Streeter Box Set

by Michael Stone

  She stood and he followed her through the den, watching her flowing red hair sway in front of him. By the time they got to the hallway, Richie was spellbound. Once they were inside the bedroom, Tina turned to him, frowning. “What is it, Teen?” he asked.

  “I want to talk to you about something, later. I think we can keep a lot of that money, after all.”

  Her words bothered him, but as she slipped out of her yellow halter top, he was way too juiced to speak.

  Streeter was tapping on Frank’s desktop with a pencil and listening to Marty on the phone. From time to time, he’d nod. Finally, he spoke. “Must have been Spangler who gave Grover Richie’s number. He must have tracked him down today after I left. Eddy just about gagged when I mentioned Royals’s name this morning.”

  “Don’t see where it matters much, son.” Marty sounded like he was in a hurry. “The main thing is the boy’s alive and he’s coming home with what he stole. Don’t matter to me who got ahold of who first.”

  “I guess this means you won’t be needing me anymore,” Streeter said.

  “Not necessarily. This thing won’t be over until the money and those papers are returned and Royals and his friends are happy. Might be I’d like to get you involved in all that. We can’t go to the police and I want someone I can trust working on our side.”

  “Whatever you need, Marty. I’ll take care of it.”

  “Good, son. With Richie involved at that end, it ain’t going to be over until it’s over. All over. You follow my drift?”

  ELEVEN

  About the last thing Streeter expected to find at Grover’s house that Tuesday morning was a wife. Grover’s wife, at any rate. His being married made as much sense as putting a Democrat on a budget: it had to be in name only, so why bother? But more baffling was that the Royalses had tied the knot sixteen years before and had produced two sullen offspring. One, nominally, from each gender column. The girl was fifteen, the boy two years younger. They’d inherited their father’s crooked features and both were androgynous in a Russian swim team sort of way.

  Streeter pulled his old Buick to the curb in front of the West Denver bungalow. He rechecked the address he’d gotten from the Department of Motor Vehicles. The house was not what he would have expected. Located in a working-class neighborhood between Federal and Sheridan in the low Forties, Grover’s place looked more like a plumber’s home than that of Denver’s sex-for-sale baron.

  Marty had asked him the night before to talk to Grover as soon as possible. Find out what he expected of Richie and Tina before they came back to town. Streeter was not authorized to negotiate, but rather to get the terms and, primarily, to assure Royals that old Marty would make good.

  “Don’t rile up this piece of shit if you can avoid it, Streeter,” Marty had instructed. “Let him know he’s going to get everything back. We sure as hell want him calm and reasonable. It’d be a good idea to go right to where he lives. That always tends to make a fella more cautious.”

  “I still think you should tell the cops what he did to your trucks,” Streeter had responded. “Grover’s the kind of man who understands the law leaning on him and not much else. Don’t expect him to do the right thing just because you’re nice to him.”

  “You might be right about that, son, but we’ll do this my way. You know what Royals said he’d do if we called the cops. Plus, bring the police in and we have to explain what the hell Richie’s been up to lately. My nephew sharing a cell with Grover down in Cañon City isn’t anyone’s version of a good idea.”

  Hence, Streeter arrived at Grover’s first thing that morning. Patty Royals looked like an aging prom queen who took ownership of a liquor store somewhere along the line. She was a blonde, although Streeter was nearly dead certain that wasn’t nature’s original intent. Her once-pretty face had hardened and smiling seemed nearly out of the question now. Soft little bags under her eyes testified to a life of rage, fear, and day drinking. It was a face that had come to grips with utter disappointment and turned it into a living scowl. Too bad, Streeter thought as he stared at her. She had been stunning long ago. Living with Grover Royals had changed that forever.

  “What?” Patty asked sternly through the front screen door. More of a command than a question. A freshly lit cigarette hung off her left hand like a sixth finger.

  “Is Grover in?” Streeter shifted his weight.

  “Who wants to know?” Her scowl deepened.

  “I do. My name’s Streeter.” He paused. “I went to high school with him.”

  “How touching.” Her voice kept its bored monotone and her eyes remained lifeless. Suddenly she let out a deep cough. “Why don’t you come in and wait? I’m sure he’ll be home from his paper route any minute now and we can all have some Ovaltine together.”

  Streeter shifted his weight back to his other leg and cleared his throat. Despite her attitude, he found himself liking the woman. He smiled at her. “That sounds nice, but if you could just tell me where he is, I have to talk to him about a few things. It’s important.”

  Patty took a long drag from her cigarette and coughed deeply again. Then she shrugged. “He’s probably down at one of his clubs. The Cheetah. You know it?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” He thought for a moment. “If I don’t catch him there, could you tell him to give me a call? Streeter. He’s got my number. Like I said, it’s important.” He wondered if maybe there was a hint of a smile creeping across her face. Probably not.

  She nodded slightly. “I’m sure it is. With him, it’s always important.” Then she closed the door without another word.

  Streeter drove to the Cheetah and parked in one of the semihonor downtown lots where you’re supposed to shove singles through tiny slots in metal boards. He never used to pay, figuring that even if he got caught every third or fourth time he’d still come out ahead. To Streeter, it seemed unfair to pay to park on public property. But since they’d raised the fine to fifteen dollars, he now shoved the singles in every time.

  The Cheetah was located in an ancient, freestanding two-story building deep in downtown. To the south was a camera shop. A new state-of-the-art Burger King was located immediately to the north. The Cheetah’s front door was locked when he got there shortly before ten, so he walked around back to the alley. As he got within a few feet of the rear door, it swung open and Grover Royals stormed out of it. They glared at each other, filling the alley with so much hostility that the green Dumpsters almost rattled. Finally, Grover took a step forward and spoke.

  “Still working the case? What with Richie being found, I thought you’d be out of a job.” He shifted his shoulders and squinted slightly.

  “Marty wants me around to make sure everyone’s cool.” Streeter waited a beat. “And that no more trucks get torched.”

  Grover frowned. “Whatever that means.”

  Streeter kept an even gaze. “Right.”

  No one spoke for a moment and then Grover again broke the silence. “So what do you want with me? This sure ain’t coincidence, running into each other back here.”

  “Marty asked me to find out how we’re going to handle this thing. Make sure you get back what was stolen and that Richie and Tina get off the hook. What is it you need in order to forget this whole thing ever happened?”

  Royals looked up and squinted into the sunshine bouncing off the top of the building behind the Cheetah. It was going to be another warm day, although not as hot as the last few. Then he glanced back at Streeter.

  “How does one really ever forget something like this?” His voice was forced, snotty, and he was smiling now. “I mean, I feel so very violated by what happened. You have no idea how traumatic it is being victimized like that.”

  Streeter took a deep breath. “What is it you want?”

  Grover’s face returned to its normal smirk and any hint of humor left his voice. “I want that little cocksucker and his girlfriend to fry for this, is what I really want. But what I’ll settle for is getting my money back. And I want
the originals of all the stuff they took from Rudy’s office. They don’t get to keep any copies, either. And I’ll want something else which I haven’t even thought up yet. Something to show me that they really regret what they did. A token of remorse. I’ll have to get back to you on exactly what it’ll be. Later today I plan on calling those two down in Florida and laying it all out for them. I haven’t called yet because I wanted them to squirm for a while.”

  Streeter considered that in silence. He wanted to come back with something, but Marty had told him not to rile the big man. The two were now about a foot apart. Royals’s body shuddered once and he inhaled deeply. “You got all that, scrub? Run along now and tell old Marty that I’ll be laying down the terms to Richie and there won’t be no room for discussion. Think you can handle it?”

  Streeter felt anger building inside. At least he was pretty sure it was anger. Might be a little fear thrown in, too. He flashed on a time during his sophomore year when he and Royals had squared off in a “nutcracker” drill. That was where the two faced off in their line stances with Streeter trying to block Royals for the running back behind him. Grover had come off his four-point defensive position and knocked the hell out of him. One serious concussion. Almost broke his jaw, too. It was the hardest Streeter had ever been hit in his life, including his two years playing varsity ball at Western Michigan.

  Speaking again, he was relieved that his voice stayed calm. “I’ll tell Marty what you said and we’ll be back in touch after everyone talks to Richie.” He thought for a moment and then added, “Say hello to Patty for me, okay? We had a nice little chat earlier this morning over at your place.”

  Grover flushed and seemed about to open his mouth to speak. Instead, he just turned and headed down the alley.

  Driving back to the church, Streeter squirmed in his seat. He would dearly love to screw with Royals. But what good would it do? His job was to help Richie and Tina get things straightened out. Pissing off Grover any further wouldn’t help. But it sure would feel good. He even thought of some desperate move against the man. Years ago, he’d heard that Royals had a collection of Ford muscle cars from the mid-sixties. A former client of his who also was a Mustang fanatic had told the bounty hunter about them. Grover kept almost two dozen of them locked away, taking them out sparingly to show them off. They were about thirty years old but looked as fine as the day they’d rolled off the Detroit assembly line. Streeter thought it might be fun to find out where he kept the cars and then pay a visit. Torch a couple of them for Marty. Sugar in the gas tank: that was supposed to ruin the engine for good. Hell, take a leak in the gas tank, for all Streeter cared. What was it the kids in high school used to do? Cheese. A couple of cases of Velveeta cheese spread all over the leather interiors of his precious cars. Especially damaging in a warm garage. Royals would be scraping it off for weeks and they never would come back to the way they’d been. I can get to your house, Grover, and to your cars. Anytime, Grover. But that was childish and crazy and he knew it. By the time he pulled up next to the church, he’d cooled down enough to think clearly. He didn’t need Grover snarling after him, too.

  TWELVE

  Richie and Tina sat on the side stoop of Stan’s mobile home shortly after noon on Tuesday, taking in fumes from the latest mosquito spray dusting and nailing their first Rolling Rocks of the day. The pesticides were compliments of the City of Naples, the beer they bought for themselves. With summer coming, the city sent out low-flying airplanes almost daily to dust the town with a light chemical that looked and smelled like talcum powder with an attitude.

  They had a portable phone with them, as they’d had all morning while they waited for the inevitable call from Grover Royals. Tina felt ready, while Richie was nervous. But, despite all that had happened in the past couple of weeks, his faith in his girlfriend was still unshakable. Late the night before, after several hours of sexual mayhem, she’d described her plan to salvage a slice of money for her father’s business. It might not have been the most brilliant proposal Richie had ever heard, but in bed listening to her go over it, he had to admit it had a chance. Of course, with Tina in her green French-cut teddy, almost anything she said sounded reasonable to him. Spreading all their cash out on the bed, they had re-counted it. Three hundred and sixty-eight thousand dollars and change. They’d already spent about ten thousand getting to Florida via Mexico and paying off Eddy. Luckily for them, Sid Wahl had put his ledger book inside the suitcase and he hadn’t begun to total the amount of the pickups.

  “That means,” Tina had explained to Richie, “no one has an accurate figure on how much money was in there. The places Sid stopped pretty much run on cash and I know for a fact the managers don’t keep very good records. Rudy used to complain about it all the time. Plus, I’m sure that he and Grover realize there’s a certain amount of skimming going on everywhere. Now, Sid Wahl has all the brainpower of a gopher, so I doubt that he was counting it up in his head as he and Dexter went along. They made eight stops and I’m sure he lost track before they were even halfway through.

  “Those pickups usually net anywhere between two hundred thousand and maybe twice that. Rudy never knows what to expect and we always have a hell of a time accounting for everything. It never bothered him much because he usually skimmed a chunk for himself. This is going to help us a lot. See, he’s been stashing it away for years and it’s always been an unspoken secret between us. He knows that I know. I thought he did it so the IRS wouldn’t find out, but he was really skimming from Grover all the time.

  “Keeping all that in mind, I figure we have two sources of money here. First, we dummy up Sid’s ledger to show that they only pulled in, say, three hundred and thirty thousand. It’s not too low and I think Grover and Rudy’ll be satisfied. That gives us a nifty profit of nearly forty grand right there. Secondly, we’re going to put Rudy’s feet to the fire over his skimming from Grover. His stealing. When we get back to Denver, I’ll get him aside somehow. Then I’ll demand another thirty-five thousand to keep me from telling Grover about the skimming. Rudy’ll scream and holler a little, but he must have ripped off ten times that by now. In the end, he’ll pay us just to keep Grover from tearing his head off.”

  She’d sat back when she’d finished and waited for Richie’s reaction. At first, he had just nodded, considering what she said. Then he shook his head and stood up from the bed. “This puts us out on a whole different limb. Them finding out about us and the robbery was bad enough, but this could get us killed for sure. Don’t you ever get scared, Teen?”

  Blowing out a long stream of smoke, she said matter-of-factly, “I try to avoid it. The last thing we need now is to let our emotions do our thinking for us. This is business.” Then she leaned forward, giving Richie a chance to appreciate the full view of her in the small teddy. “We’re already out on a limb, Richard. After what we’ve gone through so far, I can’t see coming away empty-handed. And I’m not going to let my father down. Stan said if he had fifty thousand up front, he could borrow the rest from the bank to get himself out of trouble. I intend to see that he gets it.” She took a deep breath. “I figure we’re owed at least that much for all the work we put in. Don’t forget who we’re taking the money from here, Richard. These guys can afford it and it’s not like they actually worked for it. They exploit women and human weakness. Why not exploit them?”

  When he didn’t respond, she pulled him back onto the bed. “Remember the files, Richard. As long as we have them, those guys’ll keep their distance. We’ve got enough to put all of them away for a long, long time and they know it.”

  That logic combined with the teddy was enough to bring him around. Then she made one other suggestion. To make it appear that they were being honest, they’d tell Grover that they were about five thousand short. That would seem legitimate, given the cost of Mexico and all. “We’ll make a big deal out of asking your uncle for a loan to cover it. My read is that Marty’ll go along with that. It’s chump change to him and you said he sounded
pretty relieved that you’re alive. For Marlene’s sake, anyhow. If Grover thinks we’re borrowing to pay him back, it’ll sound more sincere and he’ll be less suspicious of the amount we come up with. We can always pay Marty back from what we have left over.”

  Richie didn’t much care for asking his uncle for a loan, but he knew she was right about the appearance of it. Before the night was out, he’d agreed to do it.

  Now, as they waited for Grover she walked him through the plan one more time. She was wearing her hair up, Gibson Girl–style, to keep the back of her neck cool. Richie liked the look. Even the back of her neck was sexy to him. She was wearing a short red silk robe, with her legs flowing out from it, all smooth and tan. “Just let me do the negotiating, Richard,” Tina concluded. “I know how these people operate.”

  Grover Royals and Sid Wahl both bellied up to the desk in the basement office of Grover’s house shortly before noon, Colorado time. The big man stared at the phone for a second and then picked it up. “No point dragging this out.” He glanced at Sid. “It’s time those two found out what’s in store for them.”

  Tina answered on the third ring. Grover heard her voice saying a cautious hello, but he didn’t respond at first. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and hoarse, but under control. “That you, Tina?”

  “Grover?” Her voice stayed even. “Yes, it’s me.”

  Royals jumped right into it. “You got some set a stones on you, Tina. You know that? Pulling a stunt like this.” His voice rose. “You definitely went after the wrong people and now your butt’s hanging out there in the wind with that jerk boyfriend of yours. More, maybe, seeing as how you probably wired the whole thing.”