by Rector, John
When I got to the front door, I looked on the mailbox for a Taylor. The check said she lived in 302, but all the tabs were missing so I couldn’t verify. I buzzed 302 and waited.
After a long pause, the speaker clicked and a man’s voice came on.
“I’m looking for Vanessa Taylor,” I said. “Is this—” The door buzzed before I finished. I barely caught it before it stopped.
The smell inside the building was strong, a mixture of natural gas, cooked meat, and urine. It reminded me of places I’d lived before I met Ava, before things changed for me. I wasn’t nostalgic.
There was an elevator at the end of the hall, but I held off for the stairs. I’d made it up the first two flights before I realized they were carpeted. The middle had been worn away to fiber, but you could still see the tiny gold flower design along the edges.
When I got to the top of the stairs I heard a voice to my left.
“Down here.”
I looked and saw a shrunken old man leaning out of a doorway. He was thin beyond life and wore a bright orange shirt. The combination made him look like an unlucky hunter. When I got close, he squinted at me.
“You from the Pizza Hut?”
I told him I wasn’t.
“God damn speaker doesn’t work. Can’t hear a God damn thing.” He went to close the door and I got my foot in before he could. “If you ain’t got my pizza, then I don’t have any use for you, boy.”
“I’m looking for Vanessa Taylor. Does she still live here?”
He eyed me for a moment, nodded, then turned from the door and shuffled back into the apartment, waving over his shoulder for me to follow. “Hey, Nessie?”
I heard a woman’s voice from one of the back rooms.
“Some kid out here to see you.”
The woman that came out wasn’t what I’d expected. From Lewis’s description I thought she’s be older, fatter, and come complete with a beehive hairdo. Instead, what I saw was a woman in her mid-40’s dressed in jeans and t-shirt. Vanessa Taylor might not have been beautiful, but when she smiled at me it was hard to be sure.
“Do I know you?” She had a white dish towel and was using it to polish a round glass snow globe. “Are you here about the car?”
“Actually, I’m looking for Charley.”
The smile disappeared. The transformation was almost frightening. Vanessa Taylor was definitely not a beautiful woman. “Who the hell are you?”
I told her.
“That doesn’t mean fuck all to me.”
“No reason why it should. Do you know where I find him?”
“You a cop?”
“No.”
“Then I’m not telling you shit.”
I shrugged. “It’s up to you, but Charley knows someone who tried to burn down a Diner on Capitol Hill this morning. I’m trying to find the guy he was with, but if you’d rather talk to the cops I can make them my next stop. They can ask you where he’s at.”
“Charley didn’t burn down no Diner,” Vanessa said. “He’s been sick.”
“Someone saw them together,” I said.
“Who?”
The old man came back in. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Vanessa pointed at me with the snow globe. The movement was so quick that at first I thought she was going to throw it at me. It took all I had not to flinch. “This one says Charlie tried to burn down a restaurant.”
The old man looked at me, then at the floor. “He was always a bad kid. I’m not surprised.”
“Shut the hell up. Charley is a good kid. How the hell do you know anyway? When was the last time you talked to him? When was the last time—”
“Hey.” I held up my hand. “Just tell me where I can find him. I just want to know who he was with.”
“I’m not telling you shit,” Vanessa said, then pointed over my shoulder toward the door. “Get the hell out of here.”
The old man, still shaking his head, walked past me and opened the door. “Better go, boy. Talk of Charley brings out the worst in her.”
Vanessa turned and disappeared down the hallway.
I headed for the door. As I passed the old man he said, “He really is a fucked up kid. I hope he’s not in trouble.”
“I’m not trouble for him.”
The old man nodded. “In that case, you can find him on 14th and Vine.” He gave me an address then pushed the door closed. Before it shut, I heard him say, “Tell him he needs to call his mother.”
~
I found the address easy enough, and this time I took the .44 and slid it in my jacket pocket. When I knocked on the door, I heard someone shuffle inside. A moment later a shadow passed behind the peep-hole. It stayed for a while, then a low voice said, “Who is it?”
“Are you Charley?”
“Who are you?”
“Vanessa wanted me to drop off this check for you.”
I heard the chain slide almost immediately, and when the door opened I pushed it back –hard, and took the .44 from my pocket.
“What the hell is this?”
I pointed the gun at his head.
He held his hands out. “Jesus Christ, man.”
I’d never held a gun on a person before, and I didn’t necessarily like the way it felt, but Charley Taylor was big, bigger than me, and I was happy to have the gun.
“Why did you try to blow up the Diner?”
“I didn’t try to blow up anything.”
“You’re right,” I said. “You burnt it down.”
He shook his head. “That wasn’t me, man.”
He backed into the apartment and stood pressing himself against the living room wall. There was a faded green couch in the room and he balanced himself against it with one hand.
“Who were you with?”
“I’m telling you, I don’t know what you’re talking—”
I slid the chamber back on the gun, loading a round, then pressed the barrel against his head. I was thinking about Marcus, and when I did, pointing that gun didn’t feel as bad.
“Chris almighty, please, man.”
“Who was he?”
“Are you a cop?”
I shook my head. “I’m a chef.”
He looked up at me. If he wasn’t so scared I swear he might’ve laughed. “Guy’s name is Max. I help him out with jobs once in a while, but I didn’t start no fire.”
“Max what?”
“No idea.”
“What do you know?”
He shook his head. “I know he works for a guy named Rusch who owns a couple strip clubs in Glendale. Max works security, the kind that stays in back.”
“I heard the Rusch family got out of that back room shit.”
This time Charley did manage to smile. “You heard wrong.”
~
I drove across town to a place in Lakewood. The entire way I wondered why a guy who worked for Vince Rusch would want to blow up a diner. It didn’t make sense. If the Rush family was still involved in organized crime that was one thing, but even then, what would they want with a shit-hole diner like Marcus’s place?
The sign outside Mulligan’s recycled goods said you could get anything inside. I also knew you could dispose of anything, too. But that wasn’t on the sign.
I parked at the end of the fence and went up a long sidewalk to the front door. When I went inside I heard a delicate chime, and then the smell of grease and dust and age hit me and took me back half a lifetime.
Some places change, but Mulligan’s wasn’t one of them.
Dave Mulligan had known my father. They’d worked together a few times, did time together, and my dad trusted him. When they were both out of jail at the same time, they’d have weekly card games. I was just a kid, and once in a while I’d get to come along. The game always bored me, so they let me explore the junk lot behind the building. It was a good memory.
I stood in the doorway smiling like an idiot.
“You in or out?” A woman’s voice asked.
&n
bsp; I glanced over at the counter and smiled, then I let the door close behind me. I walked across the room to where she stood. “I’m looking for Dave,” I said.
She thumbed over her shoulder and said, “He’s out in the lot, but he’ll be back in a few minutes. Anything I can help you with?”
I told her no, and she didn’t seem to care. She sat on a wood stool and took a paperback from the shelf next to her. It had one of those windblown covers with a lot of hair and skin and the color red.
“Good book?” I asked.
“Nope,” she said, and didn’t look up.
I decided to look around.
When Dave came in, he didn’t recognize me. I stood at the counter, smiling. He looked up once, frowned, then said, “Help you?”
“Yeah,” I said. “I hear you got a card game around here that’s easy to beat. I hear you can’t bluff worth a shit. Your eye twitches whenever you lie. Is that true?”
Mulligan stared at me, then, after a moment, he smiled and shook his head and said, “Would you look at this mother fucker. All grown up.”
~
“I didn’t even know he was sick,” Mulligan said. “Christ, he was too young.”
“That’s what you’re supposed to say, I guess.” We were sitting in his office. He had a refrigerator in back, and he opened it and handed me a beer. It tasted good. “Me and him weren’t close.”
“Yeah?” He shrugged. “Don’t let it get you down. Your old man wasn’t close with anyone.”
“What about you?”
“What about me? I liked him fine, and I guess he tolerated me. Truth is, he was happy when he was alone. That’s the way he wanted his life to be, and that’s what he got.”
“Seems like a shitty way to live.”
“Sometimes it is, and sometimes it isn’t.” He motioned to my beer. “You want another? Maybe tell me why you came by? Was it just to give me the news?”
“I want to know what you can tell me about Vince Rusch.”
Mulligan looked up at me. “The club owner? What the hell you want to know about him for?”
“Looking for someone that works for him.”
“Who?”
“Guy named Max.”
Mulligan’s eye twitched. “Never heard of him.”
I knew he was lying, even without the eye to give him away. Dave Mulligan knew everyone in this town who worked under the law. It had been one of the reasons he and my father had been friends. I couldn’t figure out why he wouldn’t tell me, but I decided to let it slide.
“From what I hear, Vince Rusch isn’t completely legit. From what I hear, this Max guy handles some of Vince’s back room shit.”
“Not for Vince,” Mulligan said. “He’s clean.”
“Then what’s with Max? Why does he need someone like that around?”
Mulligan got up and walked over to the refrigerator and pulled out two more beers. He opened them on the edge of his desk and handed one to me. “I don’t know that he does.”
“Is someone over Vince?”
Mulligan took a long drink. When he set the bottle down he leaned back on the couch. “What’s all this about, Jack? You’re bringing up a lot of bad guys.”
“I’m doing this for a friend,” I said. “Someone tried to blow up his restaurant. I worked there. He was my boss.”
“Sounds like he’s into some bad shit.”
“Not this guy. He’s in his seventies. He’s a good man.”
“You sure about that?”
I thought about it for a moment, then said, “One hundred percent.”
Mulligan shook his head. “Don’t go doing anything stupid.”
“Give me a name.”
Mulligan nodded slowly, then said, “Colletto.”
I eased back in my chair. “Christ.”
“Keeps an office in the settler’s club down on Larimer Street. You know the place?”
I nodded.
“I probably shouldn’t have told you,” Mulligan said, then pointed at me. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
I laughed, lifted my beer and finished it.
“What are you going to do?”
“Haven’t decided.”
“I don’t believe you.”
I looked up at him and smiled and wondered if my eye was twitching.
~
That night, sitting at the kitchen table, I told Ava about Charley and his mother. I told her about Vince Rusch and Max. I even told her about Dave Mulligan and how my father once told me he was the only man he ever trusted. But I couldn’t tell her about Colletto.
If she knew why I was going down to the Settler’s club tomorrow she’d lose her mind.
But I wasn’t going to lie to her, either.
Luckily she didn’t ask too many questions about what had happened. She was concerned with what would happen next.
“Have you thought about money?” she asked.
I hadn’t. I’d been too wrapped up, and I hadn’t even thought about rent or food or diapers. “I’ll find something this week.”
“Nelson is always asking me if I want more shifts. If you want to stay home with Jacob a couple more nights, you know, just for a little while.”
Ava worked part time as waitress down at the Village Inn. Friday and Saturday nights, mostly, but that didn’t bring in more than a hundred buck a week. It was decent money, but I wasn’t about to stay home and let her work. When I told her this, she gave me a look and got up from the table.
“You’re so fucking old fashioned sometimes, Jack.”
“Don’t be angry about it,” I said. “I just don’t want you supporting us.”
“Then you need to get a damn job. Hell, we barely had enough money when you had a place to work thanks to what Marcus paid you.”
“Marcus paid me what he could afford to pay me.”
“Which wasn’t shit, but you stayed.”
“He needed me.”
Ava laughed. “He needed you? Jesus, Jack, what about us? What about your son? You think Marcus needed you more than Jacob does?”
This was an old argument, and I was tired of it. I knew she wasn’t asking me to get a job in an office with a tie and a secretary, but when she’d get going, that was exactly what it felt like. “I’ll start looking tomorrow.”
“Where? I bet you find another shit hole that won’t pay you anything above minimum wage.” She shook her head. “You’re better than burgers and scrambled eggs.”
“I was thinking about the Settler’s Club.”
Ava turned and leaned back against the counter. She crossed her arms over her chest and stared at me. When she spoke next, her voice had lost its edge. “You know someone down there?”
“I’ve got a name.”
She smiled. In the next room, Jacob cried and she started toward the sound. “That would be amazing if you worked there,” she said. “You could finally be a real chef again.”
Normally this comment would get us into a fight, but I was already thinking about how I was going to fit a job search in with my meeting with Colletto. It could be done, but it would be a pain.
I got up from the table and went to the sink. I stared at my reflection in the window, then filled a glass half full with water and drank it in two swallows. I heard Ava singing to Jacob in the living room. The sound was delicate and warm, and I set my glass on the counter and went out to join my family.
~
It’d been a long time since I’d worn a suit. The tie was a few years out of fashion, but I needed one if I was going to get into the Settler’s club, especially if I planned on asking for a job.
I’d called Marcus and told him I needed his car for a couple more days. He didn’t seem to care, and that worried me. Marcus had always been generous to a point, but keeping his car for a few days was well past that point.
“Good luck today,” Ava said as I headed for the door. She stood in the living room with Jacob on her hip. “I’ll keep my fingers crossed for you.”
