Mr. Paradise A Novel (14 page)

Carl said, “You pay Lloyd?”

“He owed me, I got him off on those early beefs in his youth. But now a few weeks ago Lloyd tells me the situation’s changed. Montez isn’t getting the house after all. He acted uppity and it pissed off the old man. Now his granddaughter gets the house. Then this morning I’m talking to Lloyd, he tells me there were two girls there last night. Chloe, the old man’s girlfriend, and Kelly, her roommate. I spent four hundred and fifty bucks on Chloe one time and it was a highly memorable occasion.” Avern touched his thinning gray hair, smoothing a spot. “She was in
Playboy
and her rate jumped up to nine hundred an hour.”

Art said, “The fuck’re you talking about?”

The waitress came with their order, the table quiet as she served them, a pause in the conversation. Geeja said, “What’re you guys doing, telling dirty jokes?”

She left and Carl said to Art, “So Montez called . . .”

“Fuckin smoke says he won’t have it tomorrow.”

Avern stepped in.

“But he
will
pay, believe me. I have to wait for my end the same as you. But I know Montez and I’m absolutely sure he’ll come through. The money’s from the old man, paying for his own hit. He put stock in Montez’ name. Montez sells it for enough to cover expenses. But his broker wants him to wait just another day or so, make a few more bucks.”

Carl said, “He’s in the stock market?”

“Everyone is,” Avern said, “or was. Tony gave him some blue chips he’s been sitting on. I said to Montez, well, okay, but he’d have to add another ten to the contract or you guys’d be after him.”

Carl said to Art, “He tell you that?”

“Yeah, and I told him it had to be another ten each. He said okay.”

“You believe him?”

“I told him he don’t come through he’s a dead nigger.”

“Both concise and reasonably coercive,” Avern said. “Now then, if you’d like to hear about the next one—”

“Three dead Mexicans,” Carl said to Art. “Somebody’s looking for a payback.”

“I’m negotiating with him now,” Avern said.

“One of ’em cut up,” Carl said to Art. “I imagine with a machete.”

“A chain saw,” Avern said. “I’m talking to the head of the gang, the posse the three guys belonged to. I explain to Chino—”

Art said, “That’s his fuckin name, Chino?”

“It’s what he’s called.”

“How do you know him?”

Avern was patient with his ethnic hitters, his guinea and his polack. He said, “Again, hanging out at Frank Murphy, where the action is. I explained to Chino how he can enjoy satisfaction for his loss without becoming involved. I said, ‘Why take a chance with heat on you? Gang squad cops waiting for you to retaliate.’ “

“I live down there,” Carl said, “by Holy Redeemer? You go in that Mex neighborhood, cruise down Vernor, you see a big maroon Lincoln prowling the streets, always three to four detectives in it.”

“Special ops,” Avern said, “known as boosters. The old days they were the Big Four. Rode around in a Buick—four big cops with shotguns, armed to the teeth and looking for trouble. Okay, back to the gay caballeros.”

Art said, “The dead guys were queers?”

“Forget I used that expression,” Avern said, “it doesn’t mean anything.”

Art said, “What’d you say it for?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” Avern said. “Okay. The three Mexicanos delivered a hundred pounds of weed to a dealer’s house, a black guy they’ve been doing business with. But something happened and they end up dead in the guy’s basement. Check the house. It might have police tape around it, but no one’s there now. It could give you a lead on the guy. I got his name from a kid who works for Professional Recovery Service—they picked up the bodies.”

Carl said, “You met this kid at Frank Murphy one time?”

“Actually he’s the brother of a guy I once represented,” Avern said. “The guy you want to pop, his name is Orlando Holmes.”

C
ARL AND
A
RT ORDERED
a couple more Coronas and decided, yeah, they’d do the tequila again. What was on Carl Fontana’s mind weren’t dead Mexicans or this jig Orlando, it was the guy who’d just left.

“He knows everybody in town,” Carl said, “as long as they’re felons. Friendly man, isn’t he? Runs into Montez, they have a drink and he gets a contract. Runs into Lloyd and has a drink, gets information. Runs into Chloe, who wasn’t suppose to be there—”

“And gets fucked,” Art said. “What might be happening to us.”

“Well, now you’re catching on,” Carl said. “I never felt right about this one, now I’m starting to see why. Avern says walk in and shoot the old man ’cause Montez Taylor feels sorry for him and will cash in stock the old man gave him to be out of his misery sitting there with that naked girl.”

Art said, “I never heard of a smoke owning stock.”

Carl said, “I think Avern wants to put us on his dumbest criminals list and tell Lloyd, have a good laugh over it.”

“You ever see him?”

“Who?”

“Lloyd.”

Carl shook his head. He took a swig of Corona from the bottle. Art did too.

Carl said, “I think Avern had to make that story up in a hurry, about the stock. Threw it out there and kept talking, couldn’t wait to get to the dead Mexicans.”

Art said, “The one chainsawed, I imagine they cut him in five pieces.”

Carl said, “I think Avern and Montez might be partners in this deal.”

Art said, “I mean six pieces.”

Carl said, “Shit, or it was Avern’s idea to kill the old man in the first place. Avern gets his cut as our agent, but what’s Montez get out of it?”

“You hear him?” Art said. “Avern hasn’t been paid his end either?”

“You believe it?”

“I think he would’ve tore up the unwritten contract.”

“Yeah, but you hear how he talks about Montez? How he trusts him, knows we’ll get paid? Shit, Avern’s running it. We got to find out what the deal is here.”

They picked up their tequilas, flipped the shots down and took swigs off their Coronas.

Carl said, “You want another?”

“I wouldn’t mind.”

“You mentioned this Lloyd a minute ago.”

“I asked did you ever see him.”

“If you haven’t, I haven’t.”

“He must live right there.”

Carl said, “If he’s the houseman. Avern says Lloyd owes
him a couple, so he’s got him keeping an eye on Montez, find out what he’s up to. I believe that. I think part of what Avern said when he was lying was true. See, then when Montez came to him with the contract, shit, Avern knew Montez was looking at a payoff.”

Art was listening, nodding his head of John Gotti hair.

“Pissed ’cause he wasn’t getting the house. He told Avern what the deal was, to get his help, or he told this Lloyd and he told Avern.”

Art squinted with a faint smile. “How’d you figure all that out?”

“Like laying bricks,” Carl said.

“All this time,” Art said, “I thought it was Connie had you acting weird.”

Carl said, “Jesus Christ, don’t bring her up.” He thought about the situation again before saying, “We put a gun to Avern’s head, he’ll think up another story and we might believe it. We can’t call Montez on it, we shoot him we don’t get paid.” Carl said, “Shit, I think what we have to do is talk to this Lloyd.”

Art waved to Geeja to come over.

Carl said, “How you figure the Mex was cut in
six
pieces?”

FIFTEEN

DELSA BROUGHT JACKIE MICHAELS
along with an empty cardboard box to drive Kelly home, telling her, “Jackie can look through Chloe’s things, maybe see something I’d miss.” He swapped handbags with her, giving Kelly the black Vuitton and taking Chloe’s brown one. Kelly didn’t say a word in the backseat of the car. They parked at the front entrance and went up to the loft. Delsa noticed the photos still on the kitchen counter. Jackie went into Chloe’s bedroom with the box.

And now Kelly said, “Frank, would you help me off with my boots? I forgot when I put them on, you need a roommate to get them off.” To Delsa they looked old and worn enough to slide off her feet. She sank into the sofa on her spine and told him to straddle the leg she extended, his back to her, and pushed against his rear end with the other foot as he pulled off a boot and then did it again. Kelly said, “You suppose cowboys help each other off with their boots—out on the lone prairiee?”

Delsa tried to picture it and said, “Maybe some.” He straightened feeling awkward and watched her pick up a book from the bamboo coffee table, what looked like an old book but still wearing a dust jacket.

“I want to read something to you, get your reaction.”

She opened the book to a page with a corner turned down and leafed back a few pages.

“Here it is. The girl says, ‘If you want me to, I’ll love you. I know you better now.’ “

She looked up at him, Delsa in his duffle coat hanging open. “They’ve just met, but she knows about him. He’s a playwright with a recent opening in New York. What she’s saying is, if you want to get it on, let’s go. Have an affair in this small town in Vermont. And he says”—Kelly looking at the book again—“ ‘Don’t love me, Sheila. I can’t reciprocate.’ “

She looked up at him and Delsa said, “Yeah . . . ?”

“Would you want to see one of his plays?”

“When was the book written?”

“I checked after I read the line, 1967. Did people talk like that then?”

“I was a year old.”

“In that situation would you say you can’t reciprocate?”

“What’s the situation? Do I like her?”

“You barely know her, but she’s attractive, easy to talk to, intelligent. She’s cool.”

“Then I’d probably reciprocate,” Delsa said, “before too long.”

Kelly said, “Why not, uh?” She said, “How long have you been alone? I mean since your wife died?”

“A year in July.”

“I remember you said you don’t have kids. What was her name, your wife?”

Where was she going with this?

He said, “Maureen.”

“She have a job or was she a homemaker?”

“She was a cop,” Delsa said. “She ran Sex Crimes.”

Kelly said, “Wow,” barely above a whisper.

“You want to know if I’m looking around?” Delsa said. “I thought I ought to wait at least a year.”

Kelly said, “Why? Are you Sicilian?”

She didn’t smile. Still, he knew she was kidding. What she was saying was why wait.

Jackie came out of the bedroom with a copy of
Playboy
she handed to Delsa, open. “An interesting shot of the complainant. I put some things in the box, credit card bills, bank statements, a few letters that should give us next of kin. Why don’t you have a look in there. You can put the magazine in the box.”

Delsa walked off and Jackie stood looking around the loft. She wore a long black quilted coat and wished now she’d worn extensions, a bunch of dreadlocks to come on with a more fierce look.

“You have a killer pad here,” Jackie said. “All this space, you can have parties with live music, play touch football naked, do anything you want. You have a lot of parties?”

“Hardly ever,” Kelly said, on her feet now.

“Like the quiet affairs better. Some friends you can be yourself with. Some exotic incense burning, a big pitcher of alexanders. You like gin or brandy in yours?”

“Gin.”

“Montez over here much?”

Looking up at the ficus as she said it and hearing Kelly’s surprised voice say no. “Why would you think that?”

Looking at her now. “All the time you’ve known him?”

“I didn’t know him. I met him last night.”

“You leave when he comes to see Chloe?”

“He was never here.”

“Okay, but she must’ve talked about him, as roommates do, confide things? You know what I’m saying?”

Had her on the ropes. The girl frowning.

“You tell me he’s never been here,” Jackie said, “we’ll be getting off to a bad start.”

I
N THE CAR DRIVING
back to 1300 Jackie said, “I thought I had her, but she stood up to me. Does not know Montez. Never saw him at the loft or before last night.”

Delsa said, “You believe her?”

“I want to believe she’s got nothing to do with Mr. Montez Taylor.”

“He makes her nervous.”

“You know what I mean. The girl’s holding back. Tells us—maybe I should say
admits
Montez wants her to be Chloe.”

“Needs her to be Chloe,” Delsa said. “Needs to use her, I’m pretty sure the old man left Chloe something on the side, not in his will, that Montez knows about. And he’s using Kelly to get his hands on it.”

“Yeah, but you see where you’re going?” Jackie said. “It means Kelly knows about it, too, but hasn’t told anybody.”

Delsa nodded looking straight ahead past the windshield wipers working at the Renaissance Center, seven hundred feet of glass standing against a sky full of sleet.

“She cops on Montez,” Jackie said, “to get her name back. No harm done, it’s her word against his. He’s on the street and she can become Chloe again any time she wants. But this chick’s spotless. Looks like a movie star. Is she willing to commit fraud, risk going to jail? Risk her
life
dealing with Montez? Frank, what’s her game? She has to make all kinds of money showing herself in her underwear. Is she crazy? If she’s only naïve, that’s worse.”

Delsa said, “She hasn’t done anything yet.”

“But thinking about it every minute. Watch her expression she doesn’t know you’re looking.” Jackie said, “Yeah, like that would be a problem. You can’t keep your eyes off her.”

They turned north on St. Antoine, toward the jails and the court and 1300.

She said, “Frank?”

Now she’d tell him to watch his step with Kelly, don’t get carried away and fuck up. He was sure of it.

“What?”

“I interviewed Uncle Lloyd.”

Delsa put his mind back on the case. “Tony Jr. says Lloyd’s paid to see no evil.”

“But he’s out of work now. I went after him hard-nosed,” Jackie said. “I did learn the old man was giving
Montez the house and then changed his mind. Montez, as you can imagine, had a fit. Lloyd seemed pleased to tell me this.”