City of the Lost

by Stephen Blackmoore

  I slide back onto my stool, force myself to calm down.

  “Way I see it, there are two people who could have the stone,” Giavetti says. He sips at his drink. “You or your cop buddy, and he’s too stupid to know what it is.”

  I think about that for a second. Could Frank have it? I ditch the idea almost as fast as it forms. No. I can’t buy that. Giavetti’s right. Frank’s nothing but mindless rage and confusion now. I can’t see him knowing how important the stone is. If Frank had it, he’d have done something with it by now.

  “Stone won’t help you without Neumann’s book,” I say. “You still have that?”

  He stares at me a beat long enough to know that I’ve hit a nerve. “All right, so you’ve been digging. Which means you know the Kraut’s looking for it, too.”

  “Not anymore, he’s not. I killed him today.”

  The music fills in the silence between us. I can almost smell the gears burning in his head. How much do I know? Do I have it? Can I do anything with it?

  “Well good for you. My offer’s still solid, you know. Get the stone to me, I’ll bring you back.”

  I make a show of considering it. Sip my scotch. Watch the floor show a bit.

  Where the fuck is Frank? There’s only so much stalling I can do.

  “You know I’ve got it,” I say. I show him my hand. Not a blemish on it. “Not on me, no, but you know what happens if I’m away from it too long, don’t you?” I study his eyes and see the surprise there. “Yeah, I figured that one out already. So, you know what? You gotta do better.”

  “I don’t haggle.”

  “Fine. I’ve already got another buyer set up. You don’t want it, I’ll just go there.” I polish off my drink, stand up.

  “Hang on.” He waves me back to my seat, orders me another scotch. “Son, you’re probably the only man in this shithole town with a pair on him. You want to haggle, we haggle. What’s this ‘other buyer’ giving you?”

  “We both know you can’t bring me back to life, so stop yanking my chain. But if you can make it so I don’t rot away, the stone’s yours.”

  “All right,” he says. “I can do that.”

  “And I know you’ll try to screw me over. Which is why you get it once you fix me up.”

  “Kids these days. No respect for their elders. Son, if I want to screw you over, I can think of a dozen ways just off the top of my head. I’ve had a long time doing this. I’m—”

  “About seven hundred years old. Yeah, I know.”

  Giavetti’s looking at me the same way he did when he had me locked away. Not sure what to make of me. Not sure what to do with me.

  “Well,” he says, all traces of his Chicago accent gone. “So you know more about me than I thought. Congratulations.” His voice is thick and Italian. The hard as nails, Chicago mobster act fades away to a smooth, cultured tone. The gravel gone from his voice. “Not many people figure that one out.”

  “I’m special. Like Jerry’s Kids. You know, I saw the security tapes from the morgue. Did you know one of the interns fucked you while you were out? Seriously, they have some messed up people working there.”

  “You done, kid? Or you got more to get out of your system?” The Chicago is creeping back into his voice. I wonder if he can ever really let go of it. How many personas has he had to hang onto himself? Does he even really know who he is anymore?

  I make a show of thinking about that. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m done.”

  “Fine,” he says. “So I fix you up, I get the stone.”

  “Mmmm. No.”

  “The fuck you mean, no?” he says.

  “Changed my mind.” Where the fuck is Frank?

  “This is horseshit. The fuck do you want, huh? What, do I need to get on my knees and blow you right here?”

  “There’s a thought.”

  “You’re pissing me off, kid,” he says. “Last time I’m gonna ask. The fuck do you want?”

  “Cash. A huge fucking wad of cash. I want a fistful of thousands and a start in a new town. Between you, Neumann, that fucking cop, and the bullshit going on in this joint, this has been the worst goddamn week I’ve ever had. I’d just as soon pull up stakes and head someplace else.”

  “How much are you talking?”

  “A quarter million. That, and keep me from going all George Romero, and you get the stone.”

  “You’re out of your fucking mind.”

  “That’s the deal.”

  Giavetti taps his fingers on the bar, thinking hard. “Gonna take me time to get that much cash. Can’t do it tonight. Tomorrow night, though. I’ll bring the money. You bring the stone. That work for you?”

  I catch a whiff of Aqua Velva behind us and relax. Time to let this one close. “Tomorrow’s fine,” I say.

  “Tomorrow’s fine for what?” Frank steps in behind us. Need to work on that.

  “Why, if it isn’t Barney Fife,” Giavetti says. “Evening officer.”

  “Funny meeting you two here,” Frank says. He’s dressed as casually as he can be, in a Hawaiian shirt and slacks. But his body language screams police. He could have taken a cue from some of the vice cops that come in here.

  “What, with me being dead and all?” Giavetti says.

  “Pull up a chair, detective,” I say. “Join the chat.”

  Giavetti gives me a what-the-fuck-are-you-doing look, but I ignore him. What I’m wondering is where Frank’s backup is, and how come they didn’t swarm in and grab Giavetti. Frank could have gotten him on some bullshit charge. God knows he’s done it to me enough times.

  Frank’s got the manila envelope in his hand. Same one he showed me in the diner.

  “Didn’t think you’d remember me,” Frank says.

  “I never forget an asshole. Especially one that kills me. You don’t seem surprised.”

  Frank opens the envelope and pulls reports, photos, everything he showed me. Plops them in front of Giavetti.

  Giavetti leafs through the papers, chuckling at some of the pictures, scowling at others.

  “Wow. I used to be one handsome motherfucker, huh? You’ve really done your homework, son. I’m impressed. You want to tell me what this is about?”

  Frank pulls one last picture out of the envelope and places it in front of him. Giavetti stares at it for a few moments, looks at Frank.

  “Oh. Him. Yeah, I remember him. So, it’s revenge, then? Well, you killed me already. Congratulations.” He sips at his drink.

  This is not going the way I expected. I should have known this would happen. Of course, Frank isn’t going to act like a cop. He’s been hunting this sonofabitch down for too long. He’s got some sort of plan, and I’m not a part of it. Jesus, I’m an idiot.

  “I’m not here to kill you,” Frank says. He hands Giavetti a folded piece of paper.

  Giavetti takes it, tentative. He opens it and reads what’s inside. No reaction. I’m watching this whole thing like it’s playing out in a movie.

  “What are you doing, Frank?”

  “Shut up, Joe. You got yours.” What the fuck does that mean?

  Giavetti looks up at Frank. “I’ll think about it.”

  “You do that. But don’t wait too long. Time’s running out.”

  Frank stands up. Doesn’t even look at me. Turns to go. I grab his arm, and he shakes it off.

  “Don’t,” he says, seething, and stalks off into the crowd. I start to go after him, but Giavetti stops me.

  “That was an amazing coincidence, wasn’t it? Him showing up here like that? Why it’s almost like he knew I was going to be here.”

  “Don’t look at me,” I say lamely. There’s no pulling out, now that it’s all gone to shit.

  “Of course,” he says. “Whatever could I have been thinking? So you bring the stone here tomorrow night, and I show up with a quarter mil in cash. I solve your problem. You solve mine. Everybody’s happy. You good?”

  No, I’m not good. I’m fucked. I watch Frank fade into the crowd. I don’t know what t
he hell just happened, but it’s bad whatever it is.

  “I’m good,” I say, because I can’t think of anything else.

  Chapter 24

  Giavetti stands. I start to follow him. He puts his finger up to stop me. “No,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t follow me. My little doggie won’t like it.”

  I let him go, though I know I should follow him. Put a bullet in his brain outside the club. Buy me some time. But that giant dog that stuck Bruno in the hospital would be a problem.

  Doubt I can kill him and get away before he sics it on me. Or before the cops show and throw me in the can. Doubt Frank would try to bail me out now. Spending a night in a cell would be a really bad idea.

  I punch Frank’s number in my phone. Cocksucker’s not answering. I need to get answers. I can probably track him down, but I have to leave now.

  Outside there’s no sign of Frank or Giavetti. The line to the club stretches halfway down the block. Did Frank ever give me his address? Shit. If he did I don’t remember.

  My phone rings. I flip it open hoping he’s calling me back. The hinges stick a little. There’s still blood in it.

  “Where are you?” I ask.

  “At the hotel,” Gabriela says. “Where else would I be?”

  Shit. “What is it?” I’m still looking up and down the street, hoping to spot him crossing the street or driving a car. Nothing.

  “Thought you might want to know your friend’s better. And not screaming. An improvement overall, I’d say, though Darius has his own opinion on the matter. Are you all right?”

  “Not really,” I say. “So, he’s up? Has he said anything useful?”

  “Not yet. And ‘up’ is a relative term. He goes in and out of consciousness, but mostly he’s just resting. It’s been a long night.”

  “Okay,” I say. Maybe the night won’t be a total wash. “I’ll be there in a little bit. Twenty minutes or so.”

  “I’ll be here. Uh—”

  “What?”

  “When you said you ate Neumann, that wasn’t a joke, was it?”

  “No,” I say.

  “Okay. Just checking. Fucker deserved it. I’ll see you in a bit.”

  Gabriela’s in her office putting pins in the oversized map on her wall. Her long black hair is pulled into a ponytail, and she’s back to wearing her camouflage shirt with YOU CAN’T SEE ME printed on the front. She looks exhausted.

  “How’s the patient doing?” I ask.

  “Better, all things considered,” Gabriela says. “I moved him out of Darius’ place to a room down the hall.”

  “Can I talk to him?”

  “When he wakes up. I gave him a buzzer to let me know when he’s up to talking.”

  “But—”

  “He needs rest,” she says. “So, what was that on the phone? What happened?”

  “I saw Giavetti tonight,” I say. “He wants the stone, thinks I have it.”

  She frowns. “We had an agreement,” she says, her tone wary.

  “Hang on. It’s not like I have it. And it’s not like you can help me, either. Right?”

  She looks at the floor. “I’ve been trying. But I haven’t gotten very far.”

  “Figured. Thanks for being honest with me. At least somebody is. Never intended to give it to him, even if I did have it. Just wanted him off my ass. It didn’t go as planned.”

  I tell her about my idea to get Giavetti locked away and Frank’s fucking it up.

  “What do you think Frank wanted?” she asks.

  “Haven’t been able to figure it out.” Been racking my brains going over it since I left the club. I can’t think of anything Frank would want from Giavetti. Or Giavetti would want from Frank. The only thing he’s looking for is the stone.

  And then I really feel like an idiot.

  “What is it?” she asks.

  “What did Darius say to us before,” I say. “The stone’s where I least expect it?”

  “Yeah,” she says. “And he told me it’s right where I’m looking.”

  “You were following Frank, too, weren’t you?”

  It hits her. “Son of a bitch.”

  It makes sense now. Between the time I left him and the time I got back from seeing Neumann, Frank has had more than enough time to run through my place, pry open my safe, and walk off with the stone.

  “Then let’s go get it,” Gabriela says. She starts toward the door when a loud buzzing sounds.

  “Carl?” I ask.

  She nods. “Hang on.” She knocks on a door couple of rooms down the hall and goes in. A moment later she comes out.

  “He’s awake. More or less. You might not have much time before he passes out again.”

  My mind’s buzzing. I’m itching to go grab the rock. But this is important, too. I make a choice and follow her into the room.

  Carl looks better, but he’s still a ragged mess. The lines on his face are deep. The stump of his arm heavily bandaged. Looks like he’s gone three rounds with Tyson, a pit bull, and one of my ex-girlfriends. He’s barely awake. Eyes half-lidded and unfocused. Even the one on his forehead.

  “Hey,” he says, recognition dawning on his face. “Hey, man. You got me out of that hotel room.” His voice is thick. Slurred around the edges. Probably pumped full of morphine.

  “Yeah. How are you feeling?”

  “A little …” His voice trails off, then he focuses on me. “I’m okay. Yeah.”

  “You remembering any of that stuff you couldn’t before?”

  He nods. “Couple things.”

  “Okay.” I’m talking slowly, voice low. Keep him soothed. “What happened ?”

  “I didn’t do much. Just looked into that place where your boss died. It’s owned by a company called Imperial Enterprises. They do a lot of import-export. Own a lot of property.”

  “Like that junkyard you gave me the address for?”

  “Yeah. That one was weird. Everything else made sense, you know? Office buildings, a hotel in Hawaii. But a junkyard? It just jumped out at me, you know? Stuck in my mind.”

  “Imperial’s owned by an Italian guy,” I say. “Giavetti.”

  He frowns. “Where’d you hear that? That’s the name, yeah, but not some guy. Woman. I called her up and met her at the hotel to ask her some questions. Just on a whim I dropped your name. I don’t know why. Thought there might be more there than you were letting on. Told her you were a friend of mine. She knows you.”

  My stomach does backflips, and it takes Gabriela’s hand on my shoulder for me to notice I’ve balled my hands into fists.

  The name on the Imperial Enterprises paperwork I found at the junkyard was S. Giavetti. I assumed it stood for Sandro.

  Never occurred to me it might be Samantha.

  “I’m really tired,” Carl says.

  “Go back to sleep,” Gabriela says. She adjusts a dial on the IV, and he starts to drift off.

  “Yeah,” I say. “Get some rest. I’ll check on you later.”

  Gabriela ushers me out of the room. I wait until we’re back in her office before I start swearing.

  “That fucking bitch. I fucking fell for it. The whole fucking thing.”

  “What are you talking about?” Gabriela says. “What bitch?”

  The one thing I’ve kept from her is Samantha. It seemed the right thing to do at the time. But now I don’t know why. I’m such a fucking idiot.

  I spill everything to Gabriela. From beginning to end. How I met Samantha, how she led me on about Giavetti.

  The more I talk about it the more it all falls into place. Who knows how long she knew about the stone. How long she’s had Neumann’s book. Years, maybe. Had to be, to have set all this up.

  The paperwork for Neumann’s bid and the letter rescinding it from the auction? It makes sense. Giavetti didn’t have the stone or the book that Imperial had because he isn’t Imperial.

  Samantha used Imperial to set the stone’s owner up at a nice house with lots of security. When Giavetti b
rought the guys in to get it, the alarms were all conveniently off.

  But why? Why do all that? She made it almost too easy for Giavetti to get the stone. She gave him a place to hole up and experiment. She gave him cash and the means to get what he wanted, and used Imperial as a front to hide it all.

  But if she wanted to help him, why not just give him the stone? And why set up an elaborate auction just to get him a book that was a forgery, anyway?

  Because he’s not stupid, and he wouldn’t have fallen for it.

  “She set him up,” I say.

  Gabriela looks at me. “What do you mean?”

  “She set it up so that Giavetti would get the stone and the book and not think he was walking into a trap. She made him work to get them.”

  “I’m not following. I thought the book was a fake. Why would she do that?”

  “Because she’s still pissed off at him. It’s a four-hundred-year-old grudge. She wants him to use the stone and the book. He’ll think he’s getting immortality.”

  “And instead it kills him,” Gabriela says. “Like really kills him.”

  “She doesn’t care about where Giavetti is,” I say. “She cares about where the stone is. She wants Giavetti to get hold of it. If Giavetti figures out Frank has it, I’m fucked.”

  “He already knows where it is,” she says.

  I start to ask what she means and stop myself. Tonight’s the night for understanding just how big a moron I am. Of course he knows.

  Frank told him.

  Chapter 25

  Gabriela shoves her way into the passenger seat of my car before I can hit the lock. She makes a sour face.

  “What the hell is that smell?” she asks. “Like something died in here.”

  “Me,” I say. I haven’t had a chance to really clean the car out too well.

  “Ugh. Need to get you an air freshener.” She pulls her seat belt on.

  “You’re not coming with me.”

  “Drop it,” she says. “I’ve got a stake in this, too.”

  “I don’t want you getting hurt.”

  She gets a weird look on her face for a second before it’s replaced by the hardness I’ve started to expect.

  “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ve already made a deal with Darius. If I’m not around to help you, he’ll try.”