Body on Pine

by DeMarco, Joseph R. G.

  “They actually cleared the way by having these people killed?” Luke asked.

  “Not that I’m the suspicious sort, but absolutely, hell yes! They had someone get rid of their problems for them.”

  “Next time someone wants to buy land I own, I’ll remember this,” Luke said and shuddered. “How can people do this?”

  “They didn’t do it all by their lonesome. They had help and I have a feeling I know who that was.”

  “That’s no surprise but…” Luke hesitated. “What’s it have to do with Brad’s murder?”

  “That’s what I’ve got to figure out.”

  ***

  Luke left the office and I sat staring at the results of the search. Though the facts were laid out like beads on a string, I still couldn’t prove a connection to the murders.

  Someone knocking on the door jamb interrupted my thoughts. I looked up and saw a gaunt, angular young man dressed in cycling spandex and wearing a helmet. Unshaven, he stood awkwardly holding a box and a clipboard.

  “Can I do something for you?”

  “Package for M. Fontana. He around?”

  “That’s me.” I held out my hand.

  The messenger walked to my desk and held out the clipboard. “Sign the form.” All charm and social skills, these bicycle messengers.

  I took the clipboard and signed my name.

  We exchanged clipboard for package and the skinny-assed cyclist strolled out the door without even a good-bye.

  The box was plain cardboard sealed with packing tape and bearing an address label. No return address. Against my better judgment, I started opening the box. If it’d been a bomb, the cyclist wouldn’t have gotten far with it. Could’ve been another type of bomb.

  I held my breath and slipped off the tape. No explosion. No ticking clock.

  Gingerly I lifted the flaps a bit and saw pink tissue paper. Opening the flaps all the way, I saw an envelope resting on fluffy pink tissue. Taking the envelope, I lifted the tissue.

  I sucked in a breath when I saw it. A large multi-colored snake coiled on more pink tissue. Remaining motionless, I waited to see if it moved. It didn’t.

  Gently shaking the box, I watched the snake’s body shift from one side to the other. It was dead.

  I knew then, this was a gift from Ricky “Dead Snake” Sorba. The note he’d placed in the envelope read Greetings. Think you can ruin my reputation? Think again. Wait’ll you hear the series I’m doing. Calling it “Fag Private Investigaters and the Slut Boys Who Love Them.” Got your interest? Tune in next week. All week. Hear all about yourself. See who gets ruined. It was signed, Ricky.

  I placed the note on my desk. I taped the box back up thinking I might show it to Shim. I needed to come up with a plan for the fanatic radio host.

  I didn’t care about him going after me. I could handle the smarmy bigot. It might even bring in some business. It sounded like Sorba was going to go after my friends, though.

  I couldn’t have that.

  ***

  Sorba was a problem I didn’t need right now, but I’d come up with something. I thought about that as I walked home. By the time I reached my apartment door, I’d worked out a bare bones solution.

  A shower and a meal had to come first. I was due at Bubbles and needed to relax.

  In the bedroom, I stripped off my clothes and was about to turn the shower on when the phone rang.

  “Mr. Fontana?” The man at the front desk was new, and I didn’t recognize his voice.

  “Yes?”

  “Front desk. Delivery for you.”

  “Delivery? I didn’t…”

  “Guy says it’s the food you ordered at the restaurant this afternoon.”

  I had to think a minute. I hadn’t ordered a thing. Then I remembered Bouncy mentioning the restaurant had started making deliveries.

  “Mr. Fontana? Shall I let him up?”

  “Sure.”

  In less than a minute, came a knock at the door. Throwing on a terrycloth robe, I opened the door.

  “Delivery,” Bouncy cooed, a cardboard box in his hands. “Thought you might like some hot food.”

  He didn’t wait for an invitation, choosing instead to walk in.

  “Nice place. But I knew it would be. Classy, like you.” He placed the box on the coffee table and walked over to me. His hands slipped beneath the robe, and I felt them explore my body. Then he placed his arms around me and pulled me into a kiss.

  His hair smelled of pine and mountain air. I held his face in my hands so I could look at him. He was boyish, and his big eyes made him seem more innocent than he was. I pulled him to me and we kissed again.

  Maneuvering his hands around, he slipped the robe from my shoulders, as I undid his shirt.

  He stepped back to look at me and smiled. “Ready for dinner?”

  Chapter 29

  Bouncy, whose name turned out to be Wes, stayed until I had to leave for Bubbles. I promised him I’d be ordering take out more often.

  I reached Bubbles with plenty of time to set up the Saturday show, but my mind raced over the details we’d uncovered earlier. It was clear the developers, Wheeler, Berwick and others, were used to having things their way. What they couldn’t buy, they took. For me there was no doubt the developers and their pet politicians had used “professional” services to make certain there were no obstacles in the path of their development schemes. Since some were acquainted with Branko, the logical conclusion was that he was the thug of choice to do their dirty work.

  Branko was convicted on extortion charges centered around a land deal that his own fly-by-night company had structured. The victim of the scheme had been placed in witness protection along with a couple of others brave enough to tag Branko. Other charges had been dropped, at least one of which was murder. No witnesses, no evidence, no case.

  It was an easy ride from extortion to murder. I was sure Branko had been the one the developers used in those cases we found in the articles. I had no proof, though.

  There’d be little chance of making progress on a Saturday night. Besides, I wasn’t yet sure which way to turn. Would anyone implicate Wheeler or others who’d been cozy with Branko? Wheeler was dead. Berwick was out of the country and out of reach. The other developers hid behind a wall of lawyers and Branko would be an idiot to implicate himself in anything.

  I needed to find a way through the defensive wall. Someone would have to break and that wouldn’t be easy.

  On my way to Bubbles I’d put a call in to the photographer. Paranoid as he was, I didn’t think I’d hear from him. If I did, I hoped he’d know who else Vega wanted him to photograph. That’d be something to go on.

  “Hey, Marco!” Dale, front and center as usual, called to me as I entered Bubbles. The bar was half empty but it was early. I clapped Dale on the back and asked the bartender to comp him a drink.

  “You’re like Old Faithful. If I came in on a Saturday and you weren’t here, things wouldn’t be the same.”

  “As long as I can propel myself outta the house, I’m here!” Dale raised his glass in salute. “What’s on tap tonight?”

  I knew Dale had favorites among the dancers. I also knew three of them would be onstage later. “I should let it be a surprise,” I teased.

  “Not even a hint? C’mon, Marco. It’s Dale. Don’t make me bust. Still an hour before showtime.”

  “Just a hint. Remember the latest Full Moon show?” One of our most popular events. Bare buns with lots of up-close and personal time with the strippers made the customers delirious. The same three guys who’d be on tonight performed in that show.

  “Ye-yeah…” Dale’s eyebrows crunched together as he tried to remember. “Oh, shit! Yeah! I remember. Who was dancin’ that night?”

  “Nice try. I said you’d get a hint. That’s what you got.”

  Dale smiled and went back to his drink.

  I headed up to my office. I needed to plan and to decide whether or not to tell Shim about what we’d discovered in tho
se articles. He only wanted solid information. What we’d found didn’t prove much, yet. But it was a hell of a story on its own.

  Anton was sitting at my desk and looked up at me when I opened the door.

  “Hey.” I felt as awkward as I had when I was fifteen.

  “Hey, yourself. I wasn’t sure you’d be in tonight.”

  “Wouldn’t miss it. And I wouldn’t leave you on your own.”

  “I thought you might want to let those ribs heal.”

  “I’m fine.” I was about to thump my chest to prove it but thought better of it. “Takes more than that to keep me from seeing you… I mean… you know… helping you here. I don’t like being an absentee owner.”

  “I’m glad you’re here.”

  That sounded good. I walked over to the desk but Anton made no move to stand. Instead he spread out some papers on the desktop.

  “I’ve been having scheduling problems and I thought you could resolve them.”

  “Sure,” I said unable to keep the disappointment out of my voice.

  “Did you talk to your police friend about Ty? I wondered if...”

  “Talked to him after I saw you. He kinda echoed what you said about Ty not being missing all that long. And Ty did leave that note…”

  “Because he leaves a note, they don’t care? That’s screwed up in so many ways.”

  “I’m not defending it, Anton. Don’t shoot me for telling you what he said.”

  “Yeah, I know, but I don’t like it.”

  “You said you had scheduling problems?” I moved closer and felt Anton tense as I brushed his shoulder with my thigh.

  “With Ty gone and a couple of the other guys asking for different schedules, we don’t have anyone for mid-week. That’s—”

  “Hey! Who the fuck let you up?” The voice came from the hall just outside the office, stopping Anton mid-sentence.

  Then another shout: “What’s goin’ on? I thought only…” The rest was muffled as he moved away.

  “Lookin’ good papi,” the voice was familiar. Nina. She knocked on the door, waited a few seconds, then walked in. “Jefe, got some of that work you asked for.” Nina sauntered over to my desk and waved a folder. “Anton. Where you been keeping yourself?”

  “How’d you get up here, Nina?” I asked. “You charm your way past the bouncers?”

  “Charm is my middle name, jefe. But you don’t have anybody guardin’ nothing. I came right up. Guess I scared the balls off some’a your dancers.”

  “Great,” Anton said. “Maybe we need security cameras.”

  “Don’t worry, papi. Hallie can install a security system. She’s good.”

  “You’re here alone a lot and the guys are… maybe we do need something,” I said. “Tell Hallie to give me a call.”

  “Will do.”

  “You didn’t have to come all the way here to deliver this. I’d’ve—”

  “Don’t flatter yourself, jefe. I like you, sure. But makin’ special trips for you, I don’t think so.” Nina smiled sweetly. “I’m on my way to Sisters. So I thought I’d stop into to see my favorite private dick.”

  “I’ll let you two lovebirds coo all on your own,” Anton stood and gathered his papers.

  “Don’t leave on my account. Just gonna be a minute,” Nina said.

  “I’ve gotta get the guys together for the show. I should’a been out there fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Next time this big hunk comes down to my place, tag along. I don’t get to see you much,” Nina said.

  Anton nodded, gave her a quick hug, and left.

  “You two fighting?” Nina asked after a few seconds.

  “I don’t know what we are, Nina. We’re not exactly fighting.” We weren’t getting along like we used to either, and I didn’t know what the next step would be.

  “Pretty cold in here if you ask me, jefe.” She pretended to shiver.

  “You said you got some hits on what I asked for?”

  “I got something. Don’t I always? It was kinda risky but for you… anything. Looks interesting, too.” She placed papers from a folder on the desk.

  “This what I think it is?” I said sliding a finger down columns of figures. Brad’s name was at the top of each page.

  “Your friend Brad’s accounts and deposits to those accounts. Took in quite a bit and withdrew almost as much. Like we saw from the earlier search.”

  “I remember. Did you find out where the money came from?”

  “Some of it.” Pulling out a few more pages, she said, “A lot was cash deposits. Some were checks.”

  “Names?”

  “There’s the list,” she said pointing to a particular page. “Looks like one of the big guns was a guy named Wheeler.”

  “He was an investor. That makes sense. The others were probably investors. No familiar names though.” I’d have to look into them.

  “Wish I had investors like that.” Nina laughed.

  “Not when you end up murdered, you don’t.”

  “There were a few electronic transfers. All of them under the radar, meaning they weren’t large enough to attract the attention of the Feds.” She pointed to a list of numbers. “Just a numbered account.”

  “Dead end, huh?”

  “Yeah, for anybody but me.”

  “You found a name?” I said. “Who is it?”

  “You gotta come bail me out when they bash in my door and arrest me.”

  “Promise. You get the best bail money.”

  “I traced back the numbers through… ah, you don’t wanna know all that, and it just makes me sound like more of a geek. I traced it, is all you gotta know. The name Shuster mean anything to you?”

  “More than you know.” I gave her a big bear hug which she accepted without complaint.

  As soon as she left the office I dialed Shuster’s number. It went to voicemail. “Shuster, call me when you get this. Something’s up and you’re right in the middle of it. If you don’t want a scandal right before the primary make it quick.”

  ***

  I knew he’d get back to me, especially after I dropped the word “scandal.” Until then, I needed to be onstage.

  The bar was crowded, and the smell of stale beer wafted on the air. Better than stale cigarette smoke. Music thumped through the place energizing everyone. Eager patrons, some already clutching loads of dollar bills, huddled close to the stage as showtime approached.

  I didn’t see Anton at his usual station, so I wandered backstage. Cal and Junior, each of them in silky boxers which didn’t hide much, oiled each other up so they’d glisten as they danced. I zigzagged between Turner and Guy, practicing a bump and grind for their routine, and noticed how much they enjoyed it. Other dancers jogged in place, bubble butts jiggling, packages bouncing. Surrounded by perfect bodies and knockout faces, I thought again how it never got old. All that fleshy temptation, every day, right under your nose, was a fantasy. You’d think the spell would wear off. It never did.

  “Hey boss,” Bruno said. “Lookin’ for Anton?”

  “How’d you guess?”

  “He’s back there with Jean-Claude, gettin’ ready for the opening.”

  “Thanks, Bruno. You’re gonna make a lot of money tonight,” I said fingering his long silk scarf. The leather bomber jacket, white scarf, and creamy jodhpurs sinking into long black boots was a look that drove men wild. Of course, when he removed the costume, the audience usually went insane.

  He grinned.

  I found Anton helping Jean-Claude and a couple of others with their outfits at the back of the room. I noticed Anton’s hand linger on Jean-Claude’s shoulder and the way Jean-Claude looked at him. Something gripped me deep inside, but I couldn’t afford to acknowledge it. Not yet.

  “Ready to start?”

  “We’re set. Missing a guy, but we’ve got more than enough.”

  Sometimes dancers were no-shows. I figured it was their loss. No dancing meant no tips or house pay.

  “I’ll get out there a
nd start things going.” I walked away, still with that empty feeling inside. I shook it off.

  Once I’d done my part, I decided it would be a good idea to mix with the crowd. Besides, I didn’t want another awkward encounter in the office with Anton. Mingling with the patrons was what I needed.

  Dale sat mesmerized by Bruno’s performance. Talking to him would’ve been like sitting alone. Most of the other men seemed to be having a transcendental experience as they stared up at the dancers. Some of them probably were.

  Walking outside I saw Kevin, the bouncer. “You hear from Eddie today?” I asked as he simultaneously checked IDs and searched out potential trouble in new arrivals.

  “Called right on time. He sounded kinda funny but then he always sounds funny.”

  “I guess he didn’t tell you if Ty was there?”

  “Yeah, like a scumbucket abuser is ever gonna tell somebody that his punching bag is back with him.”

  “Maybe you’re gonna have to take a train ride…”

  “Sounds good to me. Just give me the word.”

  I clapped him on the shoulder. “Soon.”

  My cell phone rang and it sounded angry. When I saw the Caller ID, I saw it was Shuster.

  “Fontana.”

  “You bastard.” Shuster hissed the words. “How can you lay that on me and not tell me what you’re talking about?”

  “Slow down, cowboy. I’m doin’ you a favor by givin’ you this heads up. I didn’t have to call at all.”

  “Says you. What’s this all about?”

  “Got time to meet now?”

  “Of course I don’t. But you’ve got me by the balls, so I’ll make time.”

  ***

  The block was familiar. Apparently Shuster put out good money to prove he was a crackerjack political consultant. Had several offices and a staff doing his bidding. His center city place was in an old building on Lombard near Twentieth. Nice townhouses interspersed with buildings in need of work.

  This time of night, all sorts of strangeness crawled the streets especially this close to South Street. The .38 in my shoulder holster felt like protection enough. I don’t normally carry when I’m working at Bubbles, but after the past few nights, I’d decided a change of habit was in order.