Hauling Ash

by Tonia Brown

  “I trailed that bald bull back to Maloney’s room, where the pair of them had a long chat about a certain blonde working on a certain mark. Guess who the mark is.”

  “No.”

  “Yes. Maloney paid her to seduce you, and she is probably supposed to find out if you brought the money with you or where you hid it.”

  Otto shook his head. “No. That’s not true. She hasn’t even asked about the money.”

  “She hasn’t asked you about the money yet. You stay with her long enough and she will get what she wants from you. After all, she gave you what you wanted.”

  Clenching his fists in rage, Otto gritted his teeth and growled, “Get away from me.”

  “Eightball, please,” Walter begged. “I am telling the truth.”

  “No! I won’t to listen to your lies anymore.”

  “Son, you have to believe me. She is as much a part of all of this as Maloney.”

  Otto raised a finger to the hallway beyond the closed door, glaring at the corpse of his dead uncle. “There is no way in hell that beautiful woman waiting for me out there, the woman I may or may not love, is the paid whore of Toney Maloney.”

  A soft, feminine gasp rose from the door.

  A door which happened to be standing wide open, with Penny lingering in the doorway, leaving Otto to point at the object of his proud declaration.

  “Penny?” he asked.

  She backed away from the door, her small hand trembling over her open mouth.

  “Penny?” he repeated, following her step for step into the hallway. “How long have you been standing there?”

  Penny turned and walked away.

  “Penny, please!” Otto said. He grabbed her by the arm and held her still. “Please. I didn’t mean—”

  “When did he tell you?” she said softly over her shoulder.

  “What?”

  Penny turned about, and raised her tear streaked face to him. “When did that cop tell you about me?”

  “I don’t … I … I don’t understand.” Otto released his hold on her and stepped away. “Is it true? Are you a …” he lowered his voice to a shameful whisper as he finished with, “prostitute?”

  Penny winced, as if his words cut her to the core.

  “That’s what you do for a living?” Otto said.

  She lowered her face. “I told you it was complicated.”

  A wave of nausea swept over Otto and his stomach dropped to his knees, threatening to empty what little contents it held all over the deck. He swallowed back the bitter taste of bile as he asked the next, obvious question. “And that mobster paid you to …sleep with me?”

  A soft weeping rose from her and she nodded weakly.

  Otto didn’t know what to say to that. His heart and head filled with a myriad of emotions and thoughts. Hurt. Anger. Sorrow. Regret. Emptiness. Embarrassment. Vengefulness. Unable to control himself, he opened his mouth and listened with a cold detachment as such hateful words escaped his injured soul.

  “So,” he said, “do I owe you anything else, or did Maloney cover the whole bill?”

  A sharp sting rose to his cheek and the resounding slap of flesh against flesh filled the room. Otto rubbed at his face, not surprised she had smacked him.

  “You can go to hell,” Penny snarled. She stormed off for the staircase. She mounted the first step, then whipped about and yelled, “You and that cop and Maloney can all go to hell!” Then she was gone, leaving nothing but the fading click of her heels across the wooden deck.

  Otto didn’t run after her. He didn’t call out her name. He didn’t rush up the stairs, seeking her forgiveness. He wanted to. Oh, dear God in heaven, did he want to. Yet he remained numbly glued to the spot, wondering what in the hell had just happened.

  “Cop?” Walter said.

  “Huh?” Otto grunted, unsure what Walter was asking.

  “She said you and Maloney and that cop. Who was she talking about?”

  Otto thought about her last words, and yes, his dead uncle was correct. “I don’t really know. Perhaps she was confused. Unless her last boyfriend was a cop.”

  “I think my brain must be going soft because I have no idea what you’re talking about either.”

  “Only because you missed it. We met up with her last boyfriend a few minutes ago. Or maybe be was her client. I guess I don’t know now. ” Otto pulled out the card the man gave him and waggled it at Walter. “He gave me his card and told… me… to call …” Otto lost his words when he glanced down at the card.

  The card of Federal Agent Frank Wallace.

  Which explained all sorts of things.

  “Oh dear,” Otto said, and couldn’t really think of anything else to add to that.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Libeled Lady

  Ten minutes earlier

  Banjo scanned the restaurant for Penny. He was hoping to catch her for a quick word before she met with Waldorf. Either Banjo had missed them or the couple had changed their plans. Which was unfortunate, because Banjo needed to warn her about that damned dog before either Waldorf or Maloney told her about it. He looked across the restaurant one more time before deciding to move on when he caught the sight of Jones rushing up to him.

  “Hey man,” Jones said.

  “Hey,” Banjo said.

  Jones glanced around nervously. “You looking for me?”

  “No. I was wondering if Miss Lane has been through here.”

  “Maloney’s whore?”

  Banjo gritted his teeth. “If you mean the young lady that occasionally accompanies Mr. Maloney, then yes. Her.”

  “Geesh. No need to get sensitive about it.” Jones glanced around again, then flinched when he spied someone across the room. “Ah shit, it’s the Feds. I didn’t know they were down here.”

  Following Jones’s line of sight, Banjo found Agent Frank Wallace and his latest partner at the back of the place, watching Banjo and the ex-cop with interest. Wallace raised his cup of coffee to Banjo. Banjo nodded to the men.

  “I better go before they think we’re together,” Jones said. He leaned in closer to Banjo and whispered, “Tell Maloney if he needs anything else, I’d be glad to help. For a price, of course.”

  “Sure,” Banjo said, though he doubted Jones was going to get much more than a bullet in the brainpan from Maloney when all of this was done.

  Banjo let Jones walk off before he made his own way across the crowded room to greet the agents in person.

  “Good morning, agents,” Banjo said as he approached their table.

  “Morning, Mr. Williams,” Wallace said. “Fine day for a stroll.”

  “Certainly is. The sun is shining. The ocean is calm. Fine day indeed.” Banjo held his hand out to the new guy. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Benjamin Williams. Though folks tend to call me Mr. Banjo.”

  The kid furrowed his brow and stared at Banjo’s outstretched hand. “Are you kidding?” He turned to his partner. “Is he kidding?”

  “No, Lawrence,” Wallace said, drumming his fingers across the back of a trashy novel. “He isn’t kidding. Mr. Banjo here fancies himself polite.”

  “A polite thug,” Lawrence said. “Go figure.”

  “Better polite than the alternative,” Banjo said. He wiggled his fingers at the agent.

  The younger man took Banjo’s hand tentatively, shaking it in slow, careful pumps. “I’m Larry.”

  “Nice to meet you, Larry,” Banjo said. He pulled aside an empty chair and joined the agents at their table. “Well, then, what brings a couple of law abiding men like yourselves on a party ship like this?”

  “You know why we are here,” Wallace said.

  “Do I?” Banjo touched his finger to his chin, the picture of innocence.

  Wallace was not amused. “Cut the crap, Banjo. I want a meeting with your boss man. We need to talk about Waldorf.”

  “Waldorf?” Banjo twisted the fingertip on his chin. “I have no idea who you’re talking about. Should I know that name?”


  “He don’t seem polite,” Lawrence said. “He seems stupid.”

  Banjo grinned. Mission accomplished. There was a certain advantage to having coworkers like Chris and Marv. When the time came to put on an act, Banjo had all the prep material he would ever need to appear as stupid as they came.

  “Don’t let him fool you,” Wallace said. “He’s far smarter than his boss. Or me for that matter.”

  “Oh come now, Frank,” Banjo said. “We both know you’re the smartest man at this table.”

  “Forgive me if I doubt your sincerity. Have you dealt with anyone interesting lately?”

  “Couple of royal assholes. No one you’d know.”

  “Really?” Wallace crossed his arms and nodded. “You don’t mean the Duke of Crandon and his advisor, do you?”

  Banjo grinned. Trust Frank Wallace to keep up with the papers.

  “Duke of who?” Lawrence said.

  “Crandon,” Wallace said. “It’s a little known country just outside of Switzerland. We had tabs on the Duke for a while, though he never crossed into our jurisdiction.”

  “What’d he do?”

  “He was heavy into kiddie porn and other nasty stuff. A real piece of work.”

  Lawrence poked his tongue out.

  “The papers called it an accident,” Wallace said.

  “Cheap trick, cutting brake lines,” Banjo said. “It gets the job done. Not that I would know, mind you.”

  “Sure you don’t. A killer gets paid and the relations can rest easy knowing the family embarrassment has been dealt with. Clever. Very clever. Speaking of clever men, was that ex-officer Jones you were just with?”

  Banjo furrowed his brow in mock confusion. “Who?”

  “Where are your friends?”

  “You know better than that. I don’t have any friends.”

  “All right. Let’s try another approach. Where are the other men? Are they with him?”

  “I’m sure I don’t know.”

  “Being a little evasive today, aren’t we?”

  “Being a little curious today, aren’t you?”

  “I want to talk to Maloney.”

  “He won’t talk to the law. You know that.”

  “He’ll talk to ex-law?”

  “He has all kinds of friends, if that’s what you mean. You know that as well.”

  “Why did you kill the dog? Last time we talked you said you liked animals.”

  “No, I said I preferred them over people. I never said I liked them.”

  Wallace tipped his head to one side. “My mistake. How is Miss Lane doing these days?”

  “She’s well.”

  “I know. I just saw her with Waldorf.”

  Banjo sat upright, unable to contain his surprise. “They were here?”

  “I thought you didn’t know Waldorf?”

  “I thought you were smarter than that.” Banjo didn’t mean to slip, but he was getting tired of this rapid fire game of questions.

  “Why does Waldorf have the money?”

  “What money?”

  “Is he acting as a courier?”

  “Why don’t you ask him?”

  “I think I might.” Frank grabbed his novel and stood. “Thank you for the intriguing conversation, Mr. Williams. Come on, Larry. We have better things to do. See you around, Banjo.”

  “Not if I don’t see you first.” Banjo kept his cool and his seat, watching the pair of agents leave the restaurant. Just as he was ready to hop up and make for the door himself, he heard his name paged overhead, directing him to the white courtesy phones. Banjo figured it was Maloney needing some petty thing. To his surprise, Penny was on the other line.

  “Benjamin,” she said in a wavering voice. “Come up to my room. I need you.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Banjo said. Without a second thought, he dropped the phone on the receiver, ran across the deck and headed up the stairs, his mind racing with worry. God help Maloney if he had laid a heavy hand on that woman. In moments he was at her room, tapping gently on her door.

  “Miss Penny?”

  “Come in, Ben,” she said.

  Banjo slipped into her darkened room, shutting out the bright light of the sunny afternoon behind him. He found Penny seated on the bed, her face in her hands, the soft sounds of weeping rising from her.

  “Penny?” he said as he moved to her side and sat down.

  “Oh, Ben,” she said. “It’s awful.” The woman tried to explain, instead devolving into deep, wracking sobs.

  Banjo wrapped an arm around her, drawing her closer to him. Penny turned and hugged him full on, burying her face into his broad chest as she let it all go. They sat like that for a long time, she drenching him with her tears while he stroked her hair and kept his mouth shut. Finally, when she was all weeped out, she raised her face and smiled weakly.

  “Thanks for letting me cry on your shoulder,” she said.

  “You’re quite welcome.”

  “It’s good to have such a big shoulder to cry on.”

  “You know it’s there for you, anytime.” He slipped his handkerchief from his top pocket and offered it to her. “Now, tell me what happened.”

  She took the hanky from him and wiped at her eyes. “That cop told Otto who I am. And I blew it, Ben. I had a chance to brush it off. For some reason him knowing the truth upset me so much and I confessed to all of it. Now he knows I’m just a whore.”

  “No. You’re not just a whore. You’re special, Penny.”

  She laughed off his compliment. “I appreciate that, hon. We both know I’m only a well-paid call girl. Now Otto knows. So, I guess you can tell Toney I’m out. I’d tell him, though I don’t think I can deal with the tantrum just yet. You know he’s gonna lose his mind.”

  “Yeah, he will. I’ll deal with him.” Banjo didn’t look forward to dealing with Maloney, but he would do anything for Penny.

  It dawned on him, then and there, that he really would do anything for her. And that maybe, perhaps the reason he understood her so well was because he felt more for her than he had for any other woman in his life. More than friendship. More than arousal. More than concern or worry or joy or anything else.

  He might just love her.

  “Jesus, Ben,” she said in an exasperated huff. “Why is this bothering me so much?” She stood and paced her room, swinging those thick hips back and forth under her thin sundress. “I get called a whore every day by that giant ape Maloney, and it’s like water off a duck’s back. Then this guy… this normal guy calls me a … a prostitute… and I …” She paused, her lower lip trembling as she obviously tried to keep from bursting into tears again.

  Banjo supposed he knew exactly why. It was the same reason he loved it when she called him Benjamin instead of Banjo. The same reason he smiled when she referred to him as a gentleman instead of just another thug.

  “Do you think you may care for him?” he asked.

  She stopped pacing to shake her head at Banjo, obviously not getting his drift.

  Mr. Banjo looked away as he asked, “You think that maybe, well, maybe it’s because you’re in love with him?”

  “Benjamin,” she said, sitting beside him once more, “you know better than that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Hon, girls like me don’t get to fall in love.”

  “Why would you think that? Anyone can fall in love.”

  “No. Not everyone.” She grinned, though there was no joy in it. It was a smile of defeat, of coming to terms with failure, and moving on a long time ago. “Love isn’t meant for the likes of me. It’s for folks like our mortician friend. The kind and the just and the good. Those that live a life worth sharing. Not the kind of life I live. Not people like me.”

  “You mean people like us,” he said.

  That wasn’t what Banjo wanted to say. What he wanted to say was, I want to share your life. I am like you. I understand you because you’re like me, only softer. We both let people use us for money, only
in different ways. I might even love you. I don’t know because I haven’t allowed myself to love anyone in a long, long time.

  He didn't. Because regardless of Mr. Banjo’s strength, his power, his brawn and brain, none of it mattered when it came to this sort of thing.

  In the face of love, Benjamin Williams was, quite simply, a coward.

  “Oh, Ben,” she said. “What am I going to do now?”

  “I told you, I’ll deal with Maloney,” Banjo said.

  “I don’t mean him. I can deal with his whining ass. I mean this fellow. I feel so sorry for him. I’m used to dealing with awful people. You know the kind I’m talking about.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  “I can’t stand back and watch Toney destroy Otto. The poor sap hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “There a duffle bag with a quarter of a million in it that begs to differ.”

  “Yes, and you and I both know he got a hold of that money accidentally. I don’t think he even knows it belongs to Toney.”

  “He does now. Maloney practically told him last night.”

  Penny considered him for a quiet moment, her pretty face clouded over with worry and regret. “You’re going to kill him, aren’t you?”

  Banjo ran his hand over his head in a slow draw. “I hope not. I sure as hell don’t want to. We both know what I want doesn’t matter.”

  “Sure it does.”

  “No. It doesn’t. Like you said, Maloney pays me to do his dirty work. He calls the shots. I shoot.”

  “I don’t understand why you even work for him.”

  “It’s what I do, Penny.”

  “No. This isn’t what you do, Benjamin. Not this. You’ve hurt people, sure, yet it’s always been the worst folks alive. The scum of the Earth. The pushers and pimps and gangsters. This Otto guy isn’t like that. He doesn’t deserve any of this.”

  “Look, I appreciate your sympathy for him, but I really don’t want to talk about it anymore. Okay?”

  “Okay.” She moved toward him and rested her head on his shoulder. “Great gravy, we are just alike, aren’t we?”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  “Then you know that I have to work for Maloney.”