Beautiful, Naked & Dead (Moses McGuire) (10 page)

The only cure for this sort of craziness was forward movement. Popping a couple more whites I rolled over and scanned the brothel. A few cars were in the parking lot, a late model Toyota, a couple of pickups, and a Jeep. Blue-collar cars, transportation for the working class. An hour later, a red 1971 Cutlass convertible pulled in and four teenagers piled out, laughing and horsing around. They rang the bell and waited with nervous glee. To call the older woman who opened the door for them buxom would be an understatement. She was opulent. Even from a distance I saw she had the kind of curves that little boys dreamed about and grown men sighed thanks watching her sway by. A short time later a man in a khaki gas company uniform left in the Toyota. Two cowboys arrived in a bondo patched pickup. Whenever a new car arrived I could see movement behind the curtains, but I couldn’t see any faces. The sun set behind the mountains and the temperature instantly dropped. I shivered, waited and ate some whites to keep my edge on.

At eight o’clock I climbed into the Crown Vic, put on my suit and headed down to the parking lot. There were more pickups than sedans in the small, half-full lot. Buzzed in I walked up the pea gravel path. Under a propane heater in a porch swing a young girl in a teddy was drinking and talking to an equally young cowpoke. I was met at the door by Mrs. Altman in all her curvy glory, up close I could tell she was pushing sixty, not that it mattered, she was timeless and knew it. Instead of a lineup, she took me around the parlor, introducing me to the girls. It was a wide pleasant room, with club chairs and overstuffed sofas. As I looked from face to face, I realized I had no idea what Cass looked like. She could be any one of these lovelies, maybe not the Chinese girl, unless she was adopted. I suddenly knew with certainty that my mad rush to find Kelly’s sister had one gaping flaw.

After I met all the girls, Mrs. Altman led me to an old oak bar stretching the length of the room. A cute gal in jeans and a shirt tied just under her breasts poured me a stiff bourbon. Around the room there were several other men, some at the bar drinking, others sitting chatting with the girls.

“So, big feller,” Mrs. Altman said, “you see any fillies that strike your fancy? No need to be shy, we run a nice friendly house.”

“Actually, um, I was looking for a girl a buddy told me about…” effecting my nervous first-timer act.

“Well, you tell me her name and I will make sure you’re taken care of,” she said with a big easy smile.

“I think her name’s Cass?”

Her smile remained but I could see a steel door slam shut behind her eyes. “I’ve never heard of a girl by that name, are you sure he said she worked here?”

“Yeah, but to be honest he drinks a bit and may have gotten it wrong.”

“Guess he did. What sort of girl are you looking for, maybe I can find some one to fill your desires. Do you like young? A girl-next-door blonde? Black widow brunette? Wild redhead?”

I looked at the floor, feigning shyness. “I don’t even know what I’m doing here. My wife left me last year and I…” I gulped my drink.

“Why don’t you just have another drink, get comfortable. You decide on a girl, you just let me know. Or go talk to her, they won’t bite, not unless you ask them to.”

In the mirror behind the bar I saw her talk to a weathered-looking working cowboy. He glanced over to where I was standing and then disappeared up the stairs. If I had unlimited funds I might have taken one of the girls upstairs to find out what I could. But I knew she was there, I could feel it. I finished my drink and decided to come back when the place was empty, plead my case then and hope they believed I was a friend not foe. As I walked back down the path I felt eyes on me, turning I looked up, the porch was empty. I scanned the windows on the first floor, I could see movement in the parlor but no one looked out so I moved up to the second floor bedroom windows. A lace curtain fluttered and for the briefest of moments I saw her. Dark curls framed a round lovely face that I knew so well. Kelly was looking down at me, the ghost of a dead friend, her eyes calling me to come for her. Then she was gone leaving only a small ripple in the curtain. Logic and the desire to have it be her fought in my head. I stumbled back, it was as if the ground under my feet had gone to jello. I wanted to run back into the house. I wanted to find Kelly there safe, but life doesn’t work that way. The dead don’t rise up to greet you.

Too much speed and not enough sleep will twist your mind. I knew a trucker once who was driving in the fog, he hallucinated a ship sailing in front of him. He kept driving and plowed into a yacht that had fallen off another rig. I guess the moral of that story is don’t trust your eyes except when you need to. Trick is, knowing when that is. Was I so fixated on finding Kelly’s past that I was seeing her in the shadows?

My headlights pierced the silky blackness of a moonless night. As I rounded a corner I saw headlights speeding up behind me, bearing down on me. I mashed down the gas pedal. The monster V8 roared to life. I took a corner in a four-wheel drift, sliding across both lanes, then punched it and the Crown Vic straightened out. Behind me the lights came on, unrelenting. Suddenly they disappeared as I flew over a small hill. The asphalt was pocked with potholes so I dropped down in speed. No need trashing my suspension if they’d given up. Suddenly, in front of me a red Chevy pickup truck bounced up onto the road. It locked its breaks and stopped, blocking the road. In a squeal of burning rubber I skidded to a stop inches from the truck. I was scrambling for reverse when my driver’s side window exploded showering me with chunks of safety glass. Before I could react the weathered cowboy had my door open. With a mighty pull he had me dragged out and on the ground. A younger man stood by the truck aiming a hunting rifle at me. Trying to get up, my shoulder rippled with pain as the cowboy hit me with the axe handle he had used to bust out my window. A powerful blow struck my gut and I went over, my face grinding the pavement. I curled into a ball, hoping to reach the .38 in my boot holster then I heard a rush of wind and rolled just in time to have the hardwood miss splitting my skull. Reaching my pistol I pulled it and rolled up onto one knee but before I could aim, he hit my arm with a blow that made it go numb. The .38 skidded across the pavement and under my car. He swung again at my head, I ducked quick enough to take the force on my neck. Pain racked my body. I fell onto my side and threw up. The axe handle touched my face, twisting it so I looked up at the cowboy.

“Give me one reason not to kill you and leave you out here for coyote bait.”

“I just…I wanted to meet a girl,” I mumbled.

“Maybe, but I doubt it.” He slapped the wood against my cheek, hard. I could feel a warm trickle of blood.

“She’s a friend of… a…” My brain was struggling to rise above the pain to think of any words that would keep the axe handle from causing any more agony.

“Horse shit.” A thud sent my left leg screaming. “Forget you ever heard that girl’s name. Go back and tell the mob boys you couldn’t find her. Tell ‘em she’s dead, tell ‘em any damn thing you want. But don’t come back. We clear?”

“Yes… I won’t…” I said, feeling the bile back up in my throat.

“Next time we meet, you die.” He accented his words with another strike to my gut. Puke of rotten whiskey and green gut slime flowed past my teeth and down my chin. From the ground, I watched the boots walk away. I heard the truck start, then they drove past my crumpled form and the world went dark. I lay there covered by a blanket of stars. I hurt all over, I couldn’t imagine standing up. My brain had betrayed me when I most needed it, it had left me to flop like a landed fish under his blows. I was that little kid cowering under an adult’s power. Defenseless and stupid.

My old pal anger reached down and pulled me to my knees. Fuck that corny cowboy bastard. Fuck him and his axe handle. Tomorrow was my day, and if I could stand up, his ass was mine.

On my hands and knees I crawled over to the Crown Vic. I found my .38 and pulled myself into the driver’s seat. Small cubes of glass were scattered everywhere. In the mirror I found my cheek was purple and cut but it wasn’t deep. The blood had already stopped flowing. Peeling off my shirt, my belly was mottled red and swelling but my ribs had been spared. All things considered the old guy had gone light on me. Not that that made me feel any better about him. Driving with my lights off I turned down the dirt road and parked hidden behind the pines and scrub brush. I lay in the back seat, forcing the pain down until I finally drifted into a nightmare filled sleep.

CHAPTER 8

I
awoke in the grey predawn light and although it was cold in the car I was covered in sweat. Unfolding from a sitting position my body screamed in protest, my muscles had all turned into bruised and painful lead overnight. Pulling on a pair of shorts I dropped my ripped and stained suit into the trunk. Lacing up an old pair of hi-tops I assessed the damage reflected in the car window. My cheek had a new puffy lump and large purple bruises patterned my shoulders, neck and gut. All in all I looked like shit, not that I’d ever been a beauty queen but I sure wasn’t getting prettier since I’d left LA.

Stretching was painful, but necessary. Gripping a sturdy tree limb I let my body weight pull down on my arms and shoulders, then breathed deeply through my nose and hung until the stiff muscles gave up the fight and relaxed. Slowly I pulled myself into a chin-up and thanked my Viking ancestors for strong bones. Jogging slowly at first I moved through the pines, down a small animal path. Building in speed I started to run full out. I could feel the toxins flowing out of my pores. Slowly my body started to loosen up. After a mile I turned back. Fifty push-ups and a hundred painful stomach crunches later I was ready for the day.

Pulling on a clean pair of jeans and a black tee-shirt I drove down the highway and found a small diner. In the bathroom I removed most of the crusted blood and evil smelling sweat with a whore’s bath. It made me feel almost human. Powering my way through a plate of steak and eggs and a mug of strong coffee, I planned my next move. I didn’t know what Cass looked like or even what stage name she was using. What I had were bruises and a fist full of nothing. I ordered two ham sandwiches to go and filled up a thermos with coffee. It was late afternoon when I returned to my perch. Around eight, the red Chevy pickup pulled into the parking lot. My good friend, the cowboy from the night before, got out and went into the house.

Slipping my .45 into my belt, I put on my leather jacket and moved off on foot. It took forty minutes of scrabbling down the steep incline, but finally I hit the fence that surrounded the house. Moving in the shadows I made it to the parking lot without detection. Crouched down in front of the red Chevy pickup I waited.

Men came and went. Some laughing, some nervously looking around. They reminded me of the men who came into the club. All looking to make a connection, all willing to believe a whore’s promise, that contrary to every shred of evidence, the girl really liked you for more than the cash in your pocket. Some left the Eagle’s Nest with heads down, telling themselves that this was the last time. The last time until night fell, and loneliness settled down on them. The reason men fall in love with strippers and whores is simple, they are the perfect date. They laugh at all your jokes, if you feel fat they tell you that you have big bones, and that they like big men. They make their living making men feel special. If you fall for the trick then no real woman can ever fulfill you. Outside of the clubs and whorehouses you were just you, another slob trying to make it through the day, but for a few hours you could be anything you wanted. I’d heard of men who saved girls from their lives as prostitutes, set them up in apartments, paid all their bills. The girls would bleed them dry, and once the mark was bankrupt, they would return to the whorehouse and look for their next sugar daddy. Life is simpler once you realize all relationships are commerce. Jen, my ex-wife, had fallen in love with my outlaw ways, and for six painful years she tried to change me. I got my one and only straight job, working for a roofing company with a group of Samoan ex-cons. Every night I’d come home stinking of tar and try to be her version of a husband. I may have been in love with her, but the toll was too high.

What is the price of love?

Ask her lawyer, he had an exact figure and I’m still paying it off.

It was just past midnight when the weathered cowboy came out. I waited until he had his keys out and was unlocking the truck’s door. Pulling my .45 I bolted up, he turned at the sound but I was on him, shoving the pistol’s barrel into his ribs. “Remember me?” I said in a soft even voice. He nodded slightly. “Let’s do this nice and easy, cowboy, my nerves are frayed, this thing may go off all by itself.” I got in the truck and slid across to the passenger seat. “Get in, slow and calm.” He drove us out of the parking lot, and down the road. I had him pull off on a dirt road. “Kill it,” I told him. The Chevy dieseled twice then was silent. I leaned against the passenger door, aiming at him. “Keep your hands on the wheel.”

“Boy, if you’re going to kill me, let’s get to it,” he said, looking over at me with steely gray eyes. I placed him at maybe fifty, with leathery skin and the strong muscles that only hard work brought.

“I may. First we talk, unless you’re in a hurry to die.”

“Nope, but I ain’t afraid of it, neither.”

“Cut the John Wayne bullshit.” Slapping the .45 against his knee, I snapped the thumb safety off.

“Whoa, ease up a bit, son. This don’t have to get stupid.”

“Not afraid to die, but you don’t want to be crippled, that it?” I tapped his kneecap with the pistol barrel. “What’s your deal? If you were a bouncer I’d be dead or in jail.”

“I just help out from time to time. Look after the girls.” His eyes stayed on the pistol. “You want to point that cannon elsewhere?”

“Nope. What about Cass?”

“Now she’s something special.” His eyes went soft when he spoke of her. “If I was a younger man, and she’d have me, I’d probably marry her.”

“Sweet, you’re making me go all misty,” I hissed through clenched teeth. “Why did you think I was connected?”

“Cass told me you mob boys were looking for her. You all may own Vegas and Reno, but this is my country out here. So maybe you best shoot me or move it on down the highway before you wind up dead.”

“I’m not with the mob, you dumb hick. Do I look like any mob guy you ever saw?”

He looked me over slowly, “Well, you’re uglier than most, bigger than many, but yeah, you look like a criminal.”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t a criminal, but I’m not with any mob, they’ve got a dress code. Or haven’t you seen the Sopranos?”

“Don’t think I know them, they some of your Vegas friends?”

“If I was with the mob, you and your pal from last night would both be in a shallow grave. And Cass, she’d be following you by daybreak.”

“If you say so.” His stoicism was starting to really piss me off.

“Do I have to shoot you to convince you I’m not a mobster?”

“Possibly. You decide to pull that trigger, just let me know.” Slouching back in the seat he lowered the brim of his straw Stetson down over his eyes.

“Do you really think you can keep her safe?” Lowering the gun, I clicked the safety on and stuffed it into my belt. “Cards face up time. Some greaseballs took down Cass’ sister. If they’re coming for her you won’t stop them. Right now, I’m that little girl’s only chance.” Slowly he tilted back his hat and looked at me, searching for the truth. “You owe her the choice.”

He stared at me for a long moment. “You’re either one hell of a liar, or I made a mistake last night.” Taking out a bag of Bull Durham he rolled a cigarette. Striking a kitchen match on the dash he let out a long plume of blue smoke. Looking me over one more time, he smoked for a long moment. “You got any proof of what you say?”

“Give Cass this.” I handed him the charm bracelet I’d taken from Kelly’s apartment. “If she doesn’t want to see me after that, I’ll blow on down the road.”

“Son, you hurt that little girl, you better say your prayers and get ready to meet the devil, ‘cause I’ll be sending you to hell.” His tone was quiet and firm, as if it wasn’t a threat just a fact. He dropped me off at the Crown Vic and drove back down the dirt road. I can’t say I liked the son of a bitch but I had to respect his willingness to die for a whore. I thought I was the only man stupid enough to ride that train wreck.

I parked in the Eagle’s Nest parking lot, and put all my firepower in the trunk. I had agreed to come in clean and I meant to keep my word. If it was a trap, they could have me. I was tired of chasing my tail and ready for whatever came my way. Fifteen minutes later the old cowboy came out of the gate. “The lady said she’d see you. That trinket’s got her all shook up,” he said and led me around the back of the farmhouse. We entered a large kitchen where a rotund gray-haired woman was stirring beans. She didn’t look up as we passed through and climbed a small back stairway. The narrow hall on the second floor was lined with doors, each one numbered in flowing red paint. The cowboy tapped twice fast, then three times slow on lucky 13, then opened the door and sent my world spinning sideways.

As the door swung slowly open it revealed… Kelly very much alive, sitting in a sea of crimson satin on the big brass bed, dressed in a black satin and lace merry widow, her dark curls falling down over pale sunken shoulders. She fingered the charm bracelet in her small hands, almost as if it were a rosary. One tear rolled down her cheek. I had to grab onto the door jamb to keep from falling over. She blinked, wiped the tear away, and looked up at me. As she straightened her shoulders and backbone, all sign of regret vanished, her face hardening with a strength I had never seen in Kelly. Reason flooded into my confused mind. Cass was not just Kelly’s sister, she was her twin. Except for a small crescent-shaped scar by her right eye and a firmness in her jaw line she was an exact replica of Kelly, punched from the same flesh mold.

“You gonna be alright, darlin’?” The cowboy clearly loved this girl, it was tearing him up that he wasn’t the man to save her.

“I’ll be fine Ned, thank you.” She blinked her eyes slowly and the cowboy closed the door leaving us alone. I was sure he stayed in the hall just to be certain she was safe.

“You’re Moses, aren’t you?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“Yeah. Kelly wrote you about me?” My voice sounded hollow and strange. I dropped into a chair by the bed. I wanted to reach out and touch her, she looked so much like her sister.

“She said you were a good man, a rare thing in this world. I told her I thought you probably just wanted to get in her shorts. Was I right?” She was talking about anything but her sister’s fate. If she needed time I would give it to her. So we chatted, almost like it was about the weather, but the weather hadn’t killed this girl’s sister and the weather wasn’t out there hunting her right now.

“We were friends. That’s all.”

“You were in love with her. Otherwise, why are you here?”

“I owe her… or maybe I just had nothing better to do with my Friday night than traipse across two states. Either way, I’m here now, so maybe you can tell me what you girls got yourselves into.”

She let out a sad laugh as she looked me over. “Are you my knight in shining armor? Proving God really does have a sense of humor?”

“I can’t slay your dragons unless you tell me what they look like. Baby girl, what’s going on? What’d you two do?” Her smile faded. Her eyes dared me to try and drag the truth out of her. Then she broke contact to look down at the charm bracelet wrapped around her delicate fingers.

“Was it painful?” she asked.

“Death is always painful. You really want the details?” It came out harder than I intended.

“Yes,” she said, still not looking up. She set her jaw, preparing for the punch to come. She looked like a girl who had taken her share of hits and would take a few more before her run was done.

“They made her suck on the barrel and blew her brains out.” She nodded slightly, her breath coming in shallow gulps. Her eyes were focused away from the room seeing the scene in her head no doubt. “Cigar burns, pliers, rape, they did a full bore lock down number on your sister and I suspect they did it to get to you. But I doubt she talked. The way you’re running, my bet is she took a ride that was meant for you. I also think you know who did it.” I wanted to hold her and tell her it was all going to be ok. I wanted to slap her for what she did to Kelly. I wanted her to be Kelly and this to be a bad dream. Before she could speak a knock came on the door. The cowboy leaned in.

“Cass, two boys in suits are downstairs looking for you, they don’t look like they’re going to take no for an answer,” he said. Out her window, I could see a Cadillac in the parking lot with a mobbed up thug leaning on the fender.

Cass’ face went cold and firm. “You want answers, get me out of here, now.”

“Let’s jet,” I said. When she got up from the bed, I noticed she was five foot nothing. Just like her sister, these girls would always stand taller in your memory. She grabbed a small suitcase and filled it quickly with her meager belongings. From a drawer she pulled a picture, her and Kelly laughing in a wheat field. They looked to be about sixteen in the picture and full of all the hope and life teenage girls are meant to have. She stepped into a pair of six-inch spikes and pulled on a long red velvet cape, then slid the hood up over her head. For a moment I thought of Little Red Riding Hood and wondered if I was the wolf or the woodcutter? Then we were running down the hall. The cowboy went down the front stairs to try and slow the mob boys down. We went out the back. I knew we had thirty feet of open space between the house and the gate. I cursed myself for leaving my gun in the car. I hooked Cass’ arm around mine and told her to follow my lead. Moving out of the shadows, I let out a loud drunken laugh. I stumbled toward the gate. I could see the thug on the Cadillac watching us. Hitting the gate I pulled her into a kiss, or at least that’s what it would look like, past her I could see the house. No one was coming out the door. Pushing open the gate we swayed toward the Cadillac. I let go of Cass and rolled up on the thug.