Glitz. Part 15

"I swear to G.o.d I'll pay you. I give you my f.u.c.king word of honor, man-ten big ones, how you want it, hunnerts? Whatever you say. Two three days-I gotta get it together. I meet you ...How's the restaurant, the Satellite, on the Boardwalk? What a you say?"

"Where do you live?"

"You want a come to my house? I live on Georgia Avenue. You know where Angeloni's is? Right near there." He gave Vincent the number, Vincent watching, fascinated, as Ricky tried to get an expression of trust in his eyes.

Vincent said, "You want to show your good faith?"

"How? Tell me?"

"Gimme the money you got in your jacket."

"It's yours ...Take it."

"Now get out of the car."

He did, but hesitantly, wary. "We got a deal?"

Vincent dropped a piece of gla.s.s out the window and moved behind the wheel. Ricky stood with his shoulders hunched against the rain, waiting. "See you the day after tomorrow," Vincent said, "four o'clock. If you're still around, in one piece."

He drove back to St. James Place, left the Eldorado where he'd found it, key in the ignition-no hard feelings. His Datsun was in a lot up the same street. But first, back to the Satellite Cafe. The waitress behind the counter recognized him.

"How's your boss?"

"He's at the hospital."

Vincent handed her the wad of bills, made her take it as she hesitated. She said, "Don't tell me anything, okay? I don't want to know."

He used the pay phone to call Northfield and said to Dixie, "Ricky didn't do it."

"You sure?"

"Ninety-nine percent."

"How do you know?"

"He told me," Vincent said. "But it's okay. You're gonna get a chance to bring him up on attempted murder. I hope attempted. Day after tomorrow it looks like he's gonna take a crack at me."

Vincent walked back to the corner, tired, till he got to the stairway, started down to St. James Place and stopped halfway, wide awake, remembering the Eldorado as he had seen it a little more than an hour ago, the same high-angle view from the stairs, Ricky standing there getting his keys out . . .

But to open the trunk, not the door!

Because today was collection day, right, according to Dixie Davies, and Ricky the bagman was making pickups from the horse books, the card-game and numbers guys, from whoever owed them a cut or a shylock payment. Vincent popped the trunk lid and there it was, the bag, a blue canvas carry-on with straps and buckles and handy pockets . . . and wads and wads of currency in the main compartment, rolled up in red rubber bands.

The bartender at the Holmhurst said, "Well, how we doing? We still a winner?"

Vincent was holding a double scotch to take upstairs with him. He lifted the blue canvas bag from the barstool.

"You wouldn't believe how much I got in here."

"I probably wouldn't," the bartender said.

16.

TEDDY'S MOM SAID TO BUDDY, c.o.c.king her head the same way Buddy had his green-and-orange parrot head c.o.c.ked, "He don't remember all I've done for him. What I went through at the hospital when he was born and I almost died of a hemorrhage, the blood gus.h.i.+ng out a me like it would never stop."

Teddy said, "Aw, Mom, Jesus."

"He don't remember the times I was up the night with him when he was sick." Now she was talking to the bird in a pouty little s.h.i.+rley Temple voice. "No, or he don't remember all the meals I cooked for him."

"I remember how Dad use to go out in the garage where he hid his bottles and drink," Teddy said. "I remember him leaving and never coming back. 'Ey, let's me and you stroll down mem'ry lane and see what else we can remember of our happy home."

"You love to hurt me," his mom said. "Don't you?"

All he wanted was to borrow the car. He'd already heard what it was like in Camden, New Jersey, during the Depression when his mom ate ketchup sandwiches and fried mush. She still couldn't cook for s.h.i.+t. Put a pork roast in the oven and every twenty minutes throw a gla.s.s of water on it. He had better chow at Raiford. When it was something he didn't like Monroe Ritchie would get him candy bars. For his sweetie's sweet tooth, Monroe'd say. It was funny, he sort of missed Monroe. He worked up his nerve and asked him one time, "Monroe? Are you a homas.e.xyul?" And Monroe wrinkled his eyebrows and said, "Nooo, man, you p.u.s.s.y. I touch you with my wan' you all of a sodden a magic p.u.s.s.y." Really? Oh well.

What Teddy did finally, he put on his Van Halen tape with the volume turned up and David Lee Roth set him free. He had George Thorogood's "Bad to the Bone" ready to go when his mom said, "Go on, take the car. I can't listen to that no more."

She wouldn't give him any money though. He had about ten bucks left . . . Hey, and a twenty stuck down in his camera case! He'd forgot about it. His mom said, "Oh, you going out to take pictures in the rain?"

Teddy said, "It's stopped, Mom. It's gonna be a beautiful evening." He believed it, just remembering he had that twenty-dollar bill. It meant he could get back to trailing the cop and not have to bother some old lady.

It was close to eight o'clock when the cop came out of the Holmhurst.

Teddy had gone in, taken a chance, and asked the desk clerk if Mr. Mora was in his room. The clerk checked a file and said to dial three-ten on the house phone over there. Teddy dialed it, heard the cop's voice and hung up, got out of there, sat in his mom's big yellow t.u.r.d to wait. It really surprised him when the cop got in the tan Datsun in front that he'd admired and wished was his. He believed it was a sign. He liked the idea of signs and omens: they showed you were on the right track.

He followed the Datsun's taillights into the poor section and look, another sign: the Datsun pulling up at the house on Caspian where Iris had stayed, the cop going inside.

He had followed Iris here...

He had followed Iris all over the place. He had tried to talk to her in the lounge, in her cute little c.o.c.ktail waitress outfit and tried to get her to go out with him and even offered money he didn't have. Had twice seen her come out of the hotel with three guys, one of them a big jig, and another woman and get in the limo he followed to the condo in Ventnor. Three A.M. he walked all around the building, looking up at the windows from the other side of the street and saw where lights were on: hardly any except for half the top floor on the Atlantic Avenue side. Half past four they came out and the limo took them home. The next night she went up again, Teddy learning surveillance work was a pain in the a.s.s. Fun in San Juan but not here. Never be a private eye. But the next morning Iris didn't come out with the three guys and the woman and Teddy perked up, wondered if this was his chance. He sat there all day. No Iris. All day thinking.

Half past eleven that evening he went in with the cheese steak subs from the White House, ran a game on the security guy telling him he'd lost the slip with the name on it, but the apartment number was eighteen-something. The security guy looked at his clipboard list with one hand on the phone. Let's see, it wouldn't be 1802, n.o.body was there and 1803 was out for the evening; 1804, also 1805, they went to bed early, never ordered carry-outs; he said it must be the s.h.i.+pmans in 1806, he'd ring. Teddy said that was it, s.h.i.+pman. The security guy still wanted to ring them. Teddy said, 'ey, how'd you like a sub? Happen to have an extra one. Mmmm, smell those onions . . . That was how he got upstairs to knock on the door to 1802.

Then he had to run a game on Iris when she opened the door, not looking very happy. He told her somebody from the hotel had sent the food over. She nodded, closed the door, didn't even offer him a tip. He ran down the stairs and opened the delivery door in back. Ran up the stairs, thought he was going to have a heart attack, caught his breath. Then rode the elevator down, stepped off in the lobby and said nighty-night to the old guy eating his cheese steak sub.

Now he entered from the rear, walked walked up the stairs this time and when Iris opened the door gave her a smile and a wink and said, "Miss me?" up the stairs this time and when Iris opened the door gave her a smile and a wink and said, "Miss me?"

It amazed him they would hire a girl with so little personality. Especially a PR.

"Don't you know how to smile?"

"I'm tired of smiling."

See? She was a grouch. She didn't seem afraid of him or even care he was here. It was something else bothering her, or her life in general that made her crabby. Sitting there p.i.s.sed off in her black bra and panties.

"You staying here now?"

"If I feel like it."

He looked around the apartment. There was all kinds of booze in one of the kitchen cupboards, the cheese steak sub sitting on the counter. Teddy realized he was hungry and ate it. Even cold it was good. He fixed two rum-and-c.o.kes then, emptying a street-lude cap into Iris's-eighty milligrams of Valium to take off her edge-and brought their drinks out to the living room.

Of course she didn't want it; made a face. So he slapped her, hard, and when she looked up at him, startled and then scared, he said, "Drink it. Don't gimme any s.h.i.+t. Drink it." Then when she took a sip he eased off and said with a grin, "I'm gonna make you smile if it kills you."

She yawned instead. He acted nice with her, sympathetic, said come on, what's the matter?

She told him about this man with the eyes of a snake from Colombia who made her take her clothes off in front of everybody and then rubbed the dice in her cocha cocha to bring him luck. to bring him luck.

Teddy said, " 'Ey, yeah? Did it?"

She said it was the worst experience of her life. He was so angry when he lost he was rough with her in the bed, he was an animal and punished her with his b.i.+.c.ho b.i.+.c.ho, the way he would push it into her and make her cry out.

Teddy said, "Yeah?" interested. He said, "I'm getting a Spanish lesson. How do you say t.i.tties?"

She said she came here to be as a hostess with gentlemen, not an indio indio who should be in a field. Teddy asked her if she felt like going to bed, her story getting him in the mood. She said no, she was too sore. He made her finish her drink and said, well, let's keep it in mind. He made them each another drink, came back in and asked her if she felt like going home to San Juan. She said, sometimes. who should be in a field. Teddy asked her if she felt like going to bed, her story getting him in the mood. She said no, she was too sore. He made her finish her drink and said, well, let's keep it in mind. He made them each another drink, came back in and asked her if she felt like going home to San Juan. She said, sometimes.

"You miss Vincent?"

"That guy? Why would I?"

"He'd protect you, wouldn't he?"

"If I want him to."

She was yawning and sounded sleepy, her eyes closing. Maybe he shouldn't have given her the whole street lude. He believed he'd better hurry.

" 'Ey, why don't you write Vincent a letter? Ask him to come up here and see you."

"Why would he?"

"Tell him you miss him."

"You think he do it?"

"Tell him you're in terrible danger, you need him," Teddy said, pulling her panties out and peeking in.

"Yeah? You think? ...Man, I'm so tire."

s.h.i.+t, he didn't bring any paper. He said, " 'Ey, don't go to sleep on me." There was a desk in the room. He went over to it and found a writing pad, envelopes, a pen ...What he needed to do was pep her up. He went back to her and said, "Here, get started," putting an envelope on the c.o.c.ktail table in front of her. "Write his name and address on there. I'll be right back."

Teddy took her gla.s.s out to the kitchen and poured rum in it. Maybe it would give her a kick. He should've brought meth-she needed to get up up, not down. He'd wanted to be able to control her, but should've remembered how she moved, like it was an effort. One of those girls, his mom would say was so slow she couldn't get out of her own way.

With his help, dictating, she got the envelope addressed, but that was it. At this point Iris lay back in her chair and konked out on him. He could slap her face all he wanted, throw water in it, hold her under the shower-he could see she wasn't about to come around for the rest of the night.

Well, he wasn't coming around here either, anymore. He'd had enough of playing private eye in his mom's car staring out the window, then getting a chance like this that might not ever come again. He thought about printing a note that would say COME QUICK I NEED YOU. I AM IN DANGER and put it in the envelope. But the cop, come to think of it, would get the note and probably phone her. If he bothered at all.

When Teddy thought of how to do it he knew it would work because the cop wouldn't have a choice anymore. They'd make make him come. It was exciting thinking about it. Jeez, he wanted to lay her on the floor right here. him come. It was exciting thinking about it. Jeez, he wanted to lay her on the floor right here.

He did, he pulled her out of the chair, her eyes coming open a little, but closing again when he got her stretched out on the carpet. He raised her up to unhook her bra, pulled it free and laid her down again. She would have to have her panties on . . .

Another kind of feeling came over him, that he'd better leave them on and get out of here. What if somebody was coming upstairs this minute?

Teddy folded the addressed envelope once, twice, and slipped it into the front of her panties. He pulled her up, got underneath to let her body fall across his shoulder and carried her out to the balcony this way, into the overcast night. A wind came up as he sat her on the rail in front of him and held her tight under her arms, standing between her bare legs.

Iris moaned, cold, but didn't open her eyes.

Teddy brought his hands away slowly. Her head lowered. As her body came toward him he placed his hands against her shoulders to push her upright, to let her tilt back just a speck, there. Then took his hands away and watched her go off the balcony without a sound, her body turning over as it dropped into the night.

An eight-point-five, Teddy thought. Nice execution, but 'ey, she didn't keep her feet together.

They were coming out of the house now. The cop and a woman in a dark coat. It looked like the woman from the funeral home, Linda.

Teddy saw himself slipping the car into gear, creeping up the street silently toward the Datsun. Time it, get almost there and pop the lights on and as the cop came around to the street side of the Datsun and stood close to it as he saw the headlights coming, shoot him going by.

Except that he wasn't ready. He'd have to have his gun out, the window open on the pa.s.senger side...He should've thought of it sooner. Except what if the cop had a gun and had time to shoot back and hit his mom's car? How would he explain it?

No, it seemed like a good idea and it was a good place, dark and lonely. But it wasn't what he wanted. He wanted to see the cop's eyes again just before and wanted the cop to see his. Hi. Remember me?

17.

TURNING ONTO ATLANTIC AVENUE Vincent said, "I've tailed cars for a living, but I've never been tailed myself, that I know of." He glanced at the rearview mirror.

Linda turned in the front seat to look back. "All I see are headlights. Are you sure?"

"When the same car turns the same corners you do, it's a good bet."

"I thought you were lost. Which one is it?"

"It's three back. Looks like a Chevy, light color, maybe yellow."

"Do you know who it is?"

"I think it's a guy who usually drives an Eldorado, but somebody broke his window so he borrowed a friend's car. Or else it's a friend of the guy who drives the Eldorado."