“Have a safe night,” Benny said.
“You, too,” Marla said. “I’ll be in touch.”
She pulled her cell phone off the belt of her over-shirt and punched in familiar numbers.
“Hello, Daddy. I’m here.”
“Hi, Baby. Be safe,” Vince said. “Call me when you’re through.”
“I will,” she ended the call, comforted by his voice.
Marla hooked the phone back onto the side of her cheap, black belt. She pulled the soft cotton over-shirt down to reveal more cleavage and a black bra, and strutted off into Max’s Bar & Grille on dangerously high black heels.
It was dark, hazy, and noisy inside the small bar. She coughed a little from the cigar and cigarette smoke and looked askance at the barstools filled with construction workers downing boilermakers.
Tables and booths held groups having friendly drinks and dinner, but there was no Glen Spade. She spotted the restroom and decided to go there first as that path put her in full view of just about everyone inside Max’s. Tonight she wanted to see and be seen. She was confident she would be noticed.
Her spike heels clicked on the tile floor as she confidently strode around the walnut horseshoe bar. She made sure to accentuate her walk, heel to toe, one foot directly in front of the other, as models do, to sway her hips and show off her figure. It was not so easy to do on stilettos. She bluffed her way through it.
The noise of the high heels was like ringing a bell for Pavlov’s dogs. Heads turned to see who was clicking in those shoes. Before she got to the restroom door, most of the males in the bar, and some of the females, were watching the beautiful young blonde in the short black skirt. The men watched the new customer out of interest. The women watched out of jealousy, except for one or two of the women who pop in and out of the many bars that line this street, looking for other women. They were interested, too.
Marla pulled a clean paper towel out of the dispenser and, holding it on the door lock for germ protection, turned it to secure the door behind her. She threw that towel into an overflowing bucket that served as the waste can.
She checked her makeup in the mirror and was pleased with what she saw, blonde hair, blue eyes, full pink lips, lots of pancake makeup, with large, heavily outlined eyes. On top of all that, she sported a pair of false eyelashes. The outfit was cheap-looking. It was just what Glen Spade liked, the antithesis of Marla Michaels. She checked deep inside her shoulder bag for the ever-present 22-caliber handgun. It was still there, which added to her confidence. Marla exited the dirty restroom, tossing a paper towel into the trash before the door closed behind her.
Her progress to the bar was monitored by most of the patrons. She claimed an empty stool on the far end, closest to where most of the men were. Hopefully, it would encourage some of them, chiefly Glen if he was on the premises, to approach her to talk. It would prove to be a successful maneuver.
Her well-defined bottom barely touched the red cushion before the bartender informed her that someone wanted to buy her a drink. She turned to identify her benefactor.
“What’ll you have?” the bartender asked, eyeing her up and down. “He’s paying,” he said, shrugging toward a young man chugging a bottle of beer.
“I’ll have what he’s having,” she said to the bartender while smiling at her new friend buying her drinks.
The young man took the cue and, bottle of beer in hand, sauntered her way. As she hoped, he leaned against the end of the bar to talk to her, instead of standing between her and her view of the room.
“What’s your name?” he asked, looking her over, head to toe. He chugged some brew and leaned in toward her to listen.
“Tina,” she answered. “What’s yours?” She looked him over, head to toe, too, and gave him her full attention. Not bad. Not as good as Vince, but not bad.
“Jim,” the young man said. And off he went, asking her all about herself and then telling her his life’s story. If he was telling the truth, something she could never be sure of, he was a single, thirty-five-year old mechanic. But, her experience was that they all claim to be young, single and employed.
Tina gazed upon the nice young man as if there was no one else in the room. It was a skill she had learned from observing successful conversants. However, without being obvious, she was studying Spade’s favorite watering hole for Bobby’s killer.
One of the lesbians caught Tina’s eye. The dark-haired girl in blue jeans and tee shirt raised her glass to Marla and gestured for permission to come speak to her.
Tina smiled, shook her head, and turned away, ending that encounter before it began.
Another hour came and went, along with a parade of men of varying sizes and ages who wanted to make her acquaintance and buy her a drink. She accepted the one bottle of beer only, to avoid anyone slipping something into what she was drinking. When her attention was off the beer, her hand wrapped around the bottle, and she slid her finger into the opening for protection. Although many offers for alcohol were given, Tina sipped from that same bottle.
She was polite, but not overly, to them all, including the older man Jeffrey who approached her wearing a purple, polyester shirt, with dark stains under the armpits, opened too many buttons down. It was not a pretty sight, much like a bad disco movie star. The huge gold colored medallion around his neck and large tattoo of God knows what on his chest did not help. He was a nice person, so she talked with him.
When Jeffrey saw he wasn’t really getting anywhere with this one, he moved on to try his charm on some ladies at a table.
The evening and the company were getting old, and Tina was thinking about calling it a night. There was no clock on the wall, so she asked the bartender the time.
“Ten fifteen.”
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Tina pushed the beer bottle away and shifted her weight to leave. Then the door opened, and three men came into the establishment, strutting their swag as if they owned the place.
Two of the men were identified in the Play as co-workers of the Antagonist. Tina remembered the snapshots and background of each of them that the Searcher had provided for her. The third man, last to enter the building, was Spade, puffing himself up for the females.
Maybe tonight won’t be a loss. She sat firmly on the stool again and pulled her beer close.
The group, already sporting a few drinks under their belts, shuffled over to a booth near the bar. They slid onto their seats and ordered some drafts. Though tipsy, they managed to spy the attractive, cheap-looking blonde showing off beautiful legs. When the full glasses were delivered to the table, Glen watched her over the glass’s rim as he drank. He was definitely interested.
Tina pretended not to see them, giving her full attention to the latest young man to stop her way. She tilted her head back demurely while talking, to entice her quarry in the booth. Once, she deliberately dropped her purse and bent over to pick it up, showing off her body. She was running out of tricks to pull and hoped that Glen would soon take the bait.
Her posturing worked as, before long, Spade, too, stopped for a chat.
The bartender, Tim, just rolled his eyes at the parade going on before him. He was sure that, on any given night, this loser in particular wouldn’t have a chance with her. He watched as Tina spoke to Spade as she did to everyone else. She’s one friendly gal.
“What’s your name?” Spade said, breath reeking of stale liquor and marijuana.
He was trying to act cool, leaning on the bar and looking her over, then away. A smell of stale beer and sweat wafted her way. Specks of a hastily eaten fast-food dinner flaked across his shirt and pants.
“Tina,” she said for the umpteenth time tonight, trying not to be repulsed by Spade’s meal on his clothes. “What’s yours?” She noticed that his fingernails were long and dirty and his clothes were ill-fitting and wrinkly. She resisted the impulse to lean back and escape unpleasant odors he brought with him.
“Glen Spade,” he answered, staring alternately
at her face and then her chest. “Want to join us?” he asked, motioning to where his friends were. The two companions in the booth smiled her way. One waved.
“No, thank you,” she said politely.
His face registered disappointment.
“But I’ll talk to you right here,” she said, smiling and fidgeting with her beer bottle.
He turned back and said “Okay.” He brightened and got a little closer. More attempts at acting cool. It was really a stretch.
They talked superficially about themselves for the first few minutes. The rest of the evening went according to Bobby’s Play.
Spade was pleased with himself and lied all over the place. He told her that he was a former schoolteacher. Lie. Rarely drinks. Lie. Doesn’t do drugs. Another lie. And that he was now working as a skilled construction worker. Partial lie.
Oh my gosh. Only a half-lie. She knew that, while he was a construction worker, he was definitely not skilled, unless you count doing drugs and committing criminal activities.
Tina, following his lead and the Play, lied repeatedly, too. She said her name was Tina Yarnell. Lie. She said she was looking for work in Tempe, having recently moved there after her divorce. Two lies. She said she thought he was cute. Big Lie. She completed the lying spree by saying she wouldn’t mind seeing him again. Bigger Lie.
Spade said he would like to see her again, too, and that she could trust him. Lie. And that he was just another law-abiding hard-working man, not like one of those creeps she would have to worry about. Lie. Lie.
Tina was surprised they weren’t both struck by lightning or turned into pillars of salt for all the untruths flying back and forth between them. She giggled at that thought.
He mistakenly thought she was enjoying his company.
Tina recognized he misunderstood her giggling and giggled some more. She suggested a time and place for them to meet the next night. “I will be at a different bar tomorrow night. At Der Schluss. It’s new.”
She wrote the name and address down on a scrap of paper for him. He scooped it up, looked at it, and put it in his wrinkled shirt pocket, patting it for effect.
“I want that back,” she said, taking back the paper with the address on it. “Just memorize it and be there.” She didn’t want any loose evidence.
“Are you sure about the address? I thought the bar there was closed,” he said, recognizing the street and number. “That’s just an empty building now. I remember because we worked on a construction site near there.”
“It was,” Tina said. “But it’s going to be reopened under new management and a new name. Der Schluss. Tomorrow night entrance to the bar will be by invitation only. And I’m inviting you. The general public will not be able to get in. Just friends of the owners. I got an invitation because the owner of the apartment building where I live is also part owner of the bar. He likes me, so he asked me to be there.” She crossed her legs to give him an eyeful, thinking maybe it will help him make up his mind.
“Great,” Spade said, ogling her limbs. “See you tomorrow night at 9. At Der Schluss.” He pronounced it wrong.
“Come by yourself, okay? Cuz your friends won't be able to get in. And, it's Der Schluss,” she said, pronouncing it correctly. She batted and lowered her eyelashes.” Don’t tell your friends about it because the grand opening isn’t until the next day,” she said, looking over at his companions. There was more eyelash batting. “Anyway, I’d rather it be just the two of us. If you tell them, they’re liable to try to get in, and you might get pushed aside. I don’t think you’d want that to happen, now, would you? Hmmmmm?”
Eager to please the sexy blonde and wanting to be alone with her, too, Spade agreed. He would tell his friends about Der Schluss after his date.
Tina said she was leaving soon and excused herself to go to the powder room. She did her model walk all the way to the lady’s room door. It was an effective strategy.
Spade happily watched her walk away. She looked just as good going as she did coming. He approved. He stayed near her stool for her return and, licking his lips, eyed her half-empty bottle of beer. Maybe she won’t notice if I take a swig.
The bartender saw Spade looking at Tina’s beer and pulled it away from him.
Spade frowned.
Tina waited in a short line for her turn to get inside and pulled out her phone as soon as she locked the door with paper-toweled fingers.
“Hi, Daddy,” Marla said quietly, having shed her Tina character.
“Hi, Baby,” Vince said. “How’s it going? Are you all right?” He held his breath.
“Like clockwork, and yes, I’m fine, thank you. Can you send Benny around to pick me up?”
“Sure can. You ready to go back to the Safe House?”
“Yes. I’ve got to get out of here and get a bath. Neither this place nor Glen Spade smells very good.”
“I’ll send Benny right over.” He retrieved another phone out of his drawer to make the call.
“Ask him to wait ten minutes, and then he should come pick me up at the end of the block. I don’t want anyone from the bar watching me getting into the vehicle,” Marla said.
“Okay. Be careful, Baby.”
“I will. Talk to you soon.”
When she opened the bathroom door, the next person in line thanked her for not taking too long.
“Imagine having only a one-holer for the ladies in this place,” the woman said in a husky voice, all the while sucking hard on a cigarette. She blew a smoke ring. The cigarette was burned down to the nub, so she threw it on the floor next to some other extinguished ones and noisily stomped it like one would crunch a cockroach.
The two women waiting behind the smoker agreed with her.
“It’s criminal,” one of them said nasally. “I have a mind to go and use the men’s room.” She smiled at her own suggestion and went to the Gents without asking someone to make sure no one was already in there. She wiggled her butt inside and let the men’s-room door slam behind her.
Marla nodded her head in agreement with the women and went back to the bar to ask the bartender if she owed him anything. He said no.
Marla motioned for Spade to walk her to the door. In his haste to join her, he tripped but caught himself before he fell. He felt foolish and looked up to see her reaction. She was smiling but resisted making fun of him.
She crooked her finger again and, slowing her pace, was followed by him to the door. She stood and waited for Spade to open it. He didn’t get the hint, so she did it herself.
The bartender, seeing what was going on, marveled at Spade’s social ineptitude, convinced for sure now that he’s going nowhere with this one.
Marla stood outside near the curb and asked Spade to come closer. He moved in and was ready to pucker up.
“It’s too bad you don’t do stuff,” she said, with a shy look, backing away from his pucker.
“What do you mean? What stuff?”
“Der Schluss will be the place to get some good illegal stuff," she said. “I know the new owners very well, and they look the other way for drug dealers and users.”
Drugs, his biggest weakness. Blondes, his second weakness. She remembered that from his history.
Spade shrugged his shoulders, but his interest had taken a sharp turn at the mention of drugs. His attention was drawn to his stash.
“What drugs? How cheap? When?” he asked, focused intently for the answer to his dreams of drugs and women.
“They’re trying a new strategy to get customers to their opening,” Tina said. After saying the words, she realized how stupid it sounded but knew Glen was too stupid to notice. “They’ll let you run a tab, pay what you can, and then you can wipe the balance out by working for them if you run out of money. No pressure.”
She pulled a cigarette out of her purse and held it in her fingers, allowing him some time to think about it. The cigarette stayed unlit.
Always low on funds and looking for drugs, Spade was hooked. He was mentally doin
g the calculations of what it might cost him to replenish his stash.
“I’ll be there,” he said. He took an awkward step toward her, and she backed up.
“Save it for tomorrow night. You’ll need all your energy for me then,” Tina said. “See you soon, sweetie.” She flicked the unlit cigarette out to the street and started to walk toward the corner.
“You bet,” he said, eyeing the cigarette for retrieval. He had been hoping for a big kiss but was willing to wait for more. Especially if he was going to score some stuff, too.
Tina turned and smiled broadly, closing the door on the trap laid by the Play.
Spade plucked the unused cigarette off the road and tucked it into his pocket to smoke later.
After his new flame got to the corner, he went back to the bar. He reached into his pocket, brought out a wrapper with some pills in it, and popped one in his mouth. He waited for the bartender to turn his attention elsewhere and snatched Tina’s half-empty beer bottle. It provided a warm chaser for the pills. Spade opened the pill wrapper again, counted his stash and was thankful he’d be replenishing his supply soon at Der Schluss. Whatever that means. Weird name for a booze joint.
He was feeling good and cheering up. This is my lucky night. He rejoined his friends at the table.
None of them believed he would ever be seeing the blonde again.
Before long, Glenn was slurring his speech and feeling drowsy. By the end of the night, he had to be helped out of Max’s.
At Papago Park . . .
Rick Cline smoked another cigarette excitedly, leaning back against a park bench while waiting for his contact. He was convinced that, if this works out like he thought it would, he’d deservedly be set for years.
Cline had responded to a flier placed under the windshield wiper of his truck last evening. At the top of the paper was a picture of three young Asian women, scantily dressed and looking submissive. ‘Like foreign women and everything your way?’ the announcement asked bluntly. ‘Then call us now. Don’t wait.’ There was a phone number in large print on the bottom of the flier.
Justice and Revenge Page 8
