“Jasmine Burke. Vidali’s girlfriend.”
“Nice looking. A shame she was tied up with a guy like Vidali. She a witness?”
Bigs scoffed. “Define ‘witness.’ She was half-stoned when this went down. She’d hid in Vidali’s bathroom for hours by the time we got to the scene. She was incoherent about armed gunmen busting into Vidali’s bedroom while they were getting it on hot and heavy.”
I laughed. “Gives a whole new meaning to coitus interruptus. She said Vidali’s own men broke in? Why would they break in while he was with his girlfriend? Was it a palace coup? Maybe a rival mob bribed Vidali’s bodyguards. If they did, that would be a good time to catch Vidali with his pants down. Pun intended.”
Kelly smiled. “Who knows? The girl babbled all kinds of nonsense. She was stark naked when the responding officers broke down the bathroom door. She wouldn’t open it.”
“Did she actually see anything?”
Kelly shrugged and looked at Bigs. He shrugged too. “I don’t think she knows what she saw.”
“If this were my case, I’d check with OC about a rival gang trying to muscle in on Vidali in New Jersey. That would explain a lot. Might provide the motive for the shootout.”
Kelly made a note. “I’ll check it out.”
Chapter 63
I opened the front door. “Come on in, Bob.” He looked like hell.
Bob had called earlier to say he wanted to talk to me before he flew back home.
We sat on the balcony. Bob stared toward the horizon. I don’t think he saw it. I don’t think he saw anything but what was in his own mind. He must’ve had something too important to discuss over the telephone. Or he needed a shoulder to cry on. I waited.
“I talked to Gracie about the Super Bowl bet and about this Vidali guy.”
“Talk is always good for a relationship.” Here I was, mouthing platitudes. Me, who got so tongue-tied around women that I couldn’t even ask Miyoki Takashi for a date. Here I was, playing relationship counselor. Talk about irony.
Grandpa Magnus McCrary often told me, “Everyone has a story to tell. Sometimes the best thing you can do for them is to listen to it.” I listened.
“We had a big fight after you left yesterday, Eighty-Eight. Gracie finally admitted everything. Said she was desperate for money. Said she didn’t want to come to me again. She felt guilty that I bailed her out twice before. Said she wanted to stand on her own feet. That’s rich, ‘stand on her own feet’ by blackmailing me into losing a game. I guess she didn’t think it all the way through. That’s why she approached Vidali. She swears she’ll never use that drug shit again.”
“Do you think she means it?”
Bob studied his fingernails. “She always means it. That’s the trouble; she’s as sincere as can be when she says it. But doing it…” He shrugged. “That’s a whole ’nother thing.”
“Hmm.” I was noncommittal. I wanted Bob to know I’d heard him, but I didn’t want to signal my opinion about Gracie. She was his problem and his business, not mine. A philosopher could make a pretty good argument either way about her sincerity. Or lack of it.
“Gracie said Sharky sent her another text yesterday morning. Said he had to have his money by tomorrow or else he’d come after her.”
He looked at me. “She’s scared shitless of that guy.”
“With good reason.”
Bob lapsed into silence again.
“You want coffee, Bob? I made a pot.”
“That’d be good, Eighty-Eight.”
When I poured our coffees, he started talking again. “I called Papa about this.”
It was my turn to say something. “What did Papa Martinez say?”
Bob sighed. “He said I shouldn’t throw good money after bad.”
“That sounds like Papa.”
“Mamacita said Gracie needs to learn the hard way that actions have consequences.” He looked down at the floor.
“You made any decisions yet?”
“I made one.” His gaze shifted to back to the horizon. “Getting married right now is not a good idea.” He looked back at me. “I decided to postpone the wedding, Eighty-Eight.”
“You told Gracie that?”
He nodded. “She left yesterday after our fight. She’s gonna visit her folks for a few days.”
“Hmm.” Good old wishy-washy McCrary. “You make any other decisions—like about paying Sharky to go away?”
“Nah, but I haven’t said ‘no’ yet neither.” He clasped his hands together. “The thing is: I love her.”
There it was, the conflict between head and heart. The head says “do this,” and the heart says “no way.”
“Love is a powerful force.” McCrary, the philosopher. I was chock full of wisdom today.
“It’s not like I can’t afford to pay this dirt bag. Hell, I can afford ’most anything in the whole goddamn world.” Now he rubbed his hands against each other, like he was fighting himself. “But then I’m the one who solves Gracie’s problem—not her. Like I did with the credit cards and the drug rehab last summer. She learns nothing about what Mamacita said—actions have consequences. She’s done this before; she could do it again. I wonder if I’m not paying her way to kill herself.”
He looked at me again. “Maybe I’m loving her to death.”
“Holy shit,” I said, just to say something.
“Yeah. What you said.” He stared at the horizon again.
We sat and drank coffee. We watched the sun move across the sky.
Finally, Bob looked at his Rolex. “Well, I got to get to the airport or I’ll miss the flight home.”
“What time do you land in New York?”
“New York? Hell, New York ain’t home, Eighty-Eight. New York is just where I live. Home is Adams Springs. I’m flying to Houston and renting a car. I’m gonna visit Papa and Mamacita for a few days. See if I can get my head around this thing with Gracie.”
“Please give them my love.”
“I will, Eighty-Eight. I seem to give everybody love, sometimes when they may not deserve it.”
Chapter 64
A couple of days later, Miyo called. “Chuck, I’ve just been visited by two detectives, a woman named Kelly Contreras and the largest man I have ever personally met. His name was Arnold Bigelow. They said they’re friends of yours.”
“They are. Are you a football fan?”
“No, why do you ask?”
“The reason Arnie Bigelow is so big is that he’s a former defensive lineman for the Port City Pelicans.”
“That’s our local football team, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Arnie’s nickname is ‘Bigs’ Bigelow.”
“Do you know why they interviewed me?”
“They’re looking into Vicente Vidali’s death. Maybe they think that Gracie’s kidnapping is connected somehow.”
“Oh. I told them what I told you. I don’t think it helped much. The good news is that their visit reminded me I’d given you a rain check for a cocktail. Yesterday, I shipped off the last of my paintings to New York for that gallery show.”
“Congratulations. I know that’s a load off your mind.”
“Why don’t you come to my place for a cocktail?”
“You know the wedding has been postponed, right?”
“What’s that got to do with anything? I want to hear the story about how you rescued Gracie. Come on over. We’ll watch the sunset. You like Margaritas?”
“Oh yeah.”
“Good. See you at five o’clock.”
###
When Miyo opened her door, the first thing I noticed was her perfume, this time without the paint smells. Her painting paraphernalia had been removed from the room behind her and it looked like a normal apartment. I guess she had stored it somewhere. She was wearing a hot pink halter top and matching walking shorts. She wore hemp sandals with gold buckles. She had three-inch gold hoops in her ears and a heavy woven gold chain necklace. Her fingernails and toenails were painted hot pink.
So were her lips. Just the thing to wear for sunset watching. I caught myself staring.
“Come in, Chuck.” She put a hand on the back of my neck, pulled my head down, and kissed me on the cheek. She took my hand and led me through the studio and onto the balcony.
Her penthouse had a full-length balcony on the west side that overlooked Seetiweekifenokee Bay. The bay sparkled from the sun dropping toward the downtown skyscrapers. An icy pitcher of Margaritas had spread a condensation ring on the glass-topped table. A nearby tray held a saucer of salt, a small plate of cut limes, and two stemmed glasses.
“Are you salty or non-salty?” she asked.
“Salty.”
She wiped the rims of both glasses with a damp cloth and twirled the rims in the salt. She poured our drinks and stuck a wedge of lime on each glass. She handed me mine. “What shall we drink to?”
I took the glass, but I couldn’t think of a toast. I stared at her like a deer in the headlights.
She laughed. “Chuck, it’s not that hard a question.”
I flushed. I did that a lot around her. “Miyo, I’m not very good at this.”
She raised an eyebrow. “At what?”
“At… at…” I made a vague gesture. “At social stuff…small talk…with women.”
Amused, she raised an eyebrow. “What would you toast to if I were a man?”
“I’d say ‘to the Jets for winning the Super Bowl.’”
She lifted her glass. “To the Jets for winning the Super Bowl.”
We drank.
“See,” she said, “that wasn’t hard, was it?”
I nodded.
“Look, Chuck. I don’t know what your experience with women is, and I don’t care. All I knew about you to begin with is that Bob Martinez chose you to be his best man. He is one of the most honest, nicest men I know. That’s worth two points. I saw the way you handled yourself professionally when you interviewed me. I admire your skill. That’s worth a couple of more points. After that you almost got killed rescuing my best friend. I gave you five points for that.”
“Points?”
She grinned. “That’s my way of saying you did something good, something I like. Like giving a school kid a gold star.” She put a hand on my arm. “I Googled you after those detectives left and before I called you. Now I’d like to know you better. I didn’t ask you here to entertain me, or charm me, or impress me. Just talk to me.”
“How am I doing so far?”
She laughed. “You haven’t won any more points, but the night is young. Can I give you a little advice about women?”
“My mother says that everyone knows more than I do about something. Therefore, there is always something I can learn from anyone. You gotta know more about women than I do. Ergo…” I shrugged.
“My advice is to treat a woman like you would a man.”
I looked at her hand on my arm. It felt really warm. And smooth.
Miyo asked, “Tell me what you’re thinking right now.”
“I’m thinking that I wouldn’t tell a man that his hand feels good on my arm.”
She laughed. “Okay. Let’s amend the rule. Treat a woman like a man in everything except when it comes to gender differences.”
“That sounds profound. Wait a minute while I write that down.”
“Oh, clever man, that’s worth one more point.” She laughed again. I liked the sound.
She squeezed my arm before moving her hand. “Have you heard from Bob lately?”
“He stopped by my place on the way to the airport Tuesday. Said he and Gracie had postponed the wedding. What have you heard from Gracie?”
“She’s at her parents’ place, crying her eyes out.”
“Has she been to see you?”
“No. She knows I’ll kick her in the butt.” She sipped her Margarita.
“Why would you do that?”
“Where do I start? She got through rehab, screwed it up when she went back to using. Boom.” She raised her leg in a kicking motion. “She had a first-class modeling career going, and she’s in danger of sniffing that up her nose. Boom again.” She made another kick. “She hooked the most eligible bachelor in New York City, and she pissed that away. Strike three with a double boom.” She leaned back against the flowered cushion of the wrought-iron chair. “Take your pick.”
“Sounds like she’s really good at making bad decisions.”
“You can say that again.”
“Sounds like she’s really good at making bad decisions.”
Miyo grinned over her Margarita glass. “That’s worth one more point.”
After that the conversation flowed freely. We grilled hamburgers on her balcony and mixed more Margaritas. I felt more comfortable than I had with a woman in a long time.
Chapter 65
My landline rang. I knew it was my landline because I’d turned my cellphone off. I had stayed at Miyo’s until ten o’clock and taken a cab home. I was half-drunk from the combination of two pitchers of Margaritas and Miyo’s perfume. I’d go back for the Avanti in the morning. “Yeah.”
“Eighty-Eight, it’s me.”
I glanced at the clock. 12:10 a.m. “Yeah, Bob. You in Adams Springs?”
“Yeah. Why?”
“You do know that it’s an hour later here, right?”
“Sorry to wake you, buddy, but Gracie called me.”
“Congratulations. Did she wake you up in the middle of the night too?”
“She said that she saw Sharky.”
“Has she gone back to New York?”
“No. She’s still in Miami with her folks.”
“Sharky’s in Miami?”
“Yeah. She says Sharky has come for his money.”
“Does she have it?”
“No. That’s why she called me.”
“Do her parents have the money?”
“Nah. They’re good folks, but they live from paycheck to paycheck like most people.”
“What do you want me to do?”
There was a long pause. I heard him breathe. I realized Bob hadn’t thought this out. His thought process had gone no further than Gracie is in trouble and good ol’ Eighty-Eight is nearby. I think I’ll call good ol’ Eighty-Eight. He’ll know what to do.
“I don’t know, Eighty-Eight. Can you help her?”
“What kind of help did you have in mind?”
“Protect her, maybe?”
“Sure, I can protect her. I’ll use two guys to cover her sixteen hours a day. It’ll be expensive, but I can do it, but that’s only a short-term solution. It doesn’t solve the underlying problem of her debt to Sharky.”
“Whaddya mean?”
“How long are you willing to pay me to protect her? A week? A month? What happens when she goes back to New York? Sharky won’t go away on his own. She’ll still owe him money. Protection for Gracie is not a long-term solution.”
“I don’t know what to do, Eighty-Eight. What play would you call?”
There it was. Bob’s problem was about to become my problem. Whatever I said, it could be the wrong thing. If I’d been in Bob’s position, the right answer for me might be the wrong answer for Bob. On the other hand, I would never be in Bob’s position. If I had a girlfriend involved with drugs, I’d run for the exit as fast as I could. If I had a girlfriend. Someone I loved. Which I didn’t. Hell, I don’t know what I would do in Bob’s shoes.
“Beats the hell out of me, Bob. You’re damned if you do, and damned if you don’t.”
“How so?”
“If you hire me to protect her, that doesn’t solve the Sharky debt problem. If you pay off Sharky, that doesn’t solve the Graciela-standing-on-her-own-two-feet problem. Bad outcome either way.”
“So what play do I call?”
“What’s best for Graciela?”
“Look, amigo, I’m no deep thinker. Finding my third outlet receiver is about as far ahead as I think. Let’s go for the short-term solution: Protect Graciela. We’ll think about the long-term l
ater. Maybe something will come to me. Or maybe you’ll have an idea. Okay?”
I glanced at the clock. 12:15 a.m. “She at her parents’ house now?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll call her and work out a bodyguard schedule. Send me a check for ten thousand as a retainer.”
“Ten thousand?”
“Two guys eight hours a day each, plus my time while I look for Sharky. I told you it was gonna be expensive.”
After I hung up, I called Gracie and told her not to leave home until I got there at ten the next morning.
Chapter 66
“Chuck, I’m glad you’re here.” Gracie kissed me on the cheek. “Come in. Coffee?” Her veneer of normalcy was so thick, I could have cut it with a chain saw.
I said my hellos to Horatio and Evangelina, who had taken the day off from work. They both looked shaken. No surprise there. I asked them to excuse us so Gracie and I could talk alone. “Gracie, let’s get one thing straight: This is not a social call. You’re in danger. Bob has hired me to protect you, at least for a while. I can’t do it forever. Let’s not pretend things are normal. You understand that?”
Her face got serious. “I understand.”
“Have the Port City Police contacted you yet?”
“Why would they contact me again? I told them all about the kidnapping.”
“Since then Vicente Vidali and a bunch of other hoods have been killed under mysterious circumstances. The cops have to investigate those deaths. They may want to interview you again. They interviewed Miyo. We both know that your role in this thing is…let’s say ‘murky.’ If the cops contact you, you’ll need a criminal attorney. Call Vicky Ramirez and ask her to recommend one. If the Port City detectives want to interview you, I advise you to insist your attorney be present.”
“Chuck, I can’t afford an attorney.”
“Take a public defender then. But don’t say a word to the police detectives until you discuss it with your attorney. Don’t wait for them to read you your rights before you ask for an attorney. If they show up at all, tell them you want your attorney present. Got it?”
Her lip trembled, but she nodded. “Is there any chance Bob will pay off Sharky?”
Quarterback Trap (A Carlos McCrary novel Book 3) Page 21
