Game Face

by Mark Troy

"The big guy? In the bar." She offered another coin to the clanging god.

  I said, "Floeck. He was playing the slots too?"

  "No. They bore him. He got the drinks and refilled my bucket."

  "How long was he gone when he wasn't with you?"

  "Five, ten minutes. I don't know." She set the wheels whirring again.

  "Don't you get tired of this?"

  She said, "Hunh uh. I get in a zone and it's like time stops."

  "Were you in a zone that night with Floeck?"

  "With some men, the quicker you get in the zone, the better."

  "So he could have been gone half an hour or more getting drinks?"

  "Is that what you want me to tell you?"

  "I want you to tell me the truth."

  "I told the police five or ten minutes. You want me to say a half hour?" She looked into her money bucket. "Here's the truth. Two hundred bucks would top this off nicely. That's worth a half hour don't you think?"

  Sooner or later bought testimony comes around to bite your ass. I declined her offer with more politeness than it deserved. She was in her zone before I'd taken five steps towards the exit.

  For the next two days I pursued the pill angle as Stalworth had suggested. My inquiries took me to Los Angeles where I ran into a stonewall put up by Lorraine's psychiatrist. I came away with a better understanding of the side effects of drugs and more than I wanted to know about the dark side of psychiatry. At least I had something to take back to my client in Honolulu.

  * * * * *

  Gordon Masaki said, "You're sure Lorraine wasn't murdered?"

  "I didn't say that. I said I don't see a way to link Floeck to her death without physical evidence. His alibi witness is weak but can't do us any good. I think you have a stronger case against the psychiatrist and the drug company."

  Masaki brushed at the corners of his eyes with his fingers. "I had no idea she was seeing a psychiatrist."

  I said, "In Europe, this class of antidepressants comes with a warning label. The physician is supposed to monitor the patient closely. Lorraine's didn't."

  "Pills," he said. "Screw the pills." His eyes hardened. "Floeck did it. If he didn't push her, he drove her to it."

  What was there to say? I couldn't fault his thinking.

  "An animal like that, doesn't stop," he said. "There will be other women until somebody stops him."

  Masaki's check arrived two days later. The amount was enough to keep me in Margaritas and sushi for a long time, but holding it left me with a hollow feeling. It was money I hadn't yet earned for a job that was unfinished. It went into my desk drawer instead of my bank account.

  Six weeks later, I was nursing a drink and a black mood on the beach-level lanai of Duke's when Moon Ito joined me. Despite his name, round is not a word that describes Moon. The words I would use are "cut" and "ripped" and "hard as teak." Moon counted VIP security among his legitimate activities. From time to time, I counted on him to watch my back.

  Moon said, "That dark look stay on your face for weeks now. They gonna throw you outa here the way you're sucking the sunshine outa this fine sky."

  I said, "Cheer me up then."

  "Okay. How about this?" He put a golf mag on the table and opened it to a middle page. "That the guy you hate?"

  It was a picture of Glenn Floeck. The accompanying article said Teed Up was expanding to the Islands and he was coming to explore locations.

  Moon said, "A visiting exec like that needs a car."

  "And you can provide it," I said.

  "Need a driver," he said.

  "A woman driver," I said. "Bait."

  "Here comes the sun," Moon said.

  * * * * *

  Floeck was deep in his golf mags on the other side of the partition as we caught H-1 from the airport going towards Diamond Head. I said to the Hobbit, "Frodo's your real name?"

  "Mmm," he said.

  "Your parents didn't like you?"

  "Name like Baggins, they thought they was being clever."

  "What was it like growing up named Frodo Baggins?"

  He pointed to the scar on his face and traced it across his nose.

  "A boy named Frodo," I said. "Good training for a tough profession."

  "Better than my brother. Guess his name."

  "Bilbo? How'd he end up?"

  "Professor of psycho-linguistics at an expensive college where the privilege-ass kids with fourteen hundred SATs call him Dildo Baggins behind his back."

  "Sucks to be him," I said.

  "Fuckin' A."

  Past Punchbowl, I caught the Punahou exit and took it to Beretania, jogged over a block and maneuvered the limo into the Waikiki traffic churn.

  I said, "You like working for Floeck?"

  "All except for the caddying part. Guy who spends so much time with the game, sucks so bad."

  "I heard he wrote a book on golf."

  Baggins nodded. "Transcendental Golf. Transcendental bullshit. He don't play with nobody so nobody can see how bad he is. Nobody see him anyway, 'cause he never hits a fairway. You caddie for him, you in the rough the whole time."

  "Really," I said. An idea was forming in my head.

  "Another thing," said Frodo. "He don't play the nine and eighteen holes 'cause they near the clubhouse and people might see him."

  "Suppose somebody else caddied for him?"

  "Be forever in their debt."

  Floeck's voice came over the intercom. "It just occurred to me, honey. Isn't it traditional for visitors to get a lei on arrival?"

  "It wasn't on my orders."

  "Maybe you could give me a lei at the hotel."

  "I'll have Ito send you some flowers."

  "I was thinking of the L-A-Y kind."

  "Keep hoping for flowers."

  I left them at the hotel and met Moon at Duke's. He sipped a grapefruit juice while I filled him in on Floeck.

  I said, "You really told him I was a soft pussy?"

  "I said pushover. He hears what he wants. You think 'It cuts better when it's warm' wasn't a little over the top?"

  "It hooked him."

  Moon said, "Explain that to me."

  "You're in a restaurant and the waiter says your plate's hot. What's the first thing you do? You touch it."

  "I don't."

  "Floeck does. We're going to Kauai tomorrow. I'm caddying for him. Got Baggins to suggest it and Floeck tumbled right in."

  Moon said, "He's thinking about where you carry the balls. You tell him they go farther when they're warm?"

  I slugged him in the shoulder hard enough to get a grimace of pain out of him. Not many people can get that from Moon.

  I said, "We'll take him on the golf course."

  "Figure you can get him alone?"

  "Uh huh. The course is closed tomorrow." Moon gave me a questioning look. "Enough money and a pushy attitude buys you anything, even a tee time on a closed course."

  I explained how Floeck didn't like to play when others could see him. "Baggins will be in the clubhouse, so we'll have to take Floeck on the farthest hole. They keep in touch by pager. We can't let him page Frodo when it goes down."

  "Frodo the Ringbearer," Moon said.

  Sometimes Moon surprised me with a reference to a book he had read or a play he had seen. If he had any interests beyond weapons and sports, I couldn't name them. In truth, I never thought to discuss books with him. That was probably my loss.

  "The ringbearer's got a badass rep," he said.

  "He's also got a soft side. Lorraine mentions him in her messages. Apparently she liked him. Thought there might be something there if Floeck weren't around. He helped her steer clear of Floeck once or twice."

  "Every badass got a soft spot for a chick. He needs to take a lesson from King Kong and get over it."

  * * * * *

  The next morning I drove Floeck and Baggins to the airport and caught the flight with them. Moon took a different flight. From the airport we went directly to the golf course.
<
br />   Pepehi Resort was designed by a sadistic golf course architect who located it where the razorback spine of the island meets the rugged coast. There is not a single sand trap on the course. Who needs them? You have lush tropical jungle lining the fairways and deep ravines bisecting them. The island's awesome beauty steals your heart and eats your balls.

  We left a very happy Frodo Baggins in the clubhouse and set out on an otherwise empty course. An early rain had left the turf sparkling like ground glass and awakened strong humid smells in the undergrowth. The mountains rose green and imposing in three directions while the fourth direction presented an open vista of ocean and sky.

  Caddying for Floeck meant tramping through the jungle or scrambling over rocks looking for errant balls, just as Frodo said it would. Floeck finished the first hole in nine. He wrote five on the scorecard.

  He said, "You think they bikini-wax the greens to get them trimmed this close?"

  I said, "I don't know anything about greens."

  "You know about bikini wax?"

  "The second tee is this way," I said.

  After thirteen holes Floeck had taken one hundred eleven strokes and carded sixty-seven. He had mentioned leg-shaving, underwear styles and sleepwear. Deflecting his comments took more out of me than searching for his miserable shots.

  The fourteenth hole doglegged to the right at a point farthest from the clubhouse. A bad shot put you in a stand of scrubby trees and rocks. A bad long shot put you in the Pacific, about four hundred feet below.

  Floeck was bad, but he wasn't long. In fact, he wasn't far off the fairway. I steered him towards the trees.

  He said, "You sure it went this far?"

  "I'm sure." The tradewinds rustled the trees and carried a steady murmur of surf to us from the base of the cliff. Floeck turned his back and I dropped a ball out of my pocket.

  "Found it," I said.

  Floeck drove the cart close and came over. The ball had rolled to a stop against the exposed section of a partially-buried rock.

  "Have to take a drop," he said.

  He bent over the ball, leaning on an iron. I kicked the iron from under him and gave him a shove. Floeck pitched forward and struck his chin on a rock. He went, "Uhhh," and started getting up. I planted my foot on his back and forced him down.

  "Don't get up until I tell you, Glenn." I pulled the pager off his belt and threw it away. Moon emerged from behind an outcropping of rock. "You can sit up, Glenn," I said, stepping away from him.

  He rolled into a sitting position. He had a gash on his chin and a scrape on his cheek. The gash didn't appear deep. Drops of blood seeped out and dribbled onto his shirt. He wiped blood off his chin and looked at his hand. "You're going to pay for this, honey."

  Moon said, "Shut up, Glenn!"

  Floeck noticed Moon for the first time. Moon isn't big, but he makes his presence known. He had on a tee-shirt from which he'd ripped the sleeves. Or maybe they'd exploded when he flexed his softball-sized biceps. Floeck's eyes went wide with fear and then narrowed as recognition dawned on him.

  He said, "You're Ito? Jesus Christ, she attacked me."

  Moon said, "You need to shut up and listen to the lady, Glenn."

  I picked up the iron Floeck had dropped and whipped it at a jagged boulder. It clanged off the rock in a nice counterpoint to Floeck's anguished scream.

  "Nooo! That's a Zevo!"

  I took another club from his bag.

  "Do not touch my clubs," he said. He made like he was getting up.

  I jabbed him with the grip end of the club, catching him in the forehead and putting him on his back. He covered his face with his hands and howled. I jabbed him in the stomach.

  "Sit up!" I said. "Look at me!"

  Floeck sat up slowly and lowered his hands. He had an angry red spot in the middle of his forehead like a bloodshot third eye. His lip trembled and his eyes blazed with hatred.

  "You crazy bitch."

  I swung the club in a flat arc over his head. He yelped and cowered under his upraised arm.

  Moon said, "I put the blame on television. She thinks she's Xena Warrior Princess."

  I said, "Glenn, you can help yourself by speaking only when you're spoken to. You understand?"

  He looked at me with both hate and fear. Not enough fear. I swung the club again and he covered his head with his arms.

  "I'm speaking to you, Glenn. Do you understand?"

  "Yes," he screamed.

  I swung the club in a higher arc and let it go. It spiraled over some low scrub and dropped from sight. Floeck opened his mouth to speak but thought better of it. Moon tossed me another club.

  I said, "Glenn, you have a problem with women, don't you?"

  He said, "Huh?"

  I said, "It's a 'yes' or 'no' question."

  He said, "No."

  "Glenn, Glenn, Glenn. You were raping me with your eyes before we even met."

  A flicker of confidence returned to his face. He glanced hopefully at Moon. "Can't blame a man for checking out the goods, huh?"

  Moon returned a blank stare. I whacked Floeck's ankle with the club face and he screamed.

  I said, "You've been hitting on me ever since you arrived, Glenn. This morning it's been one after another."

  "Jesus! That's what this is about? I was loosening you up for God's sake."

  "That's crap, Glenn."

  He looked around in confusion. "They were lines. I run them by chicks when . . . when . . ."

  "Chicks? You mean women? Lorraine Masaki for instance?"

  The last shreds of confidence disappeared. His eyes became hunted and fearful. He tried to scoot backwards but his movement was blocked by a squat boulder.

  He said, "What about Lorraine?"

  "She didn't like your stalking her."

  "We were playing."

  "You threatened her."

  "I just wanted her attention."

  "You trashed her car."

  "C'mon. A paint job. It didn't mean anything."

  I sailed the club I was holding in the direction of the ocean. It bounced off a rock and clattered over the cliff.

  Moon said, "That all the better you can do?"

  "It was a short iron."

  "You need to let the big dog eat."

  He took the driver from Floeck's bag, whistled it around his head and let go. It whirled over the cliff like a tourist helicopter. "Man, you do get distance outa those Pings, don't you?" The rest of the Pings followed as Floeck screamed in anguish.

  I said, "Does that mean anything, Glenn?"

  "What the fuck do you want?"

  "Tell me how Lorraine died."

  "How should I know?"

  I walked behind Floeck. Moon stayed in front. Floeck swiveled his head desperately trying to keep us both in view.

  "You were there," I said.

  "I was in Las Vegas. I told the police that."

  "Did you push her?"

  "No. God, no. I swear!"

  "You're lying," Moon said.

  "Glenn," I said. "I need to hear the truth from you."

  "I didn't kill her."

  Moon said, "I think we have to cut the truth outa him."

  "You do the honors," I said. I tossed him my knife.

  Moon snapped the blade out. "Cuts better when it's warm," he said.

  I put Floeck in a headlock from behind. Moon knelt on his legs. He waved the knife casually and Floeck trembled. The skin on his forehead felt cold and clammy. His breath came rapidly through his nose.

  He said hoarsely, "I didn't do anything."

  Moon said, "He's not gonna give the truth. Why don't I just cut his throat?"

  Floeck's fear was so palpable he transmitted it like electricity from his flesh to mine. He'd always remember this day, and I wanted each memory accompanied by a cold sweat and a glance over his shoulder. I wanted him sleeping with the lights on and twitching at strange noises.

  I said, "It's his little guys that get him in trouble. He might be a
good boy without them."

  Moon pointed the knife at Floeck's crotch.

  A sob burst out of Floeck's throat. "No, don't," he said. A dark wet spot appeared on his crotch and spread down his pants legs.

  I nodded to Moon who snapped the knife closed.

  I said, "Glenn, I know about the other restraining orders and I'm going to keep an eye on you. You violate either the letter or the spirit and we're coming after you. You understand? It's a 'yes' or 'no' question."

  "Yes," he said.

  "You stalk a woman, you hit on any woman, you leer at any woman, we're coming. And when we do, we won't make room in your Jockeys. We'll turn out your lights."

  "Might be a good time to change your career plans," said Moon. "Join a monastery, repent your sins, avoid temptation." He tossed the knife back to me.

  Moon stood and I let go my hold. Floeck curled into a fetal position.

  I said, "And Glenn, as long as you're mending your ways, quit cheating at golf."

  Moon said, "He cheats at golf?"

  "Big cheat."

  "I'd have cut him for sure, I knew that."

  We left Floeck curled on the ground and headed back to the fairway. Suddenly Moon said, "Here comes the badass." He nodded to where Frodo Baggins was coming from the fairway in a golf cart. "We let him play through?"

  Frodo exited the cart and it rose up on its shocks with a loud sigh. I felt for the cart.

  Moon said, "You must be Frodo the Ringbearer."

  Baggins lifted an automatic from the cart and pointed it at us. He said, "Hunh uh, man. I be Frodo the Glock bearer and you best be cool and turn around."

  Floeck was slowly getting to his feet as we turned. He dusted his hands and wiped them on his slacks, careful to avoid touching the wet spot. He dabbed at his chin with a white handkerchief and came toward us. His pants legs made a wet flapping sound as they brushed together.

  He said, "Took you the fuck long enough to get here."

  Baggins said, "First cart had a flat." He did a quick frisk of Moon and removed Moon's gun.

  Floeck didn't wait for Baggins to frisk me. He put his face close to mine. "I saw where the ball landed, honey. I knew something was up when you headed over here, so I paged my man."

  "Nothing escapes you, Glenn."

  "Except your water," said Moon.

  I caught movement in my periphery and tried to warn Moon, but too late. Frodo smashed the butt of Moon's gun against his head. Moon crumpled soundlessly. I didn't see Floeck's fist. It slammed my face and whipped my head back. My sunglasses took flight. I parried his next blow with my forearm, but Baggins got hold of me from behind. My head was buzzing and my vision shrank. I kicked at Floeck, but it glanced off as he moved in with another shot to my face and one to my stomach.