Jack Palms Crime Series: Books 1-3: Jack Palms Crime Box Set 1 (Jack Palms Box Sets)

by Seth Harwood

  Jack holds up his hands, palms up, beside his knees. “This is why I’m trying to talk with you, Junius. I just want you to know what’s going on, so I can find out what’s what in this town. I want to know how I’m involved.”

  “Oh, you involved now, Jack,” Junius says, nodding. “You involved here in this motherfucker.” He stands up and goes over to the table, turns, and kicks the chair across the room. “Ralph got you doing business with the Colombian?” He has his hands in fists, his forehead furrowed. “What the fuck that fat fucker thinking?”

  Jack gets up and prepares himself for anything. Caught between a giant and an angry man is not where he wants to be. “So I take it that you didn’t know that was coming?”

  “Motherfucker.” Junius takes a deep breath, trying to settle himself. He holds up one finger and starts breathing like he’s in a Lamaze class. “The thing you don’t understand,” he says, “is that I made that little bitch.”

  “But then you knocked him down too.”

  “Right. That’d be how you want to see this, wouldn’t it.” He shakes his head.

  Jack looks at Freeman to see what to expect: The Samoan has his arms folded, a serious look on his face, from what you can tell from his nontattooed side. The side with the tattoo looks serious or angry all the time. Suddenly Jack wants to ask him if he had the tattoo when he was in the NFL.

  “What you looking at?” Freeman says to Jack.

  Jack turns and sees Junius pick up the chair he kicked over and set it back upright. It made a mark on the wall that he smoothes his hand over, then knocks just above it. “This place ain’t all that sturdy, Free. Just a bullshit partition here, really.” He stands up straight and looks at his friend. “We ought to check out for ourselves whether we want to keep coming here. Bullshit like this can walk right in.” He tilts his head toward Jack. “And who knows who’s listening on the other side of this wall?” He knocks on it again.

  Freeman nods, his arms still folded. “I’ll look into that, J.”

  “Thank you.” Junius slides the chair in front of Jack, but doesn’t sit down. He brushes off his hands. “Now, Mr. Palms, my friend. We got the car outside, and my people are waiting. So this conversation is over.” He takes a card out of the inside of his jacket and drops it on the floor. “You call me when you’re ready to start rolling,” he says. Then he nods at Freeman and leaves the room.

  Freeman bumps Jack from behind as he heads toward the door. “Later, bro.”

  Alone in the small room, Jack bends to pick up the card as one of the waitresses comes in to start clearing the table. The card is Junius’, with just his name and a cell phone number, nothing else except one word: product.

  After a fast exit from the restaurant, just a wave to the maître d’ and his two friends in suits, Jack stands outside in the cold air, breathing hard, trying to calm his nerves. He walks around the corner, paces back and forth, then crosses the street to the park to sit on one of the concrete benches. He looks up at the Peace Pagoda, its concrete platforms looming above him, and at the night, gray and full of light reflecting back down onto the city. There’s enough fog in this town to keep any night stars away for most of the year; the city lights shine up against the clouds and make a bubble of reflected fluorescence.

  He gets up and decides it’s time he saw Maxine. The last thing he needs is another encounter with people who have bad tempers or want to do him harm, especially if those people have extra-large bodyguards. Though he’ll have to talk with Junius again and probably Tony before the night is through, it’s been a long, crazy day, and he wants to relax, at least for a little while.

  About a half hour later, Jack shows up at Maxine’s with Japanese takeout—noodles and sushi—as a peace offering. He didn’t call ahead, but he can see she’s home because her lights are on, so he knows she can’t ignore him when he rings the bell. “Delivery,” he says into the speaker box when she comes on. The door buzzes—was she expecting food?—and Jack goes inside, walks up the stairs and to her door.

  When he knocks, she calls out, “It’s open.”

  Jack opens the door, and she’s standing in front of him, hands on hips, wearing jeans and a gray hooded sweatshirt cut open partway down the front, Flashdance style, to show her chest and a little cleavage. “Jack Palms,” she says.

  Jack smiles. “That’s me.”

  He goes over to the table to set the food down and then wraps Maxine up in his arms. “You were expecting a pizza?”

  She laughs, puts her hand on his chin, and turns his face to the side. “You know you got new cuts today?” she says. “I might not be able to let you leave here again, if this keeps up.”

  “Baby,” Jack says. “Don’t make the offer if you won’t keep it.”

  “What’s wrong?” she says.

  “Someone shot the Mustang.”

  She pulls back to see Jack’s face and as soon as she does her face gets doubly serious. For all Jack knows, there might be tears in his eyes. “Oh, Jack,” she says. “The Mustang?”

  He nods and she comes closer, holds him tight.

  “I’d be glad to stay here and stop getting bruised,” Jack says. “I’ll stay inside with you forever once this thing is done.”

  She pulls back. “But?” she says.

  “But tonight I’ve got to go out, fix a few things, collect some money from the Czechs, and point a cop in the right direction. Then everything will be okay.”

  She leans forward and stands on her toes, kisses Jack on the lips. “That’s not so bad,” she says.

  “Good. Keep reminding me of that.”

  “I will.” She takes him by the hand and brings him back through the living room to her bedroom. She dims the lights, but Jack can see she has more bookshelves in here, some lamps with scarves draped over them, a tapestry on the wall, a couple of pictures on the shelves. She takes off his jacket and starts unbuttoning his shirt. “So how was your day, darling? Tell me what happened.”

  “Not bad. Just a few meetings, a conference call, some Russian fucks shot at us and then I chased them down, crashed their car, and made sure they were dead.”

  “That was you?” Maxine says. “I saw that on the news tonight. It looked awful.”

  “Then I drove a few friends to the Wharf, got the Czechs the coke they wanted. The Colombian came through. You know: just your average day in the city.”

  “Standard,” she says.

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Now will your friends take off?”

  “Monday, I think.” He kisses the top of her head, runs two fingers along her bare shoulder.

  She pushes him backward and down onto the bed, and then climbs on top of him, straddling his chest, and finishes unbuttoning his shirt, peeling it open like a present. She slides her fingers across his pecs and then down along his sides toward his back. He winces a little as she goes near his ribs, and she moves closer to take a look. “You have a nasty bruise here,” she says. She gives it a light kiss. Then she leans back to take off her top, and Jack starts touching around her navel, below it, and around the rim of her jeans. When she comes back down to him, he kisses her neck, then her lips, and then raises her up and kisses her chest. He takes one of her nipples in his mouth and teases it with his tongue.

  It hurts when she touches his face, kisses his ears, but he can hear the music come on soft and gentle when she reaches to the dresser and puts on a CD. He’s glad for the sound, glad to know his ears and some other parts of his body are still working, that he can still feel pleasure after the considerable pains of the day. She takes off his pants slowly, kissing along his legs as she does, finding a few more bruises, and for a few minutes Jack lets himself lie back and enjoy it. Then he takes her in his arms and pulls her up next to him on the bed and moves over her. He touches her skin with his fingers, opens her pants, and eventually takes them off. Seeing her firm body in the dim light, he feels better than he has in a long while.

  When they’ve finished, they lie still
for a time, hearing the soft music and feeling the slow, small movements of each other’s breathing. Finally, she gets up and disappears, comes back with the food, brings it to the bed, and they eat with chopsticks out of the white Styrofoam containers, taking turns feeding each other.

  “So you know about how my marriage broke up?” Jack says.

  Maxine shakes her head. “No. And don’t tell me.”

  Jack takes another maki. “Okay by me.”

  “I’ve got some cigarettes in the night table next to you,” she says. “You ever eat sushi while smoking?”

  Jack laughs. “I’ll wait for later.”

  She stops with her chopsticks near her face, a clump of noodles hanging from them. “Do you really have to go back out tonight? Why not just call the Czechs tomorrow and go get your money?”

  He shakes his head. “Can’t. They made that mess downtown today, and now I’ve got to give the police something by tomorrow or else they come after me looking to clean it up. That and I still have to find out who killed Ralph.”

  Jack remembers Junius getting the call from Tony at the restaurant earlier. He wonders why Tony would call Junius, especially if he was with Castroneves. What was happening there?

  “Remember when you first called me?” he asks. “And you said you wanted me to come down to The Coast so you could tell me something about Ralph?”

  She nods, taking a piece of salmon nigiri and putting the whole thing in her mouth.

  “So what’d you want to tell me? I never got the full story because Tony showed up.”

  “Yeah,” she says. “That bastard made me go turn up the music, only you can’t turn it up from behind the bar. You have to go upstairs to the office. And the office was locked. So I had to get one of Tony’s boys to let me in. Then the thing’s already programmed to go up at eight o’clock, and it was, like, five minutes to eight.”

  “So Tony wanted to get rid of you.”

  She shrugs. “Who knows what that bastard ever wants. He wanted to get rid of you in a minute. Maybe he was trying to get rid of you then.”

  “So what’d you want to say?”

  Jack can feel Maxine’s body next to his under the blankets: their sides pressed together and her smooth skin against his leg. She nods, puts her hand under the blanket, and runs her fingers along Jack’s thigh. “You’re all right, you know that, Palms?” She kisses him on the cheek. “The thing is,” she says, “Tony wouldn’t let Ralph come around The Coast anymore because he found out Ralphie was dealing to a couple of the girls.”

  “And Tony didn’t want Ralph around the girls.”

  “No,” Maxine says. “That wasn’t it. Ralph dealt to his girls for a long time and Tony was okay with it. He said he liked how it made them dance, that it made the new ones dance better and not worry. When my friend Michelle started dancing there, he even gave her coke to get over her nerves the first few times.”

  “So what happened?”

  “Tony told Ralph to stop. Then he started dealing to the girls himself.”

  “Tony?”

  “Yeah. He got himself a new supply line and then he started dealing to the girls. He cut Ralph out. Then he found out Ralph still sold to a few of them and he wouldn’t let Ralph around the club anymore. After that, Tony started dealing to the customers too.”

  “And that stuff about Ralph touching the girls?”

  She shakes her head, hair falling onto her face that she brushes away with the back of her hand. “Not really.”

  “Fuck,” Jack says. “So Tony Vitelli wanted to set up a new business for himself and he had his own supply? Someone must have been getting him the coke to sell at The Coast. Junius?”

  Maxine shakes her head. “That I don’t know.”

  “Okay, though.” Jack starts getting out of bed and putting his pants on. “Okay.”

  Maxine puts down a maki with her chopsticks. “Where are you going?”

  “I think it’s time I go talk to the man: Tony Vitelli.”

  Jack calls Niki to come pick him up: He’s ready to leave the Mustang behind for a while, let it rest out of harm’s way. Niki agrees, but says he’ll have to bring the others too: Coked up in the hotel room, they’re all too ready to go out and find Tony Vitelli, regardless of where he is or how he’ll receive them. As long as it gets them out into the night. Jack tries to convince him to leave Al and David behind; he doesn’t want any more of Al’s recklessness and gun-toting bravado, but Niki says that won’t happen. He puts Vlade on the phone, and Vlade says they’ll be there in fifteen minutes.

  Maxine calls The Coast, asking if Tony’s there, and the manager won’t tell her anything. But when she calls the dancers’ changing room, one of them tells her that Tony’s at The Mirage tonight, taking care of some business.

  Jack’s not sure if this is supposed to mean dealing, fucking someone up, or just watching the club. He wonders where the club kids get their ecstasy, whether Tony’s got his hand in that as well. And why wouldn’t he? It’s as good a business as any other, probably better than coke even, a definite line to some hard cash. He wonders how many people Tony has dealing under him.

  While he’s waiting for Niki to show, Jack and Maxine share a cigarette in her living room. “I don’t want to come,” she says. “But I will if you want me to.”

  “No.” Jack touches her leg through her robe. “You just stay here and get some rest. With any luck, I’ll come pick you up in the morning and we’ll head up to my place to get some breakfast.”

  She puts her arms around Jack. “Or we’ll just stay here and you can get into the bed with me.”

  Jack has to admit it: “That sounds pretty nice. When this shit is over, I’ll be ready for a few days in that bed.” He starts thinking about the scene ahead of him at The Mirage, what that’ll be like, and also about Junius: whether he was Tony’s supply or if Tony went outside of him too.

  In the car, after Niki’s buzzed up and Jack has kissed Maxine good-bye, he’s still thinking about whether Junius would turn over Ralph and start supplying to Tony. But he doesn’t see why Junius would turn over his own man, even if he and Ralph weren’t that close.

  “Hey, Jack,” Vlade shouts from the backseat. “We can fuck up these guys tonight!”

  “It’s okay, man. I can hear now.”

  Then Vlade leans forward. Without shouting, he says, “Yes. I know. We can do this.”

  Jack looks at Niki, who shrugs and smiles. “He talks like this way when he is high.” Vlade says something in Czech, and Niki laughs. “He says to don’t fuck with him or he’ll kill us all.”

  “Right,” Jack says. “I believe it.”

  The Czechs have insisted on playing loud techno music in the Escalade—so they’ll be ready for the club when they get there, or because they’re already in that kind of mind-set, Jack doesn’t know. It’s loud and he wants to be back with Maxine, in bed, but after a little while the music starts to pick him up and help him feel ready for the task at hand.

  “Pull over up here,” he tells Niki. “I need a coffee.”

  Outside the SUV, Jack gets his phone and tries Junius at the number on the card. He passes under the bright fluorescents of a gas station, heading inside to buy coffee. Junius picks up on the seventh ring. Jack can hear loud pumping music in the background, barely understands Junius when he says, “Who this?”

  “Junius. This is Jack Palms. I got to talk with you.”

  “Where you at?” he shouts.

  “I’m on my way to The Mirage.”

  Junius laughs. “That’s good. Because I’m already here.”

  “You dealing through Tony?”

  “What you say?” On the other end of the phone, it sounds like the music just got louder.

  “I asked if you’re his supply.”

  “You better come here, brother.”

  Jack says he will, but Junius has already hung up. He makes his coffee strong and black, no milk or sugar. As he’s paying for it, Jack thinks over Junius’ call from T
ony, and the fact that he’s already at the club. He hopes he isn’t walking into a mess. Maybe it’ll turn out better to have Al and Vlade around, he considers, though he hopes he won’t need their guns. Whatever the situation may look like, getting caught in the middle of a gunfight is not something Jack wants to go through again.

  When they show up at The Mirage, Jack’s already finished his large coffee and he’s still miles behind the Czechs. They’re talking and gesturing wildly with their hands; Vlade and David seem to be concerned with calming Al down. Jack figures Vlade and Niki are packing guns, but he doesn’t push to ask them, just hopes they’ll get into the club. For that matter, he’s hoping he’ll get into the club without having to walk over Tony’s bouncers. Not that that wouldn’t be a pleasure.

  But at the front entrance, the security seems happy to see him; it’s the same guy he’s seen there before, the one who likes his movie. He says, “Jack Palms, man. You’re starting to be a regular around here,” and opens the ropes for Jack and the Czechs right away. “Where’s that girl you were with last night? She was smoking.”

  Jack shrugs. “At home.”

  “All right, player,” the bouncer says, hitting Jack on the arm. “Ready for somebody new?”

  Jack looks at the guy and at the line to get in through the regular, non-VIP entrance: It’s twice as long as it was last night, at least. “What’s going on here tonight?” he asks the doorman.

  The guy smiles wide. “People like the action, my man. Heard we might stay closed tonight after that shit getting out on the news, but turns out people wanted to come out more because of what went down last night.” He shrugs. “I guess they read it in the papers and wanted to say they been here. You’re back. What’s your excuse?”

  “Go figure,” Jack says. “And I thought the place had just gotten shot up.”

  “Yeah,” the guy says. “That’s the whole thing of it, man. That shit be cool now!”

  Jack sees Vlade eyeing one of the bouncers on the side, a white guy who’s wearing a thick gray sweater, not the cool-looking black stretch shirts or leather jackets the others have on. He’s bald, his head freshly Bic’ed, like the shooter from last night, but he has a thick brown beard, overgrown, as if he’s been living someplace cold and trying to cover his skin. He seems disinterested, but looks in their direction, clearly noticing Vlade and his friends.