Last Ditch

by G. M. Ford

  Moisture was beginning to seep out through my scalp. I took another big sip of my bottled water. "Is it true?" I asked.

  "What? That Ralphie likes a drink?" Frankie said with a smile. "Yeah. I think that's safe to say."

  I kept my cool and kept plodding forward.

  "That Judy Chen had her ex-husband Jimmy working for her down on Eighteen and that he was the one supposed to let those people out of that container."

  We sat in silence for a moment. I listened to the sound of my own thick breathing and imagined that I could hear the constant movement of water throughout the room.

  Tim's voice suddenly sounded hoarse. "You know, Leo, you outlive your friends; you outlive your secrets, too. It just happens. You wake up one day and none of the reasons why you was keeping secrets matter a rat's ass anymore, cause nobody who's still breathing gives a flying shit."

  I had no idea what to say. He took a deep breath, fixed me with a stony stare and continued.

  "I don't like what happened to Eddie Schwartz."

  I nodded and stared at the tops of my shoes.

  "Eddie was a good man. Better than a lot of guys with legs."

  "You and him was tight" Frankie said.

  "Yeah," I said, without looking up. "When I was a kid."

  Tim rustled around in the chair.

  "Old man like Eddie ... a good man . . . shouldn't go like that."

  "No," I agreed. "He deserved better."

  Tim leaned way back into the shadows of the chair, nearly becoming lost again among the cushions, with only the sharp tip of his nose poking like an arrow out into the fight

  "Frankie says you want a favor."

  Suddenly, we were at the last bus stop in the free ride zone. This was my chance to drink my water, pay my respects and get on up the road. After this, nothing was free.

  I looked at where I thought his eyes should be. "Yeah, I do."

  "Then you'll owe me," he said.

  This was the "Last Train to Clarksville" section of the program. Owing Tim a favor was no small matter. Tim's favors were not multiple choice. If he wants a package delivered to Detroit, you go to Detroit. If what he needs is somebody to shoot the mayor, then you shoot the mayor. No questions asked.

  I took a deep breath. "I know," I said.

  Frankie shifted in his chair. "You know, Leo, if it was just any schmoozer sittin' there in your chair, I'd think maybe the guy didn't know what in hell he was letting himself in for. But you know, it being you and all, I gotta ask you how come this is all so damn important to you. I mean . . . what the fuck do you care?"

  I kept my voice flat "How could I not care? In my whole life, my old man's the only standard anybody's ever judged me by. Everything I've ever done has been held up to his light for inspection. Like it wasn't important on its own. Like the only thing important about it was how it compared to somebody's image of my old man, and what he might have done." I spread my hands. "How could I not care?"

  Frankie sat back in his chair and looked over at Tim. I saw the tip of Tim's nose move up and down. Frankie rested his chin in his hand.

  "You don't quote us," he said.

  "Naturally."

  "What do you wanna know?" "Who killed Peerless Price?" "Not a clue."

  I must have looked dumbfounded. "I thought maybe . . ." I began. From the recesses of the chair, Tim laughed. "You thought if your old man needed somebody hit, he'd come to me, is what you thought right?" "Something like that," I admitted. "He would," said Tim, "usually."

  "But not a reporter," Frankie said quickly. "You're lookin' for more trouble than it's worth. You don't waste reporters."

  "Not even for Bill," Tim said.

  " 'Sides that" Frankie said, "Bill... your old man ... he pretty much had Price under control. Price had been busting his ball for years. Your old man had his ass covered."

  I tried something else.

  "What did my old man have on Douglas Brennan?"

  They passed another look. I waited.

  "Who says he had anything?" Tim asked.

  "He had enough to get Douglas to issue an Order of Provision over that raid on the Garden of Eden."

  Frankie raised an eyebrow. "Kid's been doing his homework, Tim."

  "He's a detective," Tim said; and they both had a good laugh.

  "What do you need to know about Brennan for?"

  "I need to squeeze him a little."

  They both broke out laughing again.

  "Jesus, Leo," Frankie chortled. "Ain't you squeezed that poor old bastard enough yet?"

  "Guy on death row's hard to squeeze," Tim added.

  "The papers say he's gonna get a new trial. They say the judge made some procedural mistake. I figure Brennan can't afford anything coming to light that could potentially screw that up."

  They silently talked it over again. Tim spoke first

  "Some say that little Mexican he offed down in Tacoma might not have been the first"

  "Or even the second," added Frankie.

  For reasons I don't understand, I had a terrific urge to point out that Felicia Mendoza was Guatemalan, not Mexican, but I resisted.

  "Do tell."

  Frankie leaned out across Tim, putting his face close to mine.

  "You ask him about the fifteenth floor of the Carlisle Hotel in nineteen fifty-seven." "What about it."

  Frankie shook his head. "I can't say no more. Some of the people involved are still around."

  I was tempted to ask if any of said "still around" people were, by chance, in the room at this time, but decided against it.

  "The Carlisle Hotel, fifteenth floor, fifty-seven." "You just ask him. You'll shrivel his dick up like a roll of dimes."

  "What if he—" I started.

  Tim cut me dead. "Come on, Leo. Show me something. Smart private dick like you ought to be able to run a little bluff. Give your old man that much info, he'd come out of there owning the guy's house."

  I'd gotten everything I was going to get there, so I pressed on.

  "What about all those people who died in that container?"

  The atmosphere in the room seemed to grow thicker. Neither man spoke or, for that matter, even looked at the other.

  "The container thing was a mess," Tim said suddenly.

  Frankie looked at his boss with mild surprise.

  Tim lifted both claws. "Leo's family," he croaked.

  If Tim's pronouncement was supposed to make me feel warm and fuzzy, I'll have to admit that it had much the opposite effect. For the first time since entering the room, I was no longer sweltering.

  "Yeah," Frankie said, "what Ralphie said was true. Judy gave her ex-husband a job out in the yard."

  As much as I hated to interrupt, I just had to know.

  "Why? Why would she give some guy . . . some drunk who used to beat the shit out of her a job?"

  Frankie touched his forehead with his fingers. "Who knows why broads do the things they do. Specially Chinese broads. You ever find out for sure, you write a book. You'll make a million."

  Tim leaned out into the light. "She told your old man she felt sorry for him. She was hoping maybe the guy could get his act together, maybe the kid could have a father. You know, that kind of thing."

  "What happened?"

  "Your old man wanted him gone."

  I made it a statement "He was jealous."

  Tim snorted. "You think your old man would waste his time on shit like that?" He waved a bony hand at me. "Jealous," he said derisively. "Over some skirt."

  Frankie made a noise in his throat. "What that Jimmy Chen flicker did to piss off your dad was to try to queer the whole operation."

  "How?"

  "He went to Peerless Price. Spilled his guts." "Why would he do that?"

  "Fucker was crazy. A juicehead," Frankie said with feeling. "He hated Judy. He really hated your old man 'cause . . . you know ... he and Judy were ..." He let it hang. "Fucker was crazy," he said again.

  "What happened then?"

  Franki
e was rolling. "From the moment that fucker took the job, heat started coming from everywhere." Frankie painted the air with his hands. "Price was all over it in the papers. Customs and INS was fallin' all over each other. I mean, it didn't take no genius to know who the rat was, but Judy didn't want to hear about it Nope. No sir. She made your old man promise he'd leave him alone."

  "Did he?"

  Frankie wagged his head. "Technically speaking," he said. "I mean, you know, that fucker had to go. Not like there was any doubt of it at all. Question was just how and when. Bill . . . your old man . . . asked us if maybe we couldn't..." He searched for a word. "... persuade this Jimmy Chen asshole that his health would stay better if he was to get the hell out of town and stay that way."

  Tim's voice sounded tired as he spoke from the shadows.

  "Leo," he began, "you gotta understand. None of us knew the details of Judy's business." He waved a hand around. "Not me or Frankie and not your old man." He held the hand still now, stiff palm facing me. "Honest to God. None of us knew one goddamn thing about that family in the box."

  "Swear to God," Frankie repeated.

  "Things got out of hand," Tim said.

  "Fucker was crazy," Frankie said for the third time. "We were gonna bust him up a bit. Make him go tell Judy he quit on his own, so's it wouldn't look like Bill had a hand in it. You know, put the fear of God in him."

  "And?"

  "Things got out of hand. The guy was a handful and a whole lot bigger than we figured. Never seen a guy fight so crazy before. Hadda have Eddie Schwartz sit on his chest."

  "Bermuda was there?"

  Frankie made a disgusted face. "We didn't know this Chinaman from Charlie Chan. Fuck, they all look alike to me. Bill sent Eddie to finger him for us. Eddie was supposed to wait in the car, but, you know, Eddie was a good man. When things started to go sideways, he hustled his ass out and gave us a hand."

  "Sideways how?"

  "I told you, the Chinaman fought like crazy." Frankie looked over at Tim. "Busted Tim's nose. Stuck a finger in one of my eyes. I hadda wear a patch for a month and a half, for Chrissakes."

  "So?"

  "So . . . you know what they say ... it was like feelings were running high. Tim was bleeding all over his suit. Eddie's riding the guy's chest like a buckin' bronco. I'm down to one eye." He hesitated. "I kinda lost my temper."

  "Yeah?"

  "I guess I sorta lost it entirely."

  "Never seen him like that," Tim offered.

  "I thought the fucker had blinded me," Frankie complained. "It was so lame we never even told your old man. When we was done, we stuffed him in a boxcar headed to Florida."

  "What did you do?"

  Frankie actually looked embarrassed.

  "I cut off his ears," he said.

  Chapter 24

  Except for Ralph and a pair of secretaries in the front booth, the Zoo was deserted. The rest of the afternoon regulars were out looking for Jimmy Chen. Terry wiped his hands on a red towel and started down the bar. When I waved him off, he went back to washing glasses.

  "Whatever it is you got everybody up to, Leo, it sure knocked the crap out of business," he said above the running water.

  I shrugged and then leaned over and spoke directly into Ralph's ear. I'd already run the whole thing down for him twice, but it didn't seem to have any effect.

  "Lea me alone."

  He gargled it out through a mouthful of beer and then used his sleeve to polish the dribbles off the bar.

  "No can do," I said. "Much as it pains me, my old friend, on this one, all roads lead to Ralphie."

  He began to rise from the stool, but I clamped a hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.

  "You din tell me Eddie was dead," he said.

  "That's why I've got to know what happened, Ralph. Somebody's got to pay for Ed Schwartz."

  "Lea me alone," he said again.

  "It wasn't your fault, Ralph," I said.

  He shot me a red-rimmed glance and then went back to studying the foam on his glass.

  "It was just one of those things," I went on. "There wasn't anything you or anybody else could have done."

  "Your dad ..." he started, and then shook his head sadly and swallowed the rest of his beer.

  "Trust me, Ralph. There's plenty of blame to go around on this one. Judy Chen should never have given that scumbag Jimmy a job. It was dumb. My father wanted Jimmy Chen gone. That's what started the real shit. He asked Tim and Frankie to fuck Jimmy Chen up and get him out of Dodge. None of them had any idea Jimmy was the one who was supposed to let that family out. Things went haywire. Frankie and Tim lost control of the situation. Jimmy Chen got a lot more fucked up than anybody intended. It didn't have anything to do with you."

  "I coulda ..."

  "You coulda nothing. If you'd known, you'd have let them out. You're not the kind of guy to let a family die out there in the sun. Everybody knows that."

  I don't know why I felt the need to lighten Ralph's load. I knew it wouldn't do any good. He'd been feeding off of his own guilt for so long that it had become part of his life cycle. Taking it away from him now would be tantamount to removing the feeding tube from a coma victim.

  When I looked up, one of the secretaries was slipping quarters into the jukebox. The jazzy little bass run told me what was coming. Van Morrison's voice whispered out from the front of the room.

  "Tim didn't kill Peerless Price."

  Ralph looked up from his beer and opened his mouth.

  "I asked him," I said. "This very afternoon."

  He leaned down, resting his forehead on the rim of the glass.

  "He's got no reason to lie to me," I added. "And with Ed Schwartz dead, neither do you."

  Ralph didn't move. His cheeks puffed in and out.

  "You knew Price was buried in my backyard, didn't you? That's why you ran off from the house that day. You were afraid we were going to find the body, so you ran off."

  When he lifted his head, the rim of the glass had imprinted his skin, leaving him with a big circle etched in the center of his forehead, like a huge blank eye. "No . . . I ..." he began.

  I shook my head. "That's the only way it shakes out, Ralph. The problem has always revolved around the question of how you bury a body in somebody's yard without them knowing about it. I've spent the last week or so kicking that one around, and finally, just this morning, it came to me." I tapped my temple. "You don't. Can't be done. You'd have to know how long the people who lived in the house were going to be away from home. You'd have to know that there was someplace in the yard with fresh dirt. Someplace you could bury it that nobody would notice. You'd have to know that a structure was about to be built over the spot where you buried the body so you wouldn't have to worry about animals or the weather. You'd have to know how the house was situated. That the neighbors couldn't see into the backyard."

  I clapped him on the shoulder.

  "It doesn't scan any other way, man."

  He put his head back down on the empty glass. I raised two fingers toward Terry. He pulled a couple of fresh glasses from the dishwasher and began to pour beer.

  "She came to the rally," he said softly.

  "The night before the Fourth of July?"

  "Uh-huh."

  "Judy Chen?"

  "Yeah."

  "She showed up at the big rally up at Volunteer Park the night Price disappeared?"

  "Carrying the kid," he said. "A hell of a mess," he said. "Hell of a scene. Your mom being there and all . . ."

  Terry arrived with two fresh beers. Ralph raised his head and slid his empty glass across the bar. He now had two interlocking rings imprinted on his head. Three more rings and he'd be an Olympic sponsor.

  He downed half the beer and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Wasn't nothin' Bill could do. What with the big rally and all You and your mom sittin' up there on the stage with him." He looked at me with pleading eyes. "What was he gonna do at a time like that?"

  "He s
ent you and Ed Schwartz," I said.

  He nodded and finished the beer. I signaled Terry for another.

  The secretary had also played the flip side. A younger, brasher Van was begging her to stay.

  A bead of sweat ran through the stubble on Ralph's cheek and dropped onto the bar. "She said Peerless Price showed up where she was living, down on the docks. Wanted to know where Jimmy Chen was. Pushed her around. Threatened her and the kid. Said he was gonna bring all of them down, if she didn't roll over on Bill."

  It made sense. Peerless Price must have been desperate. He'd been counting on Jimmy Chen to finally give him what he needed to bring Wild Bill Waterman to his knees. He'd publicly announced his intention. And then, just like that, Jimmy Chen was nowhere to be found.

  Terry waddled down the length of the bar and exchanged glasses with Ralph. I waited for him to get out of earshot

  "And?"

  He looked me full in the face for the first time.

  "She shot him. Said it was self-defense. Said she was protecting the boy."

  He chased the words with another half a glass of beer.

  "The cops say the gun belonged to Ed Schwartz," I said.

  "When she gave Jimmy Chen the job, your dad insisted she have a gun, you know, in case ..."

  So he did what he always did with errands, he palmed it off on Bermuda, who ended up with his name on the registration certificate. No problem there. Like Tim said, Eddie Schwartz tells nobody nothing.

  "Bill said me and Eddie should pick him up and put him in the greenhouse floor. Said we'd figure out what to do with him later."

  "Why'd he leave the body in the greenhouse? Why not wait for the dust to settle and then dump it somewhere else?"

  Ralph finished the beer. "Asked him one time. He said he'd thought it over and decided he had more control of it where it was. Thought maybe he'd just leave it there. That way him and old Peerless could keep an eye on one another."

  I had to admit, it was slick. Most folks wouldn't have been able to go on with their lives with a body buried out in the yard. The old man, though, was smart enough to realize that what he needed was control of the corpse, and the best way to maintain control was to keep it where it was. Long-range planning. Dude.

  I threw a twenty on the bar and motioned for Terry to come on down.