“Jesus,” I said, sitting down on the waiting-room sofa. My legs felt like noodles. “Thank God.”
“I’m going over to the apartment, Jack. The doctors won’t let me talk to him tonight. You might as well leave too. We can’t see him until tomorrow.”
I nodded.
“Feelin’ guilty, huh?”
“Oh, yeah.”
“Well, shake it off,” he said. “Marty’s a big boy, he could have said no when you asked him to help. Besides, who thought this would happen?”
“With one death already,” I said, “why wouldn’t it happen?”
43
I got back to Packy’s at eleven and brought Geneva up to date on Marty. She hadn’t been able to get Ed, so she had drafted Steve Stilwell to fill in behind the bar.
“Shots and beers, that’s all I do,” he said when I came in.
“Give me a beer. Icehouse.”
Stilwell listened in while I told Geneva about Marty.
“Sounds like this joke case is gettin’ serious,” he said.
“There’s more to it than jokes, Steve,” I said. “There’s got to be. Nobody kills for bad jokes.”
“Bad jokes?”
I told him the fag joke Sam Freed had told me.
“What’s that mean?” Geneva asked.
“I don’t know, but if it’s an example of Waldrop’s jokes, who would want to steal them?”
“So what do you figure?” Stilwell asked.
“I don’t know.”
“What did Marty find?” Geneva asked.
“I don’t know that, either. I can’t talk to him until the morning.”
“So what are you gonna do?” Geneva asked.
I looked at my watch. Ten after eleven. “I’m going to go over to Ray’s apartment and see if he’s there.”
“Aren’t you supposed to go at midnight?” Geneva asked.
“So I’ll go early.”
“You want some backup?” Stilwell asked.
“No,” I said, “you stay here and back Geneva up.”
“I feel so safe,” she said, batting her eyelashes at him.
As I started for the door Stilwell yelled, “Hey, wait.”
“What?”
“The apartment under Ray’s?”
“Yeah?”
“As far as I can find out he wasn’t being staked out by the cops.”
“Vice?”
“No.”
“What about the DEA?”
Stilwell frowned.
“You think Ray’s involved in drugs?”
“No, I’m just asking questions. The FBI? Maybe the IRS?”
“If it’s them I don’t want to know about it,” Stilwell said.
“Okay, so whoever the man and woman were, they weren’t cops.”
“Maybe they really were there just for a roll in the hay.”
“Maybe, but I’m not ready to buy that yet. If I’m not back by closing, Gen, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“I’m gonna go and see Marty in the morning.”
“Then maybe I’ll see you there.”
“Be careful,” she called out as I went out the door.
I grabbed a cab that had just let off a fare and gave the driver Ray’s address. Keeping in mind what had happened to Joy, somebody else was looking for Ray. If this was some kind of setup, maybe I’d defeat it by arriving early.
44
I had the cab drop me off down the block from Ray’s building. During the ride I found myself wishing I had only one case to work on, but which one? I couldn’t give up on Ray, he was my friend. Besides, I wanted to find out who killed Joy.
And then there was Stan Waldrop. He had paid me, and even though the money was almost used up, there was now Marty to consider. He was just lucky that he hadn’t been hit on the head as hard as Waldrop had been, or he’d be dead too.
In the beginning I could have begged off either case, and now I couldn’t give up either one.
I walked on the sidewalk across the street from Ray’s building and watched it for a few minutes. There was a light on in a front first-floor apartment, and one on the third floor Other than that the building was dark.
If the message I’d gotten was from Ray, then he’d be waiting for me inside. I’d know that when I rang the bell. However, if there was somebody else waiting for me in there, ringing the bell would let them know I was early.
I decided to use my old route.
I went around to the back of the building and went through the same ritual to retrieve the fire escape ladder I was about to climb up it when somebody grabbed me from behind, and I knew I’d been had.
He yanked me down and hit me in the kidney. It was a good shot, expertly administered, and my body was suddenly paralyzed. The next thing I knew I was on the ground being kicked. The blows were not coming haphazardly. I was being worked over by somebody who knew what he was doing. Actually, the initial kidney shot helped a lot, because I couldn’t even feel some of the ensuing blows.
Then one sharp blow must have struck a nerve or something because my leg shot out and made contact with an empty garbage can. It fell over noisily and started rolling. If you know what a rolling metal garbage can sounds like you can imagine the racket.
A back light went on and somebody hissed, “Shit!”
A mouth was near my ear and he whispered, “Forget about Danny Pesce, and stop looking for Ray Carbone. This is your only warning.”
“What the hell is goin’ on?” somebody shouted, and another light went on.
Footsteps began to recede and I was—it seemed like hours later—able to move a little. I hadn’t realized I was curled into a fetal position until I straightened out.
The garbage can stopped rolling and whoever shouted had gotten no response, so the light went out and I was once again in darkness. Kicking over the can had saved me from a much worse beating, maybe even saved my life.
I tried to get to my feet, and now I could feel pain in several parts of my body, not the least of which was my right kidney area. I’d been hit in the kidneys plenty of times in the ring, and it was never a pretty sight when you took a leak later on. There was something disconcerting about pissing blood.
Somebody moaned and I realized it was me, but at least I was standing, although not very straight.
I looked up at the fire escape ladder. There was no way I was going to retrieve it again. My body just wasn’t up to the job. Besides, it was pretty obvious now that Ray wasn’t going to be up there waiting for me. I’d been set up by somebody who knew I had used the fire escape before. Who knew that? I hadn’t told anyone. The only people who could have known were the man and the woman in the fourth-floor apartment.
They must have heard me coming up the fire escape and jumped in bed together to fool me into thinking they were just a randy couple.
Maybe cops weren’t staking Ray out, but somebody had been, probably the same person who had just given me an expert going-over.
It didn’t escape my attention as I staggered back to the street that one man I knew who was capable of that kind of expert work was Mr. Ray Carbone himself.
45
“Here,” Geneva said, handing me a bunch of ice cubes wrapped in a towel, “you got kicked in the head at least once.”
“That kidney shot kept me from knowing it until now.”
I took the ice and held it to the swelling on my forehead.
“Do you think it was Ray?” Stilwell asked.
I must have been in that alley longer than I thought, because by the time I got back to Packy’s, Stilwell had been helping Geneva close up. Now they were both in the kitchen with me, and Geneva wanted me to go to the hospital.
“I’ve been beat up plenty of times, Gen. I’d know if I was seriously hurt.”
“Suit yourself.”
I looked at Stilwell and said, “I don’t think Ray would have done this to me. Besides, it didn’t sound like his voice.”
“You said he was whispering. A whisper c
an disguise a voice, and I’d bet Ray Carbone has experience with administering a beating like this one.”
“I’m sure he’s done it once or twice, but I don’t think he did it to me tonight. In fact, it’s pretty obvious the message wasn’t from Ray. I should have realized it before.”
“How?”
“Which phone did the call come in on, Gen?”
“The bar phone.”
I looked at Stilwell.
“Ray would have called my office phone. I should have known that.”
“Hey,” Stilwell said, “you walked in with your eyes open. You even assumed it was some kind of trap and went to use the fire escape.”
“And he was waiting for me. He out-thought me.”
“You’re working on two cases,” Geneva said. “He’s only working on you.”
“Nice try, but I still feel like a putz.”
“A putz?” Geneva said. “Putz. I have to remember that.”
“Go home, Gen,” I said. “I’m all right.”
She looked at Stilwell and he nodded and said, “’Night, Gen. Thanks for letting me behind the bar.”
“I only let you behind there because I knew I was safe.”
“Because I’m a cop?”
“No,” she said, “because everybody knows that you and that big partner of yours are gay.”
She left and Stilwell looked at me. “Is she kidding?”
“Yes.”
He hesitated a moment, then said, “I knew that.”
I took the ice off my head and put it down.
“How’s your head?”
“It hurts.”
“You should have it checked.”
“If it still hurts in the morning, I’ll be at the hospital to see Marty. I can have it checked then.”
“Wait a minute.”
He took a small pencil flashlight from his pocket.
“Sometimes I forget I have this. Look straight ahead.”
I did as he said and he directed the pencil flash into my left eye, then my right, then again and again.
“Pupils are reacting,” he said, putting the flash away. “You don’t have a concussion.”
“Thanks, Steve.”
“You want me to help you get home?”
“No, I’m going to stay here tonight. I’ve got a cot in the office.”
“You think whoever kicked the shit out of you knows where you live?”
“No, I’m just too tired to leave. You go ahead. I’ll see you tomorrow, maybe.”
“Maybe,” he said. “Bruce and I have some things to do tomorrow.”
“How’s your case coming?”
“Slowly,” he said. “I think IAD is letting us twist in the wind because they think we’ll get nervous.”
“Are you nervous?”
“We don’t have any reason to be nervous,” he said. “We’re innocent.”
As he left I wondered how many men he’d heard that from in his career as a policeman.
46
I woke up the next morning confused and disoriented. I lay there for a few scary moments, wondering where I was. As I tried to sit up, my entire body protested and brought back the events of the night before.
I sat on the cot, staring down between my feet. I knew where I was and what had happened, but I couldn’t seem to make up my mind about my next move. It was frightening. I started to wonder if Stilwell had been wrong and I did have a concussion. The one time I had walked out of the ring concussed I had blacked out and couldn’t remember an entire three-day period.
I checked my watch, not for the time, but for the date. I was relieved to see I hadn’t misplaced a day anywhere.
I keep fresh clothes in the office, and there’s a shower in the back bathroom. I stood under the hot spray, and when I came out I felt a lot better. There had been a hazy edge to everything when I first woke up, but the shower seemed to have dispelled that. Also, the heat had taken some of the ache out of my bruises and my joints. I got dressed and checked my watch again. It was almost ten, an hour past visiting hours at the hospital.
I sat at my desk for a moment and made sure I had everything I wanted to carry with me. Once again I had Geneva’s little recorder and the answering machine message tapes in my pockets. I realized I had not yet gotten a chance to listen to Stan Waldrop’s tape. I was going to make sure I heard it before the day was out.
Besides the .38 at my apartment, I also kept a little .25 caliber Beretta in my desk at the office, just in case of trouble. I had an ankle holster for it, and before leaving I strapped it on, checked the gun to be sure it was loaded and working, slid it into the holster, and then left the store. Too many people were dying or getting hurt, and the next time something happened I was going to be armed and ready.
Outside I hailed a cab and told the cabbie to take me to New York Hospital.
When I got there, Geneva was in the waiting room, and told me there was a detective in with Marty. I described Hocus and she confirmed that it was him.
“I’ll introduce you when he comes out.”
“You don’t have to,” she said. “I’ve already met too many cops, knowing you. I just want to get in to see Marty, and then I’ve got to go and work out.”
She was wearing her usual oversized sweatshirt over her workout clothes.
47
“Marty,” I said when I saw him sitting up in bed with his head all bandaged, “I’m really sorry.”
“Forget it, Boss,” he said. “Time and a half will cure anything, you know?”
“You got it.”
“Great. What happened to your head?”
“I took a bit of a bump last night, too, but I’ll tell you about it another time. For now, tell me what you found, if anything, before the ceiling fell in.”
“I didn’t find much of anything. I got into a couple of files. One was letters, another was like a phone book, but on a computer, you know?”
“That’s all?”
“Well, there was another file, but I couldn’t get into it without a password.”
“Shit. Hocus says that the computer is smashed and the memory is gone. Now we’ll never know what was in that file.”
“Not necessarily.”
“What do you mean? Is there something you didn’t tell Hocus? You’re not supposed to hold out on the cops, you know, Marty.”
He shrugged and said, “I didn’t know if you’d want me to give it to the cops or to you.”
“Give me what?”
“This.”
He reached under his pillow and took out a small blue square of plastic with a piece of flat metal on it.
“What’s that?”
“A floppy disk.”
I took it from him and found it pretty solid.
“It doesn’t feel floppy.”
“Well, the first disks were five and a quarter inches square, and they were, uh, well, floppy. Now these disks are three and a half inches, and more solid, but they still call them floppy disks.”
“And what is on this particular floppy disk?”
He smiled.
“Everything that was on the hard drive.”
“Meaning what?” I asked, and then added, “and go slow for me, Marty.”
“Even though the computer’s memory was wiped out, I’ve got everything on here.”
“It all fits on here?”
“There wasn’t that much on the drive, Boss. Apparently he didn’t use the computer much, or he just got it.”
“So what do I have to do?”
“Just get access to somebody’s computer and print out what’s on that disk.”
“And the file with the password?”
He shrugged. “I can’t help you there. You’ve got to figure out the password before you can print the file.”
“Okay. Do you know somebody whose computer I can use?”
“I’d let you use mine, but I’m stuck here for a while.”
“So who do you know?”
“Are they gonna
get hit on the head?”
“The truth? I don’t know.”
“Let me make a few calls.”
“I’ll try to keep it from happening.”
“Why not take it to the cops? They have computers.”
“They might print it all out and not let me have a look. You went to all the trouble to give this to me instead of them, I’d like to see what’s on it before I give it up.”
“Okay, so I’ll make a few calls and get back to you.”
“All right. Maybe I can think of someone in the meantime.”
“Those flowers for me?”
“Oh, yeah,” I said, handing them to him. “From Gen.”
“Is she outside?”
“She had to go work out.”
“Oh.”
“Have a nurse put them in some water.”
“Sure.”
Suddenly he looked like his eyelids were getting heavy.
“Let me get out of here and let you get some rest. Marty, I’m really sorry—”
“Forget it, Boss,” he said, yawning. “I’ll be back to work in no time.”
“Just make sure you’re well enough first.”
“Am I gettin’ time and a half while I’m in here?” he called out as I walked to the door.
I turned and said, “Don’t push it.”
48
When I left the hospital the floppy disk was in my pocket along with the message tapes and the small recorder. I was really starting to feel like I had one foot in the past. Maybe a few courses in electronics would help.
I grabbed a cab back to my apartment, stopping across the street at the sandwich deli for a ham and egg on a roll and two containers of black coffee. I ate the sandwich seated at my kitchen table with the recorder, tapes, and disk lined up in front of me. What I needed was somebody with their own equipment, somebody whose safety I wouldn’t be endangering by involving them. The answer, when it came, was so clear it amazed me.
My new partner, Walker Blue.
After eating, I went to Packy’s and found Geneva behind the bar. Aside from her, the place was empty.
Stand-up Page 14
