Anthony Carrick Hardboiled Murder Mysteries: Box Set (Books 1 - 3) Page 8

  “Stevie baby. Look at you.” She held his head in her hands. Then she got up and went into the kitchen. She ran some water on paper towel and came out with it and dabbed at his nose.

  “It’ll stop in a while,” I said. They both looked at me then, and she helped him up.

  “Go call the cops,” he said. She tried to step past me towards the phone. I opened my jacket and introduced her to Mr. Glock.

  “Say hello to my little friend.” Corny I know, but I got caught up in the moment. What can I say? She stopped and looked at my gat and then looked back at Stephen. He put his arm around her. I moved up towards the old recliner that was faded on the arms.

  “Take a seat on the couch,” I said, “I want to talk to you about air conditioning.”

  I sat down and reached over to the glass coffee table that had a little white doily on it, the cordless and a lamp with a rectangular shade. I grabbed the cordless and stuffed it down the side of the chair by the cushion. Didn’t want unsolicited callers when I was trying to close a sale. The two took a seat at the far end of the couch. They sat close and she had her hand on his knee and he had his hands in his lap clutching the wet paper towel that was starting to stain pink. His nose was starting to heal. But with every breath little red pendulums ballooned out his two nostrils like hidden anemones. He looked at me hard. It hurt my feelings but I knew I’d get over it. I looked over at the happy couple.

  “Stephen, Jezebel,” I said. She looked at me with that mouth part open. The spittle still doing stretches.

  “Yeah,” he said looking at me.

  “Listen,” I said, “I’m sorry about that. But you just came right at me. And you’re a big fella too.”

  “Yeah, well you busted into my fucking house man.” I could see his point.

  “You Fat Tony?” He looked at me not too sure then. Not too tough.

  “Who’s Fat Tony?”

  “Just some guy that I thought might be coming around.”

  I figured it was probably time to give and take a little. I figured I’d taken a bit. Taken them by surprise. Taken away some of his pride. He was just a spoilt rich kid after all. I had to remember that.

  “Listen, let’s start this off again right. I’m Anthony Carrick. I’ve been hired to find out who killed your father, Max Ernst.”

  “He’s a private dick,” Jezebel said to Stephen as if it was a big secret.

  “Yes I am.”

  “So what do you want with me man?”

  “Well I’ve been out visiting a few people over the last couple of days. Your mother. Maria, Lorenzo and then today I had a swell visit with your father’s lawyer. Luke Logan, at alliterations R us law firm.” They didn’t catch that one either.

  “That faggot bastard, what did he tell you?”

  “Listen son that’s no way to talk about people. I can come over and give you another lesson in manners if you didn’t pass the first test?” I looked at him steadily. He turned away.

  “What did Luke tell you?” That’s better.

  “Luke’s got great taste in art for one thing. And I think it transfers to his feeling on people. He tells me you came into some money recently.”

  “Yeah a little,” he said as if I’d asked to borrow a hundred grand.

  “So when you say a little, you’re talking a few hundred dollars, maybe a couple grand. You playing me for a country bumpkin?”

  “Okay man, jeez, give me a fucking break. It was over a million. Why you asking me if you know.” Pop tart’s mouth opened wider.

  “You serious Stevie? How come you never told me?”

  “I was gonna okay. Just happened a couple of months ago.” He patted her hand.

  “So you’ve been making me live in this shit hole all this time while we could’ve been living large?” She was putting on some mean.

  “Listen baby, I don’t want us just blowing it up our noses.”

  “You mean me. Cocksucker, you mean you don’t want me to blow it up my nose…”

  “HEY!” I had to get their attention. I pulled out Mr. Glock and put him on my knee.

  “Focus on my friend so we can get back to what I was talking about.”

  That shut them up and they both looked at me. She opened her mouth again. Spittle was gone. I was very grateful.

  “I want us to have an understanding. Some people think you might have killed your old man.” I let that one sink in for a bit.

  “No way man. No fucking way. I loved my old man.” I raised my one eyebrow at him. I’d been practicing. Taking acting lessons. It was my quizzical look.

  “I did, I loved him okay.” His eyes got all misty but he didn’t cry.

  “That’s why you clocked him one some months back. You the rough and tumble loving kind?”

  “It wasn’t like that okay. He kicked me out and I came back to plead with him to loan me some money. But he wouldn’t do it man.”

  “So that’s how it was?”

  “Yeah seriously. I didn’t think he was going to let the money come through for me. And I needed some then anyway. I got carried away. I was high okay.”

  Jezebel kept looking back and forth between us like she was watching a tennis match. Looked like she had forgotten about his money. She had her hand around his neck and was giving his opposite trapezius a bit of a squeeze.

  “So that’s your excuse for hitting your mother?”

  He wouldn’t look at me at that question. Nothing I detest more that a guy who hits a woman is maybe a guy who hits his mother. I wanted to go an extra round with him. Instead I dug deep into Rasta man vibrations.

  “Yeah,” he said sheepishly looking down at his hands. I saw the red pendulums hanging down like clotting balloons.

  “Tell her I’m sorry about that,” he said and the he looked up at me. “I really am.”

  “You can tell her yourself when you get your shit together. Which I hope you’ll do. I don’t want to have to come back here and bruise my knuckles on your face again. You understand.”

  He nodded at the paper towel. I really thought the clotted blood was going to pop out of his nostril. I wanted him to get up and get some tissues. But I had him softened up. It was time to go for the jugular.

  “Did you kill your father, Stephen?” I tried to put the concerned uncle tone in my voice. I watched him closely for any body English that might give away the truth.

  “No,” he said not looking at me.

  “Look at me and say it son.” He looked up then, his eyes were steady.

  “No man. I didn’t kill my father okay. And everything I’ve done lately I wish…” Tears rolled down his cheeks. “I wish I could take it back.”

  He was either giving me an Oscar winning performance in which case he’d be living up on Mulholland or he was telling me the truth. I was betting on the latter.

  “Get him some tissues hun.” I told Jezebel.

  She got up and went down the hall to the bathroom probably. She came back into the kitchen and ran some water. She came back with a glass of water for me and for him. He took a sip of water. Kissed her intimately on the mouth and took a few tissues.

  “Blow easy,” I said. I didn’t want to see him spray blood all over the couch and his tank top. He obeyed. Wiped his cheeks and balled everything up in his fists in his lap. Jezebel interlocked her hands around this forearm. It was downright touching. Honestly. Two messed up young people. But I had to give it to them. They were in love. Made me think of Emily.

  “You know the best thing you can do for your father’s memory is get your shit together. And you Jezebel can stop living up to your name and get on the same program as him.”

  “We’re trying mister. Okay, we really have been trying,” said Jezebel.

  “Trying my patience up until now. If you guys are serious you need to enter rehab. With your new found wealth you could spend a week getting clean and move to a different part of the city. Lose your old friends and start fresh. If I was a betting man I’d say the odds are you won’t do it.”
See if reverse psychology would work on them.

  “We will,” she said. Stephen nodded.

  “You don’t know what it’s like to have parents like mine. Fucking around and going out to parties and having parties and they’ve done drugs too okay. Man you think I’m privileged because I’ve got rich parents and money coming to me. But I was a single kid who couldn’t seem to get much time with his parents. You’ve met my mother. You should know.”

  I sipped some of the water Jezebel had given me. At this stage I didn’t think I was going to get poisoned by them. Plus she hadn’t been in the kitchen long enough to contaminate my glass. Unless you consider the general unkempt and dirtiness of this place.

  “What should I know Stephen, about your mother?”

  Jezebel got up and took Stevie’s ball of soggy tissues and paper towel and went into the kitchen to throw them out. That or she was going to get a big kitchen knife and try and stab me in the neck. I kept my eyes peeled at the back of my head.

  “My mother,” said Stephen, “is more interested in her lifestyle and her ‘companions’ than she has ever been with me. I was damn well reared by nannies.”

  I could see his point. Vanessa didn’t seem all that concerned about her little baby boy who was on skid row and skidding down a slippery slope to Endsville. She seemed more concerned with her surroundings and her wellbeing. Sure makes you wonder about money buying happiness. Stephen was up to his eyeballs in unhappiness and choking on a silver spoon.

  Jezebel came back out of the kitchen. I didn’t see any glint of shiny silver. I figured we were calling a truce, so I put away my friend back in his holster. I made a show of it. A goodwill gesture.

  EIGHT

  A Gamble On Love

  “WHO did you say you were working for?” Jezebel asked.

  “I didn’t say. I’ve been employed by the studio that his father worked for.”

  “Why?” She had found her tongue now and was exercising it. Her speech was slow and cautious. She wasn’t slurring her speech so much as trying to dig through the words.

  “Well I think Stevie here is going to tell me why.”

  “What do you mean?” He asked. He was coming out of his fog, finding his sea legs again. I wasn’t sure he was high on this occasion.

  “Well, I’d like you to tell me about your relationship with your parents and their relationship with each other. I’m sitting here still without a clue as to why your father was killed or by whom. They tried to make it look like a robbery, only nothing of value was stolen. By the way, you robbed your folks a little while back didn’t you?”

  I shifted in my chair to angle myself towards them. I crossed my right leg over my left knee. My black oxfords could use a shine. They were clean. Matte clean, but I figure they’d be more impressive with a mirror shine. That way I could look at Stevie off of my shoe. He looked at me with his eyes darting and then he looked past me into the kitchen. There was a little serving window cut into the wall around the height of my head and just off to my right. There was a little shelf on the bottom of this opening and it had three candles on it. Tall candles that were now about three to four inches high. Wax was gnarled and knotted along its sides and splatters of it were on the shelf, which was covered with a thin film of dust. Same as the side table which had recently held the telephone.

  “I’m not interested in busting you Stephen. I just want to get some measure of truth out of you.”

  He looked at her and she looked away and I looked for some answers but didn’t find any so I waited. Silence skulked around the room for a bit. But no one likes him so they had to chase him out. Silence is sometimes my greatest ally.

  “Yeah, okay man. We broke into my parent’s place and stole some money and jewelry. But like I told you, I needed some coin and he wouldn’t give me any, and I couldn’t wait until the trust kicked in. Fuck, I didn’t know if he was gonna release the trust to me or not.”

  “Good. See if we can talk honestly like men then we can get someplace. If not then we’ll just dance around for a while. I’ll go off some place looking for answers. Then I’ll have to come back and I’ll be all mean and grumpy and pouty and we’ll just have to start all over again.”

  “You say he wasn’t robbed. But the cops said it looked like a robbery.”

  “Yeah, the cops will say a lot of things to get the ball rolling. And maybe at first it looked like that to them. Sometimes they want to soften the blow too before they get to brass tacks. Anyway, now that we’ve got the trust issue settled tell me about your folks.”

  He felt more comfortable now. He wrapped his arm around Jezebel and she put her hand on his knee. He still had a little bit of crusty blood above his upper lip by his nose. Looked like he had tried to feed himself fries with ketchup through the nose. His lower jaw was getting some color and swelling out a bit. Looked like he had stuck his tongue down there. Only it wouldn’t fit.

  “Well what do you want to know man? Both my folks were screwing around on each other. But I think they knew. I think it was almost like an understanding although I would have preferred them to be a little more discreet. That was the hardest part for me. You’re supposed to grow up with two parents who cared for each other enough that they brought you into the world to share their life with. Not to go fucking around.”

  He looked into his empty lap. He was a junkie philosopher. And he was pretty good at it. I got up and opened the curtains and then sat back down. Things always look sunnier when the sun is, well shining in on everything. Problem was, it just put a spotlight on the filth that was in this apartment. The cleanest thing was probably the recliner I was sitting in. I was grateful for that. The carpet might have been a tan color. Hard to tell. It was stained a whole variety of hues. Grays and browns and almost blacks. Dust was everywhere. You could see it now suspended in the shafts of light from the sun. I picked up my glass of water. I was sorry now that I had sipped some. The glass had smudged fingerprints all over it. And there were dried spots of God knows what here and there on the glass. I put it down and wanted to wipe my hands on something. But everything else was filthy, and my clothes were too clean. I sucked it up. I’d seen worse.

  “So you knew about their indiscretions?” I asked him.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “It was so obvious you know. Even a moron deaf and blind would’ve known,” said Jezebel. “Especially the way she carried on with that gardener… what was his name?” she turned to Stephen for that one.

  “Lorenzo,” he said.

  “Yeah that cocksucker. She was all over him sometimes after she’d had too much to drink or too much to pop. She’s as bad as we are for drugs. Only she’s got a pusher whose got a nice white lab coat. I wouldn’t be surprised if that Lorenzo asshole,” she said that like it was his middle name, “figured he’d be in the money, that loser, if they kept getting it on. I think he was trying to play her. Maybe they were playing each other. I don’t know, fuck, I think he could’ve killed Stevie’s dad. Yeah, Lorenzo asshole, I think he killed Max. Man you should be going to ask him some questions. You should go punch him in the mouth instead of us.”

  I hadn’t realized she could string a whole bunch of sentences together. First the philosophizing by Stevie and now the Shakespearean soliloquy by Jezzie. I was starting to think I had really underestimated these people. Or not.

  “Mama take the coins from my eyes. I ain’t blind no more. Jezebel you’re a genius. I’m hiring. Are you interested?” It was a rhetorical question. “The only problem is I went over to talk to Lorenzo like you suggest. I caught him out by the shed, sunning himself with his clothes on. So I asked him a bunch of questions, but he wouldn’t say anything to me. Maybe he was just sullen that way, so I leaned in closer and raised my voice. Maybe he’d hear me better then. But see, the problem then was that he had these hedge shears sticking out of his throat. And then I realized, that’s probably why he couldn’t talk. Those shears were blocking his vocal chords. Or, maybe, and I’m going out on a li
mb here. He was dead.” I shrugged my shoulder and opened my palms up to the ceiling. I love a captive audience.

  “What do you think Watson?” I asked her. Stevie snickered and she looked at him sideways and punched him on the shoulder.

  “That’s not funny okay.” And then to me. “My name’s not Watson, it’s Jezebel. Jezebel Ringling. And yeah, duh, I’d say he was dead if he had scissors in his neck.”

  She rolled her eyes at me. I guess now I was the moron. Stephen looked bleakly at me. I don’t think he cared one way or another if Lorenzo was dead. But I thought I’d ask him anyway. Get him off that fence.

  “Did you kill him Stephen?” I asked looking at him. He looked back at me and shook his head slowly.

  “Too bad though,” he said.

  “Come on Stephen, pretend some sadness or sorrow. It’s not really too bad is it. I mean you might’ve liked to kill him hey?” He shook his head again slowly.

  “You’re right, I’m not all bent up about it. As Jezebel said he was just a cocksucker anyway. I didn’t like him and I never pretended to. You know what, in a way I’m glad he’s dead. He was never worthy of my mother okay? He was just trying to get himself in good with her and maybe get hold of some of my dad’s money. I knew what that fucker was up to man. He was screwing around on my mother too. The way I caught him and Maria down by the shed. Nothing obvious but it was just too intimate. I bet he was fucking her too. A good ol’ three way love triangle. Yeah I’m glad he’s dead.”