The Predators (38 page)

“Asshole,” I said to him, picking up the half-empty package of Kools and throwing them behind the bar. “I think those have gotten stale. Now give her a fresh pack of Dunhill menthols and just for good luck a fresh pack of Kools, and the lady can take her choice.”

He stared at me, then moved like a flash. Two packs, both opened and held for the lady’s choice. She took the Dunhill and he lit it for her.

I smiled at him. “Now you’re being a gentleman.” I slipped him a twenty. I watched as he nodded his thanks and moved down the bar.

She let the smoke drift slowly from her nostrils. “You must be somebody. You’ve got a lot of style. Thank you.”

“I’m nobody,” I said. “But you’re a beautiful lady.”

“Are you eating alone?” she questioned.

“Not if you join me for dinner,” I said.

I watched her nod and smile, then held up my hand to catch Nicky’s eye. It took a few minutes for Nicky to show up. He was seating a few large tables. I could see that the one-liter iced bottles of Plescassier were already at each of the tables and were being poured into iced glasses for the patrons. I was satisfied.

Nicky was smiling when he got to me. He kissed the girl’s cheek. Nicky was famous now for his kisses on every girl’s cheek. He also made sure that every girl in the bar was tabbed for drinks and dinner just in case she didn’t connect with someone. He made a smooth introduction. “Jerry, Sue Ellen. Sue Ellen, Jerry.” Then he turned to business. “Dinner in the dining room or the Sweethearts table in the bar?”

“You know the table I like,” I said. “The corner banquette in the cocktail room, you got it available?”

Nicky waved his hand grandly. “It’ll be ready in three minutes.”

Sue Ellen smiled and watched him walk off. “He’s a sweet man,” she said. “It looks like you’ve known each other for a long time.”

“We were in the army during the war together,” I said. “And that has been a long time. Tell me about yourself, Sue Ellen.”

“Not much to tell,” she answered. “I was a beauty queen out of the heart of America, straight off a farm. I used to watch the planes that used to fly overhead when we were kids. I dreamed about California or New York. So I took my shot. And I found out that I was like a thousand other girls who had the same dream but without the talent to back it up.”

“You’re looking good,” I said. “That’s not so bad.”

Nicky quickly appeared and led us to the table. He smiled as I nodded in appreciation at the Plescassier bottle in the center of the table in front of us. I turned to Sue Ellen as Nicky took off and the sommelier took his place.

“May I offer you something to drink?” asked the sommelier.

“What’s your pleasure, Sue Ellen?” I asked.

She laughed and leaned over toward me. “I’m a hooker. What do you think hookers at Nicky’s order?” She laughed.

I turned to the sommelier. “A cold bottle of Dom Pérignon for the lady and a Glenmorangie neat.” I took a sip of the Plescassier that had been poured for me. It was right. Cool but not freezing.

All sommeliers are full of shit. They all think they are contenders for the Oscar. This one thought he was Paul Newman. It didn’t work, though; the real one was sitting at one of the larger tables in the center of the dining room. With a flourish he placed two tulip champagne glasses in front of us. As he raised his eyebrow he placed the opened bottle of Cristale in front of us. He poured a small amount in my glass. I tasted the Dom Pérignon and nodded in approval. He then poured Sue Ellen a glass and then placed the Glenmorangie in front of me. He then turned and left with a happy swish.

17

I turned to her as she took a sip. “Like it, Sue Ellen?”

“What’s not to like?” She smiled. “Thank you.”

Dinner was simple. Each of us had Caesar salad. She had a New York, prime, medium rare. I had linguine with fresh clam sauce. We both ate as though we hadn’t eaten all day. As a matter of fact, I hadn’t and she probably hadn’t either.

“This steak is delicious,” she said.

“Nicky always brags about his steaks. He says he orders them from a butcher in New York.” I smiled. “I thought L.A. girls always ordered fish or chicken.”

“My roots give me away. We used to have cattle and my daddy even butchered our own meat. We always had a freezer full of a side of beef.” She laughed. “After all, you ordered linguine, but you don’t look Italian.”

“My specialty when I was a kid growing up in New York was a kosher hot dog with sauerkraut and Pepsi. In those years Pepsi came in a big bottle for a nickel. Coca-Cola was the same price, but came only in a small bottle.”

She laughed. “We’re funny. Both from different parts of the country but here we are in L.A.”

“That’s life,” I said, keeping my eye on the door. It was a bad habit I’d had for a long time. You never knew what was coming in the door.

Sue Ellen was a bright lady. She watched me checking the door. “You’re nervous?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “Just careful.”

“Maybe a wife or a girlfriend might be coming in?” she asked discreetly.

I laughed. “No, nothing like that,” I answered honestly. I gestured for a waiter. “Would you like coffee and a brandy?” I asked.

She nodded.

“Two coffees, and Hennessey XO.” I motioned for both of us to the waiter.

“So what are you looking out for, Jerry?” she asked playfully.

“You’re a nosy cunt,” I said.

“I’m not a nosy cunt,” she said. “I just like to know more about a client I like.”

“I’m glad you like me,” I said. “But I’m not a client.”

She smiled. “Sorry. One C for dinner.”

“That’s cheap,” I said. “I’m giving you five Cs.”

I heard a man’s voice come from the front of our table. Intuition and instinct paid off. I saw the glint of the gun and rolled myself and Sue Ellen off the banquette. I kicked the table and it knocked the gun sideways as it hit the man’s arm. I felt the shot go off, but he had a silencer and it wasn’t heard. But I felt the bullet burn as it traveled along my left shoulder. I reached for the small .25 caliber that I always wore in my Italian boots. I shot the son of a bitch in the balls. He screamed and ran for the door, his hands cupping his crotch with blood dripping between his fingers. His feet barely touched the floor. He was out the door before anyone could stop him.

I bent over and helped Sue Ellen up from under the table. “You okay, baby?” I asked.

“I’m okay,” she said, her face pale. “But you’re bleeding through your jacket sleeve.”

“I’m okay, it’s only a surface wound,” I said.

*   *   *

Nicky was right next to us before a crowd could begin to develop. A couple of waiters were with him. “Let’s get you into my office, and I’ve got my doctor in the restaurant now. I’ll bring him over.”

“Good,” I said. “Give Sue Ellen a grand. Let your boys take her out the back way. Make sure that nobody gets any pictures of her.” I turned to her. “Don’t worry, you’ll be okay. Just don’t let anybody know that you were here.”

She looked at me. Her mascara was beginning to run down her cheek. “Won’t I ever get to see you again?”

“In time,” I answered. “Right now you gotta get out of here before the cops show up and bring you into it.”

Nicky told the two waiters to get her out. He then led me to his office. He closed the door behind us. “Now, before the cops get here, what’s this all about?”

“Water,” I said. “Believe it or not. Water is hotter than booze now.”

18

Nicky’s doctor was having dinner at the restaurant. The doctor was in Nicky’s office before the police got there. He helped me off with my jacket and shirt. “The jacket’s going to need some reweaving,” he said.

“You a doctor or a tailor?” I snapped. My arm didn’t feel too good. It burned.

“Calm down,” the doctor said, smiling. “My father was a tailor. I always check out the patient’s clothing. If it’s expensive I know they can afford me.”

“Who are you?” I asked.

“I’m Dr. Kramer. I’m a surgeon,” he answered as he felt the flesh on my arm. He turned to Nicky. “Do you have a first aid kit?”

“In the kitchen,” Nicky said. “I’ll get it.”

After Nicky went for the first aid kit, the doctor looked down at me. “You’re lucky,” he said. “The bullet only grazed the fatty back part of your arm. If it had gone into the muscle you would really be unhappy.”

In no time, Nicky was back with the first aid kit. Quickly, the doctor peroxided me, iodined me, held the edges of the wound tight, and wrapped the gauze and tape around my arm. “That’ll hold,” the doctor said. He gave me a card from his wallet. “I’ll be in surgery in the morning,” he said. “But I’ll be in the office after one o’clock. Come in then and I’ll change the dressing.”

I looked down at the card. Dr. Kramer. Obstetrics and gynecology. I turned and looked up at him. “You’re a woman’s doctor,” I said.

He laughed. “If you’re worried, come to my office in drag.”

I laughed. “Thank you, Doctor. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The doctor left and I turned to Nicky. “How come you told me that was your doctor?”

“It’s my business,” he said. “You can’t believe how many of the girls ask me for a doctor. Who the hell knew I’d need a doctor for you tonight?”

The police knocked on the door. Nicky let them in. Detectives Randall and Schultz. I showed them my driver’s license, gun permit, and business card.

“It says on your card that you’re president of a water-distributing company,” Detective Schultz said. “What kind of water do you sell?”

“French bottled water. We sell to restaurants, supermarkets, convenience stores.”

“You mean something like Canada Dry?” Detective Randall asked.

“Something like that,” I answered.

“Is that why somebody wanted to pop you?” Detective Schultz asked. “For fucking bottles of water?”

I looked at him. He didn’t know how right he was. “No,” I said. “Everybody knows I always carry a bundle of cash with me. That’s why I was given a gun permit.”

“But the guy went after you in the middle of a restaurant,” said Detective Schultz. “Christ”—he motioned toward the restaurant—“in this place he could have hit any table and come up with big cash.”

“It was his hard luck,” I answered. “If he had been polite I might have just given the money to him.”

The telephone rang and Nicky answered it. He handed it over to Detective Randall. Randall listened for a moment, then put the telephone down and looked at me. “We just heard from the emergency room at Cedars; they took a guy in who has one of his testicles shot off.”

“So?” I asked.

“Did you do it?” Schultz asked.

“What would you do if a guy was shooting at you?” I asked.

“Give me your gun,” Randall said. He looked down at the gun, then back at me. “He’s lucky you didn’t have a magnum. In that case he would have lost both balls and his prick.”

A uniformed policeman came into the office. He held up a small cellophane bag. “I just dug this out of the back of the leather banquette. It looks like a thirty-eight bullet.”

“I didn’t know that you were an expert,” Schultz said, annoyed. He took it from the policeman, who left; he then turned to me. “With a bullet like that, the guy meant business. You sure you don’t know of anything he might have been after?”

“No,” I said flatly. “You’ve got him in custody, why don’t you find out what he has to say.”

Randall turned to me. “We’d appreciate it if you could stop in at the station tomorrow and give us a statement. By that time, we’ll probably be able to give you back your gun.”

“I’ll be there,” I said.

Nicky and I watched the policemen leave; then he turned to me. “I’ll drive you home, if you’d like.”

“I’m okay,” I said. “But I want to make sure that neither the bartender or the sommelier says anything about the girl.”

“My staff is smart,” Nicky said. “There will be no problems about that.” He hesitated a moment. “But someone is after you—what are you going to do?”

“I’ll take care of it,” I said. Nicky gave me one of his shirts to wear. It was tight but I slipped on my jacket. “Give me the bill for the repairs.”

“Forget it,” he said. “That’s what insurance is for. Besides, you’ve already given me twenty grand.”

I looked at my watch. It was a few minutes to nine. “I’m going home,” I said to Nicky. “If there’s any calls for me tell them that I’ve already left.”

“Check,” Nicky said. “Sure you’re okay to drive?”

“I’m okay, thanks.” I started out the door.

Nicky held up his hand. “Maybe you should go out the private entrance. It’s on the side street. I’ll have the parking attendant bring your car over to you.”

I looked at Nicky. He was smart. It was a big enough problem that there had been a shooting inside the restaurant. It would be too much if I got splattered at the entrance of the restaurant. Nicky didn’t want to take any chances. I started to laugh. “Nicky,” I said. “You haven’t changed.”

He laughed and led me to the back door of his office. I followed him down the side of the lobby of the office building where the restaurant was located. Nicky took out a set of keys and opened one of the doors. “The building side doors are always locked at night. Just wait here and I’ll send the car over,” he said.

The car was there in a few minutes. It was the same valet who had taken the car from me when I pulled up earlier. “Here you are, Mr. Cooper, no dings or scratches on the car.”

I slipped him another twenty. The car didn’t have a scratch and I wished that I didn’t have one. The arm was sore.

19

I drove down the hill from Sunset Boulevard to Santa Monica Boulevard. I picked up the telephone in the case under my seat and called the Plescassier warehouse. I would have liked to go down there and make sure everything was okay, but I was in a Rolls. The warehouse was in Watts and that was not the right neighborhood to park a Rolls.

A heavy voice answered the phone. “Plessycassy Company.”

“Joe,” I said, recognizing the voice of our night watchman. I almost laughed: he could never pronounce the name of our company. “Buddy around?”

“He left about seven, Jerry,” he answered.

“All the trucks in? Everything locked up?” I asked.