A Bullet Apiece (14 page)

I knew I'd have to act fast. I found a door at the rear of the kitchen and pulled it open. A flight of stairs led up to the second floor. I took the steps two at a time and came to a landing with another door. It was locked. So, I hurried up the next flight and found a door there open. But I had to stop. In between ragged breaths, I cursed the stifling heat and my lack of endurance in taking the two sets of stairs in record time.

When I walked through the doorway, it was like an intersection leading to three different rooms. I peeked into the room on the right, which led to a small kitchen. I walked over to the next one. It led to a living room. A quick calculation told me that the door on the left was Jimmy's room, the one I'd seen earlier from the fire escape. I knocked loudly on the door a couple of times, then waited. No sound. Nothing. I turned the knob and eased the door open. The stifling, stale heat overwhelmed me. Across the room was the window that led to the fire escape. To my left was Broad Jimmy's bed. He was still there, lying in the exact same position I had seen this morning. I didn't waste time with speculation, but reached for his wrist and felt for a pulse. There was one. A very weak one. Maybe because I knew his blood had slowed, his body temperature seemed cooler than the air. This wasn't the first time I'd seen a drugged man. Must have taken horse tranquilizers to keep him down this long. I thought about what to do. One thing for sure, I had to get some air into this room. It felt like an attic in summer, which is basically what it was at the moment. I walked to the window and opened it. Funny when summer humidity is a welcome respite. I let the air run through the window a minute. I knew Kira would start wondering what I was doing for so long in the John. And I wouldn't put it past her to pry open the men's room door, or have one of the business lushes go in after me. I walked over and closed the door to Jimmy's room. Then I stepped over the sill and onto the fire escape. I thought about closing the window, but I worried about Jimmy. He could die in there in his state. I left the window up and descended the stairs. The retractable ladder gave up from its stuck position with some more sweat on my part. I jumped down to the alley and left the ladder down this time. I realized I was leaving Kira a trail, but right then, I didn't care. Just call it returning the ‘fuck you'.

I got back in the Chevy and drove away from the tavern and back onto Locust. I decided to skip my office for the time being and get something to eat at home. Tonight would be busy.

I came up the back stairs of my building and walked down my hallway. The cleaning service flyer was still stuck in the doorframe where I had left it. Even so, I unlocked my door and pushed it all the way open before entering. The apartment was airy with its windows open after trudging along the stuffy hallway. I pulled out my .38 and held it at arms length in front of me. I swung the gun behind the door and looked before I moved on. Out of obsessive practice, or maybe it was the unwavering prickling along my neck and back, I investigated each room—the front room, the hallway, my bedroom, and part of the kitchen. Not a sign of anyone. Nothing out of place. But that feeling kept cropping up. Finally, convinced I was just wrung out and nervous from the odd scene at Broad Jimmy's, I sighed and went into the kitchen. Another pressed-meat sandwich and a cold beer later, I felt like I could sleep. I sat down in the armchair in the front room and laid the .38 on the end table. I put my feet up on my hassock and faced the door. If anyone decided to try me, I'd at least have a sporting chance. With that, I fell into unconsciousness.

I woke up with the late-afternoon light, and with a nice quantity of drool down my chin and my shirtfront. My neck ached from the odd angle with which it rested against the back of the chair. I stood up, tasting stale cigarettes, and burped pressed meat. The only thing to chase the twin tastes was a fresh cigarette and a strong drink. I had both, then undressed and showered. I shaved carefully and got dressed. My kitchen wall clock said six-forty. I'd slept longer than I planned to, but my body knew what I needed, and I was grateful. Besides, what difference did it make? If my body believed it was a new day, maybe it would go to work on my mind, too.

I walked out of my apartment, put the cleaning service flyer back in the crack, and locked up. Between my recent shower, the humidity in my apartment, and the closeness of heat in the hallway, sweat broke across my forehead. I flashed back to Jimmy lying unconscious in his room. I started to worry that maybe just leaving his window open hadn't been enough. Maybe I should have splashed some water on him and then run like hell. I couldn't risk calling for an ambulance, which might bring police. And if they came and put the screws to Kira, I wouldn't put it past her to finger me for involvement in The Beef's slaying, or subsequent handling. No, I had to leave Jimmy. But it felt rotten.

I got to the garage and started up the Chevy. Traffic was tied up on the surface streets, and rolling down my windows just let the swelter in, but once I made Route 40, it was clear, and I got a hot breeze to dry my face. Suckers on the other side were parked in the jam, heading away from downtown. I pulled off on Jefferson and connected with Locust. I could do this route on autopilot now.

I parked out of sight at Broad Jimmy's. I didn't want my car to be spotted, although I couldn't say why. I walked up around the other side of the block and drew near the alley. The fire escape ladder was still down as I had left it. Looking up, I saw that Jimmy's bedroom window was closed. I looked at my watch: 7:18. Jimmy's would be hopping now, with the happy hour crowd gone full bore—which was a good time to mingle and see what was up.

I walked through the door. The place was awash in smoke, the clink of glasses, and the seagull chatter of happy drunks. Kira was behind the bar, smiling demurely at some sap. At the end of the bar, where The Beef had lorded it over his audience yesterday, only one man sat. Simple Simon.

I walked along the bar, dodging elbows, and the totter of a gesturing businessman. I looked Kira's way and gave her a tight-lipped smile. Her expression barely changed when she saw me. I went straight to Simple Simon's side. His usual nervousness reached a peak when I sat down next to him.

“What's new, Simon old buddy? How was work today?”

Simon stiffened and gave me a fatigued, edgy look. His grey beard looked more ashen than his face. A few stray hairs jutted out from his jaw and towards his neck, like desperate saplings losing purchase on an eroding slope.

“What do you want?” he muttered.

“Simon, you gettin' tough on me? The Beef ain't here now.” I wanted him even edgier, to put the press on. “I'm surprised you got your back to the door.”

He turned on his stool and eyed the front door, and then looked back at me. “What do you mean?” Simon jumped when a glass shattered and cries of delight, as well as pity, swelled over the seagull chatter.

“You got good reflexes. You're not half-crocked yet.”

“Why don't you mind your own business?” He glared at me, his face turning hard. That surprised me. The Beef was less than twenty-four hours dead and Simon was already looking to step into his spats.

“That's what I'm doing, Simon.” I left it at that. I stood up, clapped him on the back, and walked toward the other end of the bar. I got some of the same jostles going back from the business yegs. The place was packed, and no one seemed the wiser that a crime had been committed here not twenty-four hours before. I took a seat at the corner of the bar—where I could see the door—and lit up a cigarette. Kira Harto was still playing the coquette. I watched her work for a few minutes, impressed with her act. Every now and again I heard her voice over the hubbub. “You no say?” “You go on, big guy!” “Hi, soldier, what you have?” I felt an impulse to clutch her neck and squeeze, but it passed. At last she walked over to me. She stood in front of me, but she wasn't looking at me. She mumbled something.

“I didn't quite catch that, Kira hon,” I said.

She leaned over the bar. “I
said
‘Go away'.” She gritted her teeth.

“I said I'd be back later. You know. With the contract.” I patted my coat pocket, but didn't smile.

“Jimmy's asleep.”

I leaned in near her neck. “We know that's a lie,” I whispered harshly. “Now, go get him.”

 
“What if I don't?” she returned, just as hard.

“Then I'll just invite Officer Downing over for a few drinks on me.” She stiffened, then looked down. “Yeah, that's right. He paid me a little visit. And he wasn't exactly happy to be fingered as The Beef's assassin.”

She looked up at me finally. Someone sitting at the middle of the bar called out, “Where's that Bud, baby? Man's thirsty.” Jesus, it was my uncle Charles. I motioned for her to go serve him; I picked up a copy of the
Globe-Democrat
, half wet with beer, and pretended to be interested in what I was looking at. When I looked around a minute later, my uncle had joined a group of other blue-collar guys near the pool table. Kira had gone to the far end of the bar, near Simple Simon—and the kitchen entrance. She was turned in profile to him but her back was to me, so I couldn't tell if she was communicating anything to him. But he looked up at her in all the noise and then shot a look down at me. After that he stood up and made his way to the front door. I got up and intercepted him, blocking his exit.

“Stay away from me,” he hissed.

“Where you going so fast, Simon? I was just about to order a round for the both of us.”

“Get the fuck out of my way.”

When he sidestepped me, I grabbed his right arm, exactly where the nerve near his elbow was and squeezed.

“God . . . damn!” he yelled as he started to sag toward the floor. A guy seated near me looked up and said, “Hey.” I ignored him and looked back towards the kitchen. Broad Jimmy stood in the doorway, still wearing a tank-top, the bottom hanging loosely from his belly and over a pair of dark slacks. He looked like he'd been run over, propped up, and bull-whipped. I let go of Simon.

“N-next time I'll cut you, you bastard,” he said as he ran out the door. Fat chance, I thought.

I pushed through the crowd toward Jimmy, making sure to stay close to the bar, and away from my uncle. Fortunately, he didn't see me. My eyes locked on Broad Jimmy's. He mouthed the word “You” and gestured for me to come over. When I got to the hinged bar top, he leaned toward me and said, “We've got a big fuckin' problem.” He turned and headed back into the kitchen. I lifted the bar top and followed.

We were alone. In the fluorescent light of the kitchen, he looked like a ghost. His eyes were red-rimmed, and stubble stood out on his jaw.

“Follow me, Darvis.”

I did as I was told.

We walked past the door that led upstairs, toward another door. The one that descended to the basement. Not particularly fond of following him downstairs, I got nervous something was up. Jimmy opened the door and started down the stairs. If he had something in store for me, at least I was above and behind him. I could use my feet to kick him down the stairs, and then turn and bound up the stairs, if needed. He reached the bottom without turning around and strode through the dampness straight toward the freezer. A chill ran over me, despite the heat and humidity.

Jimmy opened the door to the freezer and growled, “Look.”

In any other situation it would sound funny or trivial:
The Beef is missing from the freezer.
This sight was neither of the above. Although I wasn't particularly fond of looking at the cold dead body of The Beef, I leaned over and looked into the freezer and then back at Jimmy. “What'd you do with him?”

“What'd
I
do with him?” He grabbed my lapels. “Not a goddman thing! I wanted to ask you the same damn thing!”

“Don't be stupid. Why would I take him out of here?”

Enraged, Jimmy shoved me against a freezer rack. “Then where the fuck is the body?” I kept my hands at my side in a play for docility. “Kira said you were nosing around this morning. She said you pulled a fast one on her and left. Then after you left, she checked the freezer and The Beef's body was gone.” He clutched my lapels closer together and squeezed, his knuckles pressing into my windpipe. His red-rimmed eyes bulged from his giant face. I thought how easy it would be for him to lay me out right there, put me in The Beef's place.

“Jimmy,” I managed to squawk, “Jimmy, I can't breathe. Gimme some air.”

“I'll give you some air,” he snarled. “James Cagney style!” The thought of another bullet in me didn't make me jump for joy, not that I could dream of doing that while in Jimmy's hard grasp.

He pulled back his knuckles, but kept my lapels roughly bunched. “Look, I did give Kira the slip. But I didn't come down here. I swear to you. I went upstairs. For Godsakes, let up a little, Jimmy.” He stood there a moment and then released my lapels altogether when it registered I'd gone upstairs, not down. But he didn't move from in front of me. I would have been just as comfortable in an iron maiden open just a crack.

“Start talking.”

“I brought the contract by, for you to sign. You know, for my services. Kira said you were sleeping. I didn't believe her. So, I told her I'd just slip the contract under your door, but she said no dice. And since you were still supposedly sleeping since I'd seen you this morning, I had a funny feeling. When her back was turned, I snuck through the kitchen door and went up the stairs.”

Jimmy slammed his hand against the shelf behind my head. Something toppled off and struck me. I winced, but held still.

“I found your room. Jimmy, you were laying in the same position I saw you in earlier.

“Earlier?”

“Yeah, I'd climbed up the fire escape ladder and peeked in on you. I thought you were just sleeping then. The room was closed up. You were breathing all shallow. I got worried and left a window open. Then. . . ,” I let out a breath and breathed in the frigid air deeply, “I took the fire escape back down. That was it. I don't know anything about The Beef.”

“Why didn't you listen to Kira, hunh? My wife, you bastard. You don't come into my house. You don't ignore her. I ought to beat the shit out of you.”

“Save it, Jimmy. Save it for whoever is behind all this.”

“I can't think. It's too fuckin' cold in here! Get out of the way.” He shoved past me and began pacing the small space outside the freezer. I straightened my shirt and adjusted my jacket. I didn't say anything for a full minute, while Jimmy paced and scowled.

“Jimmy. Simple Simon was just in here. When I came in and sat down beside him, he was all hinky. And he left in a big hurry. I think his story doesn't wash.”

“What story is that?”

“He said he left the bar before The Beef. A good half-hour before he did. He swears he took a bus home. I'm starting not to believe him. I think he's involved in The Beef's death.”

“That little pipsqueak? That … that pussy?”

“Why not? He was terrified of The Beef. He made it seem like he was entertained by him. But he wasn't. Maybe his fear, the humiliation The Beef thrust on him, turned into anger. Maybe he wanted to see The Beef hurt, humiliated. Maybe even dead. Simon's got motive running out of his ass.”

Jimmy stopped pacing for a moment. He smiled a sick smile. “Well, what are you waiting for, dick? Bring him in to me.”

I stood regarding him. He looked dead serious, murderous. I unbuttoned my jacket.

“Am I still in your employ then?”