“Listen, Jade, I’m up to my neck in this too, so stop feeling sorry for yourself. I’m late ‘cause the cops held me for questioning. They tried to fit me up for killing Ron, but couldn’t make it work. The cops aren’t stupid; they did that because they know something is going on and they want to find whoever did do him.”
She looked at me, her face a mask of despair, and whispered, “It’s my fault.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. He knew how psychotic Arnold was, and could’ve gotten out of Dodge anytime. For some reason he didn’t. It sucks, but that’s on him.”
She nodded as tears pooled in her eyes and started to tumble down her cheeks. I handed her a tissue.
“You know better than anyone that Richie’s fucked up for a whole bunch of reasons that I’m not privy to, nor do I wanna be. Be pissed at Cicero. He’s the one who let your brother down. Not you.”
I watched the emotions play across Jade’s mobile features. Her despair still held sway but there were ephemeral glimpses of something else, something stronger.
“You’ve got to meet with the cops in less than 2 hours. Pull yourself together and get your story straight, or you’ll screw this up.”
She nodded and was suddenly matter-of-fact. “I won’t screw it up. I Promise.” The change was remarkable, if not slightly disturbing. “I’m sorry I’m such a pussy.”
“Bad choice of words,” I smiled.
“You know what I mean. What do I tell the cops?”
“Very simple. Just describe your interaction with Fishburne and Koncak. Give them details. Their phone calls. Your meetings. They are going to want to take your cell phone to trace your calls. Give it to them. Tell ‘em how Koncak was tailing us at the library. Do not mention Halladay. Pretend he doesn’t exist.”
Jade was genuinely surprised. “But he’s the one who contacted me.”
“Doesn’t matter. That’s what he wants.”
Jade was incensed. “But he’s my father’s lawyer, for Chrissake! He’s my fuckin’ lawyer. Now he wants to stick his head in the sand?”
“For now, he’s not the focus. Our whole game plan hinges on you convincing the cops that we really don’t know very much.”
“But you really know a lot more, don’t you?” Jade looked hopeful and wary at the same time.
“Stay focused. I want you to cry real tears. Be helpless and pathetic.”
“Why? Are they suspicious?”
“They’re cops. What d’you think?”
“Yeah, sorry.”
“They know I’m not telling them everything, so they’re gonna press you, hard.”
“Most men are suckers for a crying, helpless chick.”
“Most.” I smiled wryly. “You’re smart, and strong. You’ll be fine.”
We looked at one another. I could see gratitude in her eyes, and something else that made me nervous. She could read me like a book and she reached out and closed her slim, warm hands over my wrist and started to pull me toward her. I shook my head almost imperceptibly, but it was enough for her to notice. She let go of my wrist and drifted past me, heading toward the kitchen. She made coffee and I tried to read Newsweek.
Audrey phoned and I was grateful for the distraction. “You were right. It’s Arnold Clipper’s name on the house deed.”
“Meet up with Brad tonight at The Abbey, on Robertson, at 9:00 p.m.”
No sooner had we signed off than Sheri Thomas, a skid row basehead, called. She’s hit me up for money, on and off, over the last five years, but knows better than to call unless she’s got something legit to sell me.
“Nicky, gotta to talk to you, Baby.”
“Where are you?”
“Where do you think I am? On the street. Same old same old.”
“I’ll meet you in 15 at the convenience store on 4th, just east of the 60 turnoff. I’ll be in a grey Yukon.”
I took the back streets through East L.A. When I got to there, Sheri was waiting astride her old Schwinn bicycle, bundled up in a dirty orange ski parka. She glistened with sweat, and her eyes were big and dilated. I jumped out of my truck. “Let’s put your bike in the back.”
“Okay, yeah, cool. Let’s book. Bad for my image to be seen with you.”
Sixty seconds later we were tooling slowly down Boyle Avenue, past the tire recappers and miscellaneous businesses. “You gonna tell me, or not?”
She held her hand out. “Cash money.”
“Don’t waste my time, Sheri.”
“Okay, chill, Dog.” I opened my mouth to respond and she cut me off. “Just before I called you, I ran into a pipehead I know. It was luck. Good luck, for a change.”
“Yeah? For who?”
“You, a’course.”
Baseheads can conjure up any number of bullshit scenarios, especially when they’re Jonesing. I was getting irritated and pulled over hard to the curb.
“What the fuck, Nicky?”
“Get out.”
“Come on, man, I need money for my beauty products.”
I tried not to smile, but I just couldn’t help it. “Beauty products?”
“I know I ain’t much to look at now, but I was a fine woman back in the day.”
I’d hurt her feelings and although I hadn’t meant to, the damage was done. Tears started popping out of her big brown eyes in discrete individual packages.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean nothin’ by it.”
She nodded, sniffed and wiped her eyes with dirty fingers, calloused and dry from living on the street for all these years. I handed her a tissue and a Franklin. She looked at the C note with a surprising amount of disdain.
“That ain’t enough.”
“Give me something and if it’s good, you’ll get more.”
“Why’d five-oh take you in today?”
I stared at her. “What’re you, psychic?”
“Hell no. I don’t believe in that witchcraft bullshit, but I peeped yo’ ass in a cruiser, ‘bout five o’clock this afternoon, over on 2nd and Central.”
“It was about that body on Towne.”
“Did you do it?”
“What’d you think?”
“Shit, Baby, I know you didn’t, but I got a description of them that might have.”
Sheri let that hang in the air and when it had become sufficiently weighted, I handed her another hundred. She looked at the 2 beans in her hand and bit the inside of her cheek.
“I don’t have all day.”
“Aw’ite.” She slipped the folding money into her jeans. “When the body got dumped off, a friend of mine was asleep and the car woke him up. Not too many white people down there at night.”
“Who was driving the car?”
“Uh-huh. Hang on, Baby. I’m getting’ there. Anyways, Drew, he was hid between these dumpsters in his raggedy ass sleeping bag, and he watched the whole thing go down. These two guys got out and dragged the other white boy outta the trunk. He said one dude was tall, real white, with red hair. Other dude was short with dark hair. The tall dude was laughing when he dumped the head on the sidewalk, sick motherfucka, and the other one came around and turned it this way and that. Then they split.”
“Was there a driver?”
“Yeah, Drew said he didn’t get a good look at ‘im but said he was one of ‘dem Hollywood types. You know, hair combed back, lookin’ all cool.”
“You did good.”
“How good?”
I peeled off another 2 Franklins and pressed them into her hand. Her eyes widened and for a second, I thought she was going to cry again.
“Did Drew talk to the cops?”
“Hell no.”
“Okay then.”
She smiled; teeth yellow and chipped. “I’m a’get me a room for tonight.”
I peeled off another Franklin. “I need your jacket.”
“For reals?”
I held up the money. She handed me her dirty, worn ski parka, snapped her digits around the C note and climbed out. As I pulled her bicycle out of the back, s
he gave me a long, hard look and pursed her lips thoughtfully.
“Yo, Nicky, you gonna be aw’ite?”
I smiled. “Yeah, I’m gonna be alright. Make sure you are too.”
Bobby arrived home a little after I did, followed by Brad ten minutes later. We sat in the living room, sipping coffee.
“I got pinched this morning and taken to see Ron Cera’s corpse, over on Towne Street.”
“Damn,” said Brad.
“The cops couldn’t make me for it, so here I am. They wanna interview Jade in about 30, at the Croatian church. Bobby, you have any warrants out?”
“I’m a patriot. I served this country. Only thing they want me for is to pin on the Congressional Medal of Honor.”
“Good. You’re gonna take her.”
“Cool.”
“Jade, put on the wig Audrey bought you and some of that pancake make-up.”
“I don’t wear pancake,” she protested.
“You do today.”
Ten minutes later she emerged from Bobby’s spare bedroom -- stained, baggy chinos, an even baggier flannel shirt, a frizzed-out bleached-blonde wig and orange stage make-up.
“Wow,” said Brad, “I’m impressed. You look ready for rehab.”
“Not now. Not ever,” she grinned.
Bobby clasped his hands in prayer and raised his eyes to heaven. “Lord, forgive these sinners that have come unto my house.”
I pointed at his skintight jogging shorts, his muscular thighs bulging like a college fullback. “It’s getting cold. How about you put on some long pants for your important meeting with law enforcement?”
“Why?”
“I want them to think you’re halfway normal.”
“I am. Just not all the way.”
He went into his room and came back out wearing jeans, and a long-sleeved button down shirt, which made him look like a DEA agent showing up for sentencing in a Federal narcotics case.
“I grinned. “That wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
“You owe me,” he growled.
I handed Jade Sheri’s ski parka. She pulled it over her flannel shirt, and was now a pretty good facsimile of a wigged-out bag lady.
“Okay, guys. Get to it.”
They nodded and left.
I turned to Brad. “What’s with the old guy at Gideon’s Gamble?”
“I felt sorry for him. He had that hunger. I had the feeling he would be eternally grateful if I only gave him a little man love.”
“Were you tempted?”
“Can’t say I was. I gave him my cell number in case he heard anything. There’s nothing sadder though than an old guy who still yearns for his restless youth.”
“Let’s hope we’re not in that position one day.”
“The rate we’re going we’ll be lucky if we live ‘til next Thursday, much less middle age.”
“I want you to meet Audrey at 9:00, in front of The Abbey, but don’t take any unnecessary risks. I don’t need either of you ending up like Ron Cera.”
“Shit. Maybe I should be armed.”
“Too risky. You guys might get patted down at some of those clubs.”
“I could leave it in the car.”
“And if you get pulled over, that’s jail time for both of us.”
“How?”
“Because all of my guns are registered and unless you’re gonna say you stole it, which the cops most likely wouldn’t believe anyway, it adds more fuel to the fire, which I don’t need.”
“At least there’s Audrey’s gun.”
“She doesn’t carry.”
“Jesus, Nick, this isn’t good.”
“If you see Arnold, or get wind that something’s not kosher, get outta there and call me.”
He nodded and looked down at his feet. I felt as apprehensive as he did, but had no choice other than to trust that he wouldn’t take any unnecessary chances. Audrey was a very experienced investigator, and I drew comfort from that. I hoped he did too.
Jade and Bobby were back by 6:45. As soon as they walked in, I breathed a sigh of relief. Bobby has two habitual expressions: a tight-lipped quasi-sneer in which the corners of his mouth point toward four and eight o’clock, and a lopsided grin which reveals his nicotine-stained teeth. He was wearing the latter. Jade looked relieved. It was obvious from the streaks in her make-up that she’d been crying again. She pulled off her wig and smoothed her hair.
“Beauty deserves an Oscar,” said Bobby. “She had them eating out of her hand. Me too but that’s a different story.”
“I made them uncomfortable. They were embarrassed when they realized that the daughter of the notorious Cicero Lamont was a pathetic, teary bag lady. They did take my cell phone though.”
“So they bought it?”
She nodded.
Bobby said, “You know how the cops are, though. They don’t like to give anything up.”
“Mostly they just kept going over two things. One, the time and place for my meetings and phone calls with Fishburne and Koncak and, two, my relationship with Ron. Since I hadn’t seen him for some time and never met Arnold, I couldn’t give them much. They didn’t actually ask me much about Cicero. I tried to bring the conversation around to Richard, but they weren’t interested.”
“Soon as they mentioned Ron,” said Bobby, “tears started bubbling and pretty soon she couldn’t turn them off.”
“They were shocked at how bad I looked. I told them I broke up with Ron because I didn’t really love him. I know that they were thinking Ron must have been out of his mind to ever have anything to do with me.”
Jade looked like she was going to cry again but controlled herself.
“Halladay was right,” I said. “They don’t give a damn about solving Cicero’s murder or finding your brother.”
“Cold hearted motherfuckers,” snapped Bobby.
I nodded. “Yeah, they’re only concerned with the fake cops and Ron’s murder.”
“They told me to be careful,” said Jade.
“Big of ‘em,” said Bobby. “So, what’s next?”
“Let’s eat while I mull that over.”
“Nothing in the house,” said Bobby. “Let’s go down to Rosario’s on Cesar Chavez.”
“We can’t. At least Jade can’t.”
“Okay. I’ll go get us some take-out. You guys wait here.”
Bobby was back by 7:30 with a couple of roast chickens, coleslaw, potato salad and a half-gallon of milk. As we ate and drank, I envisioned my wife and daughter on the plane to Salt Lake. Maleah loves to fly and would be excited, wanting to walk up and down the aisle as soon as the seatbelt light went off. Cassady would watch her but at the same time would let her spread her wings.
I know I’m hardly the best father, and having been brought up cockeyed with a psychotic old man, know next to nothing about raising kids, but Cassady has the touch. From the day she was handed Maleah by a weeping nurse in a lead-infested South China orphanage, she has dedicated her existence to making that little girl’s life a thing of joy.
I walked out to the back porch. The air was still smoky, there were no stars, and a faint smell of gas seemed to emanate from the hillside. I could hear the freeway traffic off in the distance. My mind kept coming back to Ron. I could still see his head lying on the sidewalk, staring blindly at nothing. His life finished before it had even really begun, and now he would never get that good role he yearned for. I wondered who his mother was and what she must be feeling. I felt I ought to contact her, tell her I knew her son and that he was a good guy, somebody people liked and enjoyed being around. I thought maybe I would if I had the chance.
My thoughts turned to the people inside. Bobby, whom I loved in the casual way of brothers before the sword, and Brad, my good friend whose eyes lit up when he got excited and who never failed to make me laugh. Then there was Jade. Everyone liked being around her, but it was the comfort of moths drawn to flame. She burned with pure female heat and everyone, whether they knew it or not, could sm
ell her scent.
I went back inside and their small talk drifted away. I guess it was my expression, but suddenly the air became charged.
“Bobby, tomorrow I need you to shadow Koncak or Fishburne, or whoever shows up to pay off Tarkanian at the McDonald’s in Koreatown.”
Bobby’s eyes lit up. I could tell he’d had enough of West Hollywood for a while and that he liked the idea of tailing real people rather than phantoms.
“Consider it done. What are you gonna do?”
“Jade and I are flying to Frisco.”
“We are?”
“I want to get you out of town for a day or two, and we’ve got to try and find out what really happened to your mom.”
She tried to look composed, but it was obvious to all of us that she was only moments away from leaking tears. “Then you don’t believe it was suicide.”
“Normally, I wouldn’t have an opinion either way, but under the circumstance, we need to be sure.”
She nodded, tried to smile and went into the bathroom. We all knew why.
Bobby turned to me. “You better be careful. No one knows you up there.”
“I’ll be armed.”
“Wish I was going with you.”
“You’re more valuable here. Koncak saw me at the library. He won’t recognize you.”
“Unless he’s seen me in West Hollywood.”
“Even if he has, he won’t necessarily put the pieces together.”
He grinned. “I do look like a guy who spends my afternoons in McDonald’s, eating French fries, and staring at married women.”
We all laughed.
Bobby clapped his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s roll.”
Chapter II – San Francisco
Jade and I decided to catch a San Francisco late night flight out of LAX. First I doubled back to my house to pick-up my luggage and the hard case for my Colt 45, while Bobby swung out to Jade’s condo on Wilshire to pack for her. I left the Yukon in long-term parking at LAX and we took the shuttle bus to the Southwest terminal. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, other than flights were delayed because of the fires. Bleary-eyed passengers milled around. I checked my gun and luggage and called Bobby on his cell. Thirty minutes later we met him at the curb.
Cicero's Dead Page 10
