The Miracle Strip (7 page)

Nailor looked concerned, like maybe Terrance was going a little too far. He looked over at me and shrugged.

“Ms. Lavotini,” he said, “you are going to force this to turn ugly. I don't think any of us wants that to happen.” I wasn't so sure Terrance agreed with that. She looked like she'd like nothing better than a good fight with anyone in the room.

“Put it together for yourself,” he continued. “Your friend finds somebody dead in her apartment. You and your friend get shot at. What does that say, Ms. Lavotini?” He didn't wait for my answer. “It says Ms. Curtis has pissed somebody off, and maybe they're pissed at you now, too.”

I'd like to say that I'd already thought of that, but I hadn't. Maybe Denise had got herself disposed of, and now whoever it was would come after me. Maybe they would think I knew more than I did. I didn't want to consider that possibility.

“Why were you chasing a car that had fired shots at you?” Terrance asked.

“I was doing my job as a model citizen,” I said. “I thought I could catch the license plate number and turn it over to you.”

Underneath her dark complexion, Terrance burned a bright red. Nailor must've known she was about to blow.

“Ms. Lavotini, I'm asking you to remember what I said about this turning ugly.”

“All right,” I said. “I thought I saw Denise's missing dog in the car and I was going after him.” When you can't dazzle them with bullshit, hand them the truth.

Even Nailor looked disgusted now. Terrance snapped shut her notebook and shoved it in her purse.

“I'm telling you the truth. Someone snatched Denise's dog, Arlo. They left her a note saying that when she gave them a hundred large, she could have him back.”

“What the hell kind of dog was it?” Terrance demanded.

“A mutt,” I answered.

Nailor shook his head, like I was a slow learner. Terrance was still inches from my face.

“Who in the hell would think a mutt dog was worth a hundred thousand dollars?” she asked. “There isn't a dog in the world worth that much money.”

Fluffy, who until this moment had been lying quietly on the arm of the futon, stood up, looked over at Carla Terrance, and proceeded to break loud, stinky wind.

The interview was over. Nailor and Terrance left the trailer in one hell of a hurry. Denise's search for Arlo meant nothing to the cops. They considered me an unreliable and hostile witness and they considered Fluffy a menace to society.

Ten

I woke up at two
A.M.
because there was a strange noise in my trailer. Little clicks and gentle taps. I looked over on the pillow and found that Fluffy was gone again. I'd come into my room hours ago to lie down, but instead had slept through dinner and into the night. I heard voices now, low and muffled. Who was in my trailer?

Someone laughed and said, “Hit me.” I pulled on my purple chenille robe and ventured out of my room, creeping slowly down the hall. I paused at the entrance to the living room. A card table and four folding chairs were now arranged in the middle of the floor. A lamp had been dragged out from its place by the wall and positioned near the table. Bruno, Raydean, Pat, and Vincent sat around the table, embroiled in a game of seven-card stud.

Bruno was dealing, an unlit cigar clenched between his teeth. From where I stood, it appeared that Raydean and Vincent had folded, leaving Bruno and Pat. Pat drew her last card slowly toward her, picking it up gently and placing it in her hand. She let the slight corner of a smile edge out, then quickly pulled it back into a frown. Bruno watched her and rearranged his hand.

“How many d'you want?” he asked.

Pat pretended to study her hand, the slight grin slipping loose again. “None.” She reached for two more chips and slid them toward the pot.

Bruno shifted in his seat. “I fold,” he muttered. “Let's see what you have. I know it was something 'cause of how you were grinning.”

“Was I?” She looked flustered. “I can't see how.” She inspected her cards, like maybe they'd changed and no one had told her. I felt sorry for Bruno; he was being played like a fiddle. “All I had was this.” She laid down her cards, face up. A pair of threes and a busted flush. Nothing.

“And all this for me,” she said, raking the pot toward her. “How about that?”

“Hit me!” Raydean exclaimed. “Hit me, big man. I love this game!” Raydean leaned over toward Vincent, who recoiled as if afraid. “What you say they call this game?”

“Poker, Raydean,” I said. “Deal me in, Vincent.”

Vincent was up like he'd been stung, grabbing a chair and pushing it in between his seat and Raydean's.

“Sierra, don't they want you to stay in bed?” Pat had moved from cardsharp to mother.

“I've been in bed all day. This'll keep my mind off things,” I said, pulling my chair closer to the table. “What're you guys all doing over here at two in the morning, anyway?” Vincent looked about half shot and Pat had to have a boat going out in three hours.

“I told them I didn't need company,” Bruno huffed. He probably thought his manhood was in question. “If there's any trouble, I got Bruce.” Bruno edged his suit coat open to show the gun butt protruding from his shoulder holster. “I ain't never needed no backup at the club and they all know it.”

This was something. An elderly charter boat captain, a threehundred-pound nightclub owner, and a crazy person, all keeping watch over the professional bodyguard who was watching me.

“You guys are something,” I said, looking around the table. “Who's watching the club?” I asked Vincent.

“Ralph,” Bruno answered for him, “and I called Big Ed in to cover the door. It's taken care of.” Vincent glared at him.

“And don't you have to work in a couple of hours?” I asked Pat.

“Not tomorrow,” she answered, bristling, “it's Friday. I don't go out on Fridays. And the issue here, Sierra, is your safety. We're all concerned. I thought I could help out, that's all.” Oh great, now I'd hurt her feelings.

Raydean was the only one without a clue. She leaned over close to me and patted my arm gently, her expression blissful and loving.

“Hit me, big man,” she whispered, and began dealing out the cards. Her expression suddenly changed, and she became intent and focused on her job. She glared around the table. “Five-card stud,” she growled, “deuces wild. Luck be a lady.” I wasn't sure if her medicine had kicked in or if she'd decided we were all aliens.

*   *   *

We played until the sun came up. I couldn't tell you who went home a winner. Vincent had been the first to leave. The urge to run over to the Tiffany to check the night's take was too much for him and he left around four
A.M.
Raydean passed out on the futon around six
A.M.
, and Pat wandered off to her trailer in time to catch the
Today
show. Bruno wouldn't leave. He sat at the table, playing solitaire and watching out the bay window in the living room.

“Bruno,” I said finally, “the cops were blowing smoke. Nobody is looking to hurt me. I am fine.”

Bruno shook his head and kept on playing. He wasn't much for heavy conversation. I struggled to make coffee, hoping something would keep me going. It was going to be a long day. See, I'd been playing cards, but I'd also been formulating a plan. The plan didn't involve Bruno watching my every move. If I was going to find Denise, I needed a little room to maneuver.

The way I saw it, the cops didn't care about her. I hadn't seen her boyfriend Frankie around, so chances were, he wasn't busting his hump with concern. That left me. And Sierra Lavotini don't run out on nobody, especially when I'm figuring they're in trouble. If Denise's ex had decided he had to have her back or possibly pay her back for leaving him, then somebody had to do something.

I waited for the coffee to finish brewing, then poured a cup and faced Bruno. He was bent over his cards, and like a concentrating child, a tiny piece of his tongue protruded from his mouth. Bruno had a flattop, military haircut, and as he leaned closer into his game, I could see shiny white skin gleaming under his dull brown hair.

“You know, Bruno,” I said, yawning, “I could do with a little lie-down. I think I'll wander back to my room for a while.” He grunted and I escaped.

Fluffy watched me come into the room and close the door. She knew something was up and she wasn't going to miss out on the action.

“Don't worry,” I said, “these are just the preliminaries.” I pulled the phone across the bed and dialed. “Let's call your uncle Al. He won't give us the runaround, eh, Fluff?” Fluffy sighed and rearranged herself on the pillow. “Yeah, I know,” I said, “pray his girlfriend already left for work.”

Of my four brothers, Al was the least likely to ask questions. He was twenty-three and in love; that combination was going to keep him too preoccupied to pry into my affairs. Al was also the only one of my brothers not to follow my old man into the fire-fighting business. He had it into his head to be a cop. This meant he caught hell from his brothers and was always looking to try and prove that cops were as valuable as firemen.

The ringing stopped and my brother's sleepy voice came on the line. “Hello?”

“So you baggin' work today or what?” I asked.

“Sierra?” Al's voice sounded thick with sleep, deep and raspy. “Sierra, where are you?”

“Still in Florida. Where else?”

Al stretched and moaned into the phone. “What time is it?”

“Jesus, Al, it's nine already. What's with you?”

“Nine? Only nine?” He sighed and I could hear him struggle to sit up. “I'm working nights. I must've drifted off. How you doin'?” Now he was with me.

“Fine, Al. I'm doing fine. I called to see how you were doin'.”

I looked over at Fluffy. She was smiling. She knew a lie when she heard one.

Al yawned again. “We're doin' fine, Sierra. Me and Rose is getting along pretty good. I'm thinking she could be the one, you know what I'm sayin'?”

God, yes I knew. Al had been after Rosie since high school, but she never gave him a look until he was one of Philly's finest, then she was all over him. I knew her type from way back. Cheerleader, popular, always with an eye looking over her shoulder for the next best thing. But you couldn't tell a guy, not even your own brother. You just had to stand back like a bystander and watch the head-on collision. Then, when Rosie moved on to her next best thing, our family would pick up the pieces.

He went on about how wonderful it was to be in lust, until I finally sensed he was winding down. Now I could lead the conversation where I wanted it to go.

“So, are you keeping Philly safe?” I asked. That launched him for another few minutes on Philly politics, how don't nobody respect cops, not even his own family. Ya da, ya da, ya da.

“So do you guys ever hear about a Leon Corvase?” I asked.

“Why're you asking about that scumbag?” Al's voice sharpened and he sounded like he'd moved closer to the receiver. “Sierra, that ain't no kind of guy to be associating with. He's got an organization out of West Palm. He's like this huge dope dealer, Sierra.” There was a brief pause, like Al was facing his worst fears about me and finding them entirely possible. “Sierra, you ain't dating that cheese ball, are you?”

That's one reason I live in Florida. None of my family can come careening into my business like a Greyhound bus and assume the worst. They've got all these assumptions about dancers, and for the most part, they're right. But I am not just any dancer. I am capable of making a smart decision.

“No,” I huffed, “don't be an idiot. I've got this friend and she knows him.” Al didn't need to know everything.

“Well, you better tell your friend he's bad news. Tell her don't be fooled by his money and his looks.” I knew Al wasn't so sure there was any friend. He was thinking it might be me.

“I never met the guy, Al. I'm trying to help my friend. She seems real taken with him. I guess he must have a big mansion in Miami or something.” I paused, hoping Al would take the bait.

“Nah,” he said, “that's out these days, Sierra. You ain't nothing if you don't have some mile-long boat with a crew. Corvase's got that, and a go-fast boat and a bunch of other crap. They couldn't touch all that stuff when he got popped a few years back. He had it all buried in paper so's he wouldn't lose none of it. He named his boat the
Mirage,
like now you see it, now you don't. I'm tellin' you, Sierra, stay the fuck away from him.”

I had what I needed. “Calm yourself, Al. I was only curious about who my girlfriend was all hung up with. You know I'm smarter than that.”

Al grunted, like maybe he wasn't so sure. He lectured me a little about responsibility and my future, like he'd forgotten that I was his big sister, not vice versa. But that's family for you. Truth be told, if Al knew a quarter of what I was up to, he'd have my brothers and Pop on a plane headed for Florida. Made me wonder where Denise's family was. Why weren't they wondering where their baby was?

“I don't get it, Fluff,” I said after I'd hung up. Fluffy cocked her head and pricked up her long pointy ears. “Maybe her family doesn't know she's lost. Maybe she went back home.” Fluffy didn't have an opinion. “Fluff, if she was your friend and didn't nobody else seem to care, you'd look for her, wouldn't you?” Fluffy seemed to nod, or maybe she was looking for fleas. Whatever, I took it for agreement.

“Then I'm gonna go look for her.” Fluffy wasn't smiling. “What harm can it do? I'll act like I'm a long-lost friend of Denise's and don't know she's divorced. How could anybody have a problem with that?” Fluffy growled deep in her chest.