Lauren and I glanced at each other, “We’re doing fine,” I said.
Lauren sat down near the head of the bed. Her fingers were in constant motion, fluffing Lou’s pillow, stroking his hair, squeezing his hand. I stayed at the foot. Each time Lou used the mask my gut rocked. After a while I couldn’t take it. “I’m going to leave the two of you alone. Now listen up, old man,” I warned. “Pay attention to the Gowns. This ain’t the time to get a hair up your ass.”
Lou raised the mask and smiled.
“I’ll stop back tonight and tomorrow I’ll bring Boots.”
“Not tonight, Matty. I’ll be asleep. Tomorrow is soon enough. I’m glad Shoes will be with you, I want Lauren to meet her.”
He was signaling me about his strength so I kissed him goodbye and almost ran out the front door to smoke a cigarette. Only once my hands got it lit, I knew nicotine wasn’t gonna do, so I lit one of my joints. Right then, I didn’t care if I got busted. Lou’s sallow face had clobbered me as hard as Clifford’s forearm. Drove home what Lauren said yesterday about vulnerability. Drove home my own.
I kept both sticks working with barely an eye for the law. Despite Lou’s general health, age, and my penchant for despair, I’d never imagined him dying. But the visit to his hospital room rubbed my face in it. He was going to pull through this time, but what about the next?
I was so busy collecting my fractured nerves I didn’t hear anyone approach.
“Put that out!” a harsh voice whispered. “Are you crazy? The police are in and out of here all the time!”
I almost pulled a back muscle twisting toward the voice. When I saw Lauren, I knelt down, gently rubbed the lit end of the joint on the ground, and carefully placed the rest in my wallet.
“Jesus,” she exclaimed. “I knew you were going to do something stupid.”
“That easy to read?” I asked.
“Ian’s given me plenty of practice. You looked like you wanted to hit someone.”
“It upsets me to see him like that.”
“He’ll be all right, Matt. The doctors expect a hundred percent recovery. It’s just going to take some time.”
The dope had worked its way into my bloodstream and bleached some of the fear from my anxiety. “It threw me to see all the equipment.”
Lauren smiled and lightly touched my arm. “That’s why they didn’t let you in the ICU. But it doesn’t make sense to act stupid.”
I nodded, “What can I say?”
“Tell me that Lou and I won’t end up visiting you in a jail or hospital.”
It was my turn to smile. “I’ll do my best. Why did you come out?”
“He needs his sleep and I wanted to catch up with you.”
“Thanks.”
“Remember? No more thanks. Matt, we both love that man and, frankly, I’m beginning to see you as one of the family.”
I wasn’t sure what I thought of that so I just let it pass. “Do you want a ride to the Hacienda?”
Lauren shook her head, “I’m going to wait here. The doctors say he’ll be better after each nap. What are you going to do?”
I thought about lying but didn’t. “Lauren, I don’t want to piss you off but...”
“You want to make certain the furnace was just an accident.”
I nodded and waited for an angry outburst. But, as she had since we first met, Lauren surprised me.
“Matthew, I want just one favor.”
“Sure.”
She chuckled at my rapid response. “Be gentle when you talk to the kids.”
Back inside the car I gave myself grass, and nicotine to polish off my anxiety. Too much time since I visited the Chief. I weighed more than ninety-eight pounds and it was time to kick some sand.
Unfortunately, Biancho was far less interested. I cooled my heels at the station’s side door and chain-smoked, suddenly aware that this visit was insane—nothing more than the anger hiding underneath my fears. Or a sick invitation for more Clifford. Unfortunately, the realization occurred as the matronly receptionist brought me into the Chief’s office.
“You’re as persistent as a grain moth, Jacobs,” Biancho commented as soon as the door closed.
“Without the ‘s.’”
“A rose by any name...” he said waving dismissively.
“Aren’t you going to ask me to sit down?” Seeing him calm and hostile in another form-fitting alligator shirt recharged the rage that had fueled my decision.
“Been there, done that,” he answered flatly. “Just tell me why you’re here so I can get back to work.”
It pissed me off more to stand while he sat. But in a quiet, controlled voice I told him about the furnace incident and Lou’s near miss. Biancho listened with a bland expression, but waited until I finished to take his shot.
“I know all about it, Jacob. Might surprise you to learn I’ve already checked with the oil company and the fire department. I’m sorry to hear about your father-in-law, but do you always run to the police when a boiler breaks down?”
I bit the inside of my cheek. The good one. “Don’t you find it odd that nasty things keep happening at the Hacienda?”
“I find it odd that you’re here.”
“So we both have questions, don’t we?” I fired back. “The Hacienda is worth a lot of green. Shit happens when money is involved. Your reassurance might mean something if you’d busted the goons who did the drive-by but, near as I can tell, the only person nailed has been me.” In for a gram, in for a kilo.
“What do you mean?”
“You keep calling Washington Clifford after each of my visits. I’ve been trying hard to stay out of your face, but enough is enough. Why not do your own ass-kicking?”
Biancho’s bland slipped a notch, replaced by a strange expression. “Clifford beat on you?”
“Should I show you the bruises?”
“I didn’t expect that.”
“What the fuck did you expect? We’d take tea?”
“You’d be smoking alone, but I’d guess that’s nothing new,” Biancho said. “Don’t look so surprised, I opened your trunk, remember?”
The joints in my wallet took a serious bite out of my red meat. “That doesn’t explain why you called out the dogs.”
“I asked Washington to talk to you because I didn’t think I was getting through. I didn’t, don’t, want you to screw up a tricky investigation. I didn’t expect Clifford to use force.”
It was as close to an apology as I was going to get. I’d placed my body on the line for this? Just another variation of my earlier dope smoking in front of the hospital.
“Now what’s all this cock and bull about the Hacienda?” he asked suspiciously.
“Alexis Brown is constantly urging her mother to sell. I figure if a real estate broker is that interested, maybe other people are as well.”
For a moment I thought he was willing to give some credence to my concern. A very short moment.
“Uh huh, and what happened to your story about the bashed automobile?” he asked sarcastically.
“There was no connection,” I admitted, though something began itching inside my head as I wondered why he’d spoken about the car.
Biancho stood up behind his desk. “Christ, you make a living as a PI? I’m telling you this for the last, and I do mean last, time. The drive-by was a gang related incident. Gang related. You keep trying to convince me it’s something else, but every time you walk in here you have less than spit. Unless you can do better, I’d appreciate it if you stopped annoying me.”
Biancho scowled and added, “Even if you can do better, mail it in. Now, am I getting through today?”
Time to cut and run and hope he felt sorry enough about Clifford to ignore my visit. But the itching didn’t stop as I walked to my car. I drove around the area trying to piece together my information and unsuccessfully bring the itch to life. But all I was sure about knowing was the only stitches to sew were gonna be on my body if Biancho called Wash. Once again I’d led with my chin; lik
e a bull in a china shop, I kept knocking into breakables. And paid the price since the biggest breakable was me.
Despite Lou’s request, I thought about returning to the hospital. Then thought about calling it a day. But the image of Lou lying in bed forced me to resist the couch and I aimed the car toward Alexis’s real estate business.
Not an easy do. My decision making capacity was seriously suspect. After all, I’d just finished fucking up, and questioning Alexis so soon after my sexual disentanglement felt like I’d just kicked cocaine only to buy a pipe for some crack.
Nonetheless, I squeezed the Bimmer into a tiny parking spot around the corner from her office. “Cherchez le cash.”
Though the office’s weather-beaten cedar shingles feigned the appearance of a tiny house, it was really a storefront. Halfway across the street I stopped dead in my tracks and ran quickly behind a space age van. ‘Gator had gotten here first.
Biancho and Alexis emerged from the rear of the storefront to stand behind the front plate glass windows. Biancho kept shaking his head, shrugging his shoulders, and occasionally slapping the desk. Alexis, the calmer of the two, managed her own share of finger pointing.
I resisted a powerful urge to do some up close snooping. Pretty smart on my part because Biancho was livid when he stomped out of the office. If the Chief noticed me, he might not bother calling Wash and just use his gun.
Biancho rushed up the block until he reached a nondescript late model Ford. He scored his final slam on the car door, then squealed away from the curb. Apparently, the conversation hadn’t gone his way.
Hadn’t left Alexis a happy camper either. She stood furiously dialing the telephone, crashing the receiver back down, then pulling it up to dial again. Either she was desperate to talk to someone specific or was suddenly terribly lonely.
I didn’t plan to ask. Thanks to Mr. Law and Order, I’d seen enough for one day. Even managed to scratch the itch. Biancho had known the truth about Lauren’s car before he asked. And it was pretty clear who he’d learned it from.
The ride to the city was uneventful unless fighting off depression constituted an event. In my life, that was the norm. But this depression was tinged with panic. Boots, Lou, Alexis, Biancho, and Clifford all vied for anxious attention. By the time I reached town, I was too strung out to go home. I was onto something and just couldn’t afford to be blitzed, bothered, and bewildered.
I drove to Boots’s swearing I wouldn’t rip through her handbags searching for more pills. I’d done enough dumb. There were hours before she would arrive so I stripped down to my boxers, grabbed a beer, and stretched across the bed. I absolutely, positively had to rest my eyes.
I saw the semi stick out of the car’s window, Lou and Lauren laughing as they strolled on the sidewalk oblivious to the danger. I bolted upright and reached for my gun. My hysteria exploded when neither the gun nor holster were where they were supposed to be. I started to hurl my body in front of the happy couple when I recognized Boots’ scream.
“Matt! Matt! It’s me! Boots! You fell asleep in my place, honey, that’s all.”
My heart pounded while I opened my eyes. “A bad dream,” I explained, wiping sweat from my forehead.
“Well, it scared the hell out of me too. How’s Lou?”
“Better, but looks like day old excrement.”
“Tell me while I get out of these clothes,” Boots said, throwing her travel bag onto the chair.
I talked about the day. Told her about Lou, Lauren, and my newfound acceptance, the conversations with Julius and Biancho, and made sure to add that Alexis had been at the hospital. I didn’t tell her about that talk, but did describe what I’d seen in front of her office and where I believed Biancho had learned the truth about Lauren’s crumpled car.
Most of our discussion took place while Boots showered. When I finished talking I suddenly felt myself crawl into a casing, sorry I’d chosen her place instead of my own. And angry at myself for feeling this way. Sharing was supposed to make you feel close.
Boots stepped out of the bathroom wet and dripping. Despite my withdrawal I responded, flashed on Alexis’s amused smile in the hospital, and ditched the idea. I wasn’t going to be able to fuck myself out of this head.
And didn’t think I could spend the night without a television.
Boots looked at me.
“Not now, hon. I’m too wiped out.”
“It might help,” she suggested, striking a provocative pose.
“Or kill me.” I paused and made a quick decision. “If it’s not too much trouble, maybe we could stay at the buildings.”
Boots lowered her leg off the edge of the bed, surprised but not upset. “No problem, sweetheart.”
She walked over to the dresser and began choosing clothes. “Why did you come to the condo? You could have left a message on the machine.”
“I wanted to see you as soon as you got in. I meant what I said on the phone.”
Boots stopped what she was doing and walked over. “I’m sorry I went away,” she murmured, leaning her naked body into my chest.
I pulled her tight, closed my eyes and kissed the top of her head. I had wanted to see her. But right now, I wanted to go home.
During the ride to my apartment it felt like I was watching a movie, everything distant and disconnected. The longer we chatted, the darker the theatre.
Either Boots didn’t notice or just didn’t care. It made her happy to know Lou looked forward to her visit, and she was pretty curious about the scene at Alexis’s real estate office. Mostly, she was nervous about my discussion with the Chief. Worried that news would get back to Washington Clifford.
In some ways our conversation relieved me. If we lived together, both of us needed to get used to me feeling this way. This wasn’t gonna be the last of my lousy moods.
I drove down the gravel alley and pulled up next to my second six-flat. We got out of the car and were crossing the far corner of the small basketball court—the only spot shaded from the grocery store’s amber crime lights—when a large hand grabbed me by the throat.
“Let go of him you monster,” Boots blazed when she realized Washington Clifford had thrust me up against the wall.
Maybe we should have stayed at her place.
His hand squeezed tighter when Boots pummeled his back and shoulders with clenched fists. “Cut it out, lady,” Clifford growled quietly, “or I’ll really hurt him.”
“No you won’t, you son of a bitch, I won’t let you!” she spat, renewing her attack with a fresh wave of anger.
Clifford’s fingers loosened slightly. “Boots, stop,” I croaked. “He’ll hurt you too if you don’t knock it off.”
“I don’t care,” she seethed. “I’m sick of the way this bastard thinks he can beat you up any time he fucking wants to.”
Even in the dark I saw the fire in her eyes and it shred my numbness. Surprisingly, I felt ready to explode.
When Clifford shifted position to stop Boots’ furious attack I spun out of his grasp and chopped at the arm that had my throat. Suddenly, it was his back against the building and my forearm across a neck.
For a moment everybody froze, amazed by the unexpected turnaround. I felt exhilarated as I slipped my hand underneath Clifford’s coat and yanked his gun from its holster. When Boots saw the black metal in my hand she gasped. “No, Matt, no. Don’t!”
I placed my right knee between Clifford’s legs, kept my arm across his neck, and tapped the barrel on his temple.
“Matt,” Boots pleaded, really frightened.
“Go inside, Boots. I have scores to settle, and I don’t want you around.” My submissiveness in the lighthouse was flashing like Las Vegas neon along with my perpetual masochism with this son of a bitch. What goes around comes around and I was gonna make up for lost time.
Clifford stood very still and, except for a catch in his breathing, remained calm. “I’d stay right where you are, lady, and talk some sense to your friend. He’s not thinking too good rig
ht now.”
“The game has changed, Wash,” I warned, leaning more weight onto my arm. “Tonight I tell you when to talk.”
“Matt, your hands are shaking,” Boots said pleadingly. “The gun might go off!”
“Don’t worry, hon, if the gun goes off it won’t be an accident. Go wait inside.”
“Hell no! We’re in this together. If you shoot him, we’ll be in that together. You understand me?”
Her words chipped through my fury. I loosened my grip on Clifford’s throat. “Don’t even think about moving,” I said, rubbing the gun alongside his head. “I’ll be just as satisfied to shoot you calm as angry. Maybe more.”
“I thought we liked each other, shamus,” Clifford said, watching me carefully.
“We’re close as ever, motherfucker. Only the roles are different. And you know what, Wash, I like it better this way.”
“Don’t get used to it, Jacobs.”
“That’s Jacob, without the fucking ‘s,’” I erupted, my whole body burning white hot. I stepped back and aimed the gun squarely between his eyes. “Without the fucking ‘s.’”
“Matt, please, you’re scaring me,” Boots begged, lightly touching my arm.
“Stand back, Boots.”
“What’s eating you, Jacob? I’ve been rough with you, but that’s not driving this train.”
“How do you know?”
“You’d have pulled something like this long ago. Where’s your head, shamus? You’re too smart to shoot a cop in cold blood.” Clifford was still cool, though beads of sweat appeared on his broad, chiseled face.
I was tempted to run my free hand over his smooth dome to see if it was wet too. “Crime of passion, asshole.”
“That’s why I want to know what’s eating you.”
Boots was still frightened, but she waited for my response.
“My family’s eating me, fucker. The last one left is lying in a hospital bed too weak to wave his goddamn hand. Ever have someone in your family bite the big one? Ever see ‘em look like a beaten dog?
“It don’t feel good, Wash. It don’t feel good at all. Especially when you watched the rest of them die in the same kind of beds. Makes this one special, you know?”
The Complete Matt Jacob Series Page 107
