 | Spider Lake Blues chapter 3 by: MJ Carson
Current mood:Exhausted
Category: Writing and Poetry I didn't have a whole lot of choice, I had no idea how she had caught me following her. No one had been able to do that the whole ten years that I had been in business. I really am just that good. I sat down in the chair, which looked like one that you might find in the waiting room of a high class shrink; the kind that tells celebrities that there is something horribly wrong with them, and that they should schedule regular appointments.
Ms. Malloy leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk. She pressed her fingertips together and said, "So, let me see if I've got all the particulars here. My bruther paid you to follow me around while I do my shoppin' all week, and now he has the gaff to send you into my club so that he can show Da what a very naughty girl I've been. Does that sound about right?
I folded my hands in my lap, and cocked my head to the side and said, "I guess it wouldn't do me any good to say that I have an evil twin, would it?"
Victoria smiled sadly and said, "Yer brother is dead, Mr. Bowman, and we both know that I'm the one with the evil twin brother."
I'm fairly certain that she didn't mean to hurt me by saying that, but the mention of my brother, Tony made my heart skip and the old pain surface a little. I pushed the pain back down into the deeper recesses of my psyche and resumed my faux calm. The whole while, my palms were sweating so profusely that I don't think I could have held onto my gun even if I had brought it with me. Never the less, I was having a fantasy at that moment about shooting my way out of the warehouse, and speeding home at roughly an hundred and ten miles an hour.
Victoria, ignoring my discomfort, leaned back in her chair, put her feet up on her desk, and said, "How much is the little leach paying ye then?"
Now it was my turn to impress. I leaned back myself and said, "I set my own prices."
The look on Victoria's face was satisfying, I guess. A slightly raised eyebrow, and minor pursing of the lips doesn't mean much on most people's faces. Something gave me the feeling though, that Victoria Louise Malloy was not easily impressed. Her next question told me that I had made a deeper impression than I had thought.
She said, "What if, Mr. Bowman, I wanted to acquire yer services? Professionally speaking, of course."
Did you just hear that knocking sound? I did. It sounded distinctly like opportunity, and it's so easy to open the door and let the devil in. I considered for a moment, how best to approach this newly evolving situation. If I said the right things, not only would I make it out of the club alive, I might make it out with a profitable contract in hand. I decided that I would play the loyal employee.
I said, "You have to understand, Ms. Malloy; if I were to even consider taking work from you, that it would put me at an ethical conflict of interests."
Victoria smiled. She knew this tune, and was ready to dance. She said, "I understand yer reservations, Mr. Bowman. I can assure ye however, that my interests lie along the same lines as yer own."
I gave her my "Oh, really" look and said, "And what lines would those be?"
She raised her eyebrows in mock innocence and said, "Why, self interest of course. I know that my bruther means me harm, and I don't want him to succeed."
Boy, I was sure feeling the love in this family. It was feeling kind of like salt on an acid burn. I said, "When you and Bobby were kids, did your parents often starve you then stick you in a room with a single plate of food to see who would prevail?"
That may have been the wrong thing to say. Victoria's eyes narrowed, and she said, "Ye should ken, Mr Bowman; my family carries a great deal of influence down in the city. It would be prudent for ye to curb yer snide tongue with me."
I was tempted to laugh in her face, but I could tell that she was serious. Instead, I made another snide comment. I said, "Funny, you don't look Italian."
Obviously, Ms. Malloy had heard that one before. She shrugged her shoulders, which sent a kind of ripple out into the ether from her elfin frame. She said, "The Italians own the unions and the bookies, not the bars."
This time I did laugh; at myself. Sometimes I can be quite blind; not to mention dumb. I said, "Irish mob. Wow! I thought you people died off when Daily got into office." Bobby apparently didn't feel that it was necessary to let me know that I was getting involved in a mafioso power struggle.
Ms. Malloy smiled and said, "We are very much alive and well Mr. Lone Wolf MacQuaid. Thank ye however, fer proving that y'are indeed smarter than the average street thug. Perhaps we could continue with this negotiation then, or would you prefer that I have Mr. Sweeney out in the hall there, escort ye off the premises?"
The way that she said escort made me picture alot of blood and bruising. I decided that she was right. It would be prudent of me to curb my tongue. Of course, I would only curb it as far as I fucking felt necessary. I did also notice that as Victoria grew more sure of her position in this transaction, the more she reverted to a slight Irish garble. This showed that she was getting a little cocky. I needed to maintain with her that I myself am not one to be fucked around.
I said, "If I decide to do more than listen to you, and that's a big fucking if, what would I be expected to do?"
Victoria was taken slightly aback by my defiant nature. She put her feet on the floor and dug around in the top right desk drawer for a moment. She pulled out a pack of non-filtered Pall Mall cigarettes and a long black cigarette stem. She pulled one of her advanced cancer sticks out and placed it in the wide end of the stem. She tossed the pack back into the drawer, then produced a Zippo lighter that looked like it had been through world war two. She closed the drawer then lit her fag. The smell of naphtha made me gag a little inside. It completely overwhelmed the smell of patchouli and sandalwood that had previously odored the office. She then tossed the lighter on the desk and began to talk again.
She said, "Ye wouldn't really be doin' ennythin' different from what ye're doin' now sir. I will pay ye te keep tabs on me bruther fer as long as it takes te catch him doin' sumthin' so bad that Da will completely ferget about ennythin that he'll see on this video. Don't be too long about it though. The doctors give Da less than a year to live."
Vic's got balls; I gotta give her that. She sat there puffing happily away at her doctor's meal ticket, letting me process all of this. I had just about chewed right through it when something about the way she spoke struck me. I looked her in the eye through the heavy smoke and said, "You talk like you're the head of the corporation."
She shrugged again, and again it gave the same disconcerting rippling effect; as if she had some kind of supernatural control within these walls. She said, "When Da passes on, I'll have at least half ownership."
Whoa! Bobby didn't let on to even an iota of all this happy horse shit.
Noticing the painfully astonished expression on my face, Ms. Malloy felt it necessary to point out the obvious. She said, "My bruther did nae tell you."
Duh!!!
I was already embarrassed enough without having it pointed out how limited my information was. I just glared at her for a moment, watching her blow smoke rings as her half smoked cigarette seemed to hover at the end of the stem. She seemed to ignore the fact that the ash at the end of her fag was more than an inch long, so too did the ash. It clung to the rest of the cigarette, refusing to fall on the perfectly tidy surface of the desk.
Victoria grabbed a small marble ashtray that I had missed earlier, from behind the phone. As she finally ashed her atomic c-bomb she said, "Are ye really mulling over me offer there Mr. Bowman, or do ye just like long uncomfertable silences?"
I exhaled a long breath and said, "I think I'd like to talk to my partner first. Do you have any private rooms in here?"
Victoria chuckled and gestured to the surveillance monitors which showed multiple views of every room in the building, including Victoria's office. The two small speakers on the bottom shelf brought Victoria's point into sharp relief. She said, "Why don't ye just use my phone? I saw ye eyein' it when ye came in."
Despite the thought of how it would feel to speak into a gold and ivory handset, I was not even the least bit tempted. The phone was obviously tapped, and I really don't like people hearing both sides of my phone conversations. I fidgeted nervously at my jacket lapels and said, "How about this? I don't want to see you listening in on me."
Victoria shrugged again and said, "Fair enough, Mr. Bowman. Just go out into the hallway then. Mr. Sweeney's half deaf. He won't hear ye unless ye're yellin'.
I nodded, stood up, and walked my happy ass out into the hall. Once I closed the door behind me, I promptly pulled out my silver hip flask and took a swig of the blessed Bacardi 151 inside. Then I took another swig for good measure and pulled out my trusty Nokia. I really shouldn't call it "trusty". It was my fifth phone since starting my plan with Cingular wireless two years ago. I'm presently on my seventh phone with this plan. My line of work doesn't lead to cellular longevity.
I dialed up the office, and Percy answered with the customary greeting, "Bowman and Baxter Private Investigative Services; this is Percy Baxter speaking. How may I help you?"
Hearing that heavily pronounced lisp sent me a little over the edge. I said, "Why are you still my partner?"
I ask Percy that question at least twice in an investigation, and at least twice an investigation, he says, "Because no one else will tolerate you for long. Not even your own-"
Privacy being a strong imperative in my life (not to mention, I just didn't want to hear it at that moment) I interrupted saying, "Hold that thought."
Percy was quiet for a moment, then he said, "Oh, someone's listening. Are you on a secure line?"
I must confess, I let my temper get the better of me for a moment because I said, "Of course someone's listening, you tootie fruity twit! Why else would I call before check in? And as to a secure line, I'm on my cell."
Percy, being the expert on appropriate timing, decided that this would be an appropriate time for a joke. He said, "Well maybe you might call because you miss me. A girl can hope."
When I didn't answer to the taunt, Percy switched back to business mode. He said, "So, the job's been botched."
Oh Percy. You and your firm grip on the obvious.
I tried, oh how I tried to think of something, anything to say other than "yes and no". Failing utterly, I said, "Yes and no."
Sticking to the subject, thankfully, Percy said, "So, what went wrong?"
For once, Percy was giving me the opportunity to set the blame for a screw-up on shoulders other than mine. I was so not going to pass this up. I said, "Our intel was incomplete. Apparently, the mark's resources are greater than we gave her credit for."
I never talk like that unless I'm about to blow. Usually, I have some colorful punctuations to my speech. Percy knows this, but I really don't think he cares if he pisses me off. Honestly, I think he enjoys it sometimes. Ignoring my obvious state, he said, "What do you mean, our intel was incomplete? I did nothing but research the Malloy family for the last week."
St. Edna's got nothing on me. I let loose saying, "Yeah, well you could have dug a little fucking deeper, princess; so you could tell me that our fucking, shit heel client is the son of a goddamn Irish mob boss! That way, I could have told that slimy son of a whore some bullshit excuse or another as to why we could no longer follow around his devious bitch sister. That way, I wouldn't be standing here outside her fucking office while she listens to me calling her a devious bitch, you prancing pony push monkey!"
One of the fluorescent lights at the far end of the hall flickered violently, catching my attention. I glanced over in time to see the very large, very robust Mr. Sweeney unfastening the safety strap on his shoulder holster. This sight prompted me to reign in my temper a little. Victoria could easily tell him on that little earpiece of his that the walls could use a fresh coat of brain matter gray.
Percy however, was under no such constraints. He went off on his own little "Leary rant" saying, "OK, first off, Jack; even with our capabilities, certain things are going to slip past. Second: mob heir is not something you often find on someone's online profile. Third: in the ten years that we've been in this business, you have not once put forth any real effort to hire on some decent help, and don't you even mention that girl back in '99. She left after just three months!"
I was fairly certain that I was not to blame for that debacle, so I stepped up to defend myself saying, "Hey now, Ashley left because she thought you were getting too friendly with her boyfriend."
This is a good example of how I often have no idea what's going on, socially speaking. Percy often tells me that I need to pay attention to those that are close to me the way that I pay attention to marks and clients. He counter-attacked, and completely blew away my feeble defenses saying, "No, see, that's what she said that she would tell you. The truth is that she couldn't take working for an alcoholic, and your abusive language was driving her to seek therapy. You wanna try another?"
Speaking of alcoholic; I took another swig of rum to keep from raising my voice again, and attracting more of Mr. Sweeney's attention. I did think about trying another, but the warmth running down my throat carried some of the heat of my temper down with it. I imagined Percy sitting in his chair in the office, tapping his left index finger against his teeth, waiting for me to respond. When I made no further argument, he said, "So, how is it 'yes and no', Jack?
Sometimes he can be worse than a wife. I guess that's what I get for partnering up with a homosexual. I suppose the stress of my situation could have been worse. I don't care to think of how. Working for the mob is not a stress point for me. I've done it before. No what was really stressing me was that I didn't know that I was working for the mob. I have a knack for knowing who I'm dealing with beyond just their name and number. Some would call it a sixth sense. Something had smelled... off about Robert Malloy from the start. I had let it go because the money was just too good to pass up. Standing in that hallway, I was regretting not listening to my nose.
I crouched down and leaned up against the wall. Then I said, "She wants to hire us."
I could hear the gears in Percy's head whirring smoothly before he said, "Same thing like Robert wanted?"
With my free hand, I began massaging my forehead and said, "Yup."
Percy said, "What's the pay?"
I continued massaging my forehead saying, "She's willing to negotiate."
Percy jumped on that notion like a tabby on a wounded rabbit. He said, "Well, why don't you see if you can negotiate enough for us to hire on a few people. Maybe then we can start taking on some of these smaller cases that keep calling us. Don't you ever get sick of every case being of the overly dangerous kind? Besides, it's not like you're still paying the mortgage on this place."
Percy had a point. It would be nice to be able to call my mom and actually talk to her about a case that I'm on. After ten years, it get's kind of tiring, looking for moles in big companies, and tracking down various low-lifes for the police and mafia. The kind of people who don't have a problem putting people like me through a wood chipper. Don't laugh. That actually happened to one of my colleagues; two days before the police handed the case to me. My line of work doesn't lend much to longevity of any kind. Generally, you're lucky if you quit drinking and start teaching classes to other wannabe p.i.s. Big cases pay the bills with a little extra sometimes, but they're far too dangerous to keep doing them your whole life."
I asked Percy, "What do you want to do with this then?"
I could hear the creaking of Percy's chair as he leaned back in thought. He said, "How are you playing it right now?"
I smirked and said, "You are a good and loyal employee, Percy. I don't know what I would do without you."
When you're in my line of work, it's good to have a list of code phrases for situations just like this. Just make sure it's something you would never say otherwise. Percy came up with most of ours. I'm no good at that sort of thing.
Understanding perfectly, Percy said, "Is she really swallowing that crap, or are you just underestimating her like you've done all week?"
Calling up another of our code phrases, I said, "Just stick it in a piece of meat. He'll eat it." Not really, but it doesn't matter. "The vet said he has to take all of them." If we don't take the deal, it's going to get messy.
I could feel beads of sweat welling up on my back as I waited for Percy's answer. Finally, he said, "See what she'll offer, then call me so I can send over the proper papers." *click*
Percy hung up without even wishing me luck. Worse than a wife; just like I said. Putting away my phone, I stared at the hip flask in my other hand. The fiery fluid inside called to me, beckoning me to have another swig; take another draught of instant courage. I ignored it's siren song and tucked it back inside my back pocket.
Just then, I noticed something that most people wouldn't, couldn't really. Mr. Sweeney, the very spatially domineering, seemed to do something that he shouldn't have been able to. Perhaps he had just been tugging his nose hairs, but I was fairly certain of what I saw. While his back was turned, I crept a little ways down the hall to confirm my suspicion. As I got closer, I took in the smells around me. The air was saturated with the smells of cheap and stale perfumes and colognes mingled with body odor and sex. As I got closer, I shut those smells out of my consciousness; only one smell mattered to me now.
I only got a few feet before Mr. Sweeney turned back around, but it was enough. I was certain now that the shit that I was in came to my eyes and not just to my waist. I had underestimated Victoria more severely than I had thought. Apparently, her ties ran deeper than just old bootleggers and hit men. This did not however, change my game plan. If I was to get out of that place at all, Victoria could not be allowed to know that I was aware of her business practices.
Checking to make sure that my testicles were in their proper place, I turned back around and headed back into Ms. Malloy's office. Victoria switched off the speaker box and swiveled around to face me.
She gave me a sly smirk and said, "So, what kind of dog do ye have, Mr. Bowman?"
I gave her a smirk of my own and said, "He's a shi-tzu." |
