I didn’t have the will to fight her. Natasha was a rose blooming in winter –something you don’t expect to see, and when you see it you wanna stay in the moment. The room was cramped with all the collectibles, but we made the most of what space we had. I’m pretty light on my feet and can step when I got a mind to. Natasha laughed as I guided her, and she was a fast learner. It wasn’t long until her body moved in time with mine. Her laughter faded and gathered in her eyes as she held my gaze with determined intensity. Our bodies pressed together; I could feel her rounded softness through the cheap fabric of her dress.
It was no surprise at all when we kissed.
Her lips met mine with the flighty rawness of an intimate amateur; quick pecks of butterfly softness across my face and mouth. I gently caught her by the chin and smiled.
“Not so fast, darling. Some things are better when you slow down. Let me show you.”
Once again, she learned fast. The taste of her was like the taste of summer. Heat rose in the room as my hands moved on their own accord to places that they knew would make her mine. She gasped and clutched tightly to me as tiny tremors rippled across her skin. Her blouse had somehow slipped off of one shoulder, exposing her sheer black brassiere and a pulse-pounding view of creamy cleavage…
Then something real strange happened. My brain broke in and reclaimed control, shattering the mood into tiny, delicate slivers of shivery regret.
I pulled back. “Natasha, I can’t…”
“It’s ok, Mick Trubble…” Her hands clutched my shirt, and the look on her face tested all of my manly resolve to not pick up where we left off.
“It’s all right. This is what I want…”
“It’s what you think you want.” I took another step back, surprised that I was trembling from the sudden halt of adrenaline-fueled lust. “But what you really want I can’t give you. And if I went ahead with this, I’d just be taking advantage of you. I’d be no better than Stix. Worse, in fact. Because you and your folks have been good to me.”
Natasha didn’t answer. Her eyes widened as she stared past me. From the guilty flush that heated her face, I already knew what I’d see when I turned around.
Mr. Luzzatti stood in the doorway, looking as stern as I’d ever seen him. His voice was strained when he spoke.
“A word with you if you please, Mr. Trubble.”
Chapter 3: Trubble With Luzzatti
“My daughter has grown into a woman. Her mother does not want to admit it. I pretend that I do not notice. But it is not a problem that will go away. She has questions. Curiosities. And… feelings. About love. About…” Luzzatti coughed into his hand. “Other things.”
We were on the balcony, where we often lounged after dinner or when he wanted to engage in a little man talk. Streams of water fell from the overhanging balcony, obscuring the view of the surrounding Flats and Downtown beyond. The floaters that whizzed by were just distorted flecks of light as they passed. It rained all the time in New Haven. It was like the mugs in Environmental knew that the place would ignite if it wasn’t constantly hosed down.
“Listen Mr. Luzzatti, I don’t know what you think you saw in there…”
He raised a hand. “I saw enough. Enough to know that my daughter has outgrown the nest that we have tried to keep her confined in. I heard what you said to Natasha, Mr. Trubble. Most men wouldn’t have bothered.”
I took a drag from my gasper. Luzzatti had those expensive smokes, the ones that pleasantly fog your mind with every inhalation. I exhaled wispy phantoms into the rain.
“Let’s not get me confused with a decent sort of mug, Luzzatti. I ain’t the type and you know it.”
Luzzatti’s eyes crinkled when he smiled. “You’ve always shot straight with me, Mr. Trubble. Despite your rather dismal view of your self-worth, you have a sense of honor about you that’s not found easily around here. You’ve earned the trust of my family, no small thing.”
“You don’t know about me. You don’t know the things I’ve done.”
Luzzatti sighed as he puffed on his cigar. “I can’t say that I don’t think you have a history, Mr. Trubble. All I have to do is look in your eyes and see dark places. But what you don’t seem to realize is that unlike many men, you appear to be able to control that darkness. Tell me, what is in your past that prevents you from settling into a normal life?”
“I wish I could tell you, Mr. Luzzatti. But I don’t even know what’s in my past.”
That gave him pause. “Excuse me?”
I didn’t talk about my personal life to anyone. But Luzzatti was different. He deserved to know the truth. I owed him that much.
“A few months back I washed up on the bank of the West River. There was an explosion, fire everywhere. I guess someone thought to make fish food outta me. I survived, but I can’t remember what happened, or much of anything besides my name and what it is that I do.”
“So when you showed up here, you had partial amnesia?”
“Yeah, and nothing much has changed. I’d like to have a normal life, sure. Maybe even settle down with someone special.” I didn’t say Natasha’s name, but it so obvious who I meant that she might as well have stepped outside with us.
I flicked my gasper stub into the rain. “But somebody out there went through a lot of trouble to fit me for a New Haven trench coat. And it’s only a matter of time before that someone recognizes me and tries to finish the job.”
“I see.”
We smoked in silence. The sound of the rain was background music, sad and yet soothing at the same time.
Luzzatti blew a casual smoke ring across the air. “There’s something you may not be taking into account, Mr. Trubble.”
“Yeah? What would that be?”
“There might not be anyone looking for you at all. Explosions do a lot of damage. Maybe the person who was trying to kill you is dead. Maybe you’re a free man.”
“I wouldn’t bet two dibs on that score, Luzzatti. Not in this town. The odds are stacked, in the casinos and on the streets. I gotta be ready at all times just in case some Nimrod wants to punch my number.”
Luzzatti poured some bourbon in a pair of glasses and handed one to me. “Hell of way to live, waiting for an axe to drop that might not ever fall. You’ve been here a while, Mr. Trubble. I’ve seen a lot of men like you. Drifters, looking for something they can’t find. They come and then they’re gone. But you… something seems to be holding you here.”
I sipped and enjoyed the smoky, potent flavor. “You want me to just come out and say it? Yeah, I like it here. I’m comfortable. And yeah, I’m… fond of Natasha. Sure. But I don’t want to be any cause for trouble. I’d hate to bring something into your lives that would cause any of you harm. Maybe it’s best that I pull stakes while things are still on the square.”
Luzzatti seemed to smile under his thick mustache. It’s hard to tell with mustaches, which is probably why a lot of mugs grow ‘em. “Is that what you think I want, Mr. Trubble? For you to dust out and leave my daughter alone?”
“I won’t blame you if you do. There’s nothing in my past but darkness and nothing ahead but storm clouds. Natasha is better off without a mug like me mucking up her life.”
“I can’t make the decision for you, Mick. But I won’t ask that you leave. You’re a good man to have around, and I feel pretty confident that you’d look after my family if something were to happen to me.”
I chuckled. “You planning on bugging out, Luzzatti? Hell, you got a good thing going with this joint. You’re holed up in here tighter than a rat in a cheese factory. Folks actually seem to like you, and you’ve got your family. Why the hell would something happen to you?”
Luzzatti stared at the contents of his glass before downing it in a swig. “It happens every day in this town, Mick. I just feel better with you around. We all need to have something in life worth living for. Maybe you’re meant to be here. Maybe that’s why you have a hard time leaving. Think it over.”
He patted m
e on the back, and we went back to silence again. There’s a lot of talking that men do when they’re not talking. We watched the rain and let the unspoken words sink in. It was then I realized that it was the first time that Luzzatti had called me by my first name.
After a while I went back to my room and reflected on what we’d gabbed about. Sleep was nowhere to be found as usual, so all I had were my thoughts and a few shots of Jack to keep me company. My mind kept drifting back to Natasha…
I could still smell the scent of her skin and hear her moan softly in my ear. I took another shot, but the booze couldn’t banish the memory of her softness under my hands. I watched the ceiling fan spin silently and listened to the rain outside, but couldn’t keep my mind from thinking of things that I had no right to think about.
I finally gave up and tapped the datacom in my ear. “Dial La Lupanar.”
The number went through and was immediately picked up. “Hello Mr. Trubble.” The voice at the other end was so sexy that there ought to be a law against it. “We haven’t seen you in a while. Thought maybe you’d settled down with some nice girl and forgotten all about us.”
“Just been busy, sweetheart. Thought I’d check in and see if Desiree was available.”
“Then it’s your lucky night, Mr. Trubble. She’ll be waiting for you.”
“Be right there.”
I had to get outta there. Had to find a distraction. Because Luzzatti was right. I had every reason to be long gone, but I still kept hanging around. It was like sitting at the park before a thunderstorm. Everything is calm, even peaceful and you wanna stay as long as you can before the storm breaks and the bottom falls out. I knew that I had to get away from Luzzatti’s. Away from Natasha.
Before I got used to having them around.
Time passed. I got a few timely cases that kept me away from the building for a spell. I met a few skaters that took away the ache that had formed when Natasha and I danced that night. I made the proper excuses when I ran into Mr. Luzzatti. He seemed disappointed, but Mrs. Luzzatti’s relief was visible on her face. She was still determined to keep Natasha bottled up, and didn’t need a rogue like me ruining all her hard work. Suited me fine.
But our worlds collided despite my best efforts. I still hadn’t put away enough dough to buy a wheeler, so I usually used the airbus to get around. I walked in late from the zeppelin station one rainy night. It just so happened that I spotted a few bruisers pounding someone in the alley behind Luzzatti’s place. Seeing as how I still looked out for the joint, I decided to see if I could convince the lugs to take their party somewhere else.
I made sure that they saw me as I casually approached. “You boys seem to be working hard, but I’d appreciate it if you’d take your group therapy session down the street. Luzzatti don’t think much of stiffs behind his joint.”
The droppers turned with surprised stares. That’s when I got a good look at the bloody wad of meat that they’d been pounding.
It was Luzzatti.
I carried a mean piece of iron on me at all times. Seven shot mech-enhanced revolver that I affectionately called the Mean Ol’ Broad. I pulled her out and aimed faster than it takes to tell it. Faster than the droppers could even reach for their own heaters. I had them cold, and the only reason I didn’t mow them down was because killing them wouldn’t stop a thing. They were there for a reason, and it was better for me to get that info than to throw lead and get nothing. They were big lugs, and hired muscle usually ain’t too big on brains. So I broke it down for ‘em so that they could understand.
“I figure you mugs got ten seconds to squeal before I lose patience and fertilize this alley with your brains. Don’t think about being tough or being loyal. Think about being dead.”
“Ok.” One of the goons actually had enough sense to motion the other lugs back. “Don’t shoot. We’re just following orders.”
“Whose?”
“Big Louie. He sent us to just knock some sense in the old man. He owes big time and he has to pay up.”
Big Louie was one of the more notorious shylocks in New Haven and had a reputation for his murderous streak. Any mug who owed him paid up one way or the other. Why Luzzatti would be involved with someone as filthy as Big Louie was beyond me.
I gestured with the Mean Ol’ Broad. “All right, you made your case. So haul out before you get on my bad side. And remember that I had you dead to rights. I see you around here again and it’ll just be dead, catch my drift?”
They caught my drift. I made sure that they were gone before I came back for Luzzatti. He was in pretty bad shape, but I was able to get him to his feet. Blood gushed from his nose, and one of his arms was definitely broken. He moaned, but I could tell it wasn’t just the pain from the beating. His eyes were hollow; those of a broken man, someone who had seen the last bit of hope sail off a bridge and get swallowed by the river.
“What’s going on, Luzzatti? You could’ve been rubbed out by those clowns. If you were in that bad of a jam, I should’ve been the first person you called.”
He gritted his teeth against the pain. “Nothing… you can do, Mick. Got into this… before you got here. Just now… catching up to me, is all.”
I propped him up against the wall and let him rest. “You’d be surprised what I can do, Luzzatti. Now I know how these things work. They teach you a lesson the first time. The next… it’s someone you love.”
“They already… said the family is next. Have to… get them out of here…”
“You do that. In the meantime, we gotta work on getting your dues up to date. Tell me how much you owe, and I’ll work on something to get you squared up.”
“You don’t… understand. Too much…”
“You got a basement full of high cabbage collectibles just waiting to go to the highest bidder. I can get you buyers real quick.”
A little bit of spirit flared in his eyes. “No. That’s for… Natasha. So she can get… away from this place one day.”
“I’m pretty sure she’d rather have a live father than a ticket outta town from his corpse, Luzzatti. Square up and worry about the rest later.”
His heavy sigh seemed to deflate him like a leaky balloon. “No point. Even if I sold everything I owned… it would never be enough.”
“How much are we talking here? Tell me, Luzzatti.”
He told me. When he did, I knew right then that he was a dead man.
Chapter 4: The Big Fat Deal
The plate was heaped with so much spaghetti that I barely saw over the pile of meatballs and thick cheesy sauce. If Big Louie were a normal man, he’d have been lost behind that mountain of carbs and saturated fat.
But Big Louie was a lot larger than a normal man.
His massive girth strained against the constraints of his dress shirt at though it fought to cascade over the table in waves of sweaty fat. His pockmarked cheeks were so swollen that it looked like they held enough leftover grub to feed the homeless in New Haven for a week. Beady eyes were barely visible under the sweat-beaded brow and swells of his eyelids. His puckered lips smacked disgustingly as he talked.
“So you’re Mick Trubble. Heard about you. My boys said they had a little run in with you over the Luzzatti business. Not good, that bit. But you know how this town works. No breaks. You give one mug a break, you got the next fifteen thinking they’ll hold out on you too. Before you know it, you got a rep for being a pushover. The next mook makes a move in your territory and it’s war. And nobody wants a war, you know?” He shoved a wine glass in his face and downed it as though all the talk had worn him down.
I took a sip from my own glass. I don’t take much stock in the grape stuff, but booze is booze. Always tastes better when it’s not on your tab. Big Louie was somewhat of a connoisseur, though. Bottles were stockpiled in the bar area, along with barrels of what looked like homemade hooch. I made a mental note to avoid lighting up a gasper so that I wouldn’t blow us all to kingdom come.
I nodded. “I understand. And I’m
not here to rock any boats. I’m here to make things right. You want what’s owed to you. I’m the man to get it for you. I got some berries stacked to the side, and I’m setting up buyers for some high profile commodities. That should be enough of a down to call of the dogs. After that I can offer you something that you might consider worth more than just the cabbage.”
Big Louie laughed. It was a sight to see. If you’re into multiple chins jiggling along with ripples of saggy flesh, that is. He wiped his swollen fingers on the tablecloth-sized hankie tucked around his neck.
“You got guts, I’ll give you that. Don’t he got guts, Joey?”
Joey was the shadow behind me. Behind and above me, I should say, since he topped me by about a good foot of bulk that was as muscular as Louie was fat.
“He got guts all right, boss.” By his tone, Joey seemed to want to see mine all over the floor. I hated him already.
Big Louie continued to chuckle. “‘Something worth more than the cabbage’. Money is all that matters, Mick. The line that separates who lives and who dies. What could be more valuable than that? Tell me, I’m dying to know.”
I looked him dead in the eyes. “My services. I work exclusively for you until Luzzatti’s debt is paid off. You know what I can do for an organization like yours, if you catch my drift.”
The last thing I wanted to do was work for a scumbag like Big Louie. But with Luzzatti and his family’s lives on the line, that was the only favor I had to barter with. Luzzatti may have made some stupid mistakes, but he didn’t deserve to end up feeding the fish in some dirty river for that. And his family had nothing to do with any of it. Me? I was a nobody going nowhere. I could pay the price that they couldn’t afford.
Big Louie knew it, too. I could tell by the way he gave me a look like someone appraising a vintage wheeler. Then he sighed. A sigh from a cheese hog like him could blow out all the candles out on an old codger’s birthday cake. And then knock over the cake too.
“You know, I’d actually consider that offer if this was an inside deal. But I’m just the handler in this contract. Luzzatti came to me for the dough. But it was for more than I felt comfortable dealing out. So I introduced him to a third party who had the berries to deal in. The agreement was for a casino off the Bay. Prime location, a sure fire bet. Everything was set to fall in place, and major dough was to made hand over foot.”
The Troubleshooter: Red-Eyed Killer Page 2
