Money Men (20 page)

The television crackled with applause. A cuff-linked, effeminate game-show host held a housewife's hand and pointed to the stage set behind him. "You keep five hundred dollars or try for the wild-card prize in one of the boxes!" he quacked. "Take your choice of Prize
One,
Prize
Two
, or Prize
Three!"
Chewing her fingernails excitedly, the housewife jumped up and down. Her breasts were bouncy, youthful, her waist firm. Perhaps as firm as Mona's? For the fiftieth time he saw Mona in the front seat of the car, the look in her eye as she stabbed him. The hole in his hand throbbed again.

"What will it be?" said the game-show man. "The
money
or one of the
wild-card boxes? Five hundred
dollars or a chance at gifts worth as much as
ten thousand
dollars."

"I'll keep the five hundred dollars," squealed the housewife.

She chomped on her knuckles. The box opened. "A new car!" screamed the announcer.

"Dumb bitch," Red said to the television. He got up and turned it off. He knocked a dirty towel off a dinette chair, sat down, and flipped a spiral notebook that was on the table.

He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples. Then he picked up a ball-point pen and wrote the following:

RECOVERY OPERATION

The need for cash flow is now imperative, but falling back to quick con game would be disastrous because of being known by the cops. Cannot trust Gabe-he is probably a snitch; much too friendly. Only one to trust at this point is Ronnie. He has proved himself under fire. Dio's deadline is up and it means that plans must be changed to meet the current needs. Dio is to me a barrier, a stone wall that is holding up all further success. He has shown himself to be what he always has been, a person lacking full understanding of people and situations. He is nothing more than a cheap gunsel who lucked out for a few scores and saved his money, like the peasant wop motherfucker that he is. To deal with Dio is a task requiring full commitment. Yes, an all-or-nothing is now upon me. I have survived before because of my mental speed and ability to decipher the codes of life. I picture myself at this moment as a guided missile fueled by the mental speed energy I have been able to develop using the nuclear resources of concentration. Dio's weakness is that, even in the Beverly Hills days, he accepted other people as stereotypes. He could never change an opinion of someone once it was made. His supposed mastery of power is a sham. I want to stick a burning cigar right into his eye and push it into his activating, rotten shit brain. He has challenged my energy by his failure to understand my mental speed. I must maintain control of the resources at my own command in order to return to the home plate of life. I have waited five years. I have been patient. I have not been remorseful. I have not been anything other than a gentleman who requests his seat at the table back. I am fifty-four years old and the little things mean more to me now. There is no question that I can handle the problem with Mona. Time is a healer. Dio, if he was a man instead of a phony rotten prick, could give me more time by just snapping his fingers-but he won't. I have never been afraid to face the music of life. It is time for a plateau decision.

It took him almost an hour to write this. After completing it he took another ginger-ale-belch treatment. Almost simultaneous with the emission of the worry gas, as if by the magic healing properties of ginger, he was aware of what he had to do. He picked the phone up off the floor and dialed. A woman answered.

"Hello."

"I wanna speak to Tony Dio. This is Red Diamond."

A click. "Hello, Red, this is Tony. What can I do for you?"

"I know tomorrow is the deadline, but something just came up and I wanted to check and see if I could get a slight extension. This is not a stall. I give you my word on that. It's just that I'm in the middle of a project that I have capital tied up in. Right now it would be so much easier if I could just have a little more time. That way I can pull off my caper without having to shortstop the whole thing right in the middle. I'm only asking for a few more weeks."

"Are you telling me you don't have what you are supposed to have by tomorrow?"

Red hesitated. He felt as though a faucet had been turned on in his intestines. "Oh, it's not that. Not at all. I have the full amount that I owe you. It's just that for the moment the money is tied up in something, and if I pull the money out right now to pay you, I'll just suffer a loss of possible profit and..."

"I don't like to talk on the phone, Red. You know that. Tomorrow is your deadline. I will be open for business in my hotel suite tomorrow. Be there at 7:00 P.M. with the money. Bring me cash. If you aren't there, you will have visitors. Like I said, business is business. Points are points."

"After all the fuckin' years I've known you... "

"The story has been told, Red. School is out."

Red's stomach roared. "Okay, okay, if that's the way it's got to be...I'll send a guy over with the money tomorrow."

"I don't like strangers. Make sure you are with him. I don't open my door for any fucking strangers."

"All right then. I'll bring the money over, but he'll be with me. I don't like to walk around alone with that much money."

"I understand," Dio said. "See you tomorrow."

Red put the receiver down. His hand throbbed painfully. His stomach was an active, squirming bagpipe filled with worry gas and various poison body liquids. He returned to the sofa and watched television until two in the morning. When he finally got into bed, he couldn't sleep, because his mental speed would not slow down to that of an ordinary man.

By the time the sun started to come up, every muscle in Carr's body was sore.

Kelly snored himself awake in a back seat littered with empty pop cans and chili-stained napkins. He sat up and rubbed his hands roughly over his face and hair.

"Breakfast time," he said. "I'll walk down to that little restaurant at the corner." He got out of the sedan.

Less than a minute later Red Diamond walked out of his apartment and got into a Chevy parked at the curb. He started the engine, made a U turn, and headed toward Hollywood Boulevard.

Carr made the same U turn and followed a half-block behind. He slowed near the restaurant to let Kelly jump in.

"You might know he'd leave as soon as I tried to grab a bite," Kelly said.

Carr drove at a safe distance behind Diamond down a deserted Hollywood Boulevard to La Brea.

Diamond turned south and continued past motels and coffee shops, and pulled into a small shopping center.

Carr stopped farther up the street. Kelly used the binoculars.

Diamond opened the trunk of his vehicle and carried something into the small shopping center.

"A Laundromat," Kelly said. "He's going to do his laundry. Just our luck. I know what you are going to say: 'Have patience.'"

"Time sure flies when you are having fun," Carr said. He rubbed the small of his back.

Red Diamond had a headache from lack of sleep. He shoved the bundle of clothes into the washing machine and dropped the quarters into the slot. The machine hummed.

He closed his eyes and leaned on the machine with both hands for a long while. Then he stood up straight, walked to the pay phone in the corner, dropped in a dime, and dialed.

He hung up the receiver in a moment. His head throbbed. Another dime. He dialed a number. It rang five times.

"Hello," Ronnie Boyce said. He was out of breath.

"This is Red. What are you doing?"

"Fucking and sucking about a hundred miles an hour."

"I gotta talk with you in person. Meet me at the Paradise Isle."

"Right on," Ronnie said. "Just as soon as I get off once more." He laughed.

Red hung up.

"He's been in there almost an hour now," Kelly said. "Maybe there's a back door. He might have gone out the back."

"Here he comes," Carr said.

Kelly started the engine.

Diamond got in his car, backed out of the parking space in front of the Laundromat, and drove south on La Brea Kelly pulled into the flow of traffic a few cars behind him. Red turned right on Sunset Boulevard. The agents followed, making a right turn on a residential street.

He must be heading back up to Hollywood Boulevard," Carr said. Diamond was a block ahead of them.

Suddenly an old Chrysler flew back-ward out of a driveway directly in front of them. Kelly slammed the G-car in reverse, backed up, and tried to get around it, but was blocked by a car parked at the curb. The blue-haired matron in the Chrysler had stalled. The street was blocked.

Carr wanted to jump out and chase Diamond's car as he watched it round the corner ahead of
them. It
was out of sight. Kelly sped in reverse for half a block until he could turn a corner. It was too late. They had lost him.

They drove back to Diamond's apartment to see if he was there. No luck.

"We've lost him," Carr said, gritting his teeth.

"Goddamnit to hell!" Kelly exploded. "We just wasted a whole day in this stinking car because of that old maid!
Sheeyit!"

He slammed a fist into an open hand.

"Let's take a shower break," said Carr. "Why don't you drop me off at my place and pick me up in a couple of hours and we'll set up again on his apartment. He's got to come back sometime."

****

TWENTY

Carr sat at a window table and watched Kelly finish eating. Kelly, with his mouth full, waved at Prince Nikola of Serbia.

The ex-wrestler, wearing a white butcher's apron, put a second basket of French rolls in front of Kelly. "You eat too much bread. Pretty soon you are three hundred pounds, like Man Mountain Dean." He filled his cheeks with air and made a face. "He used to get winded just climbing in the ring." He gave a mischievous smile.

Kelly's mouth was full. He said, "Fuck you, too" in three grunts.

Nick laughed uproariously and headed toward the kitchen.

Kelly finally swallowed. He broke another roll in half and plastered it with butter.

Carr stared out at a mixture of people walking in various directions carrying towels, surfboards, and umbrellas.

"Could you recognize him?" Kelly said.

Carr didn't answer.

"I mean if he walked past the window right now. Right this minute...Personally, I'm not sure. He walked up the steps and into Rico's room. I didn't even get a face-on shot of him. I'm just not sure."

Carr continued to stare out the window. "I think I would...But I'm not sure."

Kelly bit into the roll and chewed. "Maybe we're not doing the right thing."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean, maybe instead of doing surveillance on Diamond, we should just go up against him. Kick his door in and have a little heart-to-heart with him about who his young pal is. Knock his dick in the dirt if he doesn't cop out."

"If he won't cop out, we're through. We'll have tipped our hand," Carr said. "I say we watch him for a while longer."

The bar was empty. Gabe, the bartender, made squeaking noises as he dried glasses with a brownish rag. A radio broadcast race results.

Red Diamond joined Ronnie Boyce in the red leather booth. He slid across in order to sit close, pulled an ashtray toward him, and lit a cigarette. He coughed once, richly.

"You're in trouble, baby." Red took a fierce puff from his Pall Mall and turned his head to jettison a stream of smoke.