One for My Baby (Phoenix Noir Book 4) (2 page)

It was the oldest continuously-running bar in Phoenix, a tiki-themed former dive on Grand Avenue that had been half-taken over by hipsters and students from the ASU downtown campus. If you went there at night you’d find the kind of young crowd you find in any bar where the DJs are good and the drinks are cheap, but if you went there in the morning you’d find people who had been drinking there for thirty years. Over the bar were plaques from the alternative weekly newspaper awarding it the title of Best Dive Bar, which it no longer was, and Best Pickup Bar, which, Mark could testify, it still was.

Tonight DJentrification was on the tables, so the place was full. Mark couldn’t find a seat, so he got a vodka and tonic and stood at the bar as he drank it and listened to DJentrification mix beats with the sound of the flying monkeys from
The Wizard of Oz
. He looked around for some strange, but didn’t see any. It was all couples or crews. A few people he knew waved to him, but none invited him to join them.

He used his phone to send a text message to Suzanne:
“Is Ryan working tonight?”

Her reply came a few minutes later:
“Yes.”

He finished his drink and left, got in his car and drove East on Roosevelt. He took a detour down Fifth Street to see how busy The Lost Leaf was. It was packed, and a band was playing. It stayed open till two, so Suzanne’s husband, who worked there, wouldn’t be home for another couple hours at least.

The house was on Weldon, just off Seventh Street. When Mark parked outside, he saw that the only light that was on was in the bedroom. The porch light was off. He texted:
“I’m here.”

She came to the door and opened it without turning any lights on. As Mark stepped inside, he saw the silhouette of her long, curly hair. As soon as she closed the door he pushed her against it and kissed her, taking her hair in his hands. They banged against the door, he pulling her hair and biting her lips. He pulled her head back and kissed the side of her neck. He wanted to bite her there, and he rubbed his teeth on her skin, and he knew she wanted him to bite but he couldn’t mark her. Instead he bit her earlobe so hard she cried out, and then they broke apart, looked at each other, and he followed her to the bedroom.

There were baseball hats hanging on the bedposts, hats he knew belonged to her husband. He liked that. When they were naked and in bed and he slid into her, he pinched her nipples and said, “If he only knew you had a stranger in his bed with his bare cock in you...”

The thought of it made her start to come. “You’re gonna fill me with come, and when he comes home I’m gonna fuck him and he won’t even know...” She came, and a few seconds later he gave her what she had just asked for.

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G
reen Life
had closed an hour ago. Linda was sitting at the bar drinking the Bloody Mary that Joel had made for her. The other servers had left, and it was just the two of them. She wondered if Joel was going to put the moves on her. He liked her, she could tell, but he wasn’t sure of himself with her. He was hot, and women in the bar were checking him out all evening, so maybe he didn’t know what to make of her because she didn’t squeak and giggle when he looked at her, or maybe because she had told him he was full of shit in response to a couple of his more ignorant political opinions. She didn’t really care what the reason for his hesitance was, but she figured she’d have to be the one to get things moving.

“Got any plans for after this?” she said.

“You mean for tonight, or my life?”

“Tonight. The other is between you and your therapist.”

“Uh, no. Wanna go someplace else? You live downtown, right?”

“Right.”

“Me too. Wanna go to The Lost Leaf or someplace?”

“No,” she said.

Ten minutes later she was stretched out on the couch in the waiting area, her panties on the floor, her skirt at her waist, Joel’s face in her cunt.

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M
ark sat
in his car until he saw Suzanne’s husband’s car pull into the the street and park in the driveway. He watched him get out of the car, walk to the front door, let himself in. Suzanne had said she wasn’t going to change the sheets before he got home. Mark could see that the light in the bedroom was still on. It stayed on, and Mark knew Suzanne was getting what she wanted. The knowledge made his cock so hard he was tempted to listen at the window and jerk off, but he fought the temptation and drove home.

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L
inda and
Joel stood by her car in the parking lot of Green Life, kissing. He wanted to go home with her, or for her to go home with him, but she’d told him neither was going to happen. He asked again, she said no again, and then she got in her car and left.

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A
nother night
at Green Life. The place had just closed, the door wasn’t locked yet, and the staff were still there, eight of them. Cleanup time, and Linda was trying her best to avoid interacting with Joel, whom she hadn’t slept with in almost a month and who was getting clingy and had started writing bad poems about her.

The  guy in the ski mask and dark clothes came in, stood in front of the door, swept the room with the pistol. There were screams, and people cowered, but the guy didn’t shoot. “All right, everybody stay still.” His voice was loud, but less than a shout.

Everyone froze, except for Linda. She walked toward the guy. “Stop pointing that gun at me!”

He hadn’t been pointing it at her specifically, but now he did.

She kept moving toward him. “Stop pointing that fucking gun at me!” she screamed.

“Don’t move,” he said. “I’m warning you.”

She screamed again, and ran at him. He didn’t shoot, and she flailed at his face, pulling off the mask. He punched her jaw, and she sat down hard on the floor.

Now he was the one who screamed. “Nobody look at me! Anybody who looks at me is dead!”

They all looked away from him. Except for Linda, who sat there on the floor, looking up at him, one hand on her jaw, the other holding his mask.

“Stop looking at me, you bitch! Do you want to die? Want me to shoot you in the face?”

She kept looking at him.

“Give me that!” He grabbed the mask from her hand, then pushed her face down  toward the floor so she couldn’t see him. He put the mask on again. Her coworkers huddled against the bar, silent.

“Who’s the manager?” Mark said.

“I am,” Joel said.

“All right. Get the fucking money. Now.”

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M
ark was
buttoning his shirt, about to put his tie on, when he heard the sirens.

He started the car and tore out of the Green Life parking lot. The sirens got louder, closer. He went South on Scottsdale Road, swung right—West—on Indian School, hit the gas even harder, ran two red lights, heard the sirens fade and then get close again, saw the police car in the distance but getting closer, made another turn, then another, came to the bridge over the canal, stood on the brakes, fishtailed, threw the bag containing the money, mask and gun out of the window and off the bridge, heard the splash, got moving again, and was slowing down when two squalling cop cars appeared behind and beside him. He briefly considered trying to outrun them, knowing it was impossible, and then let that thought go when he heard the chattering of the ghetto bird  directly above him. As its spotlight found his car, he pulled over and sat there with his hands on his head.

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L
inda had
stopped shaking. She sat on the couch in Green Life, the one she had lain on her first time with Joel. The cop who was taking her statement had stood in front of her at first, but her throat was so raw from screaming that she couldn’t speak loud enough for him to hear her that way, so he was forced to come to her level and sit beside her on the couch.

“You can definitely identify him? You’re sure?” he asked her.

“If somebody stuck a gun in your face and threatened to kill you, would you forget what he looked like?”

“Okay...”

“I can see his face in my mind right now. If you’ve got him, I’ll identify the son of a bitch.”

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T
he room
in the Scottsdale cop shop had no furniture other than a table and a couple chairs. Mark sat on one of the chairs, still handcuffed. A uniformed cop sat on the other, and his partner stood. They were silent until the door opened and a plainclothes came in. This was Detective Owen Rankin.

The uniform in the chair started to get up to allow Rankin to sit, but Rankin motioned to him to stay where he was. He stood next to Mark and looked at him. Mark didn’t return his stare.

“Well,” Rankin said. “All right. So this is our restaurant-robbing buddy? It’s nice to finally meet you. You’ve been a busy boy.”

Mark gave no response.

“Not talking? Oh, well. Be like that.”

“He hasn’t said a word since we brought him in,” the other uniform said.

“We’ve got a cure for that,” Rankin said. “But no rush.” He sat on the edge of the table and addressed Mark. “I took a look at the coat and hat you had in your car. You’ve got good taste. Now, let me see if I can guess—you go to a bar dressed like that so people will notice you and remember you. Then you leave, change your clothes, rob a restaurant, and then get yourself dolled up again—so if we stop you, you can say you don’t know what the hell we’re talking about, you’ve been in the bar, just ask anybody that was there... How am I doing?”

Mark continued to ignore him.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you, you little prick.”

Mark did not.

Rankin grabbed him by the face, pinching violently, forcing Mark to make eye contact, but Mark’s eyes showed nothing and he said nothing.

“Well, you can sit there and keep quiet all you want, son. We’ve got you. You’re nailed. The lady you terrorized with a damn gun isn’t scared of you. She’s ready to identify you. Now, do you want to say anything before I bring her in here?”

Mark said nothing.

“Suit yourself.” He let go of Mark’s face by shoving him to the floor. Then he walked out of the room. Neither of the uniforms made a move to help Mark to his feet, though the handcuffs made it hard for him to stand up by himself. He managed it, rolling to a kneeling position, then stood, then sat on the chair again.

In the corridor outside, Rankin told Linda, “You don’t have to go in there and face him if you don’t want to.”

“Oh, I want to.”

“We can do it through a mirror. He’ll never even see you.”

“He’s already seen me. Anyway, I want him to have to look in my face.” She fingered her bruised jaw. “Let’s see how brave he is without his gun.”

They went into the room. Mark didn’t acknowledge their arrival.

“Hey, Jesse James. Look who’s here to see you. You not gonna say hello?” Rankin said. “Well, you don’t have to talk. She’ll do the talking.” He looked at Linda. “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Good. Now, take your time. Get a good look at him.” He turned to Mark. “You! Look up!”

Mark raised his head, without making eye contact with anyone. Linda stared at him.

“Don’t like it, huh?” Rankin said. “Not such a big man now?”

“It’s not him,” Linda said.

The uniforms looked at each other, and at Rankin. Rankin was looking at Linda. “What?”

“It’s not him. This isn’t the guy.”

Rankin tried to keep it from showing in his face, and almost managed to. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Look at him again. Take your time.”

“This isn’t the guy. He looks nothing like him.”

Rankin just stood there and stared at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “Can I go now?”

Rankin sighed so hard it was almost a hiss. “Yes.”

As Linda turned to go, Mark spoke. “Hey.”

Everyone looked at him, but he only looked at Linda.

“Thanks,” he said.

Linda walked out.

Mark looked at Rankin. “According to the officer who arrested me, the guy you’re looking for had a gun, a mask and a bag of money. I don’t.”

“You ditched it somewhere.”

“And your witness says I don’t even look like the guy. So, I accept your apology. These things happen.”

“You prick.”

“I think I’ll be on my way now. If you want me to stay here any longer, I’ll have to ask you to get me a lawyer.”

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I
t was
close to dawn when he got home. The cops had kept asking him questions, and he’d kept demanding a lawyer, until they’d accepted that they weren’t going to get anything from him, and then it had taken a while to get his car.

Pangur Ban was glad to see him, and he’d never been so glad to see Pangur Ban. “I thought I might not be seeing you again for quite a while,” Mark said as he sat on his bed and petted him. “And I don’t think I have any more idea what the hell happened tonight than you do.”

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L
inda had
thought she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but when she got home she barely managed to get her clothes off and flop on her bed before she passed out. She slept heavily until around ten in the morning, when her phone woke her. She didn’t answer it, and was most of the way back to sleep when it rang again. Without looking to see who it was, she switched it to silent mode and then slept until noon.

When she woke, she found three text messages from Joel, each one asking if she was okay and asking her to call or text him. There was a voice message from him asking the same.

She texted him:
“I was sleeping, no thanks 2 u. I’m fine. See u tonight.”

He texted back:
“Wanna have lunch?”

She answered: “
No. See u tonight.”

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W
hen Mark
woke, it was so late in the afternoon that it was almost time for happy hour at the Duck and Swallow. He showered, drank coffee, ate a couple bananas, then walked over there.

The walk got him so sweaty he could have used another shower. He was sitting at the bar, wiping sweat from his face with a napkin, when English Tony saw him.