Frank Sinatra in a Blender (17 page)

•••••

They arrived at the Indigo
in the damaged Lexus that could be heard from a mile away. Sid made No Nuts ride all the way there with his window down to help vent the putrid smell.

He told Johnny again to be cool. If Parker wanted them dead he sure as hell wouldn’t be calling them to his place to do it. Johnny finally relaxed. He knew Sid was right but he still felt like shit and smelled like puke.

When they knocked on the door they were edgy and tense, but Parker opened it immediately and set them at ease. He was wearing sweatpants. His face was bulbous and scarlet. Sid couldn’t tell if he’d been drinking hard or crying hard.

Once they were inside he looked them both in the eye and told him why he’d called them out so late.

“I got hit tonight.” His face showed no reaction, but Sid could tell Parker was struggling. Parker’s jaw muscle flexed on the side of his face like a clam hitting coals.

“Hit?”
Sid did a good job of acting stunned.

Parker nodded, then walked over to the bar. He poured himself a glass of bourbon, poured another for each of his guys.

“Some motherfucker busted into my safe. Stole all the cash, some jewelry. Sick bastard even took one of Cathy’s dildos.” No Nuts giggled under his breath.

Parker was staring off into space. They’d never seen him this defenseless and susceptible. Parker was as distant as he’d ever been and he struggled to maintain even a nominal focus. He took a drink and swallowed hard, then said, “The motherfucker even took a shit on my pillow.” There was no way to hide the encroachment he’d suffered.

“They took a shit on your bloody pillow, boss?” Sid deserved an Academy Award for his performance, but Johnny was failing on every level. Parker swayed, said, “I think somebody wiped his asshole on my pillowcase, boys.” He nodded, seemed to agree with himself, then set his glass down on the bar. He looked up at No Nuts, his complexion white and pasty. All blood appeared to have drained from No Nuts’ body.

Parker thought he saw a bean on Johnny’s shoulder. He finally got a good look at him and his expression shifted to drill sergeant. “My God, Johnny. You smell worse than a suitcase full of unicorn shit.” He stepped closer, offered an inspection. “Good Christ, is that vomit on your shirt?” The old Parker was suddenly back, belittling No Nuts, but with good reason.

Parker looked at Sid. “What the fuck is wrong with this guy?”

Sid shrugged. “Food poisoning from a vengeful Mexican buffet.”

No Nuts stood in silence.

Parker told No Nuts to go down the hall and splash cold water in his face. Have a smoke. Do something to make himself feel better. Said to trust him, he’d feel like a new man.

No Nuts said
okay
. He walked down the hall and passed the closet that once held a fortune that almost belonged to him. He found the bathroom, stuck his face down toward the faucet. He splashed handful after handful of cold water in his eyes. He stood, looked in the mirror as water ran off his nose and dripped onto the counter. He thought of how he might look with one of those cowboy mustaches.

He walked back to the living room as Parker poured another round. Sid asked Johnny if he was all right. Johnny said he was fine.

“Cathy left me for another man.” Parker blurted out unexpectedly. He looked at his guys for support. “Guess I shoulda seen it coming.” Sid and No Nuts looked at each other, but didn’t know what to say.

“We’d been getting along fine, I thought.” Parker stared off absently.

Sid finished his glass, helped himself to another. He pulled Parker’s glass from his hand so he could refill it.

“Sorry to hear ‘bout you and the missus,” Sid offered.

“Yeah, sorry boss,” No Nuts trailed.

“When I accused her of fucking around, she stormed out. Said maybe she was and maybe she wasn’t.”

Sid handed the boss his drink. Parker looked up, thanked him.

Sid looked at Johnny and shrugged.

“I guess you didn’t call the cops, eh?” Sid asked.

Mr. Parker told Sid
fuck no
he didn’t call the cops.

“Called you instead. I want you to find this cocksucker and chop his head off.”

Sid was astonished, Parker never made direct threats; he was always paranoid about being recorded.

No Nuts piped up, “So you’re sayin’ y’know who done it boss?”

“Goddamn right I do.”

There came a second where No Nuts felt like his life expectancy was heavily dependent on Parker’s next sentence. He turned around to be sure some other sneaky fuck wasn’t coming up behind him with a piano wire.

“It’s this security guard, this cocksucker from the credit union.” Parker frowned once he realized he’d actually said the words, revealing more than he’d intended. Now he was committed to finishing the story, telling his two trusted employees more than he’d ever wanted them to know.

“The credit union?” Sid asked, genuinely surprised for the first time since they’d got there.

Mr. Parker nodded, finished the drink in a long gulp. This time No Nuts grabbed his glass and refilled it. They needed to get the boss drunk.

“He was the inside guy,” Parker went on. “He gave us the layout. Told us about the dye packs, about that banker, the one Bruiser and that junkie whacked. Had to get rid of that fuck so he couldn’t set the dye packs out. We knew we had a window to get clean money without the chance of a dye pack, long as he didn’t show up for work.”

No Nuts handed him his drink. He took it, raised the glass to his lips, and said, “How’d everything get so fucked up?”

Sid liked the way the conversation was going. The more Parker talked, the stronger he felt their chances were of surviving.

“If it was all part of the plan, why’d the security guard shoot Bruiser in the back?” Sid asked.

“Fuck if I know!” Parker yelled. “I been tryin’ to figure this shit out for two days.”

“So, how you know it’s this security guard that robbed you?”

Parker slammed his glass down, liquor splashed out on the bar.

“Well, isn’t it obvious? She’s fucking him! That whore! I give her everything and she wants to leave me for some Rent-A-Cop cocksucker. Gives him the key to my house, the combination to my safe. Let’s him take what he wants, then he
shits on my fucking pillow!
” Parker picked his glass up and flung it across the room where it shattered against the wall.

Sid realized this was their opportunity to make things right. Let Parker think it was the security guard robbed him and shit on his bed.

“Here, have a seat boss.” Sid set him down on the couch. “You need to calm down, Joe. Johnny, and me, we’re here for ya. We’re family.” Mr. Parker looked up into Sid’s face; his bottom lip slightly bulged out. He thanked him with a hand to the shoulder. Said, “I really appreciate this, boys.”

Sid and Johnny said no problem, it was the least they could do. Then Mr. Parker instructed No Nuts to go clean that pile of shit off his mattress and throw the sheets in the fucking trashcan.

No Nuts had started for a refill, but Parker’s words stopped him cold in his tracks.

Sid was quick to meet his eyes, he told No Nuts not to fuck this up with the severe look on his face.

With great reluctance, No Nuts went to Mr. Parker’s bedroom and rolled the sheets up in a ball. He searched through a few drawers and sniffed a pair of Cathy’s panties from the hamper.

When he came back to the room, Parker was passed out on the couch and Sid was drinking by himself. He told No Nuts they had to go and see the security guard.

“Now?”

Sid said
yes
.

When Sid opened the door to his Lexus he gagged at the rancid smell of secondhand chalupas on his beautiful leather. He left No Nuts standing outside in the cold while he bathed the seat in expensive cologne. When No Nuts got in he said the car smelled like Kenneth Cole and vomit.

“I don’t wanna hear it, No Nuts.”

They pulled out of the parking garage in the beat up Lexus and took their time getting to South County.

“Parker gave me the low down on this guy while you were cleaning up your shit pile, Johnny.”

No Nuts looked at Sid. “Fuck you.”

“Parker says this security guard owes him some serious coin and it was his idea to take that bank in the first place.”

“Credit union.” No Nuts corrected him.

“What-the-fuck ever, Johnny. Are you with me?”

“Course I’m with you, Sid.”

He grinned. “I told you this’d all work out, didn’t I, old bean?”

“Well it ain’t worked out yet,” No Nuts reminded him.

“Not yet, but it will. Plus, we get to shoot this cocksucker that capped Bruiser.”

No Nuts said he didn’t care about that, said he never liked that asshole.

“Nobody did.”

The Lexus turned louder than ever but Sid guaranteed No Nuts it was fine. Soon they’d find the money and he’d buy another one.

“Yeah, but what if we don’t find the money?”

“We’ll find it, Johnny. I promise.”

No Nuts told Sid he had an idea that would fix everything and Sid told him he couldn’t wait to hear it.

“What if we go see the guard, we fix him up nice and proper. We tell Parker we made him talk, say all the security guard wanted was to kill Bruiser and be some hero. Say Bruiser was the one fuckin’ the Mrs. We’ll say it was
him
that was long-dickin’ her.”

Sid frowned. “You think we should tell Parker, that Bruiser was long-dickin’ the missus?”

“Trust me, Sid, it’ll work.”

Sid turned to No Nuts with his mouth open, said, “So, to be clear, you want us to tell Parker this security guard, who owed him money, set this whole thing up just to kill Bruiser? That Bruiser was long-dickin’ his wife, and the security guard just wanted to impress her? Is that what you want us to tell the boss, Johnny”

“Somethin’ like that. He wanted to be a hero and eliminate his competition at the same time.”

Sid was astounded. “That’s not gonna work!”

“And why not?”

“Why not? Well think about it, Johnny. What about his bloody wife? At some point she’s gonna say she ain’t been long-dicked by either one of ‘em.”

No Nuts shrugged and admitted he hadn’t thought it through. “We’ll kill her too.”

Sid threw his hands up dramatically. “Well that’s it then. Now you’ve gone and bloody lost it, I’ll say. We can’t just kill everybody, mate.”

They rode in silence with the exception of the fender rubbing against the back tire.

Sid perked up. “What if we blame it on that bloke, Valentine. Say the guard had something going on the side with
him
. Make it look like they’re in it together. What do ya think?”

•••••

When I opened my eyes, Frank was standing on my chest
, licking my lips with his miniature Yorkshire tongue. I pushed him away instinctively and the little bastard snapped at me. I remembered last night suddenly. I looked at the shotgun beside the couch; the .45 was there too.

Frank kept barking and I asked him what his problem was.

The phone rang as I stood up and peered out through the window at the ice-covered streets down below. I leaned over my desk and answered.

“Nick Valentine, Private Investigator.”

It was Chief Caraway. Said he’d been calling all morning. He asked where I’d been?

I looked down at the morning wood stabbing through a hole in my boxers and told the Chief I’d been gathering information, running down leads. Told him I had my ear to the street, and he asked me what I’d come up with.

“Hang on a minute. I got a license plate number here somewhere.” I rummaged through a pile of clothes on the floor until I found the number, then read it to him. Told him I thought it might be the man from the getaway truck.

“Great work, Nick.”

I told him thanks. Assured him I’d been busting my ass but I was just doing my part.

“I need you down here soon as you can, Nick.”

I looked at the clock. Dead batteries, still. I should ask Doyle to get me a watch.

I nodded, told the Chief I was on my way then I grabbed a couple of White Castle’s from the mini and went to take my obligatory morning piss. Frank barked the whole time.

When I pulled up to the police station Ron was waiting for me in his car.

I asked him how he was doing.

He said he was good, told me to jump in with him. “Got a homicide to check out.”

“Homicide?”

“I’ll explain it on the way.”

I shoved the shifter in park and laid a jacket over the shotgun. Just in case anyone felt meddlesome. Nevertheless, I couldn’t imagine a safer place for a trashbag full of stolen money than the trunk of a former police car at a police station.

When I sat down in the passenger seat of his car, I entered a fog of cigarette smoke so impenetrable I thought I’d be forced to grab my chainsaw from the Vic and cut a path between Amish Ron and me. I ordered him to put his window down and he laughed.