21 Tales (17 page)

Pete got a hold of Bernie Madress who had heard that Toni lost a bundle at Aqueduct six weeks earlier. That was all he knew, though. Pete had better luck with Dmitry Horowitz. He had run into Toni at the Meadowlands and thought she'd had a good day, up a few thousand. He reported that she seemed less than enthralled with Pete, repeating a few of the disparaging comments that were made about what Pete could do with parts of his anatomy. Dmitry thought it had been about a month since he had seen her. He asked if Pete could be a pal and ship him a couple of cases of Florida grapefruit. They helped with his constipation.

Pete struck out with Sal Pinini, Angie Slotnick, and "Whiplash" Joey Binder. Frankie Marzone, though, had seen Toni two weeks earlier at Pimlico. Word was she was throwing money around like crazy. Frankie didn't know whether she was winning or losing. While Pete waited to speak to a bookie he knew in Baltimore, Gloria jumped off the sofa and grabbed the phone away from him. She demanded to know who this Tony guy was. Her eyes had turned small and angry, her face livid.

Pete tried kidding with her, but it was useless. She had been stewing inside while Pete had made his phone calls, and the low simmering anger had boiled over. She was out of control, screaming at him, demanding to know what he had on her husband. Pete made the mistake of ignoring her, and as he turned a deaf ear he saw the agate book end out of the corner of his eye and narrowly dodged it, feeling it scrape past his ear, and then took a Hummel figurine off his forehead. He stepped out of the way of a flung Erte sculpture and slipped out a side door with Hurley's car keys. As he drove off in a green Mercedes convertible, Gloria ran after him, screaming bloody murder, her robe flapping open. Pete noticed she was no longer wearing a negligee under it.

A block away he looked out the rear view mirror expecting Gloria to still be legging it after him. He was a little disappointed to see that she had quit. Before turning back, his eyes focused on a rusted out Monte Carlo creeping along behind him. With a hard grin he recognized the two punks, George and Rat. George was behind the wheel, his face bright red, a thick bandage covering his upper lip.

Pete drove towards the airport, got onto Flagler and pulled up to one of the seedier bars lining the road. He was sipping a beer when George came in. Beads of sweat lined the blond punk's forehead. His face appeared grossly puffed out under the bandage. He got very close to Pete, his breath oppressive.

"You think you're a funny guy?" George asked out of the corner of his mouth that was showing.

"Funny's not the word," Pete said,  nodding casually. "As you found out I usually leave them in stitches."

George spat on the floor. "Real funny guy." Then, low and mean, "I paid you to do a job and you're going to do it."

Rat was coming around from the other side. Pete smiled at the two punks and took a long swallow of his beer.

George spat again on the floor. His face had turned a bright red. "You cost me ten grand," he forced out. "You lousy piece of crap. Ten grand. Now Hurley ain't going to give me shit. But he will after you finish the job!"

Pete looked at the blond punk and then broke out laughing. He couldn't help it. When he was done, he wiped a few tears from his eyes and took another long swallow of his beer, draining it. A big grin had broken over his face.

"Let me see if I got this straight," he said. "You're mad at me because I didn't end up dead last night like you planned. Hey man, my heart bleeds for you. On your way out why don't you drop dead."

Rat took a step closer. Pete swung around and broke the beer bottle against the bar and showed the jagged edge. George moved back a foot, his face mottled pink and white. The bartender reached down beneath the bar.

"If you want," Pete said, a grin frozen on his face. "We can go out back and I'll finish the job I started on your face. But just the two of us. You send ratboy home."

George stood staring, and then jerked his head quickly, nodding. "Sure, sure. Just the two of us." He signaled to Rat to leave, winking and telling him they'd meet up later. He turned back to Pete. "Sure, just the two of us. Why not? We'll go out back behind this dump."

"I ordered a ham sandwich," Pete muttered indignantly. "After I finish my lunch I'll meet you."

"Sure thing," George agreed. "No rush. Take your time. I'll be out back, punk."

George left through the side door. Pete ordered another beer. The bartender asked if he wanted a ham sandwich.

"No thanks." Pete said. "You got a phone I could use?"

The bartender pointed out a pay phone in the back. Pete got up and called the police. He gave the officer the address of the bar, and told him there were a couple of punks in the alley behind the bar dealing heroin. He described George and Rat. "They got guns," Pete warned. "And the greasy red-headed one is hiding behind the dumpster."

Pete took his beer back to the bar and sipped it slowly, waiting. Three minutes later he heard the sound of car tires screeching. Then from out back shouting, followed by garbage cans being knocked over. Things quieted down after that and through the front window he saw a police cruiser roll by with George and Rat sitting in the back seat. Rat was slumped down, but George could be seen plainly. A long gash ran down his forehead and his left eye looked pretty bad.

The bartender shook his head slightly and cackled. Pete shrugged. "My mom always told me the policeman's our best friend," he remarked and finished his beer.

# #

When Pete got back he found Gloria dressed in a pair of pink hot pants and a blouse, at least sort of. She had only bothered with two of the middle buttons of the blouse.

"I'm so sorry about before," she said, pouting slightly. "Can't we be friends?"

Pete swallowed hard as he glanced at her legs. He had to admit they were gorgeous legs. "Sure," he said, struggling to keep from staring at her waist.

She led him into the living room and sat next to him on the sofa.  "Let's level with each other," she said. She held his right hand with both of hers. They had warmed up. "My dear hubby's trying to kill me, isn't he?"

Pete stared into her light blue eyes. "You're way off base," he said.

"Sure I am." Her eyes hardened, becoming more like ice crystals. "That’s why I woke up this morning with my head feeling like it was going to split open. That sonofabitch drugged me. Guess what? I know about the three million dollar policy he took out on me, but what my dear ape-husband doesn't know is I added the same coverage for him."

She licked her lips. "You're going to help me kill him."

Pete shook him head. “You two consider marriage counseling?” That just caused her to laugh as she tightened her grip on his hand. "You will help me," she insisted. "Then you can have a hundred grand from the insurance. And me also." She lifted a leg and ran it over his lap. "You want me, or don't you like girls?"

Pete swallowed hard. He was beginning to feel light-headed. "I like them fine," he said, forcing a grin. "It's snakes I'm not too fond of. Cold-blooded, deadly ones. They give me the willies."

"Good," she laughed. Her head tilted backwards, showing the soft curvature of her throat, and then came forward again and her eyes met his. "For a minute I had my doubts." She pushed herself closer to him. "As you can feel I'm warm-blooded. Maybe hot enough to burn." Her lips found his. The smell of her made him dizzy. He heard the front door and he pushed her off him. Hurley walked in, looking like a whipped dog.

"Hello, Darling," she greeted him. "Just getting to know your good friend, Pete."

The next five days were tough ones. One minute Gloria would be trying to seduce him, the next she'd be enraged, demanding that he help her kill her husband. She wouldn't let up. Hurley, meanwhile, walked around like a zombie, his large broad face forlorn and haggard. He reminded Pete of someone who's time on death row was quickly running out.

Then it all changed. At least with Gloria. She inexplicably cooled to Pete, barely uttering a word to him the whole day.

The next day, Friday, Pete tried calling Charlie again, who hesitated and then gave him a tip for HialeahPark. "Little Sweetheart in the first." Charlie croaked. "Can't miss. At least if you're half as smart as you like to think you are." Pete thanked him.

He checked the paper and saw that HialeahPark opened at seven in the evening. Gloria walked into the living room as Pete put down the paper. She hadn't bothered wearing a robe. All she had on were a pair of panties.

She told Pete she needed to see him.

"Go right ahead," Pete said. "What's fair is fair."

"Tonight," she said, her eyes coldly distant. "Five o'clock. I'm leaving him. I'm going to do it tonight and I need your help. Promise me?"

Pete shrugged. He felt his heart pound as he watched her leave the room. After waiting a minute or so, he got up and splashed cold water over his face, and then got the hell out of the house.

He spent the day drinking beers and thinking about his situation. Hurley had tried playing him worse than a sap and he wanted to bleed him bad. So far he had gotten four grand cash and another two grand and a half in clothing, plus the two hundred from George. It wasn't enough but it would have to do. With Gloria moving out it was over and for the most part he was glad to hell it was.

He got back a little after five. As he entered the house, Gloria shouted from the bedroom, asking him to join her. The bedroom door was partially opened. As he started to walk through it a smell stopped him. A faint smell of rotting fish ...

Pete threw all his weight at the door. There was a dull thud and then a moan from behind it. He pulled the door back and slammed into it again. The door cracked. George fell from behind it, his nose spread out across his face like chopped meat. On his way down his chin  collided with Pete's knee.

A quick glance showed the room was a mess.  Bookcases, a nightstand and a dresser had been knocked over. Gloria had been watching from the bed. She jumped off it. The little clothing she had on was torn.

"You son of a bitch!" she screamed as she charged Pete.

There was a sound from behind. Pete turned and saw Rat rushing at him, swinging a lead pipe. He ducked the pipe, grabbed at Rat's feet, and lifted the punk, sending him over his back and crashing into Gloria. The two of them fell hard to the floor, their bodies doing a complete somersault. Gloria ended up pinned by the fat punk against an overturned dresser. She thrashed underneath Rat, screaming hysterically for him to get off of her as she tried to push his belly away from her face. Pete watched as the two tried frantically to get to their feet. He waited until they just about made it and then put his foot to Rat's backside and sent them both back to the floor. As he left, he couldn't help smiling as Gloria screamed bloody murder at him.

# #

Pete got to HialeahPark a little after seven. Toni was by the starting gate checking out the horses.

"You got any of my forty grand left?" he asked her.

Toni's body stiffened when she heard his voice. She was wearing a halter top and shorts. Pete felt his heart skip a beat as he looked her over. She was only a little over five feet and at most ninety-five pounds, but she was the most gorgeous woman he had ever seen.

Toni sniffed the air and made a face. "Phew! What smells around here?" she asked.

"I've missed you, baby." Pete said softly. He reached over and ran his hand through her thick brown hair. "Did Charlie get my letter to you?"

Toni nodded slightly. She took a letter out of her pocketbook and handed it to him. "Pretty interesting reading," she remarked. As she looked at him, her face softened with concern. "Are you okay?"

"How much of the forty grand do you got left?"

Toni gave him an embarrassed smile. "Five thousand."

Pete didn't say anything. He just stood staring at her.

"Don't give me any of your crap," she stated defensively. "I had some bad days at the track. And besides, if you didn't try to double-cross me in Boston -"

"How in the world could you throw away thirty-five thous-" Pete stopped cold as he glanced at the betting board and caught the listing of horses for the first race. "Give me the five grand," he said, his voice oddly weak. The hand he held out to Toni shook.

"Yeah, right -"

"Look," he interrupted, his forehead all of a sudden shiny with sweat. "I've got a sure winner on this one. Baby, it's a sign from god."

"Which horse?"

 Pete wet his lips. "Gloria’s Insurance Policy."

Toni laughed. "It's a thirty to one loser, Pete."

"Look, Baby -" Pete took a deep breath and forced a smile. "If it doesn't win we get married as soon as we leave here. Promise."

Toni stopped laughing and studied Pete carefully. After a short while she nodded and handed him money from her pocketbook.

"You won't be sorry," Pete told her as he counted it. "We're going to win and then -" He stopped and stared at Toni. "There's only thirty-five hundred here," he stated incredulously.

"I'm saving the rest for our honeymoon."

Pete started to argue, saw it was useless, shook his head and beat it to the betting window. He added his forty-two hundred to what Toni gave him and put it all on Gloria's Insurance Policy to win. As he picked up his betting slips he felt lightheaded and had to steady himself against the betting counter. He heard the clerk mutter something about fools and damn fools.

Toni watched Pete with a sly Cheshire cat smile. She moved in close to him and squeezed his arm.

"You're lucky you made that deal," she whispered. "I decided to start saving myself for marriage."

"Uh huh."

"The best thirty-five hundred I ever spent," she added as she squeezed his arm tighter.

The horses were led into their gates. Pete glanced at the betting board and saw that Gloria's Insurance Policy had crept up to thirty-five to one odds. His mouth felt so damn dry, like he had swallowed a handful of sand.

The horses flew out of their gates. At least all but one did. Gloria's Insurance Policy sort of stumbled out, moving in an embarrassed gait. It was barely trotting by the time it reached the finish line. More than eighteen lengths back of any other horse.