, leaving her to steal Hunter’s meager profits and his exercise machine patent.” He rose and headed to the fireplace, where he posed at the mantel in Sherlock Holmes fashion. “I’ll have you know this isn’t the first time I was right about someone trying to steal a patent. Thomas Edison’s dear… friend Henry Ford gifted Tommy with a car until Henry got wind that Tommy and I were palling around. Poor Henry was in a jealous rage—over me. So he tried to steal one of Tommy’s patents. Luckily, I happened to be in Tommy’s bedroom when Henry snuck inside and opened Tommy’s drawers.”

  “Did that really happen?”

  “Of course it happened.” He winked at me. “But Henry didn’t stay angry with me for very long. The next day, he presented me with a new Ford.”

  “He gave you a car?”

  “That too. But I was referring to Henry’s brother Robert.”

  “He gave you his brother Robert?”

  “Sure. His brother William came later.”

  I groaned.

  “My point, dear boy, is jealousy played a part in Alexandria’s decision to steal Hunter Buck’s patent. And Alexandria’s affair with Hunter obviously infuriated her husband. Her brother no doubt had a beef with it too, in addition to his concerns over Alexandria’s ties to the Russian mob. Add in their elderly rich mother’s will, and Alexander and Denis are our top suspects to bop Alexandria.”

  I heard a knock at my door. After walking over and pressing my eye to the peephole, I sent Freddy a cautioning glance and then opened the door. “Hello, Milo.” Noticing the dark circles under his young eyes, I asked, “Is everything all right?”

  He played with a silver stud on his lower lip. “Poppy at the buffet said you were looking for me.”

  I explained, “I had lunch at the buffet, and I wondered why you weren’t there.”

  “Poppy worked my shift. I had to be at the college.”

  “How come?”

  His thin body tightened. “For my hearing.” He blinked back tears.

  Freddy came closer. “Invite the ragamuffin inside for a beat session. It could give us another clue. If not, it should at least bring us some amusement.”

  I asked Milo, “Do you want to come inside?”

  He rocked back and forth. “Awks. I’d really like to get it on with you, Andre, but this isn’t a good time.”

  Freddy gasped. “The boy is delusional. Imagine assuming every man wants you. How incorrigible!”

  I held back my laughter. “Milo, have a seat on the chaise. I’d like to talk to you.”

  He followed me inside. Once we were seated with Freddy standing over us, I asked him, “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Got any coke?”

  “No.”

  Freddy tsked. “James wrote about cocaine in ‘I Get a Kick Out of You’ in 1934. And old James certainly got his kicks.”

  Forgetting Milo was there, I snapped at Freddy. “I’ll kick you, if you don’t be quiet.”

  “Dude, I won’t mention dope again, since you’re so weird about it. But I thought you wanted to talk.”

  I nodded. “How did your hearing go at the college?”

  Milo clenched his fists. “It wasn’t enough for that bitch to fail me, Alexandria had to report what I did to the dean.”

  “How absolutely frightful!” Freddy flailed his arms. “Thankfully none of my professors reported Reg Tootington and me. Except for one. Professor Watts. A Holy Roller. But after Reg entertained him, Professor Watts came around.” He giggled. “He came around again and again.”

  I whispered to Freddy, “Will you please stop?”

  “I tried but I couldn’t.” Milo sniffled and looked down. “In my other classes, I copied papers from the net, but those profs were cool about it.”

  Freddy dragged an armchair to his preferred spot and sat. “Ask him if he took revenge on Alexandria by killing her.”

  Milo asked me, “Wasn’t that armchair over there, like, a minute ago?”

  “Um… yes…. It’s these old buildings. The floors aren’t level, so the furniture slides around.”

  “Glad I don’t have much furniture, dude. I’d be tripping every time I was tripping.”

  Getting back to the investigation, I asked him, “Did you take revenge on Alexandria?”

  “You mean did I kill her?”

  I nodded.

  “No way! She killed me. Wounded me to the heart. Li
ke the greedy capitalist leaders of the business world did to our society.”

  Freddy whistled. “Milo brings to mind Jay Lovestone, a Communist friend of mine. Jay, like his last name, was dumb as stone and madly in love with me, which nearly caused the Communist to start a revolution.”

  Heading off another rant by either of them, I asked Milo, “What was the outcome of your hearing?”

  “I’m cancelled.”

  I couldn’t keep up with Milo’s vernacular. “Cancelled?”

  “Thrown out.” A tear slid down his sunken cheek.

  Freddy snickered. “He deserved to be streeted. It’s the university’s gain, if you ask me.”

  Again my anger at Freddy caused me to forget Milo was in the room. “Nobody asked you.”

  “Right! They never even asked for my side of the story.”

  I turned to Milo, “Can you apply to other colleges?”

  He looked at me with puppy dog eyes. “What college would take me with a 1.9 GPA and a letter of dismissal?”

  I weighed other alternatives. “You said you like marketing. What about a job in sales at one of the local stores?”

  “I tried that two years ago.”

  “How about going back home to Maine?”

  He cocked his head at me. “I can’t tell my parents about this! They’d freakin’ kill me.”

  “I say off to jail with him.”

  I glared at Freddy. Then I offered to Milo, “Why don’t you sleep on this. Maybe something will come to you in the morning.”

  Freddy sniggered. “I doubt very much will come into poor Milo’s head, no matter how long he lays on his back.”

  My temper peaked. “Why don’t you lay on your back on the bedroom window seat?”

  Milo sighed. “Andre, this isn’t the time for us to get it on. It’s not only the label thing. I feel totally beaten up right now. Maybe in five or ten minutes—”

  I stood, lifted Milo to his feet, walked him to the door, and opened it. “Milo, go home. I’ll try to think about this too.”

  He gazed at me adoringly. “When I’m in bed, it’ll be totally cool to know you’re thinking about me—but I’m not gay.”

  “Good night, Milo.” I shut the door, feeling sorry for the kid.

  Freddy was at my side like a bloodhound. “Quite the lovesick neighbor, isn’t he? Should I be jealous?”

  I laughed. “Hardly.” After walking back to the living room, I moved the armchair back in place. “Do you think Milo could be our murderer?”

  He smirked. “Dear Milo may have bored poor Alexandria to death with his drivel, but I doubt he strangled her.”

  I glanced at my watch. “Freddy, I have to get ready for my date tonight.”

  His eyes twinkled. “Now you’re in the trolley! What are we going to do?”

  “No, my date with Preston Steele.”

  His sexy smile turned to a scowl. “Rhatz!”

  “Freddy, I told you my aunt set me up on a date with the vice principal of my school. He’s coming here at seven.”

  “Ah, yes. And I’m to be your fire extinguisher.” He hurried into the kitchen. “I’ll fix dinner.”

  I followed him. “What are you going to make?”

  Pushing me toward the bedroom, he said, “Bathe, shave, dress, and do whatever you do before a date without a manservant.” He smirked like the Cheshire cat. “And leave everything to me.”

  A few minutes before seven, I entered the kitchenette in my silver dress shirt and black dress pants. I asked Freddy, “How do I look?”

  “Togged to the bricks!”

  “I hope that’s good.”

  “Good enough to eat.” He wrapped his arms around my waist. “You should be dating me.”

  I didn’t want to hurt Freddy’s feelings by reminding him Preston wasn’t a ghost. “I need to find out how Preston was involved with Alexandria.”

  “And you will. With my help.”

  “Freddy, promise me you’ll be good?”

  He winked at me. “I’m always good.”

  The doorbell rang at seven on the dot. I opened it to Preston Steele, looking incredibly handsome in a sky-blue dress shirt that matched his eyes and housed his sculpted shoulders, pecs, biceps, and abs. His blond hair was meticulously styled, and his gray slacks barely contained the bulge between his thick thighs. His southern accent boomed into the apartment. “Andre, it’s great to see you outside of school.”

  “It’s nice to see you as well, Preston. Please come in.” I escorted him to the chaise, where we sat with Freddy watching us like a jealous hawk from the kitchenette. I asked Preston, “Would you like something to drink?”

  “Scotch. No ice.”

  “He likes the giggle water, doesn’t he?”

  I glared at Freddy. Turning to Preston, I said, “I’m afraid I don’t drink. Can I get you lemonade, iced tea?”

  “I’m fine. Thank you.” Preston wiped his palms against his knees.

  I sat back. “How do you like being vice principal at school?”

  “Y’all are a fine bunch. And I only had to discipline three kids the last week of the term.”

  “A sadist, is he? Careful of the whips and chains, Andre.”

  I whispered to Freddy, “Will you please stop!”

  Preston smiled. “Ah, you’re one of those teachers who believes there’s no such thing as a bad student.”

  I shook my head. “The week before you arrived, I sent one of my students to your office for shoving a kazoo in another student’s ear.”

  “Music to my ears.”

  We shared a smile.

  Freddy moaned. “He’s a regular wit.”

  I whispered to Freddy, “Give him a chance.”

  Preston replied, “I will. Hopefully your student learned his lesson.” He pressed his knee against mine. “How does it feel to have the summer off?”

  That question always angered me. “I’m not teaching over the summer, but I have to do research, plan my lessons for next year, and complete administrative work.”

  “Care to switch jobs?”

  Sliding away from him, I replied, “I love teaching.”

  “I love my job too.” He giggled. “Especially the six-figure salary.”

  Freddy sighed. “What an ass.”

  “Shush!”

  Preston smiled. “I know administrator’s salaries are a sore subject for teachers.”

  I asked him, “What will you do after Ms. Castle returns from maternity leave?”

  “She decided not to come back.” He winked. “So you’re stuck with me.”

  “Stuck is right.”

  I growled at Freddy.

  Preston cocked his head. “I hoped you’d be pleased.”

  “I am. Congratulations.”

  “Thank you. It took me quite a while to land an administrative position at a school in the northeast.”

  “Did you want to work in our area because of the strong reputation of our schools?”

  “No. You pay higher salaries.”

  “Does anyone have a dunce cap?”

  “Enough!” I said to Freddy in anger—momentarily forgetting Preston was with us.

  Preston replied, “Okay, I’ll stop talking about money.” He rubbed his hands together. “By the way, I checked the school’s handbook, and there’s a rule forbidding teachers to date the principal. The vice principal isn’t mentioned, so we’re safe. Until I become principal. Then we’ll need to date incognito.” He guffawed.

  I was happy to change the subject. “How do you like living in our building?”

  “It’s near New York City, which is great for me.”

  “Do you go into New York City a lot?”

  Preston mumbled, “Occasionally.” He added quickly, “And the Art Deco motif of the building is fun. The rent is reasonable. The apartment and the view are fine. And your aunt Nia couldn’t be nicer.”

  “You didn’t mind her pressuring you into going on a date with me?”

  “No pressure was nec
essary!” He eyed me up and down. “I think you’re adorable, and I’m looking forward to spending some time with you outside of school.”

  “Thanks.”

  Preston asked, “Where would you like to go?”

  “Right here.”

  Freddy said, “Tell him it’s a beat session, not a frolic pad.”

  “I thought we could have a beat session.”

  Preston looked confused. “A beat session?”

  Realizing I was quoting Freddy, I added quickly, “I mean, we can talk more easily here than in a busy restaurant, movie theater, or frolic pad… I mean dance club.” I whispered to Freddy, “See what you’ve done to me?”

  Preston snickered. “I haven’t done anything to you… yet. But the night is still young.”

  Putting more distance between us, I said, “Tell me about yourself.”

  He rubbed his square jaw. “Let’s see, I’m from Mississippi. An only child.”

  Freddy said, “He’s a nomad.”

  I turned to Freddy in anger. “Stop interrupting!”

  Preston cocked his head at me. “But you asked me about myself.”

  “That I did.” I smiled. “And you’re doing fine. Please continue.”

  He revealed a row of white teeth. “My daddy is a minister back home.”

  “So Daddy gets the collection take—tax-free,” Freddy said.

  Again, I forgot Preston was with us. “You don’t know that.”

  Preston rubbed his prominent nose. “I should know what my daddy does.”

  I smiled cordially. “Of course you do. And your mother?”

  “What about her?”

  “What does she do?”

  “She takes care of my daddy and me… when I’m home,” he replied as if answering what two plus two equals.

  I asked, “Does your father have a large congregation?”

  “It’s pretty small as evangelical congregations go. Just about a thousand people.”

  I asked him, “Were you raised evangelical?”

  He nodded. “I’m sure it sounds odd to you, but I was saved at five years old when Jesus became my Lord and Savior.”

  “Do you still practice that faith?”

  He grinned. “Practice makes perfect in the Lord’s sight.”

  Freddy chuckled. “I used my tongue to make a Holy Roller or two scream in tongues.”

  Ignoring Freddy, I tried to be a diplomat. “Preston, I think it’s great that you have a belief system.”

 

‹ Prev