Temptation had him remove the black and white Jack Daniels bottle from the liquor cabinet, but a partly open dining room window and a rustling noise, which left him wondering if a California quail had flown from Mono Lake, enticed him away from the bottle. The window was kept open an inch to keep the house free from musty odors during long absences, and it would remain that way out of respect for Cornelius and the meticulous way he kept house.
The moon threw a stream of light across the lake, and a duck, its feathers yellowed by a moon beam, slid onto the smooth surface. A clumsy landing sent ripples across the waters, disturbing the ageless reflection of a full moon, while crickets droned their love calls.
His cell phone rang.
“Hello.”
“It’s Pepper.”
“How are you?”
“Fine. Did you hear what happened today?”
“I’m at Topaz Lake.”
“What are you doing there?”
“Relaxing.”
“Don’t you get lonely up there?”
Gerald didn’t know what to say. “So, tell me what happened.”
“Well, Pablo came into the hotel, and he hasn’t showed up for work for two days, and he pushed Ready aside, and he went to O’Hara’s office.” Gerald heard her take a breath. “And he demanded money from O’Hara, and now they’re looking for him.”
“That guy is crazy.”
“Tell me! Well, anyway, I was hoping you would walk me home, but I guess you can’t, because you’re so far away, and, well, I’m a little lonely, too. Oh well. Good night and sleep tight.”
“Wait, don’t hang up.”
“Yes?”
“I was plannin’ on going back to the city tonight, anyway.”
“Are you? Could you make it back in time?”
“Yeah, I could. You’re off duty at one thirty, right?”
“Yes, but you don’t have to rush home just for me. It would be dangerous driving fast on dark highways. Wouldn’t it? Can you come home? No, I don’t know. I’ll just walk myself home tonight. Can you come?”
“Of course. If you want me to, just say so.”
“I don’t know. Were you planning on it?”
“Pepper, just tell me what you want.”
“Well, were you planning to drive home?”
“Yes. See you at one thirty. I have to get going.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Good-bye, Pepper. See you later tonight.”
Gerald now had a good reason to resist the urge to get drunk. If he did, it would be impossible to secure the vacation hideaway and take care of Pepper. The unbearable night heat was another reason to go.
He walked past the liquor cabinet again. Cornelius always had a drink before dinner, but whenever they were together, he drank milk. Gerald told himself to go to the back door and rest on the porch lounge, but he had to leave. He started crying as fatigue and respect for his buddy carried him around Cornelius’ fly tying equipment spread out on the floor. He lay down on the lounge chair, and a tear trickled down a deep furrow of skin between his nose and cheek bone and reached the top of his upper lip.
What to do?
Return to Texas and the family that gave him so much pain and the one who seldom saw him? His little girl was turning eleven years old in two days. Her stamped birthday card sat in his Tenderloin apartment. How had life turned out this way? He looked down and wiped away sadness with a balled-up fist.
Distant thunder drowned out the sound of mating crickets, but the rain had stopped. Absence from his young daughter made him yearn to see her face again, but the menacing ogre of a lawman standing between father and daughter reminded him of the reason for his long absence. An alcoholic was an unfit father.
His allotment of women had been fair, and to many of them he had said, “I look like ten miles of bad road.” Tonight, he felt like it. But those were not his kind. They tell an honest man one thing and mean another. Lately, he was having no luck with women, and chastity had entered through the back door as the new guest. His little girl was gone. He hoped that she would turn out differently, but, at the moment, he was powerless to do anything about it.
No headlights encroached on the mountain road, and the sky twinkled.
Back in the city, Gerald rushed into his apartment. It was one o’clock. He filled his cereal bowl and ended a three-second search for milk in an empty refrigerator. A walk to the corner liquor store didn’t excite a single corpuscle in his body, and he was running out of time.
He stuck his head through a gray sweatshirt and looked in the mirror. Pepper would be happy to see him.
His outlook improved even as he stepped over human trash on the sidewalk. Ignoring caution by returning to the place of his former employment, he entered through the front door, shook loose the cold, and made a bee-line to the front desk.
How excited and stupid I must look.
“I’m here,” he said.
She was pitter-pattering behind the desk and looked up when she heard his voice.
“You made it. I was worried about you.”
“Don’t worry about me. You’re looking good.” He looked down at the whale’s tooth hanging outside the sweatshirt and stuffed it inside.
“It’s five more minutes before I go off duty. Can you wait outside?”
“Ugh, I guess so.”
“I’ll be quick.”
Outside the lobby, he shivered inside the gray sweatshirt.
She grabbed his hand and pressed hard. They gave each other a “glad to have you with me” look.
I wonder if she will invite me in.
As they passed under a street light, he felt her hand holding on.
Seeing the apartment night clerk from outside the lobby, he said, “That guy watches everybody. He’s creepy.”
“Don’t let him bother you. Sometimes, he dozes off.”
She got the building key out of her red patent leather purse and unlocked the door.
“Come on. It’s freezing outside.”
Patel, the night clerk, got behind the upper part of his counter.
Pepper gave Gerald a nip on the cheek and caused him to jump.
She whispered, “That bald, pin-headed man always answers, ‘You talk to the owner’, whenever there’s something broken, and never remembers the owner’s phone number, and chatters in a never-ending argument with some family member on the other end.”
Gerald started to laugh as Pepper put her building key in the purse and fished around for her apartment key.
Suddenly, Pablo jumped out from behind a pillar.
Gerald looked for Patel. He was hiding.
Pablo snatched Pepper’s purse.
“What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Give her back that purse,” Gerald said.
Pablo rummaged through it and found the other key. He rummaged some more, found two one-dollar bills, and placed them in his pocket.
“Where’s the rest?”
“The rest?”
“I told you I wanted $200. Where is it?”
“I don’t have any money.”
“What money? What’s this all about?” Gerald asked.
Pablo dropped the purse. A right fist hovered long enough for both to see it. The blow sent her backward.
Gerald immediately took a swing at Pablo and missed. They grappled with each other all the way to the floor. Gerald tasted the spicy sweat on Pablo’s wrist and thrashed about to wriggle free of a headlock. He put Pablo in a scissor lock. When Pablo broke out, he smacked Gerald in the face, and Gerald hit the carpet. Sparks of light blurred his vision, but it cleared in time for him to see Pablo calmly walk to the front door and unlatch the lock, and he was gone.
“Mr. Patel, we need help.”
Patel moved back into view, looking like a bank teller about to say, “Go to the next line.”
“Mr. Patel!” she shouted.
He stood on his tippy-toes, leaned over the counter, and said, “Are you, all right?�
��
“No, we’re not.”
Slowly, Patel put his hand to his mouth.
Pepper got into a sitting position and looked for the apartment key.
From the floor, Gerald said, “Call 911, Patel.”
“No,” Pepper screamed, “Just help us up. We can manage once we’re inside the apartment,” she said in a strained voice. “C’mon, Gerald, get up. We’ll be safe in my apartment.”
“Patel, you make sure never to let that guy into this apartment building, never again. If you do, I’ll see you hanged.” Out had come his Texas drawl like a shotgun, and Patel scurried back to this counter.
“Let’s get to your apartment real quick. I’m startin’ to feel sick.”
“Let me help you get up,” Pepper said.
“No. I’m fine. Just lead the way. Get me out of here.”
All he could see was the top of Patel’s shiny head.
What a weasel.
They passed a broken-down couch and trudged up one flight. Pepper opened the front door and sat Gerald down on a kitchen chair. She came out of the bathroom with a pretty powder-blue hand towel, steaming hot.
“Let me wipe off the blood from your nose. How do you feel? Do you need to use the bathroom?”
“No. I’m startin’ to feel better. Can you get me something to drink? Some milk?”
“Yes, of course.”
When she returned to his side, he asked, “What happened?”
“Well, you saw what happened.”
“No. I mean, why did he want $200?”
Pepper said, “It’s not the first time he demanded money.” She told him about the encounter in the employee lunch room. “He looked even scarier than that day.”
“Why does he think you have money?”
“I don’t know.”
“Pepper, you have a bruise on your face. Let me take care of that.”
“No. I’m fine. I’ll wash it off once you’re feeling better.”
“I didn’t know you were that tough.”
Pepper smiled. “Ouch, that bruise does hurt.”
“Go to the bathroom and get another towel.”
“Yes, sir.” She laughed. “Oh, that hurt even more. Gerald, do you want to stay the night?”
“Yes, please.”
“I have an extra blanket. Is it okay if you sleep on the floor next to my bed?”
His head was splitting. All he wanted was something to eat.
“Are you hungry?”
“Starving.”
“There’s not much. I eat my meals at the Greenwich, but I’ll find something.”
“I ain’t fussy.”
“Go lie down on the bed while I throw something together. You’ll feel better there.”
Gerald did just that.
When he lifted his head, he could see Pepper heating a can of tomato soup and finding a half loaf of French bread in the fridge. She buttered it and put it under the broiler. After she poured milk into a yellow and white striped glass, Gerald dropped his head back on the bedspread.
“I heard you moan. What’s wrong?” she said, kneeling by his side.
“It might be worse than I thought. When I closed my eyes, I saw Pablo in the room.” It hurt just to say the words.
“Maybe, we should call 911?”
“No. All I need is some food, and I’ll be right again.”
“Are you sure?”
He nodded.
“The soup is ready.”
“Get me up. It smells good.”
He ate the entire loaf at her tiny kitchen table.
She handed him two aspirins, which he swallowed with the milk.
After her shower, she handed him another blanket and a pillow and said, “Are you sure everything is okay?”
“Yeah, but no coon from San Francisco is gonna get the best of me. Next time, I’ll be ready.”
“What’s a coon?”
“Racoon. They got teeny-tiny hands, but, somehow, a one got hold of my nose and twisted it.”
“You’re my hero.”
The furnace had warmed the studio apartment, and a country music station played softly. A husky male voice coming from the street below drew her first, and then Gerald, to the window. He stood behind her, up against her clean, cozy nighty. His headache was beginning to recede.
Pepper pulled the curtain back with one finger. Except for a vehicle stopped at an angle, the sidewalk was empty, and the only conversation they heard was the finalization of an easy street bargain.
They fell asleep.
•••
“What you want, Pablo? It’s almost two o’clock. I just got home from work”
“Ready, I need some really bad.”
“What you want? We been through this shit already. Hang low, bro.”
“I just need one more favor. Just gimme a name.”
“What you want? Weed?”
“A rock.”
“Aight. Here’s his cell.” Ready recited the numbers. “An’ don’t call me again.”
Pablo called, arranged a meet-up, and found the spot, the abandoned Hibernia Bank at Jones and McAllister.
This is nasty. Ready better be right.
He didn’t know whether to stand on the bank steps or the sidewalk. He looked up and down the streets and saw a man walking toward him from Market Street. Pablo’s hoodie didn’t keep him from shivering, and he felt sick to his stomach.
The man passed and walked up the stairs. He turned and yelled down, “Yo, Pablo?”
“Yeah, you got something for me?” Pablo asked in a hollow, scared voice.
“Yeah, brutha.”
“Twenty-five, right?”
“Come up here.” The man used one finger to bring Pablo up the stairs. In the dark recesses of old colonnades, the odor of urine filled Pablo’s nose. He stood on the top step and gave the man his price. They were face-to-face. Pablo saw scars and a blue tattoo teardrop. Even Pablo felt uneasy and beat it.
He walked to Seventh and Market, ate at a fast-food restaurant, dove into the bathroom, and smoked his buy in a stinking stall. He had spent everything.
It was late. He needed money to get home. Out of harm’s way for now, he spotted a tall police officer walking Market next to a shorter cop who looked mean as nails. The cops stopped to shout at a drunk passed out on the sidewalk.
Glad I’m not him.
“Leave him alone. He just wants a place to stay,” a passerby said.
The tall one answered the passerby in what could have become a loud shouting match, “You’re right. Wanna take him home?”
Pablo kept his head down and was relieved the cop wasn’t the one on Broadway.
The short one looked at Pablo and said, “You look like a spook.”
Pablo kept going, thinking he could reach Ortiz’s house.
•••
Gerald woke up the next morning at half past nine and called Inspector Varton. “I need to talk to you right away.”
“What’s this about?”
“Pablo Morales.”
“Do you know where he is?”
“No, but I want to report a crime.” His head started aching again.
“All right. When can you be here?”
“About an hour.”
“Fine,” Varton answered.
Pepper stood close by in her nighty. “Good-bye, Pepper, and thanks for everything.”
“I heard what you said. I’d rather you didn’t go.”
“Sorry, but this has to be done.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Lousy, but I got to run with the big dogs or stay on the porch.”
•••
Gerald arrived a little late. The Muni bus was behind schedule. It was half past eleven.
Inspectors Leahy and Trang were waiting inside Inspector Varton’s office.
Gerald glanced at the city calendar on Varton’s wall. No job and it’s Thursday, July 11. He brushed back his greasy hair with his hands. Dressed in the same gray swe
atshirt, he said, “How y’all doin?”
“Mr. Smith, please have a seat. What’s your business with us today?” Varton asked.
“I have some information about Pablo Morales. I want him arrested right away. Last night, he was inside Pepper’s apartment building and attacked her. He said he wanted $200. She doesn’t have $200.”
“Were you a witness to this attack?”
“Look at my nose.”
“Did anyone else witness the incident?” Hieu asked.
“Patel, the lobby clerk.”
“Was Morales armed?”
Gerald looked at Larry and said, “I didn’t see a gun, if that’s what you mean.”
Gerald belched and felt dizzy. “I’m worn out. Can’t you just arrest this varmint?”
“Inspector Varton, it’s almost lunch time.” Larry whispered a few words to Varton.
Varton said, “All right. We’ll break for lunch and see you after, Mr. Smith.”
Gerald exited and could hear Leahy and Trang following right behind.
“We’ll go to San Remo’s, three blocks from here. Can you make it, Gerald?”
“Thanks, Inspector Leahy. You know when a guy’s down on his luck.”
“I’ll pay for lunch. You need a decent meal.”
At the Fior d’Italia, below a thirty-foot-long painting of the Tuscan countryside, Gerald slurped up hot, homemade minestrone soup served in a wild game soup tureen with a pearly swan top. A dark-haired, older waitress who didn’t take any hell from anyone stood by. On the clean, white table cloth, a white ceramic plate was jammed full of prosciutto, salami, olives, anchovies, mushrooms, artichoke hearts, provolone cheese, and vegetables cooked in olive oil.
Gerald sampled each one and scarfed them down. He crunched on stiff French bread and washed every scrap down his gullet with fruity red wine.
Larry and Hieu nursed cokes through the meal.
“Mr. Smith, do you have something you wanted to tell Inspector Leahy?”
“Do you gamble?” Larry asked.
“Sometimes, when I went up to Topaz Lake with Cornelius.”
“Did Cornelius gamble?”
“A little, never more than $120. What Cornelius liked most was fishing on the lake and hunting. He wanted to spend as much time there as he could. He told me that he wanted to retire there, but he changed his mind.”
“Why?” they asked in one voice.
Pretty City Murder Page 23
