Peppermint Soul (Liza McNairy Mysteries Book 1) Page 15

  Sally knew. She had to know. She put up with his philandering on account of the lifestyle they led. Not many men made the type of money that Hank Lupo pulled in. And there were the children to think about. Not only that, she'd never been keen on sex. Hell, he doubted Sally ever had an orgasm. Back when they used to do it she didn’t even try to fake it. That bothered him, once. Now, not so much. Some women were frigid and Sally was one of them. Maybe she was happy he took his shit somewhere else and didn’t trouble her with it.

  Paula... now there was a woman. What the hell was she thinking by marrying a man like Allen? Polaski might well have morphed into Picany but he was still a Polack... so dumb he couldn’t walk through a doorway without bumping into it. The Captain knew. That's why he didn’t trust the man. Sharp, the Captain. Could size a person up within ten seconds of meeting them and never was he wrong.

  "You deal with Allen Picany if you want, Lupo. Keep that motherfucker away from me, though. Don't even mention my name around him."

  Picany knew people. The man had business dealings with all the hotshots in California and even beyond. He could get the word out when it came to new enterprises like theirs, ones that couldn’t afford to be advertised through traditional channels. The Captain didn’t care much for Allen Picany but he sure appreciated the money he helped bring in.

  Paula was a perk of their partnership. She liked kink as much as he did... maybe more. To hear her tell it, Allen was pretty much a missionary sort of guy. Pump two or three times, moan and groan, roll over and go to sleep. She'd always hoped for better. Even took to buying sex manuals and leaving them lying about the bedroom. Apparently Allen didn’t notice. If he did, he was an extremely slow learner.

  Why was it some men were blessed with women like Paula Picany and he got stuck with Sally? Luck of the draw, he supposed, or maybe it was destiny. Funny. He'd been married to Sally for thirty years. Couldn’t imagine life without her. Yet had he ever loved the woman? Then again, for that matter, had he ever loved any woman?

  Chapter 24—Drowning

  (In Air)

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  "I thought that asshole might arrest us, Danners."

  "He's your friend, Liza. But then again that's probably what saved us... at least for now."

  She felt better now after slipping into the little lady's room to dust her nose. Danners knew, of course. He always knew. Bless him for not saying anything. She didn’t need a lecture today. And being the man he was, her partner sensed that. She'd worked with lots of men before, especially during her career with the Sheriff's Department. Not many women in that line of work. Not in those days. Today things were changing, but from what she saw most of the new women hires were dykes. Hell, what did that matter? She couldn’t put a finger on exactly why, but it did.

  "I'm surprised that Johm put us in his book. Guess it must have been to remind himself of our appointment."

  "Or to cover his ass, Liza. He suspected us of something."

  "Why didn’t you tell me that, Danners?"

  "I didn’t realize it until just now. You know how things work for me, Liza. Everything takes time. I can't force it. The answers have to come to me on their own. I'm sorry."

  "What else aren’t you telling me, DanDan?"

  "Your friend Hank Lupo wonders how we found Johm without the name being in the files he gave to us. If he knew that, we might well be sitting inside a jail cell at this moment."

  "Why didn’t he ask us?"

  "He's saving it."

  "To implicate us in the murder?"

  "Exactly. If they can build probable cause, they'll issue a warrant, Liza."

  "Who else knew about Johm, Danners?"

  "Allen Picany... that's the name that keeps boiling up in my mind."

  "Maybe our questions brought up old memories better left dormant?"

  "Quite possibly, Liza. But one thing doesn’t make sense."

  "He didn’t know that the real Johm had died... or did he?"

  "I got the impression Picany was telling the truth about Johm. There was no deception, Liza. He told us what he believed to be fact."

  "Okay... if not Picany, then who? Who else would have profited from Johm's death?"

  "I wish I knew, Liza. I need time."

  "That's the one thing we might not have a lot of, DanDan. We're not going to solve this while sitting behind bars."

  She shouldn’t have bumped. It gave her a momentary boost but now the muddle was setting in. The lethargy. The nod. She felt the will draining from her like day old bathwater running out of the tub. She didn’t like the look on Hank's face just now. She'd seen it before, but never directed toward her. Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a moment... take some time.

  Don't worry, Lizzi... no one will ever take me away from you.

  I love you, Lissi. Do you remember how the ponies ran?

  Of course I do, sissi. I love you too. A thousand kisses deep.

  Jesus... she needed to snap out of it. For just a second she really thought she could hear Lissi talking to her. Was Danners looking at her funny? Probably. The man had a nose for ghosts.

  "I need to talk to Marcy. Care to go by Rambo's for a drink later, Danners?"

  "It might be better if I wait in the car, Liza. She'll be more apt to open up to you alone."

  He was right, of course. Christ, she hated going in places like Rambo's alone, though. Leave it to the business men types to hit on anything with two legs, and when they got a good gander at her blonde hair and triple Ds, they'd be lining up to buy her drinks. She figured she had two choices: she could dress up and intimidate them, or dress down and frighten them away. At least she could write off the night as a

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  Business expense. She learned long ago how to milk the system. Per diem plus expenses, that was the deal. Two thousand a day split down the middle, and as long as they were on the clock—which amounted to twenty four hours a day while working a case—the clients paid for anything extra... food, travel, lodgings, even entertainment.

  She planned on retiring one of these days. Maybe buy a cottage in Scotland, home of her ancestors, the land of kilts and bagpipes. Hold the bagpipes, please. Kidnap Danners. Drug him. Stick him in a suitcase. By the time he woke up he'd be kissing the Blarney Stone and singing Auld Lang Syne. Oh wait... wasn't the Blarney Stone in Ireland? What of it, though. None of that shit was happening anyhow. Yep. You're a long time deid, Liza. Long time deid.

  He'd take her there tomorrow if she asked. Danners would take her anywhere. There were times when she thought he might actually love her yet that gap remained between them... a distance that seemed too great to cross. She'd long ago sworn off men, and Danners? He'd never been with a woman once, or so he claimed.

  "How is that possible, DanMan? Aren't you just a little curious?"

  "Not until now, sweetness."

  What did he mean by that? All those little sexual innuendos they hurled back and forth... did any of them mean a thing to him? To her? She kept testing Danners, teasing him, taunting him with kisses and flaunting her body. Waiting for him to respond somehow. It'd become a grand game. Bag a fag. Boot a fruit. Roll a homo. Bunk a punk. Oh yeah... she wore it well. The coveted turn a queen role. Might even win a fucking Oscar for her work... all the world's stage, DanBoy.

  Why don't you just fuck me. Just do it. Take one for the Gipper. Find out what it's like. What it's all about. Maybe you'll enjoy this fine sweet stuff of mine. Like wine. No one else ever complained. At least not that she remembered. She'd have to make the first move. After ten years, that much was apparent. The problem was: she'd been raised in a traditionally submissive household. At least until...

  Don't go there, Lizzi. You'll only drown in your own tears. But maybe that's what I need, Lissi. To be with you again. No it isn’t, Lizzi. Our time will come. Just keep believing. But for how long, Lissi? I'm so tired. For as long as it takes, little Lizzi. For as long as it takes.

  What did it mean that the only person in the world who unders
tood her had been dead for twenty years? Only that she was making all that shit up inside her head. Dead sisters don't communicate with the living. Not like that. Lissi was gone. Long gone. Was she simply overlaying her fixation with Danners Forthright on what few memories remained of Lissi McNairy? Old Freud would probably say she just wanted to fuck her own father and be done with it, and sure, Danners was old enough to fill that part. Or was it Jung? Hell, she got all those dead white men mixed up. What the hell did any of them know?

  "I guess I just miss you, Lissi."

  "Did you say something to me, Liza?"

  Yeah. I said don’t be such a fucking pussy. Take a chance. Risk it, DanMan. Don’t make me do all the work. I'm getting tired. You've hooked me. Now reel me in. Don't leave me out here drowning in air.

  "No, sweetie. I was just talking to my better self is all."

  Chapter 25—Winning and Losing

  (Bakers and Candlestick Makers)

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  So the warning didn’t work. Too bad. He'd hate it if something awful happened to that pretty private detective's face. That faggot probably thought it was a crank call and paid it no mind. Well... that was too bad, on so many levels.

  "Hank... get in here. We need to talk."

  Tact wasn’t his strong suit. Even with old acquaintances like Hank Lupo. A few chosen men were meant to be leaders, the rest followers. That's how the world worked. Always had. Always would. Things must've been a lot simpler way back in the cave man days. Kick a few asses and everyone fell into line. Nowadays, not so much. Always some mealy mouthed motherfucker spouting off about discrimination and whatnot.

  "What is it, Captain?"

  "Tell me more about those dicks that Picany hired. You know them, right?"

  "Sure, I know them. You do too. Well, you know McNairy. She used to serve under you."

  "You're not feeding them anything."

  "Of course not... nothing substantive."

  "Keep it that way. We've got a fine thing going, Hank. Those two could wreck everything."

  Why was he the only one who seemed to see the danger? Hell, for a little taste of that pussy, Lupo was liable to lead those two supposed psychics right to the pot at the end of the rainbow. No. Only one of them was a psychic. Oh, who the fuck cared. They needed to be stopped.

  From the feel of things he'd need to bring someone in from outside. Maybe even the old country. Someone without any records on file in the States. More and more that was a tall order to fill, especially with homegrown wiseguys. They were all so anxious to make marks that they were sloppy from the beginning. What with the advent of the national DNA database most all the petty crooks were already in the system by the time they reached their teens.

  A well-placed jar of acid thrown into McNairy's face would doubtlessly put an end to their investigation. And if not, well, a bullet through the brain certainly would. Still, maybe he ought to talk to Hank Lupo one more time. See if the man could talk some sense into his former squeeze.

  "Listen, Hank... if you've got any pull with those two private dicks—any say at all—get them to back off. Talk to Picany. Tell him to drop this shit before it gets out of hand."

  "I'll try, Captain."

  Jesus Christ... do more than try. Take the initiative. Be a man for once in your life instead of running after that poontang all the time. Keep that goddamned candlestick maker under wraps, Lupo. Why in hell did I ever think you could be a player? You're just like all the other losers in a world full of them.

  "Get out of here, Lupo."

  The Captain didn’t like using overt force, at least not if it could be avoided. No. It was better if people simply wised up. Did as they were told. Calling the faggot didn’t work. Maybe sending a little message to McNairy would. A calling card, as it were. Something to let her know that someone serious was watching and not liking what they were seeing.

  He wouldn’t mind doing it himself. But that was too risky. Even in a mask McNairy might well recognize him, and then his hand would be forced. No. He'd hire a couple street thugs. Guys who didn’t give a damn. Goons. There were plenty of them around. Guys who'd show the girl a good time and do it nearly for free. Just for the thrill of it.

  From the word on the street, McNairy had a habit of going down to Compton every so often. There was only one reason for that... the girl was dabbling in the junk. Had a monkey crawling on her back that needed to be fed. The Captain didn’t know anyone from that neighborhood but he knew people that might. Yeah... it'd be a shame if a pretty young thing like that was savaged by gangsters. Might make her think. Hell, the faggot she traveled with would probably enjoy it, though.

  Maybe it'd be best to just sit on it for now. Consider his options. Hank Lupo had a thing for McNairy. Now that the Captain made it known that he was unhappy with the girl snooping around and getting too close to the truth maybe Lupo would put out some feelers himself. Lead the two of them away from any meaningful investigation. Let them pin things on Johm and Olay. They were both

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  Out of the picture anyway. Figuratively and literally. It was a shame to lose Johm. The doctor... not so much. He'd lived past his expiration date anyhow. What the hell was Olay thinking? They were reaping millions doing their own thing and yet he had to dabble with pushing pills too? That kind of shit would only end badly. No one cared so much if a few street people vanished from time to time but start over-prescribing pills and the Feds were all over that shit.

  Johm'd be hard to replace. The man was a true soldier. Ready to do whatever his orders called for. Yeah, Johm liked to dance around edges at times but all artists were like that. You just had to know how to handle them. Keep 'em on a leash but give them plenty of play.

  "What are you doing hanging around here, boy? Looking for trouble?"

  "No, sir, Captain sir. I want to join the Navy too. I'm just scoping things out."

  The kid must've been thirteen years old. Skinny. Big hands and feet. Like a puppy who needed to grow into himself. What struck the Captain was how the boy knew what his rank was just by looking at his uniform. How many brats that age could do that? Not many.

  "See anything worth stealing, son?"

  "Maybe... '

  "Don't anything leave this base without me getting a cut... understand me, boy? Tell me your name. And don't fucking lie to me."

  "Baker... Jonathan Baker."

  "Good. Now, Jonathan Baker... you're going to tell me exactly where you live and the names of your parents and any brothers and sisters you might have. Do me dirty even once and they'll all die. And not easy like... oh no. They'll suffer. Understand me?"

  "I don't give a shit, Captain. Kill them all. Torture 'em to death. Won't faze me a bit. Hell, I might even help you."

  Why you cold little son of a bitch. I do believe I could use a man like you. Well... a man like you'll become. Yeah. But talk's cheap. How about a test, you crazy ass motherfucker?

  "Hard ass... huh? Okay. We'll see how tough you really are. See that pervert hanging out on the dock over there?"

  The old man bothered him. Maybe it was his offhand resemblance to the Captain's own father, bastard that he was, ball-busting motherfucker. Or perhaps it pissed him off how the cocksucker just sat there fishing day after day while the rest of the world was engaged in dutiful labor aimed at the betterment of humanity. Either way, the worn out old asshole would finally serve a purpose.

  "Yeah... I see him."

  "Bring me his hands and his feet tomorrow morning."

  "Sure enough, Captain. You got it."

  Loyalty was a

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  Hard thing to quantify. Most people told you what you wanted to hear. Not Johm, though. He always told you like it was. Even if it was hard to bear, he'd tell it anyway. You could count on Johm. Was he a sick demented fuck? Sure he was. But so was everyone. They'd learned to hide it under a veneer—thick or thin—of civility but the sickness was still there, the disease, lurking in the shadows. Liable to emerge unannounced and unlooked for at
the most inopportune of times.

  A man knew exactly what he was getting with Johm. Yeah, he had his flaws: he liked to show off a bit too much... he was way too obsequious at times... but the pluses far outweighed any minuses. Johm didn’t give a fuck about anyone or anything... unless you gave him a reason to.

  "I've got what you wanted, sir."

  The boy appeared early the next morning holding a shoebox under one arm. Nonchalant, as if he was presenting his teacher an assignment from the day before... which indeed he was. He waited until the Captain asked for it before handing the box over.

  "You did well, son. How'd you like to partner with me?"

  "Does that mean I'll be a part of the Navy, Captain?"

  "Yes, it does. You'll be my ensign. And today you've earned your first medal."

  "You haven’t even looked into the box I brought you."

  "I don’t have to look inside this box, boy. I trust you. That's a heavy burden, son. Are you up to it?"

  "I am."

  "Well... we'll see about that. I have some duties to perform now. Come back later tonight. Be here about the time the sun sets. I have more work for you. Plus I'll have that medal."

  Jesus, was that really thirty years ago? No. More like thirty five. They'd made a lot of money together. Of course Johm was never much interested in that part. His talents lay in the more esoteric nature of the work. The thrill of the hunt, perhaps, or simply the rush of the kill. The Captain didn’t begrudge him that. In fact, that was why he chose Johm in the first place, or rather Baker. He gotten so used to thinking of him as Johm it was difficult to remember the boy any other way.

  With his death, that long buried part of Johm would be reincarnated. No worries there, though. Nothing of Baker or Johm could be traced back to the Captain. But those private dicks... they might just re-ignite the dormant ashes of Baker's life and end up burning down a lot more than simply his past. That shit needed to come to a stop. Now. He picked up his phone and dialed a number rarely used but always at the ready.