The Waiting Game (Garvey Fields) (11 page)

She let out a little airy chuckle, “this is stupid really what I should have done was call McKinley. He’s got way more weight than you and could protect me better, but he wouldn’t believe me. I was hoping that you would understand me though. I didn’t invite him you know. We are the only people that know he’s here.”

She started to rub my thigh and then began to shake with fear.

“The fuck I can’t handle him, yesterday I kicked his ass and he had a gun and he shot at me. I’d kick his ass in three moves.

She stopped shaking now and started to rub my leg some more, working her way up to my manliness. Right there on that nice couch she was going to ride me cowgirl and then I was going to throw that dumb ass out on his ass.

Her eyes seemed heavily lidded like she wanted to sleep. I hoped she wasn't ready to fall asleep yet, I wanted to cowgirl. But I needn’t have worried. She brought her lips so close to my right ear, which tickled a little, and whispered, into my ear.

"I'm not wearing any panties. I just thought you should know that."

My heart rate went up and I became improbably harder and began to wish I hadn’t worn suit trousers

She
 
sat back with a little smirk on her face, looking rather pleased with herself and evidently waiting to measure my response. I didn’t have anything to lose so I put my right hand on her knee, leaned close and as I kissed her, slipped my hand into her sweats and along her thigh. I found naked and continued to work my way upwards, my fingertips pushed into her hot, yielding flesh.

No knickers.

My rage was straining against my trousers as our lips separated and I took my hand out of her sweats.

I sat back and she moved forward, starting to undo my zipper. She reached in and found me, slowly she began to ease me out.

“You know it couldn’t have been my gun though,” she said breathlessly.

“Yeah baby keeping doing… what?”

I was almost all the way out of my trousers now and she was stroking me as she spoke. “you said any beautiful woman could get to him with a gun, well tonight it appears to be my gun.”

I pushed her off me, I didn’t want to though. What I wanted was some cowgirl action and to resolve the outstanding issue afterwards, but I had a feeling that whatever she wanted me to do this was her idea of payment.

I put myself away and fixed my zipper, “what’s going on?”

“He’s not drunk Garvey,” she said gently, almost soothingly. “He’s dead in my bed with is gun in his hand. You didn’t just think he was drunk did you?”

I stood up and straightened out my suite, “frankly Lucy I don’t think I cared.”

5

H
er bedroom was at the front of the house over the garage. She had locked the door and now opened it as though an angry tiger awaited us inside. I went in past her silently, the room’s curtains were closed and the room was lit by a dim bedside lamp.

The artist formerly known as Marley One was in the middle of the bed, he looked larger and more like a mannequin in death. He lay on his back with half open eyes and his dreadlocks were spread around his head like a modernist interpretation of a halo. He was wearing a black gym shorts and a white Crooks and Castles t-shirt that had a hole in it over where his heart would be. Around the hole was a large dark patch like ink captured by blotting paper. There was little blood on neck too.

“Well, I guess we all leave eventually,” I said to myself.

Lucy went over to and sat on what looked like an Eames chair only it cream leather. Her room was nice, like my place she’d gone for minimalism. The bed was large and shaped like a sleigh; she had bedside tables with large glasses vases that acted as bedside lamps, the wardrobes were built in and with the exception of a flat screen TV on the wall opposite the bed, the room had no other items, no clutter.

I stopped surveying the room and looked at Marley One again. I lifted his t-shirt and examined the wound. It was right over his heart which should have pumped out blood through the hole obligingly, but there wasn’t that much blood which I took to mean he died instantly.

In his hand was an automatic, his gun hand was on the pillow at angle that suggested it had been thrown back.

“His body positioning looks all artistic like it was staged,” I said. “You sure that’s your gun?”

“I think so, I had it in a desk draw in my office, it wasn’t loaded. I had bullets, someone gave the gun to me, I don’t know how it ended up with bullets in it.”

“Who gave you the gun?”

“I don’t remember, some associate of McKinley.”

“Could Olivia have…?”

“No way, she doesn’t have keys to anything other than the front door.”

“So he just appeared in your bed having been shot by your gun?”

“Hoping you believed me was a long shot, we should just call the police. If you left now you could avoid the commotion.”

“A lack of GSR on your hands would prove you didn’t shoot him.”

“GSR What?”

“Residue left behind after a gun is fired.”

“I could have worn gloves.”

“It would be on your clothes.”

“I could have changed.”

“Don’t you have any faith in the justice system?”

“McKinley would pull string and punish me for the death; this man was going to make him a lot of money.”

“I don’t think we need to call the cops yet. Tell me the sequence of events that led up to you finding the body.”

“Well three times a week I sing at an internet radio station that has a live video feed. I do an hour set with a live band and have a small following on Facebook and Twitter. Anyway, this was one of my nights there. Olivia and I arrived home about ten-thirty and I remembered that I wanted to try the honey rum so I sent her out to get some. The liquor store I usually get booze from is only a few blocks away, I can’t put my finger on why but when I came in the place smelt weird like a bunch of work men had come through. So I opened a few windows and went to my bedroom where I saw him and the gun. I had a little look at the gun once I’d got over the initial fright and realized it was mine. Then I knew I was fucked. I don’t have a clue what to do. Even if the police clear my name I can’t see any major labels wanting to associate themselves with me.”

“How’d he get in?” I demanded all business. I’d finally gotten over the earlier events.

“No idea.”

“Try and think.”

“Well I locked the door, threw off my clothes on the floor with him on the bed and went and had a shower. I need to collect my thoughts. Then I locked the door and went down stairs, Olivia was back by then. So I had a drink for my nerves. Olivia was working in my office so she didn’t realize I was up.”

I waited.

“Honestly that’s it, I have nothing else.”

“Olivia might be hired help but she might be more inquisitive than you think?”

“How long after you moved here did you get Olivia?”

“Same time, she gave me the keys.”

“So she could have had duplicates made?”

She shrugged.

I went to the windows and checked the latches, “was Marley One in love with you?”

“He doesn’t, didn’t, know the meaning of the world love,” she snapped at me. “To love a woman he would have to respect one first. He used to hire porn stars when he was really bored and take Viagra, even filmed that shit and showed his friends. But he didn’t hire the big names, more industry newbies who didn’t really know the lay of the land but had agents who didn’t care who they whored them out to. He screwed up a few girls that way; I hear he called it his own screen test. A couple of years back when I was a backing singer a few small press journalists tried to make something of the fact that we had a couple of meals together. And recently I saw my picture in a few sites saying he was dating me an up and coming starlet.”

“Isn’t that part of the pretense?” I asked.

“It’s bullshit, everyone has a limit. I was telling him at lunch to stop the shit from circulating. Being associated with a man whose life personal life has that level of sickness in it would only infect my profile in negative ways. The man smelt bad, everybody in the business knew about him and we’re talking about a business which is hardly full of pure individuals.”

“Okay, well get yourself a drink whilst I try and figure this thing out a little.”

She stood up and looked at me directly, “I didn’t shoot him. I don’t know how he got into my home tonight. I didn’t even know he was coming and he didn’t have a reason to. It’s up to you if you want to believe me or not. Something about this whole thing is wrong. Marley wouldn’t kill himself.”

“He didn’t kill himself, if he had he would have shot himself in the head, now get that drink.”

She left the room and I pondered the situation. I was willing to put money down that if she was telling the truth, and wasn’t totally convinced about that, someone knew McKinley would get the killing covered up. Which made me think about the note ‘FROM HER BROTHER’. What if he hadn’t paid the money and they wanted to kill him anyway, had the mystery woman’s brother followed him here and done the deed? Maybe they were familiar with McKinley’s operations and knew he would rather pay off cops to keep his name and associates out of the press and courts.

Without Lucy’s soft hands and good looks distracting me the room was silent and lonely. I took out some disposable plastic gloves and a cloth from inside pocket, prized the gun out of Marley One’s hand and wiped it down. Then I took out the magazine and wiped that off too. Then I took out each round and wiped those down. Finally I ejected the one in the breech and wiped that off. Then I did what I hated corrupt cops and some of my old corrupt D.A investigator colleagues for. I placed the reloaded gun back in the dead man’s hand, closed his fingers around the grip and placed his index finger on the trigger, then let his hand drop naturally onto the bed before I turned the safety off.

I even took the time to find the fired round that I then cleaned off and returned to where I had found it. I don’t know why but I checked the closet.

There was a nice mulberry colored gilet hung up on a hook over a hoodie and men’s jeans. On the shoe rack underneath were a pair of what looked like size ten Nike Airforce Ones. On a shelf were some shorts with a monogram on them.

I felt through his jeans pockets delicately, the last thing I wanted was to get stabbed by some kind of pocket knife. I pulled out a money clip with about six thousand dollars in a T-60 money clip, keys to the Lamborghini, a key with a room number on it, Marley One legend above that, and a single key. The single key didn’t have a key ring attached and looked brand new and unscuffed.

I went downstairs and let myself out through the front door which I then shut, the door was open again a second later with the shiny single key. I shut it again and went down to the Lamborghini.

As tempted as I was to drive the jet black supercar I resisted the temptation, fingerprints in a dead man’s ride weren’t going to be a good look if this shit went sideways. I searched the car but it didn’t tell me much, but I found his cell phone, a couple of joints and the cars lease agreement. The cell in my pocket I let myself back into the house for a talk with the tenant.

She was in the living room smoking in between sips of something that wasn’t Spanish honey rum. It looked more like straight vodka. I need to talk with her before she disappeared into a drunken stupor at which point she’d be of no use to anyone.

I sat on the arm of the couch. “Olivia with you all the time? Modeling shoots, radio show, live performances?”

She nodded, “yeah she’s at most things. She knows more about my schedule than I do. He had a key didn’t he, I heard you go outside and let yourself back in again.”

“You said Olivia was with you when you moved into this place. How long ago was that?”

“Well the project started about a year ago, so maybe nine months. Sometimes we entertain people here; make contacts.”

“Anything ever go missing?”

She shrugged, “I wouldn’t like to make allegations but I once saw an invoice for my clothing and there were items on it I hadn’t received. Nothing big, just a dress here and there or some shoes. She’s not paid that much and she’s got an MBA so I think it was just a perk of trade.”

“You think it’s fair?” I asked.

“I work funky hours, sometimes late, sometimes last minute traveling for someone who wants a backing singer with a pretty face or perhaps a girl in a video that can do more than shake her ass. She’s had to crash on my couch more times than you would think, so what if she takes a little off the top. For god’s sake I mean I was born tall and with the right kind of face, my face and figure are my qualifications. How would you like to work for someone you knew wasn’t as smart as you?”

“Okay, can you tell me anything about her? She licks crack rocks, smoke weed or drink too much?”

“I don’t think so, she was pretty straight laced. Why does that matter anyway?”

“It matters because she hocked your keys to someone. To me that much is obvious. You didn’t give him a key, the landlord whoever that is didn’t give him a key, which leave Olivia as the only other person with a key. It’s a simple deduction.”

She sat still for a little while then started to shake her head, my mind started to wonder what she looked like naked.

“This is stupid,” she said pulling me out of my little daydream. “We have to tell the police what happened; no one can get me out of this. They’ll think it was a lovers quarrel and that I shot him, he’s got previous for beating up past girlfriends. Even if I get off it’ll be a suicide in Seagate, it’s time to face up to things. And I can’t pay you anyhow.”

“Well before you go all
Dallas
on me how ‘bout you just pause a minute.”

She took a deep breath and exhaled.

“We’ll both go to McKinley and explain things. I’ll explain my findings. He’ll speed dial cops on his payroll, maybe some journalists too. The boy’s high profile so I’m guessing they’ll find his body in his car somewhere remote and plant some narcotics on him.”