Streeter Box Set

by Michael Stone

  “I haven’t figured out all the details yet, but when Richie returns, we lay in the weeds and let Grover set up his plan for getting everything back. There’s even a bunch of ludes they’re bringing in from St. Louis. We wait and when the time is right we step in.” Rudy had to force his voice down as he worked into the subject. “My hunch is Grover will make the pickup himself. Personally. When he walks away he’ll be carrying several hunnard thousand in cash and all the ludes. Maybe more. I’ll let you know where and when.” He paused. “That’s when you make him dead and take what he’s carrying.” Rudy never looked more serious. “No one would think of you doing that. You’re out of the picture as far as him and Sid are concerned.”

  Dexter grinned incredulously. “Just where will you be while all of this dead-making is going on?”

  Rudy nodded like he knew what was behind every door. “I’ll be dealing with Tina and Richie. I have to get those files back or I’m in as much trouble as Grover.”

  “Oh? You going to make them dead, are you, Rudy?” Dexter shook his head slightly. “Where the hell did you learn to talk like that?”

  The man across the table ignored the question. “Grover’s working up his plans now but he told us that no matter what, Tina and Richie are history. He doesn’t know how yet, but my hunch is that he’s going to let Sid deal with them while he’s making the pickup. If I keep nosing around and we catch a couple of breaks, you and me’ll come out of this just fine. Maybe half a mil and Grover dead. Tina and Richie, too. And his whole business coming our way.” He glanced around the room, calm again. “Why not give it a shot, Dex? You got something better lined up for the next week or so?”

  Dexter considered that as he finished his Coke. “We need to know a lot more before I start running around making people dead.” He got out of the booth and looked down at Rudy. “This is so far out of your league, you may as well be planning a trip to Mars. But I’ve got plenty of unfinished business with Royals and it might be we can handle it together. Somehow.”

  “Does that mean you’re in?” Rudy drained his drink.

  “It means I’ll think about it. It also means that you better come up with some very clear information about what Grover’s got in mind with this. Call me when those two morons get back to Denver and you know something solid.”

  “That’s fair enough, Dex.” By the time he’d said those four words, Dexter was walking toward the door. Rudy sat there studying his empty glass. Then he picked it up and spotted the waitress. “Nurse!” He shook it in the air. “One more time.”

  As he waited, he lit another cigarette and thought about the Indian. Watch it with Dexter. Getting all testy about the racial slur. Be cool with him. You need the man. For now, anyway. Rudy wasn’t sure how, but come the big day everyone connected with Royals would go down and he’d take over. Sure, Grover terrified him, but it was that fear combined with his burning hatred that fueled his plans. The blond waitress came back to his booth and he laid two twenties on the table, grinning boldly. “Just exactly when do you get off work, honey?”

  She placed the gin and tonic next to his ashtray and scooped up the money. Stuffing it into the pockets of her skirt, she barely looked at him. “About two o’clock.” She waited a beat. “May forty-eighth.” Before Rudy could come back with anything, she was gone.

  Dexter turned over the pickup but didn’t move for a moment. Rudy’s big score. Be worth the price of admission just to see what he comes up with. All that make-Grover-dead crap. Rudy definitely watched too many bad movies. But Grover Royals deserved it and Dexter would love to be the one to do it. Might end up like that anyhow. Only he wouldn’t be doing it with Rudy Fontana. Call the man when you get home, Dexter told himself as he put his truck into gear. That’s what he’s paying me for: to watch everyone and find out what they’re doing. And he had to admit the man was giving him good money for not much work. Still, listening to Rudy talking about taking the ludes and money made Dexter think about freelancing. Hell, it can’t be that hard a job if even a bimbo like Rudy thinks it’s possible.

  SIXTEEN

  St. Louis turned out to be more like a Mary Kay party than a drug deal. Not at all what Tina and Richie had anticipated as they drove up from Live Oak. And their contact was certainly nothing like they expected, either. Grover gave her name only as Liz, but “Hart” appeared on the apartment’s lobby directory. In a light-pink pants suit, her hair in a neat graying beehive, and chattering away like a schoolmarm on speed, Liz had a hell of a front for her line of work. So unlikely and innocuous, she could probably deal dime bags from the trunk of her car at a police station and not raise an eyebrow.

  “Mr. Royals told me you’d be punctual,” Liz said as she showed them into her spotless apartment. Her voice was professionally friendly, the way a realtor sounds at a showing, and she had that rasping shortness of breath common to elderly heavy smokers. “He said to expect you at about dinnertime on Thursday and here it is almost five-thirty. I didn’t cook anything, but I’ve got coffee, herbal tea, and some refreshments ready for you.”

  What the hell is this? Tina thought as she studied the silver serving tray on the cocktail table in front of the sofa. Liz had laid out two pots, saucers, cups, and spoons, along with a plate of small sugar cookies and linen napkins. Tina cleared her throat and glanced at Richie, who was frowning in confusion. Then she surveyed the huge sunken living room. Located in a high-rise with a knockout view of the Mississippi River to the east through floor-to-ceiling windows, the place had to go for an easy two thousand a month. It was furnished like a Hyatt lobby and the thick scent from at least four vases of cut flowers was everywhere. On their way to town, they had pictured either a fortified subbasement or a run-down public housing project. Before leaving Naples, Richie had even pestered Tina about taking a gun to the meeting. Of course, with them losing their bullet near Woodville, the gun would be pointless.

  Seated on the overstuffed white sofa, Tina finally noticed some of the trappings of a drug dealer’s home. Standing quietly in the corner behind the wet bar near the fireplace was a huge man with a shaved head and a trimmed goatee. He’d been watching them silently the whole time, his face as impassive as cardboard. Another, slightly smaller man wearing tiny gold wire-rimmed glasses was coming down the hall from the entryway. His eyes moved cautiously between the two guests.

  Richie finally spotted the two men and he glared at Liz. “What’s this all about? We’re just here to pick that stuff up and get going. Didn’t Grover tell you about us?”

  Liz backed off her matronly smile a tad and there was now a decided edge in her voice. “Yes, he did, Mr. Moats. He told me that you took a great deal of money from his people at gunpoint. Now, if you’d both please stand, these two gentlemen will do a quick search.” She glanced at the man from the hallway. “Sheldon?”

  That task completed, Liz’s voice became kinder. “Very good. That’s much better now, isn’t it?” She pointed to the sofa, indicating that her guests could be seated again.

  Tina sat back down, keeping tight eye contact with Liz. “We just want to get our goods and leave.” Her voice was soft but there was a clear no-bullshit undertone. “Our car is parked a few blocks from here and it contains Grover’s money along with other very important items. The sooner you stop this silly intimidation and give us the product, the sooner we can get everything to Mr. Royals.”

  Liz sat back and nodded. “Would you like cream or sugar in your coffee? Or would you prefer tea?”

  Tina rose from the sofa again, with Richie following suit. “We’d prefer Quaaludes and then we’d prefer to leave.”

  Liz shrugged, while looking at Tina. “Sheldon,” she said suddenly. “Bring the containers, please.”

  The smaller man moved noiselessly to the kitchen door and through it. About a minute later he came back into the living room carrying two large red Igloo coolers. They were the flattop kind and he had them stacked one on top of the other. He set them down near the hallway leading to the out
er door and glanced back at Liz, his arms crossed in front of him.

  “Six thousand Quaaludes. You can count them if you’d like, but that might take a while,” the hostess said.

  “I’m sure they’re all there,” Tina responded.

  She and Richie both turned to look at the coolers. Then Richie walked over and lifted one. “It weighs a ton.”

  Liz drew her head back with obvious pride. “I’ve packed them in batches of two hundred inside Tupperware containers. Then I put ice packs in each cooler so the capsules won’t melt while you drive.”

  “Not to belabor a point, Liz,” Tina interjected, “but if you try to follow us when we leave, we’ll just keep walking and dump those pills out individually into the river over there. I’m serious. We have to do it this way as a precaution.”

  “I understand. My job is finished once you walk out the front door.”

  “What did you make of all that, Teen?” Richie asked once they got back onto Interstate 70 heading west. “Tupperware! A tea service. Unreal. And Liz. She was something. Perfect little hostess dealing drugs like that.”

  When Tina didn’t answer for a while, Richie glanced over. They were holding hands. They usually did that when they drove together. She liked the attention and he liked the connection. Looking at her face, the freckles wrinkling across her nose as she squinted slightly into the setting sun, he felt like pulling the car over and holding her close. Never letting her go. They’d been together for eleven months and it still amazed him that every day found him more in love with her. She always surprised him and he always seemed to find something new to like about the way she looked. Lately he’d been concentrating on her mouth. Perfect shape. A little puffy and a hint of a pout. He squeezed her hand gently. “What’re you thinking about?”

  Her eyes widened as if she was coming out of deep thought and she looked over at him, squeezing his hand back as she did. “That was strange, all right. Liz has to be the world’s most anal-retentive drug dealer. We could have eaten off the floor, it was so clean.”

  They drove in silence for a long time before Tina spoke again. “You know, Richard, most of the people we deal with are crazy. Rudy, Grover Royals. Look at Sid and Dexter. Then there’s your friend Spangler. Not much maturity in that whole crew and they’re all half psychotic. Now we meet Liz and Sheldon and his partner.” She turned toward him. “We shouldn’t be around people like that.” She studied his profile as he drove. “We’re in over our heads, Richard. If we get out of this alive we have got to get away from these kind of people. I can’t go back to work for Rudy and you don’t have anything going right now, either. You’ll probably just let butthead Eddy talk you into another one of his get-poor-quick schemes. I want us to have a normal life. A house, children, and everything.”

  He looked over at her. “That’s what I want, too.”

  “But first you have to get yourself going with a career. I love you, Richard, but I’m not going wait around until you and Spangler figure it all out. And I’m certainly not taking my babies to see their daddy in prison.”

  Richie nodded silently.

  “Then go talk to your uncle when we get back. Tell him you want to go to work for him. Let him know you’re serious. When he sees that you’re really trying, he’ll get you going. Aunt Marlene’ll see to it.”

  Richie considered that for a long stretch of highway. Finally, he squeezed her hand extra hard. “That’s what I’ll do.”

  “And promise me you’ll lose Eddy. For good.”

  “You got it.”

  After a moment, she scrunched her shoulders up and smiled. “For now, tiger, let’s get a room. I’ve had enough of the car for today and all this heavy drug running’s got me excited again. Like back at Woodville.”

  Richie just about fainted behind the wheel. They pulled into the next motel, a Days Inn about forty miles west of St. Louis, and stayed there until almost noon the next day. The trip back to Denver was dotted with more roadside stops. When they hit the Colorado border, Tina pointed out that they had made love in every state they passed through on the way from Florida. Their best guess was fourteen stops in six states, which they figured must be some kind of record.

  Streeter had just walked into the music store that Thursday night as Constance was heading toward the large glass front door to leave. She seemed preoccupied and in a hurry, but glad to see him.

  “Alfresco’s sounds good to me,” he said as she walked up to him.

  Her smile wrinkled slightly. “Alfresco’s?”

  “For that dinner you promised.”

  “You found him already? Good work, Streeter. I’m impressed.” She sounded like she really meant it.

  “That’s why I did it. To impress you. And for that free meal.”

  “You get both.” She stood back for a moment studying him. “Where is that jerk hiding these days?”

  “He works at the Proof of the Pudding as a bartender. He lives over in Capitol Hill, at the Cheesman Arms. I don’t know the unit number, but that’ll be easy enough to find.”

  “A bartender. That figures.” She thought about that, briefly looking away. “If I gave you the papers for my small-claims suit, would you be willing to serve Mr. Lomeli?”

  Streeter looked at the sheet music in his hand and then back at Constance. He shot her a grin. “I don’t much like serving papers. Besides, you don’t believe in paying money, so what’s in it for me?”

  Her eyebrows shot up. “Finding him gets you a dinner.” Then she stepped toward him and moved her face up to his, giving him a light kiss on his right cheek. “Serving him gets you dessert,” she said as she pulled away.

  Streeter touched the spot she’d just kissed and shook his head slightly. “The more I know you, the less I understand you. When we met you were pretty distant. And then, out of nowhere, you promise me dinner. Now dessert. You can’t be all that impressed with my skip tracing.”

  She shrugged. “I wasn’t really very distant. And don’t read too much into that dessert offer. I meant it literally. Besides, like I told you before, you remind me of someone. That’s got me confused because I have very mixed feelings about that person. We can talk about it over dinner. A little mystery never hurt anything. I’m sort of tied up for the next couple of nights. How about Alfresco’s on Sunday night at seven-thirty. I’ll bring the papers. Does that sound all right to you?”

  He nodded. “I’ll be there. One other thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Can I call you Connie? Constance sounds so formal. To be honest, it’s a little old-fashioned for you. Connie just suits you better.”

  “Okay. Connie’s fine.” She stepped toward the door. “And Streeter. Don’t look so worried. You might actually enjoy yourself Sunday night.”

  Then she turned and walked outside, heading toward the parking lot. He watched closely, rolling his sheet music tightly in his hands. As she moved smoothly across the lot and then disappeared into her car, Streeter wondered if he really looked worried. And why.

  SEVENTEEN

  As Streeter pulled into the parking lot just before seven that Saturday night, Marty Moats was leaning against his car looking worn and crumpled. When he got closer, Streeter also noticed a hardness to Marty’s eyes that he’d never seen before. The sun was setting fast over the mountains off to their left. Still, its last rays were strong enough to make the old man squint. He took a shot at straightening up, but his shoulders didn’t have their usual squared certainty and his belly pushed hard against his green zipped-up windbreaker. It also was the first time the bounty hunter had seen Moats wearing glasses. Square-framed, silver wire rims. The whole package looked weary and wound up at the same time.

  “Streeter,” Marty said as he held out his right hand. “Glad you could come on such short notice.”

  He seemed about to say something else, but instead he glanced at the door to the warehouse. They were in the west lot of a long, low building that Marty owned off Santa Fe Drive, a mile south of Denv
er. They were in a remote area consisting of all kinds of commercial buildings. That part of town felt shut down at night. Completely still. It had nearly hit eighty that day, but the temperature was dropping fast. A slight breeze was kicking up from the mountains and Streeter wished he’d worn a jacket too.

  “No problem,” Streeter said. They shook hands, but he could feel that Marty’s heart wasn’t in that, either. “Have you talked to them yet?”

  Marty considered the question. “Just on the phone this afternoon. Seems they got into town this morning. They finally got around to calling me shortly after one.” He shook his head and his eyes hardened. “They’ve got their nerve, I’ll hand ’em that. I set ’em up with a place to stay and they’re making demands on me like I’m an errand boy.”

  “What kind of demands?”

  “Oh hell.” Marty shifted his stance and frowned. “They’re telling me what goes where and how the delivery’ll be made. Then I ask them where’s the stuff they brought back and Richie tells me ‘it’s someplace else, where it’s secure.’ That’s it. Just bring the money I’m loaning him and shut up. Same old story with that boy. I tell you what. It wasn’t for Marlene thinking so much of Richie, I’d let the little peckerwood hang out there to dry. Yes I would. ’Course, it’s that damned Tina who’s calling the shots. Left to his own, Richie’d more than likely do what I say. The woman’s got him by the balls so tight the boy’s probably grown a twat by now.”

  “You might want to calm down some before we go in there, Marty.”

  “Calm down, my ass.” Marty got into Streeter’s face, his eyes wide. “That ungrateful little shit had the nerve to—” Suddenly he stopped talking and backed off. His shoulders heaved as he took two deep breaths. Then, his features softened. “You’re right, son. I’m too worked up to be much good right now.” He glanced back at the side door. “What the deal is, they called me this afternoon and said they’re back and they want to take care of this business fast. Made sense to me. So I put them in here to be safe. This was my first warehouse. It holds mostly junk and not that many people even know about it. Plus, there’s a little living space right up front. Kitchen, place to sleep, a phone. The whole nine yards. Richie said he wants me to bring the money over here tonight. I say fine. Then I ask him if he’ll have the other cash and those files of Grover’s so I can see everything laid out. That’s when he says no, he won’t have it here. Won’t tell me where it might be, either.”