I took off my shoes and put them side by side on the closet shelf, a habit ingrained in me by Pearl the Wonder Dog, who saw them as chew toys. I took off my pants, and hung them neatly on a hanger in the closet. I put the gun on the bed table beside me and, ever the gracious host, jumped on the box spring and went to sleep in my shorts. I don't know what Bibi did before retiring.
CHAPTER 50
The morning was a little more intimate than either of us would have wished, but we got through it and by nine o'clock were downstairs breakfasting with Hawk and Bob the waiter. Hawk of course showed no surprise when Bibi and I sat down with him. And when I explained the situation he seemed pleased. "You check on Anthony?" I said to Hawk.
"Yeah, my friend say he's here. Room fourteen-fifteen.
Comped."
"How nice for him," I said.
Bob the waiter came by and poured me some decaf.
"Hey, Boston," he said.
"Come back to visit your money?"
We ordered breakfast and lingered over it while we pondered the situation. Actually Hawk and I did most of the pondering. And Bibi drank a lot of tea. But, by ten of eleven, we had pondered up a course of action. Hawk left before we did. I signed the check, left a big tip for Bob because he remembered me, went back up to my room with Bibi, and called Bernard J. Fortunate as soon as I got there.
"I need to talk with Marty Anaheim," I said.
"So why you calling me?"
"Because you know where he is," I said.
"What makes you think so?"
"Cut the crap, Bernie. You double-dipped. You sold her to me, then you sold her to Marty. He's in town I want to see him. You know where he is."
"Gotta make a living," Bernie said.
"Whaddya want to see him about."
"Save a lot of trouble, you tell me where he is," I said.
"Save a lot of trouble for you," Bernie said.
"Whaddya want?"
"I got his wife, and Anthony Meeker with me, we need to make a deal."
"Say I tell him that and he wants to see you, where you want to do it."
"Vacant lot," I said, "off the Strip, halfway between The Mirage and the MGM Grand, back of a boarded-up Greek restaurant, you know it?"
"Where they found the dead broad?" Bernie said.
"Yeah."
"What if he don't like that spot?"
"Then the hell with him," I said.
"I'll get back to you."
"You know where I am?"
"Yeah, sure, you're at The Mirage. What am I, stupid?"
"And Marty's probably at the Grand," I said.
"People tend to go back to the same hotel."
"Even if he is you don't know what name."
"Why would he use a fake one?" I said.
"Beats me," Bernie said, and hung up.
In ten minutes Bernie called back.
"Marty'll be there at one," he said.
"Okay," I said.
I hung up the phone and said to Bibi, "Come on, let's collect Anthony."
She looked at her watch.
"He may still be in bed."
"Okay, we'll start there. You knock on his door, and stand where he can see you through the peephole. When you hear him start to take the chain bolt off, step out of the way."
"What are you going to do?" Bibi said.
"Reason with him."
We went up four floors from my room and found 1415 at the other end of the corridor. I stood against the wall to one side of the door, the side the doorknob was on. Bibi rang the bell. There was no movement. She rang it again. A voice said something indistinguishable. Then silence. Then the voice again. Still indistinguishable. Then the sound of the chain being removed. Bibi stepped to the other side of the door, and when it opened, I rolled off the wall and stepped through it, and hit him with a left hook and he staggered back into the room and sat abruptly on the bed. I took Bibi's arm and pulled her with me into the room, and shut the door.
Anthony's eyes shifted toward the night table and I took a long step past him and picked up a.380 Colt off the table and put it in my coat pocket.
"What the fuck are you doing?" Anthony said.
"Solving this case," I said.
"What case?"
"This one," I said.
"I don't know what you're talking about," he said.
"Why the fuck'd you hit me?"
"Get your attention," I said.
He was wearing his bathrobe and the right side of his jaw where I'd punched him was beginning to puff.
"Put some clothes on," I said.
"We're going out."
"What are you, nuts? You can't come in here and order me around, for cris sake "That's what the punch was for," I said.
"To remind you that I can come in here and order you around. Get dressed."
"Bibi, honey, this is crazy, what's going on?"
"You have to do what he says, Anthony."
I gave him a light pat on the cheek.
"Move it, Anthony, any reason to pop you again is a good reason."
Anthony said "For cris sake again but he went to the back of a chair where his pants were, turned his back modestly, took off the robe, and slipped into the pants. When he went to the bathroom, I went with him and watched him splash water on his face and comb his hair, and came back with him while he took a clean white-on white shirt out of the top bureau drawer and put it on. He buttoned the shirt up and turned back the cuffs and tucked the tail inside his stretch waistband. There were no belt loops on his pants.
"Where we going?" he said.
He was putting on his wristwatch.
"We're having a meeting with Marty Anaheim."
He froze. His mouth opened but he didn't speak. His eyes shifted to Bibi. She nodded.
"He'll kill me," Anthony said and his voice was scratchy.
"He'll kill Bibi too."
"No," I said.
"He won't."
"Yeah, he will, you don't know. He will kill me."
"I won't let him," I said.
"Come on, we need to get going."
"Why don't we call the cops?" he said.
"They can take care of Marty, can't they?"
"Cops think you killed your wife," I said.
"And they got no reason to look for Marty. You want to give them a ringy ding?"
"Why do you need me?" Anthony said.
"I'm on a good roll at the blackjack tables. Today I was going to bust 'em. I got no problem with Marty. Bibi can go with you. Hell, she's his wife."
I hit him again, not too hard. He bumped against the wall but didn't go down.
"That's why," I said.
"Jesus man, stop it. I'll go. Okay? Fine. No problem."
He straightened from the wall, rubbing the lump where'd I'd hit him twice.
"Can I have my gun back?"
"No."
We were silent down the corridor and in the elevator. He could of course make a dash in the casino and probably succeed, but it would bring the cops. And the cops thought he killed his wife.
Outside the bright desert air hinted faintly of carbon monoxide as we walked down the Strip.
"It's fucking hot, man," Anthony said.
"We gotta walk? How come we can't ride."
"Shut up," I explained.
"Where's Hawk? Shouldn't he be with us? You think you can go up against Marty alone?"
"Marty won't be alone," Bibi said.
"He's never alone. There'll be three, four others with him."
"Got that covered," I said.
We got to the defunct Greek restaurant about five to one. There was plywood over the plate glass windows, and on the front door as well. Someone had sprayed Julio Caesar Chavez on the front door plywood in swirling black. We went around behind the building. It was as deserted as it had been when I was there last, looking at Shirley Ventura's dead eyes in the bright sunlight. Beside me Anthony was making little whimpering sounds. Bibi was swallowing audibly. There was the sound
of birds though I didn't see any, and the sound of cars going seventy-five on Interstate 15 maybe a hundred yards away, beyond the wire fence that enclosed the empty back lot. The wire was woven with weeds and grass that had formed a nearly solid mat along the fence. There were colonies of the same weeds scattered sparsely over the lot. Our feet crunched loudly on the gravel surface. Fifty feet beyond the restaurant was a corrugated metal utility building. Deep into the back corner of the lot were several cars gutted and partly disassembled, looking like discorporating carcasses.
"Place has Marty written all over it, hasn't it?" I said.
Neither of them answered. So much for small talk.
CHAPTER 51
We waited. The near midday sun baked down on the gravel lot. A big maroon rental car crunched into the gravel area in front of the restaurant. It stopped out of sight. I could hear the doors open and close and then the crunch of footsteps and Marty Anaheim came around the corner of the restaurant wearing a white linen suit over a black tank top. With him was a fat Mexican in a flowered shirt and a funny small hat. Bibi was stone silent beside me. Anthony was moaning softly. "Marty, you stylish bastard," I said.
"Love your tank."
Marty and the Mexican kept walking straight toward us, without saying a word. This was calculated to make me feel faint. It wasn't working with me, but it seemed effective with Anthony. Finally they stopped about two feet away. The Mexican moved a little ways to my right. He had small eyes and they had no expression in them.
"Who's this," I said and nodded at the Mexican, "a leaner from the local guys?"
Marty ignored me. He stared straight at Bibi.
"When this is over, little girl, you're coming with me."
She didn't say anything. Marty looked at Anthony.
"And you're dead," he said.
Then he turned his attention, almost as if it were an afterthought, to me.
"Okay, asshole," Marty said.
"Whaddya want?"
"I want to wrap this whole deal up, Marty."
"What deal?"
"The deal where you steal from Gino and kill Julius's daughter, and get into bed with the Russians in Boston, and have them try to whack me, and… you know, that deal."
Marty never blinked.
"And what are these two shit birds doing here?" he said.
"I knew you were looking for them," I said.
"I brought them so you'd come."
"My God," Bibi said, "you used us for bait."
Marty looked at her for the first time.
"Hard world, ain't it, baby."
Bibi didn't answer. I could feel the weight of the sun on my back.
"So what's your deal?" Marty said to me.
"I'll get to the deal in a minute," I said.
"But I need a couple answers."
"You need a lot of things, asshole."
"It started," I said, "with Anthony here, skimming a little off the accounts he serviced for Gino. And you caught him, because Anthony's dumber than a rake handle, but instead of closing him down, you turned him, had him skimming from Gino and Julius and splitting the dough with you."
Marty nodded slightly. The small dry wind drifted across the lot and made a feeble attempt at ruffling Marty's hair.
"And while you had him in pocket, you had him spy on Julius."
"Not just him," Marty said.
"Julius's daughter. She was a dumb quiff but she was smarter than Anthony."
"And when Anthony took off on you both, you became allies.
Which is how you knew we were looking for him out here."
Marty shook his head in disbelief.
"She wanted him back, for cris sake "And you wanted him dead, and she knew it. So she came out here to make sure you didn't hurt him."
Marty laughed. There was no pleasure in the laugh, only scorn.
Scorn might be the only thing Marty had ever really felt.
"And you killed her," I said.
"You beat her up and raped her and strangled her and dumped her body with no ID right over there."
Marty shrugged.
"You got some kind a question you're asking or do you just like to flap your face?"
"Did you beat her up and rape her just to throw the cops off, or was it recreational?" I said.
"That your question?"
"One of them," I said.
Marty grinned. It was an expression as scornful as the laugh had sounded.
"Both," he said.
"What I figured," I said.
"Got any other questions?"
"How come you set the Russians on me?"
"What makes you think it was me."
"Joe Broz told me."
For a moment Marty was startled. It was a brief slip and then he got the scorn back in place.
"So?"
"So, why?"
"Why do you think? You're all over my business. You're looking into Asshole Anthony, and you're looking for Bibi, and you're talking to the niggers, Gino and Julius and Fast Eddie. You're in the way. And you don't even fucking know what you're in the way of. A cheap fucking nickel-and-dime goddamned gumshoe poking around into something he couldn't understand if he found it, for cris sake "Something really big, huh?"
"Bigger than you could handle, cheapie."
"Taking over the town, huh?"
"For starters, cheapie, just for starters."
"Today, Boston," I said.
"Tomorrow the world."
"You think it's funny?"
"So far," I said, "all you've had to do is run Anthony and your wife, and you're oh for two on that. The Russians would feed you through a compactor an hour after you all took over."
"You think so?"
"Doesn't matter," I said.
"I'm not going to let it happen anyway."
"You?" Marty laughed again. It sounded like claws on a tin roof.
"Spenser, you fucking kill me, you know it. You going to stop me.
You, asshole? You just delivered me the three people on the fucking planet I want to kill most."
"Killing isn't comparative," I said.
"I think you mean the three people you most want to kill."
Marty ignored me.
"And you don't even know what you've fucking walked into, for cris sake "Marty, you're not saying you set us up?" I said.
"Asshole!"
"You don't mean you sent some people down here ahead of time," I said.
Marty frowned slightly.
"I'm shocked," I said.
"Shocked."
The Mexican didn't move, but I could sense a tightness in him that hadn't been there before.
Without taking his eyes off me, Marty yelled, "Paulie."
The door to the utility shed opened and two guys came out. One of them was leaning heavily on the other one. There was blood on his face. Hawk came out of the shed behind them. He held a big stainless-steel finish.44 Magnum loosely at his side, the barrel pointed aimlessly at the ground.
"One over behind the fence," Hawk said.
"In the weeds."
His teeth flashed very white as he grinned at the Mexican.
"Hasta la vista," he said.
"Deceit breeds deceit," I said to Marty.
"Hawk came down here, before I called you."
Beside me Anthony said, "Shoot him. You got to shoot him quick while you have the chance."
Nobody paid any attention to him.
The Mexican's small eyes shifted from Hawk to Marty to me and back to Hawk. He gave Marty one more brief sidelong glance and then turned without a word and walked back toward the street.
Marty looked after him for a moment. Beside me I felt Anthony start to take a step, and I put my hand out and gripped his arm. I shook my head. He froze.
"Hard to get good help out here," I said.
Marty shifted his gaze back at me. He glanced at Hawk standing behind the two gunmen. In the background I heard the rental car start up and the gravel scatter as it drove away.
"Okay," Marty said.
"This is the way I like it, anyway. It's down to you and me, ain't it."
"Appears so," I said.
"You got a deal, or what?"
"Couple things," I said.
"Like what?"
I said to Bibi, "This guy used to beat you up?"
"Yes," she said.
Her voice was so soft and flat it was almost inaudible.
I said to Marty, "You killed my client, Shirley."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," I said and hit him a short left hook that landed under his right eye.
Beside me I heard Bibi gasp.
I hit him the same left hook again and a straight left on the nose. Blood started. Marty clubbed at me with his right. I took the hit mostly on the left shoulder and upper arm, but even so it rocked me and my arm hurt. I circled him a little, moving toward his left, and popped in the straight left on his nose again. He bulled inside the punch and grabbed me around the waist and lifted me in the air. I brought both fists simultaneously together on each side of his head, just in front of his ears. He grunted and staggered, still holding onto me, and turned his hip and slammed me onto the ground. I landed on my back and as he came down on top of me I doubled my knee and he fell on it, and slid sideways, to my right, while I rolled sideways to my left, and onto my feet.
He scrambled onto his hands and knees and started to lunge at me and I kicked him in the head. It knocked him sideways and he went back down, landing on his right side, scrabbling away from me even as he landed. I waited. I could hear somebody's breath rasping in and out, and realized it was mine. Sweat was soaking my shirt and running down my face and arms. My hands were slippery with it, and Marty's blood. The desert seemed to have focused down to Marty and me. He got to his feet. I hit him again the straight left. He grabbed at my arm and missed, and I came in over his left shoulder with an overhand right that caught him under the left eye. I saw his knees buckle. He was still fighting but he was pawing at me. I slapped his left hand away and rolled in a right cross with all of me behind it and he went down. I waited. He got up and rushed in low at me, his head down. I kneed him in the face and he fell forward, trying to hang onto my legs as he went down. I stepped away from him and waited. He lay for a minute facedown on the hot gravel, and then he pushed himself up slowly like a man doing his hundredth push-up. I waited. He got his knees under him. Then his feet. Then he stood. Upright, but wobbly. His left eye was closed. Blood ran down his face and the front of his shirt was covered with it. I waited. He took a step toward me and pitched forward and lay motionless, facedown on the ground.
Chance Page 21
