City of the Lost (23 page)

I check in with Gabriela a few times throughout the day. See if Carl’s said anything yet. So far, he’s still out. I tell her I’ll be by later and if anything changes to call me. I don’t need to play nursemaid to him. Darius and Gabriela have that covered.

I’ve got nowhere to be for a few hours. I find myself pacing, cleaning the house, finally putting things back in order from when Giavetti ransacked it. But there’s only so much cleaning a guy can do.

It’s funny how you don’t notice how much time gets taken up by things you have to do until you don’t have to do them anymore. Eating, sleeping. Going to the bathroom.

Seriously, I haven’t gone to the can since this happened to me. Where does it all go? I’m not gaining weight, and god knows I’ve eaten enough. Neumann was a hell of a lot more than a cheeseburger and a side of fries.

I keep checking myself in the mirror for signs of rot. Keep thinking it’s there then decide it’s not. I’m getting stupidly OCD about it and force myself to stop.

I don’t know if I’m going to have an episode tonight after eating Neumann. Hopefully that will tide me over for another day.

I try to sleep. Not because I’m tired, but because then I could close my eyes and pop them open, and it’d be eight hours later.

Instead I get three hundred cable channels of the same stupid bullshit it’s always been. This is what eternity looks like?

By the time I find myself watching an episode of
The View
in Spanish I know it’s time to go.

I head out to the club. They don’t open for another hour, but I want to get there before Giavetti does. The idea of seeing him tonight, especially after hearing about that monster dog he’s got, has me a little spun. So far, nothing’s torn any limbs off of me. I assume they’ll grow back, but I don’t really know.

Hopefully with Frank there Giavetti will have better things to worry about than siccing his dog on me.

The club is still gearing up for the evening. I go in through the back entrance.

The bouncers seem to know I’m coming. They wave me through and give me distance. I get looks that tell me they probably saw last night’s fight.

Without the dim lighting the place looks like a Goth warehouse. The walls flat black, the windows painted over. A DJ is setting up on the stage where last time girls in latex were getting whipped while tied to a crucifix.

One of the bouncers I know, big guy who goes by the name Steroid Harry, is over giving a pep talk to the rest of the crew. They’re shaken, that’s for damn sure. If they didn’t see Giavetti pull out his dog, they heard about it. Heard about Bruno.

I catch Harry’s eye. He heads over when he’s done psyching up his talent.

“Danny tell you what happened last night?” he says.

“Big dog. Bruno in the hospital. Guy wants to see me.”

“That’s the gist of it, yeah.”

“Danny around?”

“Haven’t seen him. Cocksucker better be here. These guys are freaked the fuck out. Half of ’em didn’t even come in tonight.”

I don’t blame them. I don’t really want to be here myself. “Why are you even open?”

“Danny. Goes on this rant about the bottom line. How nobody’s gonna get him to close. Dude, I think he’s lost it. I swear, he better show up.”

“He’ll be here,” I say, knowing he won’t.

I can’t imagine the last few days have been kind to the little cocksucker. Every mob in town sniffing at his heels wanting to pick up where Simon left off. Nobody’s come to me yet, which doesn’t surprise me. They have to know Julio’s dead, and it’s in their best interest to leave me alone. By their thinking, if I get into it they’ll take me out, sure, but some of their people will wind up dead. Give it a week. Then I’ll start getting phone calls.

With all that and Giavetti, the smart money’s on Danny skipping town.

I plant myself at the bar, toss a few drinks back. Wait for the lights to dim and the crowds to show up.

The club fills up before midnight. It’s a very different crowd tonight. Strobe lights, glow sticks. Whistles and pacifiers. Everybody’s chugging bottled water.

Fuck I feel old.

Another hour goes by and no Danny. The light in his office is still out, and I don’t see him. Or smell him. But even through the scents of sweat and drugs filling the club like fog, I do catch a whiff of something familiar.

“Evenin’ Joe,” says a voice at my elbow. I don’t turn, just nurse my drink and try not to snap Giavetti’s neck where people can see. And right now, every bouncer in this place is looking at us.

“Giavetti.”

“Been looking for you, son,” he says, sliding onto the stool next to me.

“So I hear. Doing stupid pet tricks, too, from the sound of it.”

He waves the bartender over, who goes white at the sight of him. She remembers last night just fine. He ignores her look, orders a gin and tonic. She backs away slowly to fill it with shaking hands.

“You use what you’ve got. Sometimes that’s not enough.”

“Saw some of your work up close the other night. You know, I’m in the phone book. Could’ve just popped by any time.”

He shakes his head. “Like you wouldn’t have seen me coming. No, this way I’ve really got your attention, right? Besides, if your buddy in the hotel room had talked, he’d still be around.”

“Think maybe he didn’t know anything?” I say.

“Yeah. Eventually. Took me awhile to figure that one out. Got the job done, though, right?”

I get up from my stool, hand toward my gun, catch myself just as I realize what he’s doing.

He laughs. “You’re easy, you know that? All I have to do is say B-5, and you pop up and yell ‘Bingo.’ Come on. You’re not going to kill me with all these people around. And anyway, I’d just do the morgue drawer two-step again.”

“Was thinking maybe I’d just dump your ass in a cement mixer this time.”

“Like nobody’s done that before. Sit the fuck down. We have things to discuss.”

I slide back onto my stool, force myself to calm down.

“Way I see it, there are two people who could have the stone,” Giavetti says. He sips at his drink. “You or your cop buddy, and he’s too stupid to know what it is.”

I think about that for a second. Could Frank have it? I ditch the idea almost as fast as it forms. No. I can’t buy that. Giavetti’s right. Frank’s nothing but mindless rage and confusion now. I can’t see him knowing how important the stone is. If Frank had it, he’d have done something with it by now.

“Stone won’t help you without Neumann’s book,” I say. “You still have that?”

He stares at me a beat long enough to know that I’ve hit a nerve. “All right, so you’ve been digging. Which means you know the Kraut’s looking for it, too.”

“Not anymore, he’s not. I killed him today.”

The music fills in the silence between us. I can almost smell the gears burning in his head. How much do I know? Do I have it? Can I do anything with it?

“Well good for you. My offer’s still solid, you know. Get the stone to me, I’ll bring you back.”

I make a show of considering it. Sip my scotch. Watch the floor show a bit.

Where the fuck is Frank? There’s only so much stalling I can do.

“You know I’ve got it,” I say. I show him my hand. Not a blemish on it. “Not on me, no, but you know what happens if I’m away from it too long, don’t you?” I study his eyes and see the surprise there. “Yeah, I figured that one out already. So, you know what? You gotta do better.”

“I don’t haggle.”

“Fine. I’ve already got another buyer set up. You don’t want it, I’ll just go there.” I polish off my drink, stand up.

“Hang on.” He waves me back to my seat, orders me another scotch. “Son, you’re probably the only man in this shithole town with a pair on him. You want to haggle, we haggle. What’s this ‘other buyer’ giving you?”

“We both know you can’t bring me back to life, so stop yanking my chain. But if you can make it so I don’t rot away, the stone’s yours.”

“All right,” he says. “I can do that.”

“And I know you’ll try to screw me over. Which is why you get it once you fix me up.”

“Kids these days. No respect for their elders. Son, if I want to screw you over, I can think of a dozen ways just off the top of my head. I’ve had a long time doing this. I’m—”

“About seven hundred years old. Yeah, I know.”

Giavetti’s looking at me the same way he did when he had me locked away. Not sure what to make of me. Not sure what to do with me.

“Well,” he says, all traces of his Chicago accent gone. “So you know more about me than I thought. Congratulations.” His voice is thick and Italian. The hard as nails, Chicago mobster act fades away to a smooth, cultured tone. The gravel gone from his voice. “Not many people figure that one out.”

“I’m special. Like Jerry’s Kids. You know, I saw the security tapes from the morgue. Did you know one of the interns fucked you while you were out? Seriously, they have some messed up people working there.”

“You done, kid? Or you got more to get out of your system?” The Chicago is creeping back into his voice. I wonder if he can ever really let go of it. How many personas has he had to hang onto himself? Does he even really know who he is anymore?

I make a show of thinking about that. “Yeah,” I say. “I’m done.”

“Fine,” he says. “So I fix you up, I get the stone.”

“Mmmm. No.”

“The fuck you mean, no?” he says.

“Changed my mind.” Where the fuck is Frank?

“This is horseshit. The fuck do you want, huh? What, do I need to get on my knees and blow you right here?”

“There’s a thought.”

“You’re pissing me off, kid,” he says. “Last time I’m gonna ask. The fuck do you want?”

“Cash. A huge fucking wad of cash. I want a fistful of thousands and a start in a new town. Between you, Neumann, that fucking cop, and the bullshit going on in this joint, this has been the worst goddamn week I’ve ever had. I’d just as soon pull up stakes and head someplace else.”

“How much are you talking?”

“A quarter million. That, and keep me from going all George Romero, and you get the stone.”

“You’re out of your fucking mind.”

“That’s the deal.”

Giavetti taps his fingers on the bar, thinking hard. “Gonna take me time to get that much cash. Can’t do it tonight. Tomorrow night, though. I’ll bring the money. You bring the stone. That work for you?”

I catch a whiff of Aqua Velva behind us and relax. Time to let this one close. “Tomorrow’s fine,” I say.

“Tomorrow’s fine for what?” Frank steps in behind us. Need to work on that.

“Why, if it isn’t Barney Fife,” Giavetti says. “Evening officer.”

“Funny meeting you two here,” Frank says. He’s dressed as casually as he can be, in a Hawaiian shirt and slacks. But his body language screams police. He could have taken a cue from some of the vice cops that come in here.

“What, with me being dead and all?” Giavetti says.

“Pull up a chair, detective,” I say. “Join the chat.”

Giavetti gives me a what-the-fuck-are-you-doing look, but I ignore him. What I’m wondering is where Frank’s backup is, and how come they didn’t swarm in and grab Giavetti. Frank could have gotten him on some bullshit charge. God knows he’s done it to me enough times.

Frank’s got the manila envelope in his hand. Same one he showed me in the diner.

“Didn’t think you’d remember me,” Frank says.

“I never forget an asshole. Especially one that kills me. You don’t seem surprised.”

Frank opens the envelope and pulls reports, photos, everything he showed me. Plops them in front of Giavetti.

Giavetti leafs through the papers, chuckling at some of the pictures, scowling at others.

“Wow. I used to be one handsome motherfucker, huh? You’ve really done your homework, son. I’m impressed. You want to tell me what this is about?”

Frank pulls one last picture out of the envelope and places it in front of him. Giavetti stares at it for a few moments, looks at Frank.

“Oh. Him. Yeah, I remember him. So, it’s revenge, then? Well, you killed me already. Congratulations.” He sips at his drink.

This is not going the way I expected. I should have known this would happen. Of course, Frank isn’t going to act like a cop. He’s been hunting this sonofabitch down for too long. He’s got some sort of plan, and I’m not a part of it. Jesus, I’m an idiot.

“I’m not here to kill you,” Frank says. He hands Giavetti a folded piece of paper.

Giavetti takes it, tentative. He opens it and reads what’s inside. No reaction. I’m watching this whole thing like it’s playing out in a movie.

“What are you doing, Frank?”

“Shut up, Joe. You got yours.” What the fuck does that mean?

Giavetti looks up at Frank. “I’ll think about it.”

“You do that. But don’t wait too long. Time’s running out.”

Frank stands up. Doesn’t even look at me. Turns to go. I grab his arm, and he shakes it off.

“Don’t,” he says, seething, and stalks off into the crowd. I start to go after him, but Giavetti stops me.

“That was an amazing coincidence, wasn’t it? Him showing up here like that? Why it’s almost like he knew I was going to be here.”

“Don’t look at me,” I say lamely. There’s no pulling out, now that it’s all gone to shit.

“Of course,” he says. “Whatever could I have been thinking? So you bring the stone here tomorrow night, and I show up with a quarter mil in cash. I solve your problem. You solve mine. Everybody’s happy. You good?”

No, I’m not good. I’m fucked. I watch Frank fade into the crowd. I don’t know what the hell just happened, but it’s bad whatever it is.

“I’m good,” I say, because I can’t think of anything else.

Giavetti stands.
I start to follow him. He puts his finger up to stop me. “No,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Don’t follow me. My little doggie won’t like it.”