Hauling Ash

by Tonia Brown

  “No sir. I had no idea. I thought … well, I thought she liked me for, you know, me.”

  “I know. And again, I’m sorry. Now, for the record, you had never met Toney Maloney before your run-in last night?”

  “No.”

  “How about Mr. Banjo?”

  “Who?”

  “The bald bull,” Walter said.

  “Oh,” Otto said. “You mean Mr. Maloney’s butler?”

  “Butler?” Frank said.

  Larry sniggered, until his partner glared the guy into silence.

  “I mean Mr. Maloney’s associate, yes,” Frank said.

  “I met him in the kennels last night, and haven’t seen him since.”

  “I understand.” The agent picked up the recorder and clicked it off once more, pocketing the device. “Okay then, you are free to go. And I am going to have to keep the duffle.”

  “Boss,” Larry said.

  “Please take it,” Otto said. He handed the bag to the agents.

  “I can’t believe you didn’t even keep a little bit,” Walter whined.

  “Most of it is there,” Otto said. “Minus what I spent on the cruise. Sorry.”

  “Not a problem,” Frank said.

  “Boss?” Larry said.

  “Like he would’ve missed a couple of grand,” Walter said. “You should’ve taken some for all your troubles.”

  “I’m just pleased to have it off my back,” Otto said. “So I can go?”

  “Sure,” Frank said. “Though we will need to get in contact with you again before this is done.”

  “Understandable.”

  “You might have to testify, just to corroborate your story with ours.”

  Otto swallowed hard. “Testify?”

  “Boss?” Larry said again. He tugged at the older man’s sleeve.

  “I’m sorry,” Frank said. “We may have to call on you for evidence.”

  “I suppose I understand,” Otto said. “You don’t need anything else from me now?”

  “You’ve done more than enough,” Frank said. “We can take it from here.”

  “Boss,” Larry said.

  “What?” Frank snapped.

  The younger man leaned forward and whispered something into Frank’s ear. The older agent’s eyes went wide and he shook his head.

  “No,” Frank said. “No way.”

  “But boss,” Larry said.

  “I said no.”

  “He’s perfect for—”

  “Will you arrest him now?” Otto said.

  “We will, eventually,” Frank said.

  “Why not now? I mean, you know where he is, and what he’s done. Go get him.”

  Frank dithered rather than answering outright, humming while he held up his hand and tilted it back and forth.

  “It isn’t that simple,” Larry said.

  “Why not?” Otto said. “He’s a maniac. He deserves to be behind bars.”

  “We know that,” Frank said. “And he knows that. Yet if we can’t prove that to a judge...”

  “Ah,” Otto said. “I wasn’t much help, was I?”

  “We were hoping you could tell us more, though I have to admit I am pleased that you accidentally stumbled into this mess rather than working for Maloney. I am also pleased you came to see us. It’s a fine day for justice when an honest citizen does his duty.”

  “He could do far more,” Larry said.

  “How?” Otto asked. “If there is something else I can do, I’d be glad to help out.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Frank said. He ushered Otto to the door, thanking him again for turning the money over to the authorities.

  “I don’t mind doing more,” Otto said.

  “See, boss?” Larry said. “He wants to help.”

  “Mr. Waldorf,” Frank said, smiling far too politely at Otto, “can you excuse us for a moment? Feel free to let yourself out. I need to have a word in private with my partner.” Frank grabbed Larry’s elbow and dragged him into the adjoining bathroom, where he slammed the door behind them.

  The steady murmurs of an argument rose from behind the closed door.

  “I guess we can go now,” Otto said.

  “Hang on now,” Walter said as he sauntered over to the bathroom and leaned into the door.

  “Get away from there.”

  “Don’t you wonder what the big deal is?”

  “I don’t care. I just want to get as far away as I can from all of this madness.”

  “Eightball, you’re on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic. You ain’t going anywhere.”

  “Oh, yeah. I’ll hide in my bed.” Otto opened the door, turning about to wave at his uncle. “Come on.”

  Walter leaned away from the door and blinked a few times at Otto. “Holy cannoli.”

  “What?”

  “You really should come and listen to this.”

  “What makes you think I want to listen to a private conversation between—”

  “Because it’s about you,” Walter said stated.

  “Really?” Intrigued, Otto joined his uncle at the bathroom door. He pressed his ear to the wood

  “…not put him in any more danger than he’s already in,” Frank said.

  “Yeah, but he wants to help,” Larry said. “He’s perfect.”

  “No, he’s not. He’s not cut out for this kind of thing.”

  “We’ll be right behind him. All he has to do is talk to Maloney for us. Just get the guy to talk. That’s all.”

  “You hearing this crap?” Walter said.

  “What are they going on about?” Otto whispered.

  “The younger one suggested you should wear a wire and go see Maloney.”

  “Oh my, really? That sounds awful dangerous.”

  “Yeah, hence the reason the old fart don’t want you to do it.”

  Otto wasn’t sure if Walter meant Frank, or himself.

  “Think about it, boss,” Larry said, “right now Maloney doesn’t know Waldorf is here with us. We wire him up, give him the bag and send him to give it back to the nut man. If he can get Maloney to mention one little detail about where the money came from, or where it is going, bam, we’ve got him. Easy peasy.”

  “No,” Frank said. “You know Maloney is too smart for that. And let’s not forget his hired help. For the last time, the answer is no. I don’t want to hear any more about it. I refuse to send that sorry excuse for a sheep into the lion’s den.”

  “I don’t think he’s sorry. I think he’s a nice guy.”

  “That’s why this won’t work. He’s too nice. He was so desperate for attention he thought a prostitute was in love with him. He didn’t even know he was carting around a quarter million until he stopped to freaking count it. He’s gullible, trusting, naïve and innocent. A babe in the woods, Lawrence. A babe in the woods.”

  “He’s got you there, Eightball,” Walter said. “It’s like he knows everything about you.” The corpse chuckled.

  Otto chewed his lower lip in frustration. On the one hand, the agent was correct. Otto was too nice for his own good. He settled out of court on his divorce rather than put up a fight he knew he could win. He did whatever his boss told him to do at work, even when he knew it was legally questionable. He spent his whole life at his miserly uncle’s beck and call. Hell, Walter still pushed Otto around, and the man was a corpse for Pete’s sake! This had to end. Octavious Waldorf was tired of being nice.

  Without warning, the door opened, leaving Otto to stare up wide eyed at Frank Wallace.

  “Mr. Waldorf?” Frank said. “What are you still doing here?”

  “I want to go,” Otto said.

  “Good.” Frank pushed his way past Otto and stormed into the bedroom. “I told you to go. So, go.”

  “No, I mean I want to wear the wire and go talk to Maloney for you. I’ll try to get him to confess to his wrongdoings.”

  “Nice!” Larry said from the bathroom door.

  “No,” Frank said. He whipped about and balled hi
s fists. “Not nice. This is the opposite of nice. This is wrong. I won’t let this happen.”

  “This could work, boss.”

  “Please,” Otto said. “I want to help. I can do this. I know I seem weak to you, but I can do this. I want to do this.”

  Frank stepped closer and towered over Otto, seething with rage. “Do you have any idea how ridiculous this sounds?”

  “Yes. I know I’m not the ideal candidate, though isn’t that the point? Maloney won’t expect the likes of me to do something so rash.”

  “No, he would suspect me of putting you up to it.”

  “No he wouldn’t. Think about it, Agent Wallace. Why in the world would you ask me to do something so stupid and obviously dangerous? You wouldn’t. You can’t. So, I must’ve decided to act on my own. Right? A naïve babe in the woods trying to make a bargain with the lion.” Otto raised his eyebrows, resisting the urge to waggle them.

  For a moment, the agent’s anger subsided and uncertainty moved into its place. He inhaled, exhaled, then shook his head. “You’re only right about one thing, I won’t put you in that kind of danger.”

  “It isn’t your choice. I want to help. I need to help. I’ve lived far too politely and well mannered, while everyone around me gets ahead by being rude and obnoxious. I’ve been taken advantage of my whole life. I’ve waited on hold on the phone for hours, only to realize the person on the other end was never coming back.”

  “So someone dropped your call and—”

  “Three times?”

  “Ouch,” Larry said.

  “Quite. Ouch indeed. Three times I did this, in a row. I spent a whole day calling back thinking they had forgotten me. And why? Because I am so easily forgettable. People continually walk all over me, and quite frankly, I am sick of it. It’s payback time.”

  At the detailed explanation, Frank looked Otto in the eye and said, “Tell me this isn’t about Penny Lane.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Tell me this isn’t about Miss Lane taking advantage of you. Tell me you aren’t doing this to get back at her. Look me in the eyes and tell me this isn’t about her, and I’ll wire you up myself.”

  Otto kept his eyes locked onto the agent’s, and confessed the truth. “She lied to me and she used me and she hurt me and while I admit I’m angry, I’m also no stranger to this kind of pain. So yes, it is about her, but it’s also about integrity and honesty and that bastard getting what’s coming to him.”

  The agent stared at Otto for a long, silent moment before he broke eye contact and ran his hands through his thinning hair. “I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this.”

  “All right!” Larry shouted, pumping his fist into the air.

  “I think I need a drink,” Frank said.

  “Me, too,” Otto said.

  Larry slipped over to the mini bar and poured up three glasses of amber liquid. He passed the glasses around, making sure Frank got the fullest cup. The elder agent downed half the glass before letting out a long winded hiss. Otto took a single gulp of his, only to cough and gag at the strong flavor. Frank watched Otto’s reaction, raising an eyebrow at the display.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?” Frank asked.

  “I do,” Otto said between gags. “I really do.”

  Frank swished his scotch around in his glass as he stared at it. “For the record, there isn’t anything wrong with being a nice guy.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Anyone that ever tells you different is just jealous.”

  “It’s really nice to meet someone so polite,” Larry said. “We don’t get that a lot in our line of work. You’re just a nice guy.”

  “That’s ‘cause your uncle raised you right,” Walter said.

  “Thanks,” Otto said. “It’s only because my uncle raised me right.”

  “He must’ve been a hell of a guy,” Frank said.

  “He was.” Otto raised his glass. “To Walter. May he find happiness, wherever he is.”

  Frank and Larry raised their glasses and said as one, “To Walter.”

  Walter smiled warmly at Otto. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

  Otto nodded and took another sip, slower this time.

  “You understand how dangerous this is?” Frank asked.

  “I do. Do you mind if I ask, what exactly am I doing?” He took a single gulp to prepare himself for the answer.

  Frank looked to his younger partner. “Well? This was your idea.”

  After downing his entire glass of scotch, Larry grinned widely. “I think it’s suppertime.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dinner at Eight

  Eight o’clock that night

  Excited passengers packed the dining hall, chattering with enthusiasm about the evening’s entertainment. Currently, a live band was performing a few flavorless jazz numbers. Earlier in the day the cruise director had announced a surprise floor show for this particular meal—the surprise not being the show, but the identity of the performer. Banjo had caught wind that the special guest was a portly Elvis impersonator. He kept that little gem to himself. Maloney hated Elvis almost as much as he loved walnuts, so this whole affair promised an amusement all its own.

  Banjo sat at the back of the dining hall, alone, laying claim to the boss’s table while Penny and the others helped themselves to the buffet. He wasn’t particularly hungry, and thought he might end up skipping this meal altogether. His stomach knotted up every time he watched Maloney slobber all over Penny. Not that there was anything he could do about it. Penny had a job to do, and so did Banjo, and that was that.

  “Is this seat taken?” someone to his left asked.

  Banjo looked up from his empty plate into the nervous face of the mortician.

  “Is this seat taken?” Waldorf asked again, pointing to the open seat to the left of Banjo.

  Dumb stricken, Banjo glanced down at the seat, then back up to Waldorf.

  The mortician clutched a familiar duffle to him tightly.

  “If it is, just say so,” Otto said. “No need to be rude.”

  “I’m sorry,” Banjo said, “I don’t understand why you want to sit with me.”

  “I don’t want to sit with you. I want to sit with him.” Waldorf nodded across the crowded dining hall to the buffet, where Maloney was busy filling a plate. “He is sitting on the other side of you, yes?”

  Banjo nodded. “He is.”

  “Then do you mind if I sit here?”

  “Certainly not.”

  Waldorf made himself comfortable at Maloney’s table, keeping the duffle carefully tucked in his lap.

  “My boss, on the other hand, might not agree,” Banjo said.

  Security Officer Jones caught sight of what was happening, and began a slow, steady strut across the hall. Banjo tried to motion the man off, to say that he had this one, but the security guy strolled right up to the table, ignoring the warning.

  “Is there a problem here?” Jones asked as he approached the table.

  Waldorf looked up to the security man. “Not at all.”

  “I wasn’t asking you,” Jones said. He nodded to Banjo. “This man bothering you, sir?”

  Banjo doubted Waldorf could bother a gnat, much less a man like Mr. Banjo. “No. Everything is fine.”

  “Okay,” Jones said. “Let me know if you need anything. I mean anything at all.”

  Giving a weak half smile, Banjo nodded.

  The security guard winked.

  Banjo groaned. Some folks had no idea of subtlety.

  “There certainly is a crowd here,” Waldorf said as the security man stalked away. “Looks like the whole ship turned out for this one. I wonder who the entertainer is.”

  Banjo had to give the man credit for acting so brave, if not a bit stupid. “Trust me, you don’t want to know.”

  “That bad?”

  “Depends on your taste in impersonators.”

  “Ah. You suppose the buffet is any good?”

  “Sure, if you
like Italian.”

  Waldorf hummed in appreciation. “I do like Italian.” He glanced longingly to the buffet before facing Banjo again. Despite his lip smacking hunger, the man remained in his seat, hugging the duffle to himself as if it was a life preserver and the ship was going down around him.

  “You might want to grab a plate,” Banjo said. “Before the good stuff gets gone.”

  “I’ll eat later. I want to talk to Mr. Maloney first.”

  “Is that so? What about?”

  Waldorf patted the duffle. “I think you know.”

  Banjo looked up to find Maloney and his men making their way back to the table. Leaning toward Waldorf, Banjo lowered his voice under the murmur of the crowd and live music, and said, “I don’t know what you think you’re planning on doing, but I can assure you it’s not going to turn out the way you want.”

  “I think it will.” Waldorf leaned in, bringing himself closer to Banjo and whispering, “I must warn you, I am quite an expert on these kinds of negotiations.”

  Banjo couldn’t help a grin. “Are you?”

  “Yes. I’ve seen all the movies. If Cary Grant can bargain with thieves, so can I. I learned from the best.”

  At first, when Waldorf sat down, Banjo sensed the vibe of a setup. The mortician’s sudden appearance with the money seemed all too predictable. Now? Hell, Banjo wasn’t sure. Did this moron really think watching a couple of old comedies was going to prepare him for dealing with the likes of Maloney? Much less facing Mr. Banjo. Certainly he wasn’t that stupid. Then again, here the man sat, cash in hand, with neither a hope nor a prayer.

  “What the fuck is this all about?” Maloney said as he and his entourage returned to the table.

  “Mr. Maloney,” Waldorf said and stood.

  The sight of the duffle brought out a grin from Maloney. The boss dropped his overflowing plate on the table and stuck out his hand. “Mr. Waldorf, it’s good to see you’ve come to your senses.”

  Waldorf grabbed Maloney’s hand and shook it politely.

  This made the boss man frown. He jerked his hand out of Waldorf’s grip. “I wasn’t asking for a fucking handshake.” He waggled his fingers at Waldorf. “Give me the fucking bag.”

  Waldorf gulped and said, “No.”

  Banjo suppressed the urge to laugh aloud.