The Taxman Killeth (18 page)

“Back again, huh? Saved a seat
for you.” Morgan dusted off the bar stool, then patted the wooden seat as a
formal invitation.

“I’m looking for someone...”

“Same as last time. Still haven’t
found the right person? Here he is.” Morgan used both thumbs to point at himself.

Amy didn’t think he would
understand her search for a smelly bum. At least Morgan was a familiar face.
She didn’t recognize the bartender.

“Different crowd,” she said and
took the proffered stool.

“You’re just earlier, that’s
all. These jerks will move on down the street in a while and the guys down the
street will get bored and move up the street.”

“Musical bars.”

“Sort of. Can I interest you in
a drink other than that watered down piss you had the last time?”

“No. I’ll have...” His
description didn’t make white wine enticing. “A Perrier.”

The bartender glanced over at
Morgan.

“They don’t serve that kind of
water around here. It’s tap or nothing. Give her a white wine.”

Morgan had compromised. He
ordered her drink but wouldn’t add the ice. She smiled at him, showing she
could compromise, too, by not correcting him.

“I’m glad to see you again,” he
said, revealing the gaping holes between his teeth.

Amy took a sip of the wine
placed before her. She figured she needed something to soothe her jangled
nerves. The acerbic taste made her face wrinkle up. She had never tasted
battery acid, but she was sure this was close.

“Not much of a drinker, are you?”

“Social, mainly.”

“We all are.”

She scanned the room. More like
lushes, she thought, watching the people around her guzzling down their
alcohol.

“You’re not the only one
interested in Joey’s friends. Remember that smelly bum that ruined our evening
the last time?”

“How could I forget?” Amy was
alert.

“He was in the other night
asking questions, too. Wanted to know all about the babe that Joey had been
hanging out with.”

“I didn’t know Joey had a
girlfriend.”

“Maybe he got tired of all the
one-night stands he picked up here. Faces change periodically, but the
personalities sure don’t.”

“The ladies probably say the
same.” Amy bit her tongue.

“I presume that’s an insult.” He
thought a second. “Hell, you got a good point,” he said, slapping her knee.

Amy slid her legs away from
Morgan.

“Real touchy, aren’t you?” He
laughed. “Or rather real untouchy. Have some more wine. If you don’t like it, I’ll
order you something else. How about a beer? Low in alcohol and damn fresher
than those dusty wine bottles they keep under the counter.”

“Perhaps I should switch. Is it
safe to order a light?”

“Walt’s new at bartendering, don’t
confuse him.”

“Fine, I’ll have the same as
you, without the little glass,” she added.

“Want it already mixed? Joking;
don’t get excited. Walt, a draft.”

“That bum, does he come in here
often?”

“Don’t worry about him. He won’t
bother us again. I set him straight about coming near me when I’m with you.”
Morgan sat a bit straighter on the stool, and Amy noted that he even made an
attempt to pull in his gut.

Then her eyes started working
the bar, checking out faces and body types. None resembled Todd.

“You wouldn’t know where he
lives, would you?”

“What the hell would you want to
know that for? Lives on the street, given his appearance, or in one of those
flea bag joints a few blocks over.”

“You think so?” Amy took a
swallow of her beer.

“Hey, are you one of those
missionary types that like to save men? If so, hallelujah, save me.” He burped.

“Amen,” she murmured. “In what
direction are these... hotels?”

Morgan scratched his head. “You’re
not thinking about walking over there, are you? Because my place is no prize,
but it’s heaven in comparison to those run-down dives. Of course, my apartment’s
further away, but if you really get the hots...”

“I’m quite cool, Morgan. I just
want to know where the ‘dives’ are.”

“I wouldn’t send you over there
by yourself. It’s too dangerous. Finish your beer and I’ll take you on a tour.”

Chapter 19

Dangerously Handsome

Amy wasn’t happy to have Morgan
as a companion until they reached the street he had spoken about. Then she
found herself instinctively walking close to Morgan, never straying from his
side.

“See what I mean? Let’s go back
to the bar. This isn’t the kind of place you want to check out.”

A young girl in a black, lacy
top sans bra and a black micro-mini was coming toward them. Her brown hair was
a quivering mass of ringlets of which Shirley Temple would have been proud. Her
face, however, was more like Mae West’s, with heavy make-up and enhanced plump
lips. Amy pushed Morgan toward the curb and the oncoming prostitute moved into
their path. When Amy linked arms with Morgan and dragged him up against the
building, the prostitute followed her lead.

“If you’re trying to avoid her,
forget it. She means to proposition us.”

“Us?”

“A menage-a-trois.”

Amy gasped. “Why us?”

Morgan looked around. “We’re the
only potential customers on the street.”

“But I’m with you. How does she
know she isn’t intruding on my territory?”

“Fanny, you don’t look like a
street-walker.”

For a moment, Amy didn’t know to
whom he was speaking, until she saw that he was staring down at her. Thank
heavens, he doesn’t remember my name, she thought.

“Hi.” The woman’s broad smile
was for Morgan. A second or two later she glanced at Amy. The smile seemed
smaller, less friendly, but was still there.

“We don’t want any, sister.”
Morgan’s voice was gruff.

“If that’s true, what are the
two of you doing, passing time around here?”

“Beats me.” Morgan shrugged his
shoulders.

“I’m looking for a man,” Amy
said.

The woman looked her up and
down.

“My old man wouldn’t mind
obliging, for a price, honey.”

Amy had miscommunicated. She
looked at Morgan for support, but he was standing stone still with his mouth
open.

“Not that kind of man.”

The woman checked out Morgan.

“My old man isn’t into that kind
of stuff. You’re on the wrong street.”

“Hey, I’m not that way either,”
Morgan protested.

“What’d she do, drag you out of
the house for some kinky entertainment?”

“I hardly know this woman,”
Morgan said, stepping back a few paces.

“No. No. You’ve got it all
wrong. I’m not into whips or chains or—”

“Too bad, because my old man is.”

Amy swallowed.

“I’m simply looking for a man I
know. I’m sure he’s staying in one of these... hotels.” A man walked out of the
doorway before her, adjusting his pants while a woman followed. Each went in
separate directions. “He’s dressed in a knit cap, old tweed jacket, and jeans.
Has a full, dark beard, long, shaggy hair and a patch over his left eye.”

“I think you’re better off with
what you got,” the woman said nodding her head in Morgan’s direction.

“That’s what I’ve been telling
her.” Morgan decided to step back into the center of the discussion.

“This is getting me nowhere. I’m
going to have to go from desk clerk to desk clerk.”

The woman threw Morgan a
sympathetic look and moved on.

“Hope you brought a bundle.”

“What do you mean?”

“None of these guys is going to
tell you anything without you crossing his palm first.”

“That’s what they would expect
here, I suppose.” Amy sighed.

“Damn straight.”

“How are you fixed for cash?”
she asked.

Morgan took another step back.

“Me? I’m the tour guide. I
expect my own tip at the end of the trip.”

Amy was sure he did. She took a
quick look around and thought it best not to inform him that what he expected
was not going to be forthcoming.

“Where shall we start?”

“I take it you do have cash,
then,” Morgan said.

“Not much, but I was planning on
playing on the more generous sides of their natures.”

Morgan laughed.

“You’re a riot, Fanny.” Amy
started to move to the closest doorway. “You don’t look like a Fanny. How come
your parents named you that?” Morgan droned on until they were in a dilapidated
vestibule that was called a lobby. The floor had the same small hexagonal tiles
found in most bathrooms. The color was an off-white or off-beige or perhaps it
was just permanently stained. Dark brown walls were peeling into white plaster,
and one lone still-life hung on the wall. A man behind the desk in front of her
waited expectantly.

“You’re new here,” the desk
clerk said.

He was perceptive, Amy thought.

The man was bald; he had a dark
fringe around the lower portion of his skull and a day-old beard on his cheeks
and chin.

“I’ll have to charge you...”

“No. We’re not looking for a
room. I’m trying to find a person.”

The man’s eyebrows popped up.

“Sorry, Miss, I don’t see, hear,
or know nothing.” He pulled out a coverless paperback with torn pages and began
reading.

“He’s...”

Morgan rested a hand on her arm.

“You sure your friend wants to
be found?”

“It’s none of your business.”

“I’m here, so it’s become my
business. From the way he looks and the kinds of questions he was asking me, I
don’t think he wants to be found. He seems to be searching for someone himself.”

“Maybe he is. But I can help
him.”

“Or dig his grave.”

Amy’s eyes were stinging. She
held her breath, trying to hold in the tears, but they fell.

“Listen, if I’m reading this
right, you and he knew each other in better times. He’s got to get something
straightened out for himself. I don’t know what it is, but I do know he wouldn’t
want you wandering around here.”

She shook her head.

“Why don’t I see you home?”
Morgan raised his hands. “Like a gentleman. No hanky-panky. When your guy is
ready, he’ll come back.”

Again Amy shook her head.

“I doubted him. He’ll never want
to see me again.” She sniffed in between words.

“Don’t worry. I’ll put a good
word in for you the next time I see him.”

Amy brightened up.

“Would you tell him that I need
to speak to him? I have some information that’s... private, and I need to give
it to him directly.”

“I’ll tell him.”

“Thank you. By the way, my name’s
Amy.”

***

Todd had spent the past several
days trying to track down Morgan. He had to pull something more descriptive out
of the man than the fact that Joey’s girlfriend had dark hair. Todd had been
certain he’d find him at the bar on Saturday night, but the bartender informed
him that he had left earlier with a female. No way he’d be coming back to the bar
tonight.

Todd brooded over his drink. He
had met several people who claimed to know Joey well, but none of them really
did. They were only casual bar acquaintances, and none ever remembered seeing
him with a dame. Joey seemed to pick up the leftovers at the end of the night,
and this occurred right up till the night before he died. If Joey had a steady,
as Morgan had said, why would Joey have bothered to scrounge through the
leftovers at the end of the evening? God, if Todd had Amy to go home to, he wouldn’t
even bother hanging out with drinking buddies. Todd stopped himself. Amy kept
recurring over and over in his thoughts. Maybe he needed variety to remind him
of what else was out there.

He scanned the room. A group of
women walked in. One was young. Just out of her teens, he figured, but legal.
His guess was that she was slumming for the thrill of it. He slipped the knit
cap in his pocket and took off the jacket.

“Here, mind taking care of this
for me?” he asked the bartender.

The bartender rolled the jacket
into a ball and shoved it into the empty space under the register.

“Thanks.”

Todd ran his fingers through his
hair and caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Dangerously handsome, he
decided before departing for the ladies’ table.

***

Meanwhile, Morgan was reassuring
Amy.

“Trust in Morgan. I’ll find that
guy, even if I have to play a little of that musical bar stuff myself.”

Amy smiled, thankful that Morgan
hadn’t asked any personal questions. Nor did he require the name of the man
with the patch over his eye. He’d know him when he saw him, and that was all
that was necessary.

“I’ll drop by the bar myself in
a few nights and...”

“I don’t think so, Amy. It’s
really not your environment,” he said, looking around the neighborhood in which
they stood. “Here, I’ll give you my number, and you can call whenever you want.
I live alone, so there’s no one to bother.”

“What if you don’t find him in a
few days? Then I’ll be coming back, but next time I’ll have the cash to buy the
information that I need.”

“Amy, I don’t think that’s a
good idea. Wait, don’t say anything just yet. I got this feeling your guy’s in
trouble, and all you’ll be doing by flashing some bills around is making him
conspicuous. Why not wait it out?”

“That’s impossible. He... We
have a mutual friend that might be in trouble. No, she is in trouble, and I don’t
know how to handle the problem alone.”

“Okay. But at least give me a
few days.”

“Three days. And by the way, he’d
better not call me here. I’ll have to make an appointment to meet him at the
bar.”

“I’m sure he’ll be thrilled to
hear that.” Amy was about to interrupt. Morgan raised his hands. “Will do, will
do. I’ll try to set something up.”