BENNINGTON P.I. “BONITA” (10 page)

The second man was much shorter, no more than five foot six, and older, perhaps fifty or even sixty years of age.  He was dressed in a short sleeved white dress shirt and ill-fitting pair of grey slacks that pushed much of his lower stomach up and over his belt. His brown hair was done up in a rather pathetic comb over, with several long strands falling down across his high and wide forehead. He too looked my way, and I saw his eyes gleam in recognition of either Talbot or me, or possibly both of us.

“Oh shit, here they come.”

The panic in Talbot’s voice was considerable.  I wasn’t feeling so calm myself, but figured the best way for us to remain safe was to keep our asses firmly planted in our seats and hope having thirty or so other witnesses in the bar with us would be enough to keep us safe – for now.

“Keep it together Talbot.  Nothing is gonna happen as long as we’re sitting here at this table.”

I was almost sure I was right.

Almost.

14.

The shorter of the two men, who also appeared to be the one in charge, paused next to Talbot while looking down at me.  A sneer slashed across his face as he placed his right hand on Talbot’s shoulder and squeezed it tightly.

“Mind if we sit down and have a friendly little talk
?”

I looked back up at Mr. comb-over and shrugged, trying to appear as nonchalant as possible.

“It’s a small table.  Not sure we have room, but do your best.”

Comb-Over glanced back at the taller man and tilted his head to his left, indicating he wanted the other man to stand watch by the bar’s entrance.  He then moved a chair over to our table and sat down, a wide smile breaking across his fleshy, pasty- white face.  I noted his smile was a rather sad, yellowed row of small corn-kernel teeth in need of some serious cleaning.  He looked every bit the failed accountant who would be stuck in the basement of a large company complaining that somebody had stolen his stapler, and demanding he wanted it back.  Despite his appearance though, the man seemed certain he held the upper hand in whatever situation I found myself involved in.

“Can I get you a drink?”

My question remained unanswered as the man stared back at me, the thin layer of sweat covering his forehead threatening to turn into a torrential downpour.

“No thank you Mr. Bennington.  This is more of a business meeting if you will.  I believe you have something the people I work for would very much like to have back.”

Whoever the guy was, he already knew my name and I assumed was referring to the manila envelope Walt had left in the storage locker.  The envelope Reg was now keeping safely hidden behind the bar.

“Sorry to disappoint you…whatever your name is, but I don’t have what you and Mr. Talbot here seem to think I have.  In fact, I got no damn clue what any of this is about, and can’t seem to get Jacob here to get to the point in explaining it.”

Talbot cleared his throat and looked over at the other man, his eyes indicating he wasn’t certain if he had permission to speak.  The noise in the bar was growing louder as more people entered, giving me the confidence to become more aggressive in trying to get some answers from either Talbot or the other man.

“How about you start by telling me who you are, and who you’re working for?”

The man looked at Talbot again and then ran his hand across the top of his scalp, trying to pin down the long strands of hair that attempted to hide the all too apparent fact of his baldness.

“My name is Albert Deckler, of Deckler Investigations.  I’m a private investigator Mr. Bennington.”

It was my turn to smile, though thankfully, my teeth were in far better condition than Deckler’s.

“Hey, I’m a P.I. too!  Small world, huh?”

Deckler appeared less than amused, his former sneer returning in all its former glory.

“I’ve been doing this for a long time Mr. Bennington.”

I leaned forward in my seat, my voice coming out in a snarled hiss.

“Just like Walter.  You know anything about that?  About who killed my friend Walter?”

Deckler folded his hands on the table and shook his head.

“I’m asking the questions Mr. Bennington, not you.  Now we know you have something, a folder, a file, envelope, something that doesn’t belong to you, and all I’m asking on behalf of my clients, is that you give it back.  I’ve even been authorized to offer compensation for your cooperation.”

I picked at some remnants of steak left on my plate, outwardly looking bored with anything and everything Mr. Comb-Over had to say, though inside my own head, I had to admit I was intrigued at how much these guys might be willing to pay for what was inside that envelope.

“So you’re offering to pay me for something I just told you I don’t have?  Sounds good to me – leave the cash on the table here and you can be on your way.”

I could tell that remark got under Deckler’s skin.  His eyes flashed angrily as his hands clasped and unclasped several times on top of the table.

“This isn’t a joke Mr. Bennington.  You are involving yourself in something far greater than you can understand.  I’m urging you to accept my offer of compensation and hand over the material given to you by Mr. Walter Till.”

I widened my eyes in mock surprise, dismissing Deckler’s ominous warning with my own ridicule.

“Oooohhh, it all sounds so spooky Mr. Deckler.  Not as uncomfortable as having to look at your haircut there, but yeah, pretty scary stuff.  I wish I had what you’re looking for, but gosh darn it, I just don’t know what that could be!  If only Walt were here we could ask him, but we can’t – because he’s dead.”

“Frank, give him what he wants.  It’s not worth it.  They know who you are, they know you got it, so just hand it over and let’s be done with all this.  And he’s right, we can pay you for the information.  I’m prepared to do that myself.”

I turned in my chair to stare back at Talbot.  His eyes were too calm, his demeanor too controlled.  It seemed he had been trying to appear and sound more earnest and nervous than he actually was.

I’d had more than enough of this shit. 

“You both can go.  I don’t have whatever it is you think I do.  It’s been an interesting day Talbot, I’ll give you that, but I’m out.  I’d just like to let my meal settle, maybe have another couple drinks, and never see either of you assholes again.”

Deckler’s right hand reached across the table and clamped down on my left wrist, his words hissing forth with considerable, pent-up frustration.

“Give us what we want Mr. Bennington – NOW.”

“Or what?  You gonna come at me in front of all these witnesses Deckler?  I don’t think so.  Plus, you’re not certain I do have what you’re looking for, are you?  No, you’re just hoping that’s the case, but you don’t know.  Neither does Talbot here.  Frankly, I’m starting to think you two are working together in all this – whatever “this” is. 

I could see Deckler’s partner looking across the bar at our table, watching intently as Deckler continued to cling to my wrist.

“Perhaps you should know something Mr. Bennington, something that involves a young Brazilian woman with whom you have spent a considerable amount of time with in recent months.  She’s certainly beautiful.”

Silia.

Not yet certain if Deckler was making a legitimate threat against Silia, I continued to act indifferent to his demands.

“I know a lot of beautiful women Deckler, but wouldn’t call any of them a serious obligation.  Get my drift?  Nice try, but that won’t scare me into going along with your bullshit.  And let me repeat it once again since you seem to be incapable of understanding – I DON’T HAVE WHATEVER IT IS YOU’RE LOOKING FOR.”

Albert Deckler released his grip on me and responded with a thin, sly smile.

“Very well Mr. Bennington.  I’m going to make a call and then we’ll see if you might feel differently.”

Deckler withdrew his cell phone and dialed a number, the thin smile remaining on his face as he held the phone to his ear.

“Yeah, it’s me.  I’m here with him now.  Put her on the phone.”

Deckler reached across and placed his phone next to my head.  Silia’s heavily accented voice cried out from the other end.

“Frank!  They took me!  Frank!”

I attempted to grab the phone but Deckler withdrew it quickly and put it back to his ear.

“I’ll check in again soon.  Hold her there until you hear from me.”

Deckler ended the call and looked back at me coldly.  I looked away from him and instead focused on Talbot.

“Ok, I’ll give it to you.  Not HIM – but you.”

Talbot’s shoulders slumped slightly, grateful for my willingness to now cooperate.

“I think that’s wise Frank.  We need to just end all of this.  So where’s it at?”

I glanced back toward the restrooms.

“I hid it in there after we came in.  I’ll go get it.”

As Deckler began to rise up from his chair to protest, I noted how Talbot shot him a look that resulted in the private investigator closing his mouth and sitting back down.  It was no more than a half second of unspoken communication between the two men, but it was enough to convince me that Deckler was in fact likely working for Jacob Talbot, meaning Talbot was in charge of this bullshit charade.

“I’ll come with you Frank.”

I shrugged back at Talbot.

“You seem to have a habit of following men into restrooms.  People are gonna start to wonder.  Or maybe you just want to remind me to wash my hands again?”

Talbot chuckled, as his right hand pushed me gently from behind, back toward the men’s bathroom.

“Sure Frank, let’s just get this over with.”

Funny thing, I’d made the very same walk to the
Off the Record’s
bathroom a million times before, and not once did it ever seem to take as long as it did this time.

Behind me I could hear Reg turning the volume up on the large flat screen television that sat above the bar so that a Beyonce music video could be heard over the din of multiple conversations taking place in the now crowded establishment.  She was bouncing around on some beach caterwauling about being drunk in love while a skinny,  baseball cap wearing older guy in a white t-shirt was yelling how he was gonna “eat the cake”.  Wow, pretty deep stuff.

Tell you what, if that song was the last thing I heard in this life, I’d be one pissed off dead guy.  No wonder this world is such a bad state when crap like that passes for music these days.  Eat the cake?  How about you eat shit and die buddy? Or at the very least just shut the hell up already?

Talbot’s hand pushed on my back again.  We were at the door to the bathroom.

“Let’s hurry up Frank.  I don’t want that girl to be hurt.”

Yeah, right, you murdering little prick.

I could feel my fists clenching as I pushed the restroom door inward with my left shoulder.

This one’s for you Walt…

15.

Talbot was expecting me to make a move.  I on the other hand, was more than surprised after whirling around to face him to see that expectation included a rather wicked looking seven inch knife being held firmly in Talbot’s right hand.  I heard the click of the restroom door lock followed by Talbot’s left hand gesturing palm up toward me.