One for My Baby (Phoenix Noir Book 4)

by Graham, Barry

  “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “This is between me and him,” Ryan said to Tony.

  “Not in my pub, it isn’t. Hey, Mark, I don’t want to call the cops, because if I do it goes on the record and makes it hard for me.”

  “No problem. I don’t want the cops called.”

  “You’re lucky, son,” Tony said to Ryan. “Get out of here and don’t come back.”

  Ryan looked like he was going to say something, then didn’t. He walked out.

  Tony went behind the bar and stowed the bat. Mark sat at the bar and said, “Sorry about that.”

  “You were shagging his bird, that would be my guess.”

  “You got it.”

  “I could do without you bringing it in here, mate. I mean you’re a good customer, but...”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know. His wife texted me and asked if she could see me one last time. She asked if she could come to my place. She’d never been there before, so I wasn’t sure, so I told her to meet me for a drink here and we’d talk about it. She’s not good at hiding things, so I wasn’t keen to give her my address. He must have seen her phone and followed her, or maybe he made her send the text. It was her I was expecting, not him.”

  “Oh, I see. Such is life.” Tony looked toward the door, and grabbed the bat again. “All right, you were warned,” he said to Ryan, who had come back in and was walking toward Mark.

  Ryan held up his hands. “I’m not trying to start shit. I just...” No words came, and then he said to Mark, “Can I just talk to you for a minute?”

  “Sure,” Mark said. “Okay with you, Tony?”

  “Fine, if there won’t be any more bother.”

  “If there is, I’ll borrow that bat from you and take him for a walk,” Mark said. He looked at Ryan. “Want a drink?”

  Ryan nodded.

  “Tony, put whatever he wants on my tab, and I’ll have another.”

  They got their drinks and went and sat facing each other in the booth Ryan had knocked Mark out of.

  “So..?” Mark said.

  Ryan started to talk, couldn’t, took a pull on his drink.

  “Take your time,” Mark said.

  Moments went by, then Ryan said, “I don’t know what I want to say. I don’t even know.”

  “I think I understand. But I’m not your problem.”

  “What?”

  “Look, I admit I could have been nicer about it when you texted me the other day, but your manners left something to be desired too. I’m not your problem. Your problem isn’t that I’m fucking your wife, it’s that your wife is fucking around on you. You and I don’t know each other. I’m not what’s wrong with your marriage.”

  “You don’t fucking know anything about my marriage.”

  “That’s right, I don’t. I don’t care to, either. I don’t even really know Suzanne, except in the Biblical sense. We met online, and it was just about sex. She was looking for somebody to fuck, and so was I.”

  “You piece of shit.”

  “I might be, but you wouldn’t know, because you don’t know me. Instead of sitting here calling me names, I think you should either be talking to your wife, to work things out, or talking to a divorce lawyer. But, from what she’s said to me, I think she does actually love you.”

  They were silent for a moment, then Mark said, “That’s all I’ve got to say. How about you?”

  Ryan didn’t look at him and didn’t say anything. There were tears in his eyes.

  “Let’s leave it there, then,” Mark said.

  Ryan nodded, finished his drink, got up and left.

  Mark finished his own drink, and went up to the bar for another.

  “Fuck’s sake,” Tony said. “You cuckold the poor bastard, then you turn into his marriage counselor.”

  Ryan was working a shift at The Lost Leaf. The other bartender asked him, “Did you hear about Sergio Casci getting robbed?”

  “Is that the gangster dude who opened the organic place?”

  “That’s him. I’ve seen the guy who robbed him at the Bikini Lounge.”

  “What, Casci was at the Bikini Lounge? How did he get robbed there?”

  “No, the guy who robbed him hangs out there. I’ve seen him.”

  “How do you know who robbed him?”

  “Dude, it was in the New Times. Casci’s restaurant got robbed by this musician.”

  “What band?”

  “I don’t remember. He does lounge stuff. Can’t remember his name. I think maybe he’s a solo act. The article’s a trip.”

  “Cool, I’ll read it later.”

  He did, and saw Mark’s photo.

  Linda had stayed the night at Joel’s. She’d said she wouldn’t, but she fell asleep shortly after fucking him, and he liked having her there in bed with him, so he didn’t wake her. In the morning, as she took a shower, he picked up her phone and snooped through her text messages and recent photos.

  SEVEN

  Green Life wasn’t open yet, but Casci had told Joel he’d be waiting for him in the bar, and he was. No one else was there.

  “So, what’s the story? And why couldn’t you tell me on the phone?” Casci said.

  “It’s going to sound crazy.”

  “Like most of my life. Anyway, I didn’t mind meeting you here. It’s a while since I’ve had booze for breakfast. You having one?”

  “Yeah, I think I’d better.” Joel went behind the bar, got a drink, then came back around and sat on the stool next to Casci’s.

  “It’s about Linda,” he said, then hesitated.

  “You know she quit?”

  “Yes.”

  “You look nervous. Are you nervous?”

  “Yes.”

  “She didn’t even come in, just called and said she was quitting. She said it was because of the robbery. Did you have something to do with that?”

  “What? The robbery? Or her quitting?”

  “Either. Or both. You tell me.”

  “Why would I have something to do with it?”

  “How would I know? That’s why I told you to tell me. I do think it’s strange that the girl quit after lying to cover up for the robber. And now you want to talk about her, and it had to be right now, and you wouldn’t talk on the phone, and you’re nervous.”

  “I’m glad you think she lied.”

  “I know she did. I know she was in on it. I just wanted to see who else was.”

  Joel was almost stammering. “I wasn’t.”

  “I never said you were. But why are you glad I know she lied?”

  “Because you might believe what I’m going to tell you. It might not sound so crazy.”

  “I ran out of patience before you were born, so talk.”

  “Linda was in on it.”

  “I just told you that. But how do you know, aside from a wise man like me telling you?”

  “I’ve been kind of dating her...”

  “Kind of?”

  “I’m not her boyfriend, or anything, but...”

  “But you’ve been screwing her.”

  “Yes.”

  “Nice work. I’d have been on that myself once upon a time. So you knew about the robbery?”

  “No!”

  “Don’t wet yourself. You wouldn’t be the first who ended up being led astray by one of them. If you know your scripture, it happened to Adam, but that was different.”

  “Different how?”

  “He disobeyed God. God’s merciful, or so I’ve heard. I’m not.”

  “I wasn’t involved in what she did. I just found out about it this morning.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “So I’ve been seeing her, but she didn’t want to be my girlfriend, and she said she was seeing other guys...”

  “Seeing means screwing?”

  “Yes. So she spent last night with me, and I was jealous about whoever else she’s seeing, so I looked at her phone...”

  “Naughty, naughty.”

  “And there were some pic
tures she took with her phone. One of them, she was sucking somebody’s dick, and another shows his face as he’s fucking her, and it was Mark Sharpton.”

  “You’re sure? It wasn’t just somebody who looked like him, or that looked like him in your imagination?”

  “I’m sure. It was definitely him.”

  “Do you have her phone?”

  “No, she didn’t know I’d looked at it. I didn’t say anything to her about it. I was too upset.”

  “Well, I appreciate that you told me. I just wish you’d done the right thing.”

  “I did do the right thing, I swear. I called you as soon as she left my place. I didn’t know before.”

  “I’m glad you called me right away, and I’m glad you told me about this. Hey, do you remember what I did the other night, to the customer who was rude to you?”

  “You mean when you broke the glass and—?”

  Casci picked up Joel’s drink, smashed the rim of the glass against the bar, and shoved the broken end into Joel’s throat as he was answering the question. Holding the glass by its base, he twisted it left and right, pushing it harder and harder. Joel fell off his stool. Casci remained on his. He took a napkin and used it to wipe blood off his face, hands and shirt front. Then he sipped his drink and looked down at Joel.

  “The best thing for you now would be to pull the glass out. You’ll bleed out quicker that way. I’m telling you this because, like I said, I’m grateful to you for letting me know about Linda. But you didn’t do the right thing. You decided to get the poor girl killed because you were jealous. Quite romantic, I guess, but if you can’t be trusted not to sneak a look at her phone and then snitch her out to me, you can’t be trusted to keep your mouth shut about what you know I’ll do to her. Losing my two best employees in the same week...” He shook his head. “Don’t let anybody tell you running a small business is easy.”

  He got off the stool. He bent over and looked in Joel’s wide eyes. “What I said about me not being merciful wasn’t true. I don’t think you can bring yourself to pull that glass out of your neck, so allow me...” He reached down, yanked the glass out of Joel’s flesh, and stepped back to avoid as much as he could of the fountain of blood that followed.

  Mark sat at the bar of the Duck and Swallow. “Can you do me a favor?” he asked English Tony.

  “If I can, yeah.”

  “Remember you said you wanted me to play a gig here? Well, I’m broke as shit, and—”

  “I’m not far from that state myself, mate. I told you, I’d love to have you play here, but I can’t afford you.”

  “Then maybe we can do each other a favor. I need to make some money, any money I can. I can’t get a decent-paying gig, and being accused of armed robbery isn’t going to make it easy to get any kind of job in a hurry. How about if I play here just for tips? At the worst, it won’t cost you anything. At best, if I bring in a lot of people, you can pay me whatever you think is fair.”

  “Christ, I feel like I’d be exploiting you, but if you think that’s a fair deal, then sure.”

  “I don’t believe it,” Rankin told Casci. They were sitting at the bar in Green Life, which was closed until further notice, and smelled strongly of bleach and floor polish, which almost covered another smell that Rankin knew. “I don’t believe she was part of it.”

  “What are you talking about? You said yourself that she lied. You said it was definitely him.”

  “She definitely did lie. It was definitely him. But I still don’t believe she was in on it. Or if she was, she’s one of the greatest actresses who ever lived. She was furious at him. She couldn’t wait to identify him. I told her she didn’t have to do it face-to-face, and she said she wanted to. No way was she working with him.”

  “Owen, she was sucking his dick the other morning. How much deeper in with him could she be?”

  “How do you know?”

  “I know.”

  “Well, maybe she did help him set it up, but I can’t see it. Maybe they got together afterward, like Stockholm Syndrome or something. Maybe that’s why she lied.”

  “Where are you when it comes to finding him?”

  “Nowhere so far. He’s like a fucking ghost. His driver’s license is for an address in Laveen that he hasn’t lived at in years, if he ever lived there. His name isn’t on any house deeds or rental agreement that we can find. His main hangout seems to be the Bikini Lounge, but he hasn’t been seen there in weeks.”

  “At this rate, I’m going to have to take a stand against police corruption.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It means that if you and your counterparts in the Phoenix Police Department don’t shape up, I’m going to have to stop paying you. I already know where to find Sharpton. He’s been going to an English bar in Downtown Phoenix. He’s friends with the owner.”

  “How—?”

  “Somebody told me, of course. And it doesn’t really matter, because if we don’t find him there, I’m sure Linda can tell us where to look.”

  “I see.”

  “By the way, you’ll probably be getting a missing person report about Joel Billingsley, who was tending bar here. He’s disappeared. Just quit on me.”

  “And he’s missing? Was he in on it too? Is that why this place smells like a slaughterhouse?”

  “We only serve free range meat.”

  Linda was in her apartment, applying for jobs online. When she heard the knock on her door, she opened it to find a man with the build of a football player and the manner of a cop, but she knew somehow that he was neither, and she didn’t try to stop him when he walked in. The man told her he worked for Mr. Casci. He showed her some pictures on his phone, and asked her if she recognized the person in them. At first, she hadn’t realized that the mess was a person. He told her to look closer. She did, and realized that it was Joel.

  Casci sat on a stool in The Lost Leaf and talked with Ryan, who was tending bar. “Thanks again,” he said, handing Ryan an envelope heavy with hundreds. “Here’s a little present for you.”

  “Thank you,” Ryan said. “I’m glad I could help.”

  “Do you like working here?”

  “Yeah, it’s cool.”

  “I won’t ask what they pay you, but I think you’d find a better deal at my place. I could use someone like you, who takes care of his territory. Would you be interested in coming to Green Life?”

  “Maybe,” Ryan said. “We should talk about it.”

  “Some other night, we will. But I’m gonna cash out here now and head over to the Duck and Swallow. I hear there’s a good show there tonight.”

  Ryan smiled and nodded.

  Mark sat at his keyboard in the Duck and Swallow. The crowd was appreciative, and his tip jar was getting full. English Tony had wanted to spread the word that a reputed desperado was playing music in his bar, but Mark had persuaded him not to. He wasn’t sure about advertising his presence if he did more gigs there. If he just played to passing trade, he might be able to do okay with tips. The place had never gotten busy tonight, but there had always been enough people to be called an audience.

  It was after midnight, and he was at the end of his last set. He found himself thinking of Linda, who hadn’t responded to any of the texts he’d sent her earlier in the day. He played “One for My Baby,” which he’d planned to play if she’d shown up tonight. When he’d finished, there was some applause, and then a man in his sixties, more expensively dressed than the others in the bar, came and shoved some money in the tip jar.

  “Thanks,” Mark said.

  “You’re welcome,” Casci said. “Do you know any murder ballads?”

  Before Mark left with Casci and his larger, younger employee, who introduced himself as Fitzgerald and asked if Mark knew any Irish songs, he quietly asked Tony to forget who he saw him leave with. He didn’t tell Tony about the photo they’d shown him of Linda. He did tell him that the cops were part of it, and that there was nothing Tony could do to help him, and a lot
that he could do to hurt himself if he didn’t develop amnesia.

  “Fuck, Mark, I’m sorry,” Tony said.

  Mark told Tony his address. “Will you remember that? If I don’t contact you, will you make sure my cat’s okay? His name’s Pangur Ban.”

  Tony nodded, and repeated the address, then wrote it on a napkin.

  “Thanks for helping me out,” Mark said. “You’re a friend.”

  When Mark had left with the men, Tony stood looking at the keyboard he had played. He looked at the stool Mark had sat on while playing. He went to the restroom, bent over the toilet and retched, but nothing came up.

  EIGHT

  The floor was concrete. The room was cool, so the walls were probably thick, but that didn’t matter because the place wasn’t close to anywhere there might be people who would hear anything. Mark wasn’t even sure which direction they’d driven in—he knew it was to the West, but didn’t know if they’d gone North or South. Phoenix is on a grid, so you always have some idea of where you are, but fear had shut down the part of his brain that could process such information. As they got out of the car, he realized they were on the edge of some kind of industrial district.

  The room had no furniture aside from some metal chairs. When Casci and Fitzgerald brought Mark in, Linda was sitting on one chair, and Rankin on another. Linda was exactly as she’d been in the photo they’d shown Mark, handcuffed to the chair, looking a decade older than she was. She looked at Mark, but her face didn’t change and she said nothing.

  “How was the show?” Rankin said.

  “The boy can sing and play the piano for sure,” Casci said. “So now it’s the after-party.”

  “These chairs are damn uncomfortable,” Rankin said.

  “Sorry about that. I usually stand when I’m here. This place really isn’t a lounge. And stainless steel chairs are the best, because you can just wipe the blood right off of them.”

  Rankin looked admiringly at Mark’s suit and Fedora. “It’ll be a shame to get blood on those threads.”

  “He won’t need them,” Casci said.

  “I used my only pair of cuffs on her. Do you want me to take them off her and use them on him?”

  “No need. Since his music and dress sense is so old school, we’re gonna do this in his kind of style. Show him, Fitz.”