Tough Baby (Martin Fender Novel) (13 page)

I’d fed Barbra Quiero a few questions that I was interested in, like how a girl living on unemployment managed paying for a couple of weeks at La Quinta and a rental car. I needed her help, if she had any to give, but I didn’t tell her everything I knew about the case either. She seemed like the type who could complicate things in a hurry.

I poured myself a short drink and thought about other possible complications. Bingo’s vague threat came to mind. He wanted to make sure I wasn’t just hitting him up for hush money for Vick. That should be no problem, as long as Vick had been telling me the truth.

The cat jumped into my lap, digging in with his claws so all thirty pounds of him wouldn’t slide off. He stayed on, but the Scotch glass shot out of my grasp and bounced across the floor, soaking the carpet. I thanked him by folding his ears back and rubbing his nose. Soon he was purring like a lawn mower’s engine. I didn’t need that drink anyway.

CHAPTER TWELVE

I called Ladonna, but she was in a meeting. I called the collection agency and told them I wouldn’t be in. I called Ray and he was cool and cordial as a gin martini and he said he’d see me Saturday at Antone’s, but that would be his last gig with the band. I asked him why and he said ask Leo.

I called Leo’s apartment but got a busy signal. After five more tries I decided it must be off the hook. I called Vick and told him I’d be picking up the money at eight. He said he knew because Roberto, Bingo’s right-hand man in the blue lame suit, had called him. He also said that the guys had called again and said the payoff had to take place sometime in the next twenty-four hours.

“So,” he said, “however you wanna handle it . .

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll call you tonight.” How
was
I going to handle it? I didn’t know. Because the payoff wasn’t the goal for me. My goal was to identify these guys, trace them somehow, and find out if there was some connection with Retha Thomas. Maybe they’d know how she’d been paying her motel bill. Maybe they’d know what she was doing in town. They were interested in Vick, she was interested in Vick. Maybe they didn’t want the competition. If they weren’t connected with her, maybe Vick had decided that he was only going to pay one set of blackmailers.

If maybes were dollars, my last name would have been Trump. But for the time being, I’d have to settle for the maybes.

&&&

I popped a Willie Dixon tape in the Walkman and headed down South 1st Street in the Ghia. Deaf kids were bopping down the hill in front of the deaf school across from my apartment complex, signing furiously at each other. Joggers and cyclists were circling the hike and bike trail around Town Lake. The stylish new downtown high-rises huddled around the Capitol on the north side of the water, and the Hyatt crawled up from the southern banks. That was where Barbra Quiero was staying. It cost a lot more than La Quinta. I didn’t give it much thought as I drove across the bridge. It was a nice day.

I needed to either patch things up between Ray and Leo or find a new saxophonist. I’d about had enough of Ray’s high-hatting attitude anyway, and I was genuinely worried about Leo. If he was bound and determined to be a fuck-up, fine. He’d have all the company he wanted on the local music scene. But if he didn’t straighten out soon, I’d have to look for another guitarist, too. And I didn’t want to do that. Not now.

I picked up a couple of orders of flour tacos and guacamole
chalupas
at the Tamale House at 29th and Guadalupe, then drove over to Leo and Nadine’s place just a few blocks farther up the Drag. The home-cooked Mexican food smelled so wholesome and satisfying, it seemed sure to help put things right.

But I could feel a sort of stale dread hanging in the air even as I knocked on their screen door. Leo was slumped forward on the couch, staring at the TV with the sound off, cigarette smoke curling up from the cast on his hand. I had to knock again before he came out of his dreary reverie and shuffled over to unlatch the screen.

The duplex was a wreck. Dishes were piled high in the sink in the kitchen and Leo’s suitcases lay open in the living room with twisted pieces of clothing flowing out. And the dog wanted to go for a walk, badly.

“Shouldn’t go out without a leash,” said Leo, surly and languid. “Tying him up in the front yard would be cruel, and it’s too hot to take him for a walk.” He was in faded, frayed jeans and a dirty undershirt. Barefoot. He needed a shave and some industrial strength hair disentangler.

The dog’s wagging tail was beating bruises on my calf. I petted him and put the bag down on the coffee table, unrolling the top to see if the aroma would do anything to lighten the gloom. “Hungry?” I said.

He raised his shoulders up so that his ears were even with them. “She might be, though.”

“Nadine?”

A slight nod.

“Is she here?”

“In the back bedroom.”

I picked up my groceries, walked down the hall lined with guitar cases, and knocked on the door. There was no sound. I pushed it open slowly.

She was sitting on the bed, facing the wall. At her side was a packed suitcase. Her waitress uniform was draped over a chair.

“Nadine . . .”

She jumped up and spun around to look at me with her wet eyes. Her hair was dyed an eggplant shade of black and cut in a trendy bob, but she was pretty in an earthy kind of way, not exotic, not tall. I knew that she liked animals, horror novels, and James Woods. Leo said she was a good cook, too, but they ended up ordering takeout a lot since she worked a lot of night shifts. Having grown up in a household with a working mother and four brothers, cooking for men had lost a bit of its glamour—for her, anyway.

“Oh heck, Martin. You startled me. I thought it was that worthless bastard.”

“Want some tacos?”

She forced a smile, shaking her head. I’d lost interest in them myself. “What’s going on, Martin?”

“I was hoping you could tell me.”

“What does it look like?” She started folding a scarf.

“You two have been together a couple of years now. Isn’t it something you could work out?”

She smoothed the scarf into the suitcase, saying, “Nope.”

“Do you mind me asking what it is?”

She shook her head. “Nah, I don’t mind, as long as you ask Leo. After all, he’s in your band. You can look after him from now on.” She paused, raising her eyebrows at me.

“What was it this time?” I said.

“Ask him.”

“You know, Nadine, I’m getting tired of people telling me to ask Leo. Everybody’s so upset with him, it must really be something bad. But before you make it all final, you might think about the good things you’ll be missing—your home here, the dog . . .”

“Whoa, you got the wrong idea, Martin. I’m just going over to my mom’s house to give Leo time to clear out. I like this house and I’m not giving it up. I hate to move more than anything, especially after I find a place I like.”

“You’re kicking him out, then.”

“Uh-huh. But you’re right about Frankenstein, I’ll miss him. I hope Mr. Fuck-head takes care of him.”

“The poor pup really wants to go for a walk. I feel sorry for him.”

She thought it over for a moment, then smiled slyly at me. “Yeah, the big black monster shouldn’t have to stay cooped up in here all day just because Leo and I are at each other’s throats. I could use some fresh air too.”

I followed her back through the house, watching as she glanced over at Leo a couple of times while she fastened the leash to the ecstatic Doberman’s collar. Leo would look up at her but only when she wasn’t looking at him. The dog hit the screen door as soon as it was unlatched, and the two of them lurched out with Nadine’s arm straight out in front of her, the dog charging down the sidewalk, testing the leash, choking himself. I sat down on the other end of the sofa.

“What’d you do this time, Leo?”

He was holding the hand with the cast again. The cast was a little less startlingly white now, so it looked more like he was holding a slightly soiled white rabbit. He sighed and it seemed to take everything out of him. “Martin,” he said, “I’m sorry, but I really don’t wanna talk about it. I didn’t hurt anybody but myself, OK?” He closed his eyes and chuckled quietly, saying, “It was one of those victimless crimes.”

“You hurt Nadine. You call that victimless?”

“She’s putting out her own kinda hurt, Martin. She hit me with a broom last night.”

“You didn’t hit her back, did you?”

“Nah. Let her have her fun.”

“You know, I’m worried about you. I hate to butt in where it isn’t any of my business, but you’ve got to admit you’ve been acting strange.”

“At least I haven’t had any blackouts. I know what I did Sunday night, even if I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“That’s not fair, Leo.”

He grunted and stared off into space. “Not fair, huh? Not fair . . .” He let the word trail off, as if it were a tendril of smoke waiting to be caught in a draft. “A lot of things aren’t fair. We’re living on top of a world of not fair. And
strange,
you wanna tell me what strange is, Martin? I don’t know what strange is anymore. I just don’t. From Fort Worth to LA, grammar school kids are toting Uzis and driving BMWs. Last night in San Antonio some asshole was drinking with this old man behind a tire store and got pissed and beat the hell out of him, knocked both his eyes out with an ax handle and kept on stabbing him in the head with it. Afterwards he covered him up with tires, left him for dead, and went across the street to a bar and bought a beer. Parents are keeping their kids chained in basements, using them for punching bags.”

He shook his head and sighed. “Everything’s so damn depressing. I got kids stopping me on the street asking me for my autograph, telling me I’m cooler than Batman. When I get home, I got nothing but bills and an eviction notice. I know you got troubles too. Maybe you’re just hassling me because it’s easier than dealing with your own strange shit.”

“You know that’s not it.”

“OK. But you got problems, I know that’s a fact.”

“And I know you and Nadine aren’t having a typical lover’s spat. Something real wrong is going on here. She’s put up with jerks ever since she was bom, and she puts up with them on the night shift, too. She wouldn’t be kicking you out for something petty.”

“You don’t know that, man. She’s a tough baby. She’s so mean, she’d smash you in the face just to hear the bones crunch.”

“You just said that to be funny.”

His lip curled up in what might pass for a grin. I was almost glad he’d made the crack, as untrue as it was. “OK. Maybe I did. But maybe she’s just not overjoyed to see her baby boy come back home. Maybe she’s ready to start making breakfast for someone else because she thought she smelled eighteen weeks of pussy on my breath.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think so.”

“OK. I’m a liar. But why don’t you just let me root around in my own slop? Maybe I enjoy being miserable.”

“Do you?”

“Naw,” he said, sighing. “Hell, no. But I’m telling you, it ain’t that big of a deal. I mean, it’s over. What’s done is done, and we’ll either work it out or not. It doesn’t have to concern you or anybody but me and Nadine.”

“What if you told Nadine you were sorry and you really meant it? You think it’s possible you could patch things up?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know, Martin, she’s really pissed. She’s looking for a whole new baby boy here in these shoes. I don’t wanna change too much, man. I don’t wanna get a job
,
goddammit. I’m a guitar player, for chrissakes.”

I jabbed him in the chest and said, “Leo, she doesn’t want you to get a job. You were a guitar player when she met you. She just wants you to straighten up. When she gets back, tell her you’re sorry. Tell her you’ll start looking for a job so that if things don’t pick up soon you’ll have something to fall back on. You’ll have a plan. Girls go for stuff like that. Plus, we’re making a couple of hundred bucks each at Antone’s on Saturday night. Sunday morning you go out and buy a cartful of groceries and Sunday night you take her out to dinner. What do you think?”

“I’ll try it.”

“Tell you what,” I said, digging the band’s American Express card out of my wallet and forcing it into his clenched hand, “take her out to dinner tonight.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Sure. You both need to get out of here for a while. Take her somewhere nice, but don’t abuse it,” I said, pointing at the card.

“You can trust me.”

“I know,” I said, pausing at the door, “because it wouldn’t be a victimless crime.”

&&&

Ladonna had to work late, but I caught her on the phone before I had to drive out to the lake again. I told her about Nadine and Leo.

“Maybe she just missed him when he was gone and hates his guts for it,” she suggested.

“I think there’s more to it than that,” I said.

“Yeah, that’s too simple, even for a romance between a musician and a nice girl.”

“Spiky tonight, aren’t we?”

“I’m sorry, Martin. I miss you.”

“Well, don’t run off with one of the realtors at the office just yet. I’ve got a feeling I’ll be busy tonight, but I might be able to drop by.”

“If that’s the best you can do . . .”

“That’s the best I can offer, Ladonna, unless promising
not
to come by would be better for you.”

“Ouch. You didn’t have to say that.”

“Maybe it’s the heat. I’ll call you later.”