There was a big sigh on the other end. I knew that from before, it meant that I’d be hearing some unpleasant news. That wasn’t uncommon. That’s why I didn’t call her if I could help it. Sometimes though I like to spar a bit.
“What is it Racquel? You’ve just popped your balloon of happiness all over me.”
“Well actually Anthony I’m glad you called. I wanted to speak to you about this weekend. Artero wants to take us out to Disneyland for a family holiday. We’ll be leaving on Friday after work and we won’t be back until Sunday evening. Aibhilin is very excited about this trip. And I don’t want you to spoil it for her.” That name Artero Ladrón had a way of popping the veins in my neck like I was being choked. And I had been choked, figuratively of course by that son of a bitch. He was the leper Racquel was banging when I was on night shift, or at other times convenient to the both of them. I wasn’t available to her she said. Something had happened to me over the years being a cop. I’d become cold and distant and other bullshit excuses she came up with.
“Listen Racquel, what are you gonna do when Artero starts banging the nanny or that fine looking secretary of his. When them chickens come home to roost you think there’ll be space for you in the hen house with that fucking fox?”
There I was getting choked again. Fucker, he just makes my blood boil. The main reason I left the force. But that’s another story.
“There’s no need for that kind of language Anthony.”
I exhaled my balloon of happiness. It wasn’t so full. I pulled out a cigarette and inhaled on that. Made me feel better. I blew smoke into her ear, see if I could get her a little choked up.
“There’s need for a lot more than that kind of language Racquel and you know it. You think he’s gonna stand by you and my daughter when fresh meat comes sashaying by? I doubt it Racquel. I doubt it big time.”
“Listen Anthony. You don’t know anything about Artero and I. He’s available for me okay. He takes care of my needs like you couldn’t. Both physical and emotional.”
That was a low blow but I took it like a man. It was bullshit. She’d never complained before. Nothing like winding a fella by taunting his sexual prowess. But she wasn’t my first or only so I had earned some confidence there.
“Yeah Racquel, well you weren’t much better than a dead fish.”
I felt good with that. This conversation was spiraling into a childish argument but it felt good for me to get some of this stuff off my chest. It’d been a long time coming. Still hadn’t gotten over her infidelity.
“Whatever okay. Artero is very happy and I’m very happy too. It’s not like when we were together. There is real love and commitment between us. He makes me feel happy.”
“That’s bullshit Racquel I was nothing if not committed to our relationship and our daughter. That’s the problem with you, you’re like a hollow well that just can’t be filled. Always expecting other people to make you feel better. You’ve gotta find that within yourself. I’ve told you that before.”
“Yes thank you Dr. Carrick for your quackery. This is exactly why I left you. You think you have all the answers.”
I let that one zip by. It only left a flesh wound. Besides I was getting tired of the arguing. She wasn’t worth it anymore. It had been three years. I was trying to get over it. Thing is, she still had my buttons. Push, push, push. That’s the way our relationship devolved at the end. The only intimacy we were left with was the intimacy of arguing.
“Is Artero there Racquel? I’d like to talk to him about this. I’m not happy about you usurping another of my weekends. I only get a couple a month.”
“No he’s not here Anthony, he’s working late tonight.”
The way she said that I wasn’t sure if she was a believer. I wasn’t.
“Mmm, right Racquel. Well you keep telling yourself and maybe you’ll believe it after a while.”
“It’s true Anthony. Not that you’d understand the pressure and workload that Artero is under right now. The finance business is extremely busy and he provides very well for us. That’s another difference between him and you. He’s a good provider and he works hard to provide us all the necessities in life.”
“Ha, that’s funny,” I said. “The necessities in life indeed. Like that Mercedes SUV you drive is a necessity. Jesus Christ Racquel are you bullshitting me or yourself? And you know what, I take exception to that. I provided pretty good with my cop’s salary alright. I was a public servant and I was trying to serve the community. Not steal from it like Artero and his pals.”
He was some type of financier in sketchy business dealings. Sure he made a lot of money but it was blood money. My suspicions were he financed arms sales primarily and also business mergers which put a lot of people out of work consistently. That’s what my research had pulled up. A real charmer. A shark in a pool of guppies.
“You think it’s easy being a cop and trying to serve the community and putting up with all the BS and bureaucracy and abuse?” It was a rhetorical question but I don’t think she understood that.
“Well Anthony, you chose that career right?”
“Yes Racquel and well before I met you. You knew what you were marrying.”
Touché. The old man gets one in. She didn’t say anything to that. The truth has a way of silencing dissent. I basked in its glow. Maybe it was the glow from my cell. But it felt good anyway.
“Okay Racquel. When am I going to get Aibhilin now that you’ve hijacked my weekend?”
A big huff. “I don’t know Anthony let me call you back once I’ve spoken to her okay?”
“No, how about we figure it out now. Here’s an idea. You let me pick her up on Friday the thirty first for the opening and I’ll keep her that weekend.”
Another big sigh. I felt like I was talking to a windbag. “Anthony, that’s the weekend Aibhilin is with us.”
“Right, and this is the weekend Aibhilin is with me. You can’t have your cake and eat it too. Not as long as I’m the baker.” I didn’t know what the hell that meant but I went with it. Bamboozle them with verbiage when in doubt.
“We’ll see Anthony. I’ll have to call you back after I’ve spoken with Artero.”
I took a moment to say the x-rated Our Father. I was liable to pop out of my car in anger. Then I noticed an attractive woman walking past my car with a mini skirt that almost had her bum smiling at me. I smiled back and felt a lot better.
“You do that Racquel. But remember that Aibhilin is getting older and you trying to twist her against me will back fire against you one day. Mark my words.”
That’s what I said. What I wanted to say was much harsher. I wanted to promise to take her to the ends of the earth in litigation. I wanted to promise to wipe that smile off of her smug face and to rearrange Artero’s not so handsome face. It’s amazing what women find attractive when there’s money involved. But I could do none of those things. They could outspend me and my karmic lives a thousand fold. And the other stuff. Well that’s just posturing with wishful thinking and eternal hope thrown in for good measure.
“Anthony, you’ve done a great job at turning your own daughter against you. She doesn’t need my help when it comes to that.”
“Where do you get this shit from? That is a grievous and outrageous lie,” there I was with the verbiage. But still it was bullshit. “I have always put Aibhilin first and you damn well know that.”
“All I know is that she likes to spend more time with us rather than with you.”
Childishness rearing its ugly aborted head again. I let it roll by like a ball.
“Get her to call me Racquel. And have a talk to your husband. And while you’re at it ask him how hard his work has been tonight. And ask him who was it hard with.”
“You bastard.”
That sounded like a good night to me so I hung up the phone and looked at it like it was the face of my ex. I wanted to throw it down the road after that sexy night crawler I’d seen but she was long gone, and I couldn’t afford
another phone. So I squeezed it hard in my hand. It wasn’t putty and it didn’t squish. When I’d rung it dry of my frustration I put it back in my jacket pocket and started the car. I banged the steering wheel but that didn’t make me feel any better so I took a few deep breaths. Then I took the last drag from my cigarette and tossed it to the road. I did a u-turn and headed up North Robertson past motorcycle man who was engrossed in conversation with some other stud muffin.
SIXTEEN
A Few Too Many
THE Long Shot is a bit of a dive. In the sense that it hasn’t seen any TLC for quite some time. The carpets have been cleaned but they wear the beer stains proudly on their face. The cloth on the chairs and the booths looks moth eaten and well worn from bearing the heavy weight of many cops over many years. Frank Swazinsky the bartender is as old as the bar and just as disheveled. He wears a five o’clock shadow at any time of the day. His white shirt is gray from age and his black pants hang loosely from a rotund belly. He sports a thick gold chain from his neck and a matching one on his right hand. His left hand dangles a large chunky silver watch and his wedding band is thick gold with a square top. Someone rubbed ash under both his eyes that stays. His hair is black and bushy. On his head, peeking out from his collar and on his hands. He’s friendly, always liked the police and has cheap beer.
The place was about half full. Not a bad crowd for a Monday night. My eye caught John in a booth with two other men I recognized. Vic “the brick” Lowe who’s nickname is telling and Mick “limey” O’Toole. His nickname was not as telling. He wasn’t English but Irish, somehow someone got it confused and the nickname stuck. The two of them were sitting across from John and between them was a dying pitcher of beer. I bet it wasn’t their first. Mick and Vic couldn’t be a more unlikely pair. Vic was about six two and easily two fifty of solid muscle and gristle. He was clean shaven of face and pate with a ruddy complexion. Mick looked like he’d just come off the boat having survived the potato famine. He was five six and maybe a buck forty with stones in his pocket. He was no muscle but all gristle. He had curly unruly red hair and a freckled face that was bright and pleasant. But mostly, if you didn’t know him and you were on the other side of the law, he was unpleasant.
I nodded at them as I walked over. The three musketeers raised their glasses at me. Vic and Mick were both detectives in Vice. But I’d known them since we had all been on the street. Busting heads and doing a lot of real police work. I moved in with John.
“Knuckles,” said Vic smiling at me. That was my nickname that most of them knew me by. Except for John, he had his own special nickname for me. Or we had our own nicknames just between the two of us. Not a long story. I had boxed with the LAPD and won the title for middleweight World Police and Fire Games back in ninety seven. That was held in Calgary, Canada. Mick offered me his knuckles in a fist and we pounded them together. He’d won the lightweight title back then. Very unorthodox style. He’d learnt his boxing from scrapping in the streets.
“Gents,” I said.
“Glad you could make it,” said John, “where you coming from?”
I smiled, they’d love this one. “Just came back from that bar Here up on North Robertson.” The whole table erupted in laughter.
“Fucking right. You haven’t changed teams on us Anthony have you?” asked Mick.
“Not yet. But I’ll tell you something, there were some good looking women out there. Not your classic butchy dykes. I mean some nice feminine eye candy.”
“Did you get any offers?” asked John.
“Yeah, this old pervert fag bought me a drink. I drank it and he went home alone.”
“Seriously, why the hell were you at a place like that?” asked Vic.
“I was testing the waters you know. Ever since Racquel left me, well I’ve been a sad and lonely old man. Figured maybe I could get better luck with the other side. The bed stays cold when you’re sleeping alone in it every night.”
“Fuck off. Seriously why were you there?” asked Mick.
Anastasia came by. Frank’s wife. She’s in great shape for her age. Probably early sixties. She wore too much make up with bright red lipstick and a black mini skirt folded like a concertina. She had on long socks all the way to her knees that were ribbed in black and white horizontal stripes. Her blouse was plain white. Frank had treated her, maybe us, to a boob job and she liked to show it off. The blouse was tight around them apples and the cleavage was generously exposed. Her hair was a bush fire of curls in copper tones. She was very pleasant with a slight eastern European slant to her accent.
“I think you guys need another round. What do you say?”
“Yes please is what I’ll say Ana. Put this one on me. Another round of the same,” I said.
“Good man Anthony. Cheers,” said Vic.
Anastasia went off to grab the beer from her husband. Mick looked at me expecting something. He drank the last of his beer and poured the rest from the pitcher into his glass. Wasn’t more than a couple of snifters worth.
“No drink for you until you tell us what you were doing in a gay bar,” he said.
He was serious. His one flaw was that he was homophobic. Not hatefully so but homophobic nonetheless. I had fun with it sometimes.
“You know Mick. I’ve noticed that sparkle in your eye the way you look at me sometimes. It’s okay you know. To own up to your secret desires. Your secret passions.”
“Fuck off,” he said. He was a single guy. Had been since I’d known him. Didn’t have much luck with the ladies. He was a tough nut. Abrasive with a prickly way of rubbing people up the wrong way. Took you a long time to come around to see the gem hidden in the coal. His boyish looks belied his prickly nature. Vic had a good chuckle and finished his beer.
“You looking for another fight today Anthony?” asked John. I looked at him and shook my head. Then I looked back at Mick.
“Nah Johnny. I’m just looking for some love.”
“Fuck off knuckles,” said Mick shaking his head at me. But he wasn’t pissed off.
“Alright. I’m working on this murder of that producer Max Ernst. You’ve probably seen it in the papers,” there was general nodding of heads. “Well it’s kinda complicated but I was visiting his wife’s lesbian lover. Her name is Jane. Very sad she’s lesbian because she’s a tasty morsel. Anyway, I figure she might be good for it but I’m not certain, so I wanted to chew some fat with her see if I could get any sense of it.”
Anastasia came by with our pitcher of beer. It splashed a little out onto the table as she set it down. For our ancestors I thought. Anastasia set a mug down in front of me, cleaned up the spill with a cloth and then poured me a good drink. Thanks, I said. I took a long drink. It was crisp and cold. And just then everything was good in the world. Except for this damn murder I was trying to figure out.
“So did you figure it out?” asked Vic pouring himself a glass of beer and then Mick and then John.
“No I didn’t and I still don’t know if she’s good for it or not. We’re talking a lot of money here. Around fifty mill or so. And the wife gets the lion’s share of it if he croaks. Thing is, if he divorces her for infidelity she gets way, way less. John here is working on this too. Damn thing’s so complicated and I just want to wrap it up before LA five oh does. Otherwise I’m out on my ass looking for a different kind of work”
“Don’t worry about that Sid,” said John. “We’re a good few days away from making any sense of this. I’ve got six homicides I’m looking at right now. Easy does it. You’ve got lots of time yet.”
“You’re a pal,” I said. “Anyway, I don’t think she’s the one. Something about her. A lost soul or something. Here’s a woman. An actress who’s barely making a living at it who has kinda glommed onto this rich heiress. Not that she’s a money digger. I really think she loves the old lady, but has realized she’s landed a gravy train. Problem is, there’s a lot of folks hitching their rides to that train.”
“There you go Anthony,” said John
. “Good motive. I see it in tomorrow’s paper. Spurned lesbian murders lover’s husband. For love, for money. Hell, maybe for the love of money.”
There was laughter at that. And murmurs of agreement.
“Yeah I’d thought about that too, but then having met her I just don’t buy it anymore. I really think she thought that Vanessa, the lover, the wife, would be good for it in the long run. I’m not certain having met them both. I think the whole family is so screwed up you could open a hardware store with it. But love is blind so I’m told and Jane reckons Vanessa was coming round to settle down with her. Especially now that the husband and the other lover are gone. Great motive Johnny, for sure. But I don’t think she’d be up for it. Jane that is.”
I drank some long sips on my beer. Nothing better than cold crisp beer with just the right amount of froth. You could count on this place for that. Frank never let a thirsty cop down. I’d come here often when I was on the job.
“I’ve got your answer knuckles,” said Mick. “It was the old lady, this Vanessa. She had seen the devotion from Jane and wanted to do right by her. So she kills the old man and the lover. That way her lust can’t get in the way of the devotion from Jane. So now they can disappear off into the sunset and live happily ever after. Problem is they’ve got your’s truly the limey on them and with my help, knuckles here too.”
“You’re a pal Mick,” I said. “Helping a guy out like that. John, give this man a raise and bring him into homicide. The city’s safe for ever more.”
Vic smirked at that. Mick took a bow. As best you can folded into a booth. John laughed. I’ll look into it he said. We all took to nursing our beers.
“What are you guys working on?” I asked Vic and Mick.
“We’ve got a sting going on up here on Sunset Boulevard,” said Vic. “Not far from here. Apparently there’s a flop house doing great revolving business. We understand that they’re serving high end clientele, Hollywood types, bankers, the who’s who of LA. People looking for a tight end. Fuckers are using underage runaways and stowaways. Girls as young as twelve we reckon.”
Anthony Carrick Hardboiled Murder Mysteries: Box Set (Books 1 - 3) Page 18
