***
There was just enough time to hustle over to The Village Brew to meet Shim. When I arrived I found him sitting at a table near the huge front window engrossed in reading something. Shim glanced up as I sat in the chair across from him. He looked mildly uncomfortable surrounded as he was by tables of gay men and lesbians. I figured this would be good for him which is why I suggested the place. Maybe it’d begin the long process of dragging him out of his closet. My gaydar wasn’t singing “Glory, Glory Hallelujah” yet, but it was sending out little pings of recognition. I’d give it time.
“Glad you could make it,” Shim said looking at his watch as if I were late. When you’re ill at ease time passes more slowly.
“Right on time, detective. Lemme get some coffee. Can I get you something?”
He shook his head, then stared down at his notepad.
Fortunately Sean wasn’t working the counter or Shim would get the full treatment and that’d probably drive him further into the closet. I glanced over at Shim while I waited for my coffee and noticed that every once in a while he’d surreptitiously look around. I wondered whether it was out of interest in someone or just defensive reconnoitering of his surroundings. Several men stared longingly at Shim and whenever he accidentally caught their eyes, he hurriedly went back to reading his notes.
Coffee in hand, I sat down and faced him.
“You said you had things to tell me about the case?” Shim said. “I’m hoping you do. First time Giuliani gives me the lead on a case, it turns out to be a ball busting knot.”
“I’ll do what I can. If I break the case, you get the credit. It’s your collar as far as I’m concerned. Finding Brad’s killer is what’s important.”
“That’s generous, Fontana. Not like some private eyes I know. I’ll owe you big time if that’s the way it turns out.” The serious look in his coal-black eyes was disarming.
I smiled what I hoped was a sly, maybe even a little seductive, smile. I was sure he got my message from the way he squirmed in his seat.
“I did some digging on Wheeler, and I think he might’ve been one of Brad’s backers.” I only knew what Xinhan and Caragan had said. There was no paper proof yet. “How long would it take to get financial information proving that? I mean bank accounts and money transfers.”
“Depends. In any event, I’d need a warrant. To get that, I need probable cause for wanting the warrant.”
“So you’re saying it’ll take time.”
“Don’t these things always take time?”
“If you know where to look, it shouldn’t take long. For instance, I managed to get some information on that trial I called you about.”
“We’ve been concentrating on the Vega case and getting nowhere. I should have assigned somebody to look into the trial. But it’s total chaos down there.” Shim sipped some of his coffee, then massaged his temples. “This case is making me see double, you know?”
I nodded.
Shim looked at me then continued. “What’ve you got on the trial?”
“Wheeler was—”
“We already know Wheeler was struck from the witness list on some trial.”
“It’s not just some trial.”
“Some thug named Branko was on the hot seat, right? That supposed to mean something?”
“I thought Konstantin Branko would be a big deal for you guys.”
“Heard of him, of course. Wheeler was dropped from that trial. Case closed as far as that’s concerned.” Shim sounded tired.
“Not really.” I crooked an eyebrow and nailed him with a look.
“Huh?”
“Remember Brad was on a jury, right?”
Shim nodded then it dawned on him. “He was on…?”
“Yep. Brad was on the Branko jury.” I didn’t think I needed to tell him I had the transcript. He had to do some work on his own.
“Okay. Interesting coincidence. So?”
“Add that to Wheeler being a witness, even if he was dropped, and it seems like something to me.”
“Maybe.”
“Then both Brad and Wheeler are killed. Any bells ringing?”
“Just one of those weird coincidences. It happens.”
“No such thing, Dae. I’ll give you this much, though. Maybe they were both connected to the trial as some sort of insane cosmic joke. Then Brad and Wheeler both turn up dead? That’s taking coincidence to a whole new level. I’m not buying it. ”
“I’m not convinced. Sure, it’s weird, but I’m not seeing any sparks.”
“It’s something,” I said. “Worth pursuing.”
“I’ve heard people downtown talk about Branko. A lot of people want a piece of him but nobody’s been able to get anything big to stick.” Shim made a few notes in his little book. “I’ll put someone on this. Giuliani wants me on the Vega case. She says it comes first. This will make her happy, though.”
“Just doin’ my part. You know, in the keep-me-in-the-loop game”
“I owe you, Marco. Thanks.”
“Thanks? That’s all I get? What about our deal?” I said.
“The deal… what…?”
“Coy doesn’t fit you, Dae. Stop wearing it.”
He looked me in the eye and smiled. I had to admit it was a dazzler of a lopsided smile, white teeth, pretty lips and all, but I wanted information and I wasn’t about to let him distract me with a smile. No matter how appealing it was. Which made me wonder about just how conscious he was of his effect on another guy. Maybe he wasn’t crammed as far into that closet as I assumed.
“Okay, okay. But we’ve got very little…”
“That’s fine as long as it’s something I can use. If you want me to keep feeding you facts, I need some quid pro quo.”
He sighed. “You probably know more than we do, but I’ll tell you what we’ve got.”
After he’d told me what they’d turned up, I realized he was right. They didn’t know half what I knew. I let him think he’d given me some primo information, anyway.
“Thanks, Dae.” I drained my cup. The coffee had grown cold and I needed to get back to the office before I checked in at Bubbles.
“Anytime, Fontana.” As he stood he took his cup and looked toward the counter.
“I’ve gotta work at Bubbles tonight,” I said. “How about coming in for a drink. It’ll be on me.”
Shim stood there, cup in hand, as if he’d been short circuited, not knowing which way to turn or what to say. He glanced at me like I’d asked him to strip.
“No pressure, Dae. Just thought I’d ask since I’ve gotta hang at Bubbles for a few hours.”
“Another time. Maybe... Or maybe—”
“Another place?” I smiled innocently.
***
As I entered the office, Olga was lugging a large stack of folders into my office. “Boss is arriving in time for big work.”
“That a present for me, cupcake?”
“I am looking like cupcake? Dress makes Olga fat?”
“No, Olga. The dress looks good. Red is your color.” I pecked her on the cheek as she set the folders on my desk. “You look delicious.”
“Olga is too old for boss. And too… woman.” She left the room shutting the door behind her.
Flipping through the files I saw she’d constructed dossiers for the names we’d culled from the trial transcript that she could locate in our databases. Businessmen, local thugs, and various other players. A long list. I decided to call Luke for help, since there were too many folders for me to cover quickly. If we could find connections between these people and Wheeler or Brad or even Vega that would be something solid.
Luke wasn’t at the office which was unusual. Chip, one of Luke’s original employees, answered the phone and said Luke had taken the afternoon off. It didn’t take a private eye to figure out he was spending the afternoon with Xinhan.
I figured I’d better dig in and get started on my own. I filled my mug with coffee and opened the first file. Olga had done h
er usual more-than-thorough job.
By the time I’d finished six of the folders, it was easy to see that the businessmen were entangled with each other through corporate and social ties. It was also clear most of them liked playing the political game by making bipartisan campaign contributions.
I had no doubt they wanted something for their political gifts. Which is what got me thinking about just what they wanted and what they might do to get it. After all, here they were on witness lists or brought up in testimony at the trial of a vicious thug. That spoke for itself.
My head spun as I read through Olga’s research. It was time to call it a day and get ready for my stint at Bubbles. The files would be there in the morning and I’d call in some help.
I needed a shower and a meal before I went to tame my guys at Bubbles.
***
Thursdays were usually an unofficial Audition Night with last minute sign-ups and audience judging. An easy night most of the time. When I walked in I spotted Kent and Jean-Claude taking names of would-be dancers.
“I guess you’re in charge again tonight,” I said to Jean-Claude.
“Anton told me he needed to study. He was surrounded by his books when I left,” Jean-Claude said.
That sounded very domestic. While I’m out chasing leads that don’t pan out, Anton and Ty get to be cozy and warm at home. It was beginning to sound appealing.
“You need me to MC or can I just hang?” I asked.
“Oh, no, I need you, Marco. I cannot be the MC,” Jean-Claude said.
“Don’t look at me,” Kent said, his voice quavering.
“Good enough. Then Jean-Claude, you can open the show tonight. Light the house up and get everybody going. Got your g-string with you?” The way he danced he’d not only light things up, he set the place on fire.
“Sure. Always ready! I can use the extra cash.” Jean-Claude handed the contestant list to Kent. “Textbooks, they will be expensive. The more I dance, the better for me.” He took off up the stairs to the dressing rooms.
“Call me ten minutes before showtime, Kent. You’ll handle the list?”
“Sure, as long as I don’t have to read it to the audience.” Kent laughed.
As I was about to head up to my office, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned slowly and there behind me was Shuster, short, stubby, and looking scared. He had that act down pat.
“I though you didn’t get lowdown enough to come into places like this?” I shrugged off his hand.
“He assaulted me again.”
“Who? Kelley? What’s your beef? Isn’t your job taking shit from him?”
“Not Kelley. The thug. The one who attacked me on the street. The one who spied on me when I was talking to you.”
“I’m supposed to do what exactly?”
“Get him off my back. It’s obvious he’s coming after me because I talk to you.”
“Then it was pretty smart to let him see you comin’ in here. Maybe that’ll make him think twice next time.” I started up the stairs. “Don’t you ever learn?”
“That’s it?”
“What can I do, Shuster? I don’t know the guy or how to find him. And I’m not your daddy.”
Shuster glared at me. “I knew you wouldn’t help.”
“Then why’re you here?”
“I hoped…”
“I have a question for you.”
“Get stuffed, Fontana.” Shuster turned to go.
“Something’s been bothering me, Shuster.”
“Like I should care?”
“Why’d Josh Nolan come to see you at Kelley’s office?”
Shuster’s face darkened and he opened his mouth to speak.
I interrupted. “Now don’t give me the same bullshit you tried the other night.”
“That was the truth. Nolan was—”
“Why was he really there?”
“I… he… Nolan was…”
“I’ve seen you two eyeing one another. Like at the pub crawl. I saw the looks crossing between you two that night.”
“You’re imagining things.” Shuster’s wall had gone back up.
“Just wonderin’ is all.” There was something going on between them.
“What about that thug? He might’ve followed me here.”
“Call 911. The police take that kind of thing seriously.
“Funny when it’s me he’s after.”
“Don’t let the door smack your ass on the way out.”
***
Stan’s guys moved efficiently cleaning up and closing Bubbles for the night. Half of them would run over to an after hours club to party away what was left of the night. As for me, I wanted to clear my head and get to sleep. Working two jobs, even if one of them was watching strippers and managing their drama, wasn’t easy. It’d take it’s toll eventually. For now I could hack it.
Next door, Café Bubbles was bustling and would be for a few more hours. Late night strollers, refugees from the bars, tweakers from after-hours joints, all of them found their way to the café. Then there’d be a lull until the breakfast crowd came roaring in and the whole cycle would play itself out again. I took a pass on the café. I needed quiet. I decided to take a walk before going home. The cool night air would clear my mind.
I liked this time of night; between two and four in the morning, there was a silence that allowed you to think. Most other people out at that hour seemed to abide by an unwritten code allowing the peace of the night to take over. I strolled over to Spruce Street. Some of the old buildings there possessed a faded elegance that spoke of wonderful events more than a hundred years before. All secret now, all lost. These days, the old houses were home to apartment dwellers who enjoyed the ancient feel of the old buildings and medical students needing to live close to their hospitals.
After a while, I turned down Quince Street which held a lot of memories for me. Just the name “Quince” brought back a flood of thoughts about a certain someone who’d flashed into and out of my life in a few brief months. It was so quick, most people would’ve forgotten the whole episode. For me it represented something significant. The memory of the man at the heart of it had stayed with me.
A genteel street lined with trees and whoppingly expensive homes, Quince Street always gave me a sense of peace.
Not tonight. As I approached the darkened Mask and Wig Club, I felt rather than saw, someone tailing me. He was good because I hadn’t noticed a thing earlier. I kept walking, not wanting to alert whoever it was that I was on to him. When I approached Cypress, an even smaller street, I slowed down and hugged the wall opposite. Whoever was following might have an accomplice waiting there.
I thought if I could reach Pine Street, I might be able to see who was following me or give him the slip. With a quarter of a block to go, I slowed my pace. I listened for anything that might betray the person tracking me.
Nothing. Not a sound. There wasn’t even a breeze rustling the leaves. I slowly moved forward toward Pine. I knew the Kahn Place homes and the adjacent park would be on my left and Effie’s Restaurant on my right. But Effie’s would be long-closed and the Kahn complex would be dead asleep.
All I had to do was make it to Pine. There’d be traffic and light and maybe a way to lose the tail.
Nearly there, I stopped and listened again. Silence. Whoever was tailing me knew what he was doing. Wanted me to think he’d gone.
I could see the street lights on Pine. A few more steps and I’d break right and head for Twelfth Street and mix in with stragglers leaving the bars.
When I reached the corner of Quince and Pine, a black sedan pulled in front of me, quick and lethal. Long and dark with tinted windows, the car idled and a rear door swung open.
“Mr. Fontana…” A voice like dust and dried earth wafted from the interior of the backseat. “Get in.”
I knew better than to take candy from strange men let alone get into their cars. Especially the car of some creep who sounded like he spoke from the grave. I briefly stared into
the blackness of the sedan’s interior. Before I could move, someone struck from behind, pushing me into the car. I tumbled onto the seat next to the dusty voice.
The thug who’d pushed me squeezed in next to me, slammed the door, and quickly pulled both my arms behind my back. He held my wrists together tightly with one huge hand. His crushing grip sent sharp stabs of pain through me.
A stale sweaty odor mixed with the smell of tobacco and sour food swirled in the darkness.
Tires squealed, peeling out on the street. I felt the forward thrust of the car as it rushed down Pine. All the while I scanned the coal black interior for a way to escape. There was none.
“You are a healthy man, áno?” said the heavily accented, dusty voice.
I stared into the darkness trying to see his face. The hat he wore added to the depths of the shadows engulfing him.
My wrists and hands lost feeling. Adrenaline pumped through me but I was in a vise.
“I am assuming you want to stay in good health? I am correct, nie?”
I twisted and writhed attempting to free myself from the iron grip of the man behind me. I turned my face away from the dusty voice.
“Mr. Fontana does not wish to speak, Matus. We must make him feel more welcome.” The more he spoke the dustier he sounded.
The car bounced and bumped speeding over city streets. The driver made several turns which I felt as my body responded to the movement. I had no idea where they were taking me. I just knew I had to break free soon or end up a dead man.
There wasn’t much chance to think because Matus, still gripping my wrists, slammed my head with his other meaty hand. I reeled forward then back, his hand connected again, bashing my head against the black glass partition dividing the front seat from the back. I felt blood trickle down my face.
“Matus! Mravmi, Matus, mravmi! Mr. Fontana cannot speak with injured mouth, áno?”
A hand, feeling as dry and frail as the voice sounded, grasped my chin. There was no strength in that hand but Matus had seen to it that my jaw felt any touch as pain.
“A pity. Such a face. You see, Matus?” He turned my head in the other direction, presumably so Matus could see. “Beautiful.”
Matus grunted contemptuously behind me. “Pretty boy. No heart, no balls.”
Body on Pine Page 26
