Streeter Box Set

by Michael Stone

  She raised an eyebrow. “And why is that?”

  “Because…”His voice trailed off for a few seconds. Then he recovered. “Because I’m here more than anyone else.” When he got that out, a lame smile crossed his face, causing his beard to lift and his eyes to crinkle as though he were in pain. “And I know how to treat a broad.” He concluded with a deep cough. And then another.

  Ronnie glanced him. “Aren’t you ever the hopeless romantic?”

  He nodded and looked around the room. The sound system was blaring generic hard rock. Plenty of thump and bite. In fact, Danny’s was pretty much generic blue-collar throughout. Three stages, each with shiny dancing poles and background mirror. Two long bars to make sure no one had to wait, with the rest of the place kept dark enough to give the constant feeling that it was past midnight all over the world. The woman on the stage closest to them was doing her rendition of the splits, although when she bottomed out she struggled not to tip over. Ted looked back at Ronnie.

  “I try to be, but if I can’t be that, at least I can be exciting.” He let out a wheezy grunt, half a laugh and half a cough.

  She leaned in toward him slightly. “I’ll bet.”

  Her voice was husky enough that Ted had to swallow hard. “What’s your name?”

  “You can call me Lesley. And you?”

  “You can call me Uncle Ted.” With that, he slipped into an awkward silence, clearly uncomfortable having an actual conversation with one of the waitresses.

  Ronnie shifted her weight from one leg to the other and waited. When it became apparent that the guy had no more rap, she spoke. “Well, Uncle Ted, I’m off in about twenty minutes.”

  Ted was stunned. “Cool.” That was the best he could do.

  After another silence, Ronnie spoke again. “Maybe you and me could party later on. What do you say to that?”

  He frowned and leaned his head to the side in suspicion. “You and me?”

  Ronnie bit her lower lip seductively, as if considering that. “You don’t waste time, do you, Uncle Ted?”

  “Not me.” He smiled, finally realizing he was making a connection here. “Life’s too short to beat around the bush, honey. You want to come over here for a few drinks when you’re done?”

  “The drinks sound fine, but we can’t stay here. Meet me outside the front door in half an hour. Okay, tiger?”

  He nodded slowly, the confusion working its way back across his face. “You’re not a girl cop, are you, Lesley? I’m in enough trouble with that shit already.”

  “Don’t worry.” She straightened up and gave her smoldering smile. “I’m no cop, and this isn’t about money.”

  At that, Ted’s head started bobbing. “Then we’re on, huh?” Kostas was standing with his back to the door when Ronnie walked out shortly before eleven. Although it was almost November and the night was overcast, the temperature was in the low sixties. He stood stiff as a light pole, and when he turned to face her, he ground out his cigarette.

  “My car is parked across the street,” he said, pointing to Federal Boulevard.

  “Calm down, tiger. I don’t just hop in cars and drive off with strangers. Let’s put it back in first gear and go grab that drink. Get to know each other.”

  “Where?”

  Ronnie ran her middle finger along her upper lip. “How about somewhere out of the way? Do you know Charlie Brown’s? The piano bar. It’s in the Colburn Hotel. We’ll have a couple of drinks there for starters.” She finished with a wink.

  “A hotel?” His eyes flared and he cleared his throat.

  “Grant and 10th.”

  “I’ll follow you there. What are you driving?”

  Ronnie casually threw her head to the right. “A red Celica.”

  “Cool.” He turned and headed for Federal without another word.

  Ronnie got into her car and moved ahead toward the intersection. Once there, she stopped and turned on her right blinker to head north, toward downtown. She looked to her left and saw the white Volvo coming her way, so she moved out onto Federal. Behind Ted’s car, Streeter pulled out in Frank’s big black Caddy. He didn’t want Kostas to recognize him in his brown Buick. It took the little caravan about twenty minutes to get to Charlie Brown’s. Ronnie parked and then waited for Ted to walk her into the place; Streeter stayed in his car.

  When they’d settled at a low table near the piano, Ronnie ordered a white wine and Ted a Bud Light and a shot of house brandy. The piano player was off that night, and the place was only about half full. Dark and fairly quiet, with the other customers minding their own business.

  “I take it you’re not a stockbroker or lawyer,” she said after the drinks arrived and the waitress left. “You look like a workingman to me.”

  Kostas sucked in his stomach and took a whack at throwing his shoulders back. “I run my own business. Always have.”

  “Oh yeah? What kind of business is that?” She set down her glass and gave him her best just-woke-up-and-want-more look.

  Ted gulped at his beer and then pulled a Camel from the pack in his shirt pocket. “I’m in what you might call the recycling game.” He lit the cigarette and exhaled dramatically.

  Ronnie leaned toward him and gave her shoulders a little wiggle. “Some of the girls at Danny’s tell me you’re kind of an outlaw.” Her voice was low and sincere. “That’s very sexy. You know, being a renegade and all. One look at you and I could tell you were the type who likes to make up his own rules as he goes along. You live by your own code and you’re strictly your own man.” She paused to let that sink in. “What is it that you recycle, Uncle Ted?”

  He cocked one eye up and nodded like he’d just figured out the most difficult chess move in history. Kostas liked having women know that he was out there. But he really got off on what was sitting next to him at the table. He could feel himself stirring deep down in his pants, which these days wasn’t what you’d really call a regular occurrence. “Anything you can name, really. I tell you, Lesley honey, there’s practically nothing made by man that I can’t get my hands on and turn around and sell for a decent profit.” He looked off for a moment. “I sort of specialize in automobiles. Very expensive automobiles, lately.”

  “That’s really neat. What’s been happening lately?” Her eyes widened and her mouth opened in anticipation.

  The move took his breath away for a second. Again, he struggled to straighten his shoulders. Then he threw her an I’ve-seen-things-you-wouldn’t-believe look. World-weary and wise. “Actually, I’m involved in something bigger than all get-out at the current moment, Lesley.”

  Ronnie reached her left hand under the table and set it on his right thigh, about halfway between his knee and his groin. Then she gave him a playful squeeze. “Tell me about it. How big is it, really?"

  At that, Ted just about passed out. He picked up his shot glass and drained it in one pull. Then he nailed the rest of his beer and cleared his throat before answering. This kind of thing just never happened in real life. Not his real life, anyhow. The woman wasn’t a cop, so she must be a pro. At that moment, Ted Kostas would have given his life savings to have her. Even for a few days. “Let’s just say, little lady, that by this time Saturday I’ll a moved a couple ripe Jaguars and I’ll have enough cash in hand to take both of us to the Bahamas for a good long time.” He paused and studied her face. “How old are you, Lesley?”

  “How old do you want me to be?”

  Her repartee went sailing over his head, so he just shrugged.

  “Well, sir, I’m old enough to know a good thing when I see it. And I’m old enough to go to the Bahamas with a fascinating man without having to ask my mother for permission.” She played with her wineglass. “You serious about the trip?”

  Ted looked around for the waitress, and when she saw him he waved a callused hand over the table to indicate another round. Looking back at Ronnie, he said, “That’s damn straight, little lady.”

  Ronnie smiled and took another sip of wine. When she
finished, she made a production of running her tongue around her lips. “Are you a real outlaw, Uncle Teddy?”

  “You might say.”

  “And how bad are you? Really.”

  “Bad as I have to be,” he responded.

  This time Ronnie leaned in and gave him a long look at the cleavage struggling against her top. “Well, do you have bad friends?”

  “You might say that I know some heavy people in this here town.” He felt himself warming to the topic of his work. “The guy setting up my Saturday deal, he’s no one you’d wanna fuck with.” He nodded, all serious. “Mitch’s been around a little and he’s lining me up with a couple of sellers that know the score, too.” He paused. “Really heavy people, I’m told.”

  “Maybe I should be meeting this Mitch guy if he’s the one setting it up.” Ronnie raised her eyebrows and giggled.

  Ted kept quiet for a moment. “Don’t you worry about him. He’s going to become a regular citizen soon, from what he tells me. I think these cars Saturday are his last move before he takes a real job.” He paused. “Listen, I probably said too much here, Lesley, but all you gotta know is that I’m the kinda guy can deliver on what I say. And I’m the kind who can make it worth your while. Don’t worry about any of my business associates. I’m the man. What say we go back to my place and really party? I live just the other side of Big Danny’s. You name your price. I’m sure you’re worth it.”

  “I don’t know about this, Uncle Teddy,” she said as she withdrew her hand. “It sounds tempting, no doubt about that. But your place?”

  Suddenly, Ted’s face darkened. “You’re not just some teaser, are you?”

  Now Ronnie leaned back and studied Kostas. He was done talking. “Of course not. It’s just that I don’t think I can wait until we get all the way back to that part of town.” She threw her head to the side, toward the large doors that opened from the bar to the hotel. “Why don’t we just get a room here? That way we can be alone all that much sooner.” Her voice was cooking when she’d finished. “And don’t worry about the money. You catch the room, the rest is for fun.”

  Ted broke into a grin so wide it looked about to cut into his filthy beard. “Now you’re talking.” Then he frowned and looked around. “We’ll get those drinks to go up with us, but first I gotta piss like a racehorse.” He stood up. “There’s gotta be a can up near the hotel desk.”

  “Go for it,” Ronnie said. “A man has to do what a man has to do.”

  “I’ll go whiz and then get us a room,” Ted said, his eyes still fixed on the big doors. “When she comes back, see if you can get her to sell us a bottle of something to take up with us.”

  “You got it, Uncle Ted.”

  He glanced back down at her one more time, winked and nodded, and then headed for the lobby. By the time he got through the double doors, Ronnie was on her feet. She pulled a tenspot from her purse and walked up to their waitress. “Here’s a little something for you,” she told the woman as she handed her the money. “Do me a favor? When Grizzly Moron gets back and starts asking for me, just say you think you saw me go into the little girls’ room, okay?”

  The woman nodded as she pocketed the ten. Ronnie was out the side door and into her car before Ted even finished in the bathroom. She figured she’d be halfway back to the church by the time the poor slob found out that the Colburn only rented rooms by the month. And she’d be almost to Frank’s office before Ted gave up waiting for her to come out of the bathroom. She moved out into traffic and in her rearview mirror she could see Streeter following her as she rolled north.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  “Seems to me you did one hell of an acting job tonight, Miss Ronnie,” Frank was saying. “If you could get that old creep to open up, you did a good piece of work.”

  “Who said I was acting?” Ronnie came back. “I mean, how’s a girl supposed to refuse a charmer like Ted Kostas? His aroma alone left me breathless.”

  The two of them and Streeter were in Frank’s office at the church just after midnight. The bondsman swirled a Scotch on the rocks and glanced at his partner, then turned back to Ronnie. “I got a real kick out of watching you in action over at Big Danny’s.” He shook his head. “You should have seen her, Street. This woman’s dangerous.”

  Streeter took a sip from his Johnnie Walker Red and studied Ronnie. Most of her makeup was worn or wiped off by now. Her hair was calming down, too, and he could see that her skin didn’t need any help shining. “That’s for sure. I saw enough just from outside. Please tell me you didn’t have that outfit in your closet before you got this assignment.”

  Ronnie casually nursed a Diet Coke and flashed him a quick grin.

  “So what exactly did Mr. Kostas have to say?” Frank asked.

  “First of all, he’s got a big move coming up with Mitch,” Ronnie said, setting her Coke down. “He mentioned Mitch specifically. He said that Mitch is setting him up with a couple of people who are going to get him—how’d he say it?—something like ‘mint Jaguars.’ ‘Ripe’ was the word I think he used. The point he was struggling to make is that Mitch is lining him up to buy a couple of stolen Jaguars and he’s going to turn around and sell them for a huge profit.”

  “That might be what Bosco’s working on with the cops,” Streeter said. “He’ll probably set up the sale and then have the cops nearby so they can roll in and make the bust.” He leaned toward her. “According to those court records you got on Mitch, he’s facing a couple of gun-sale charges. This is probably his way of getting his butt off the hook—giving up Kostas. Did he give you any idea when this is happening?”

  She nodded. “He said by this time Saturday he’s going to have a big chunk of money. I assume that means that the deal will happen Saturday.”

  Street considered that for a moment. “Or at least be done with by then. First he has to buy the cars. Then he has to sell them. Two separate transactions. He might get the Jaguars tomorrow and store them until he sells them on Saturday. If the cops make their move, it could be at either end, him buying them or him selling them. But I think it would be more likely that they’d do it on the first sale. When Teddy boy buys from the thieves. That’s who the cops would want most.”

  “True enough,” Frank interjected. “But it’s also possible that the police are doing the selling. They might have a sting set up for Kostas. Longtime fence like this Greek, they’d have probable cause to set something like that up. And if that’s the case, they’d almost certainly come down on him when he’s selling the cars. On Saturday. That would be their best time.”

  “Either way, Teddy’s not likely to buy the cars until right before Saturday,” Streeter said. “I’m sure he doesn’t want them sitting around his place for a couple of days. He’ll probably arrange for both transactions to happen on the same day.”

  “Which leaves us with what?” Ronnie asked. “In terms of Al Lucci, I mean.”

  “I’m not sure, but Mitch probably feels safe as long as this sting is pending,” Frank said, “protected from the cops a little.”

  “Right,” Streeter agreed. “Which might mean that, if he’s going after Al again, he’ll be inclined to do it on or before Saturday.”

  “If that’s the case,” Frank said, “then after Saturday we’ll only have to worry about Freddy Disanto.”

  “I don’t know how reassuring that is,” Streeter said. “Freddy’s already killed one person that we know of. He’s still a handful all by himself.”

  “True, but so far he’s used Mitch in dealing with old Al,” Frank noted. “At least, as far as we know.”

  “There was one other thing that Uncle Ted told me,” Ronnie said. “He was talking about how this is going to be Mitch’s last move like this. Illegal, is what I gather he meant. He said something about Mitch taking a legitimate job after this Jaguar business is done.”

  “That has to be pure baloney,” Frank said. “Guy like Bosco, it’s not likely that he’ll go on the straight and narrow.”

  “Not
without a major incentive,” Streeter concluded.

  “And what could that be?” Ronnie asked.

  Both men looked at her. Finally, Streeter responded. “I have no idea, and to be honest, I doubt if it matters to us. The thing that concerns me most is keeping Al healthy through the weekend. Not that he’ll be out of the woods then, for sure.” He paused and smiled. “One thing we have going for us is that we’re dealing with people who live in a world where everyone thinks they’re smarter than they actually are. And they can almost pull it off, because, with all of them thinking like that, it sort of evens out.”

  “Why don’t you just stay at Lucci’s place yourself for the next couple of days?” Frank asked.

  “Not a bad idea,” his partner said. “I’ll call Al first thing in the morning and ask him about that.”

  Ronnie yawned and stood up. “I’ll let you menfolk wrestle with this for now. I’m bushed and I want to slip into something designed for humans. Like my bed.” She glanced at Streeter. “Did you have any luck getting ahold of Macmillan down in Arizona today?”

  He shook his head. “His secretary said he wasn’t available, so I gave him my name and number. Haven’t heard back yet. I’ll call again tomorrow.”

  “Good night, gentlemen,” she said as she moved toward the door.

  “Have a pleasant night’s sleep there, Miss Ronnie,” Frank said. “You did real good tonight.”

  “Yeah,” Streeter said. “Seeing as how it’s almost twelve-thirty, you can come in fifteen minutes later than usual tomorrow.”

  She looked back at him. “You’re insufferable, do you know that?”

  He shrugged. “You can make it an extra half-hour if you wear that same little getup again.”

  “In your dreams, Street. Which seems to be where most of your action is lately.”

  “That’s no way to talk to your boss.” He frowned and looked her up and down. “Besides, other than Ted Kostas, I don’t see you setting any nights on fire.”

  “Just don’t you worry about me on that score.” She nodded. “Good night, all.”