Vanity Fire

by John M. Daniel

  “I came to collect Carol Murphy’s car,” I answered. “So if you have it, just give me the keys and I’ll drive off into the sunset and leave you lovebirds alone.”

  Lewis Pomeroy said, “This is going over my head a bit.”

  Roger said, “Whoa, Guy. Back off a bit, okay? Chill out. Have a beer. What’ll you have?”

  Lew Pomeroy said, “If you folks will excuse me, I should be running along. Guy, Kitty, I guess I’ll see you two back at the resort?”

  Kitty said, “Aw, don’t leave, Lewbaby.”

  He smiled graciously, then turned to Roger and said, “I’ll be in touch. What do I owe you for the lunch?”

  Roger waved him away and said, “I got it covered.” Was this the Roger I knew? The new Roger? Roger redeemed?

  I got up and let Pomeroy out of the booth. He clapped me on the shoulder, saluted Roger, and blew a kiss at Kitty, who answered it with batting eyelashes. I sat back down and seethed across the table at the phonus balonus lovebirds. What the fuck was I doing in Honduras? Colonel Ben’s was smelling worse by the minute. I watched Pomeroy cross the restaurant and speak quietly to the waitress, a black woman built like a halfback. Then he looked back at us, lit a cigarette, and left the restaurant.

  “Well,” Kitty said. Her voice was full of giggles. “I finally made it. Gracie couldn’t get away, but she’ll be here as soon as she can, she told me.”

  “That’s great,” Roger said, waving a spoonful of gumbo in front of his face. “It’ll be great having my girls back with me. I’m a lucky man, wouldn’t you say, Guy?”

  “You’ve gotten away with it so far,” I answered.

  Roger slowly put down his spoon and wiped his mouth on the flap of his guayabera. The trademark toothy con-artist smile was gone. “Guy, I think we need to have a few cards on the table here,” he said. “It’s always a pleasure to see you, but it’s time for you to tell me who the hell invited you? Exactly why are you here is exactly what I want to know.”

  Kitty fielded that one. “I asked him to come, Rog. I needed his help. Well, I mean he paid for my ticket is what I’m saying.” She turned to me and said, “I guess I used you, Guy. I’m sorry. But we had a pretty good time, right?” Back to Roger: “This little man’s a stud. He could be in pictures.” Back to me: “Huh, Guysie?” All the time with the big, phony shit-eating grin.

  Roger said to her, “How much does he know?”

  “He knows you’ve got this beautiful vacation home. He knows me and Gracie get to come here and spend time with our favorite man in all the world.”

  Roger nodded. “And?”

  “And nothing,” Kitty said. “He brought me here, and—”

  “Nope,” I said. “I know a lot more than that.”

  Kitty gave me a look. Brief but all business.

  Roger squinted. “Such as?”

  At this point the waitress arrived at our table with two steaming bowls of shrimp gumbo, which she set in front of Kitty and me. “Y’all enjoy. Beer?”

  “Beer’s good,” Kitty answered.

  “Just water,” I said.

  The waitress nodded. She picked up Roger’s and Lew’s empty bowls, then left the table. We were silent until she had come back and delivered our drinks. When we were alone again, Roger said, “Eat your shrimp. It’s good. And between bites, tell me what you know. I’ll be very interested.”

  The shrimp was good. Delicious. I was halfway done with it before I spoke. Then I laid down my spoon and said, “I know, for starters, that you killed Fritz Marburger.”

  “Marburger’s dead?” Roger asked, his face a false surprise. “That’s good news.”

  “And Commander Bob Worsham. You killed him too.”

  “That’s not true,” Roger said.

  “And I assume that’s why you’re on the run.”

  “Not true.”

  “So you’re on the run for some other reason, is that what you’re saying?”

  “It’s not true that I killed that asshole Worsham. I’m not sorry he’s dead, but I didn’t kill him. Marburger either. I mean that. I don’t kill people. I’ve never killed anybody in my life.”

  “Then who did?” I asked. “Maybe it doesn’t matter who killed Worsham, I hated the guy, but—”

  “Gracie,” Roger answered. “Grace Worth killed Commander Robert Worsham. And she did it for you, by the way.”

  Kitty told me, “It’s true, Guy. She told me that last time I saw her.” Meaning, I guess, when Kitty visited her in jail. “She didn’t actually mean to kill him. So it wasn’t, like, murder.”

  I tried to take a bite of my shrimp, but I wasn’t hungry anymore. Kitty had stopped eating too. “Anybody want to fill me in on this?” I asked. “As long as we’re telling secrets?”

  Roger was chuckling to himself. Then he shared his mirth: “Gracie and her god damned handcuffs!”

  Kitty explained it to me. “That night you came to the Kountry Club? Well, Worsham had been around earlier that evening, and he wanted Gracie to give him a private. She told him she couldn’t do it in the club, but she’d do it for him over in the warehouse. That was the first time he realized that this stripper he was panting after was the same girl he’d been stalking that day you first met him. So anyway, I drove the two of them over there and dropped them off and came back to the club. I guess Gracie took him back to Roger’s office and handcuffed the stupid asshole to the chair. Then she did her thing.”

  “Her thing?”

  “Yeah, well she does a pretty sensational lap dance where she, it’s kind of hard to explain, but she’s nude, right? His hands are cuffed behind the chair, so he can’t get weird on her, and she kind of gets really close to the guy’s face, I mean like, you know, close. So she had him in this position, this holier-than-thou, self-righteous Jesus freak, and I guess the commander probably thought he’d died and gone to heaven, which as it turned out was exactly what happened. The dying part anyway. I guess he had a heart attack or a stroke or something, I don’t know, but the point is he died while she was dancing for him.”

  “Dancing?” I said. “You call it dancing?”

  “Whatever.”

  “You never told me this before.”

  “Whatever.”

  We were silent until Roger contributed his role in the show. “And that’s how I found him. By the time I got there, the poor man was dead, with his tongue hanging out of his mouth and his fly open. Gracie was dressed and crying. She was a mess.”

  “Then what?” I asked.

  Roger shrugged. “We had to get out of there. I mean the poor girl was in trouble, and she was, well, in trouble. I take care of my girls, right?” He put his arm around Kitty’s shoulders and gave her a squeeze.

  “So you burned down the warehouse?” I said.

  “Maybe not a smart idea,” Roger admitted, “but Gracie was in trouble. I was taking care of business. I gave up a lot by burning that place down. I had a good business going there. But I take care of my girls. We had to get Gracie out of there, and we couldn’t leave any evidence.”

  “So you stole Worsham’s keys and wallet.”

  “Well what the fuck? He wasn’t going to use them anymore,” Roger said.

  “And left your belt behind, right? So people would figure the dead guy was you? Left your belt buckle behind? No evidence? Yeah, right.”

  Roger chuckled. “I miss that belt buckle. Solid Monel.”

  “And jumped into Carol’s car,” I said. “And drove down to the marina.”

  Roger shrugged.

  “Carol’s car,” I repeated. “Which you stole.”

  “Aw shut the fuck up,” Roger shot back at me. “Mister Do-No-Wrong. That was between me and Carol Murphy, nothing to do with you. I didn’t steal your car.”

  “But you did steal Carol’s.”

  Kitty said, “Guy, give it a rest.”

  “Fuck that,” I said. Fuck Roger and fuck Kitty too.

  Roger
reached in front of Kitty and grabbed what was left of her beer. He drank it dry, then slammed the bottle on the table. “You don’t know jack shit,” he told me.

  “Okay,” I said. “Tell me jack shit. I’m all ears.”

  “I know you love that menopausal bitch,” Roger said. “The divine Miss Murphy. But she’d been busting my balls since day one. Day one. Okay?” His freckles were florid, and his upper lip was twitching with anger. “Every step of the way, calling me names, making these snide remarks about the way I do business. Well, I put up with it. Neighbors and all. Why not. And then I realized she was busting your balls, too, man. You poor pussy-whipped little fart, she was taking you for a ride on the nutcracker seat, and you didn’t even know it. Okay, so I took her car, but shit, man, I was practically doing you a favor. You know what happened? Okay, I’ll tell you what happened. I guess you told her about the business deal we had, where I was going to produce that book for you, one copy? So Carol calls me up and threatens me. Says if I do that DocuTech job for you she’ll make me sorry. Expose my ass to the world. Tell all my clients I’m a crook, shit like that. I told her to fuck off, the business deal was between you and I, and she had nothing to do with it. She said okay then, fuck the both of you, meaning the both of us, you and me, pal. She had no use for either one of us. Said she was leaving town, and neither one of us crooks—she called us both crooks, what a bitch!—would ever see her again. Listen, Guy, listen to me. I was, like, doing you a favor. Okay?”

  The waitress showed up. “You folks doing okay?”

  “Beer,” I said. “Whatever you got.”

  Roger said, “Me, too. Kitty?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Beers all around,” Roger said.

  The waitress nodded, left, returned, and placed three bottles on the table. I noticed that we were the only ones left in Colonel Ben’s Bar & Grill.

  “Okay?” Roger asked, holding out his bottle for me to clink. “Friends?”

  I ignored the offer. “That doesn’t explain why you drove six hundred miles to steal Carol’s car.”

  Roger nodded. “Good point. Well, I was following her, and that was the first chance she gave me. Look, I was pissed, okay? Pissed off. Maybe it was a dumb thing to do, but—”

  “Or maybe it was smart. Maybe you were planning to burn down the warehouse anyway, make a run for it. Maybe you wanted Carol’s car to be seen in the parking lot at the time the fire was set. Maybe you were glad to leave Carol’s car in the marina parking lot when you stole Worsham’s yacht.”

  He grinned back at me. “I’m not saying you’re right, but think about it, Guy. The bitch had a lot of motives for burning that warehouse to the ground. She hated that warehouse from day one. As far as I could see, she hated your company, she hated the publishing business, and—I’m sorry to say it, but it’s true—she hated you, too. She hated your sorry ass. My friend, you’re not going to like this, but I was doing you a favor. Carol Murphy was bad news, and you’re lucky to be rid of her.”

  Minutes passed silently. For all I could tell, Kitty was giving Roger a hand job under the table. At some point I realized that I had finished my beer and the waitress had replaced it with another.

  Kitty spoke, “Well. So Rogerbaby, what are we going to do about Gracie?”

  Roger nodded, his face grave. The concerned fatherly bit. “Pomeroy told me what happened to poor Gracie. You heard? She got caught carrying some blow in her purse or something. Poor girl. I told her not to travel with drugs, but I guess she didn’t listen or didn’t hear or I don’t know what. Jesus, poor dumb Gracie. Well, no problem. Lew’s going to take care of it. I’m sending him back there to L.A. with plenty of money to bail her out. Then we’ll get her down here, and no problem. I’ll have my girls back with me again. No problem.”

  “So you have plenty of money to bail her out?” I asked. “I heard she was being held without bail.”

  “That’s not what Pomeroy told me. He said a hundred thou would do it.”

  “You have a hundred thou?” Kitty asked.

  “I will have tomorrow. I have some irons in the fire.”

  “That’s a lot of money,” I observed.

  “Nothing’s too much for my girls.”

  Kitty kissed his cheek. “I love you, Daddy,” she said. “I love you to death.”

  He grinned.

  “Me and Gracie are going to make you so happy,” Kitty said. “So happy. You’ll see.”

  “So Guy,” Roger said to me. “How long you sticking around here in Morgania?”

  “I’m leaving tomorrow,” I said. “I’ve about had it.” I looked across the table and they both seemed pleased to hear my plans. Both. “What about you, Kitty? I’m going back to the Pirate’s Paradise and pack. Kitty, are you coming with me, or…what?”

  “I guess I better come with you and get my stuff,” she answered. “I’ll spend the night in the resort, then Roger can pick me up tomorrow morning. Okay, Rog?”

  “You got it, babe.”

  “I hope you’re not mad at me, Guysie,” she said. “I mean I really did enjoy spending time with you, and shit I’m so grateful to you for bringing me here, but now I have to stay with Roger. He’s going to get Gracie out of jail.”

  “Right.”

  “You’re not mad?”

  “Let’s go,” I said.

  “How are we going to get there?” she wondered. “Oliver left us stranded.”

  “I’ll take you over there,” Roger said. “I have a skiff tied up down below. No problem.”

  The waitress appeared. “That be all?”

  “That’ll do it,” Roger told her. “Just put it on my tab, Dolly.”

  “I can’t do that, Mista Raja,” she said. “Colonel Morgan says your tab’s too high.”

  “Aw, come on, Dolly, Christ’s sake, give me a break.”

  She shook her head. “The Colonel says you have to pay it off before you get any more credit.” She held out her big pink palm and said, “Cash. I told you this the last time, Mista Raja,” Dolly said. “Yesterday in fact.”

  Roger threw her an irate glance and muttered, “Pay the lady, Guy, and let’s get out of this dump.”

  “Forget it,” I said. “You still owe me for four slices of pizza.” I stood up and walked across the empty restaurant to the door and stepped out into the bright sunlight of late afternoon. They joined me a few moments later. I don’t know how Roger talked his way out of that one.

  As we descended the rickety wooden staircase, Roger pointed out across the harbor at the green islands on the horizon. “The one on the right,” he said. “There she is, folks. Polly’s Key.” He put his arm around Kitty’s shoulder. “Our little piece of paradise.”

  She squirmed with joy against his rib cage.

  I wanted to shove the both of them down the stairs, but I held my fire.

  Roger’s skiff was not as classy as Oliver’s, but it was floating, and we needed a ride. We climbed in and put our tote bags in the bow. We sat on a seat together, facing Roger, who got the outboard motor started after four violent pulls on the frayed rope. He gave the engine too much gas, and we took off like a rocket, caroming off two other skiffs until we were out in the harbor.

  When we were halfway across the harbor, before we reached the community of yachts, Roger said, “I’d like to stop by my place first, if you don’t mind.”

  I said, “No, thanks.”

  “I insist. I’d like to show you guys around.” He grinned and reached out to lay a freckled hand on Kitty’s knee. “Your new home.”

  “Wait a minute.”

  “I’m in the driver’s seat,” Roger reminded me. “Sit back and relax.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “So Guy,” Roger said, “you ready for another?”

  “Okay.” I held up my empty glass and he walked across the deck to take it from me.

  “You want some Coke with it this time?” he asked. “Rum and Coke?”


  “No. On the rocks is fine.”

  Kitty, sitting in the other deck chair, the one next to Roger’s deck chair, said, “I, on the other hand, would just love to have some coke, if you have any.”

  Roger threw his head back and laughed.

  “Oops,” Kitty said. “Maybe I should keep my voice down?”

  “Don’t worry, babe,” he told her. “Nobody hears a thing out here. Not a damn thing. You could have a brass band out here and nobody would know it. Fire a bazooka, whatever. That’s what I love about this place. Privacy. You two sit tight and I’ll go inside and get some more refreshments.”

  “Thanks, Lollipops. You’re so sweet!”

  While Roger was inside I stood up and walked over to the rail and looked down on the jungle floor. Roger’s house was on stilts, so I was looking down twenty feet to a bed of natural color, dark red and purple flowers growing amok, with no names and no tending, just feasting on the wet earth and filtered sunlight of late afternoon. A warm, damp breeze was picking up, and the world smelled of glorious rot. Puke.

  Kitty approached me and put her hand on my shoulder. “You hate me, don’t you, Guy?” she said. “Please don’t hate me. I had to do this.”

  I turned to her and shook my head. “I don’t understand,” I said. “I thought we were friends.”

  She smiled sadly, but without tears. “I belong here with Roger.”

  “Why? What do you see in that cheap, low-rent con man?”

  “You don’t get it, do you, Guy?”

  “No. Tell me. What does Roger Herndon have that’s the least bit appealing to you? What?”

  The smile left her face and her answer was clear and no-nonsense: “Cocaine. I happen to like cocaine. Okay?”

  “What about Gracie?”

  “What about her?”

  “You’re just abandoning her? She’s going to go to trial and live the rest of her sad life in—”

  “Oh don’t be ridiculous,” she snapped. “Roger will get her out. He’s waiting for the money to get here tomorrow, and then he’s sending Lew back to L.A. to bail her out and bring her here. No problem.”