The Ying on Triad (16 page)

Again, he shook his head. "Sorry, boy. I got no recollection of that neither, but if I did, I'm mighty sorry. It
ain't Christian for a father to take from his own son"

He looked so frail and dismayed over the news I almost
felt sorry for him, but then I reminded myself that was
how he played the game. That's how he had snookered me
before. He had me believing he sincerely wanted to
change. Then the day before we were to leave for Church
Point, he had caught a freight for San Antonio and points west after pocketing three hundred bucks from pawning
things he had taken from my apartment.

I tried to keep my voice hard and cold, cutting, "You're
right, John. It wasn't Christian, and it wasn't right to take
from me. But you did"

His head drooped like a recalcitrant child. "You be
right, boy. It was mighty un-Christian-like of me. But, me,
I've changed. I seen the light"

Shaking my head in frustration, I replied, "Come on
now, John. You've told me that before. Why should I
believe it now?"

He looked up, his eyes sad and begging. "Boy, This
time, I mean it. Me, I want to change. I ain't long for this
world. I'd sure like to make everything right with my
family"

My eyes narrowed as I stared at him. I clenched my teeth.
He was lying. I knew he was lying, but I felt my resolve
slipping. I still didn't like him, but he was my father.

What was Ito do? As soon as I asked myself the question, I knew. I shook my head in disgust at how my emotions had suddenly taken over my good sense. "All right,
John. If you want to ride over to Church Point with me,
you can"

And who knows? I told myself as emotions overrode
common sense. Maybe he does mean it this time.

Next morning at 5:00, I rolled out of bed and staggered
into the kitchen to put on the coffee. My eyes half-closed,
I stumbled past my old man on the couch and stopped at
the aquarium to feed Oscar. My hand froze when I started to shake the small container.

Oscar was floating belly up.

I stared at him for several moments before I realized he
was dead. I touched his belly. He bobbed down, then back
up. "Poor little guy," I muttered. Still, he had lived longer
than he was supposed to, even after surviving Jack's
chemical attack.

Instead of conducting his funeral in the bathroom, I
took him outside and buried him in the flowerbed. He had
made me a comforting little companion after my divorce
and deserved better than the toilet.

I checked the thermometer. Fifty degrees. The sky was
clear. The day would warm quickly.

By 10:00 A.M., the temperature had hit the low seventies, a magnificent day for a drive in the Model T.

I placed the rice and court bouillon on the floorboard
on the passenger's side. "I'll be back in two or three hours," I told my old man. The one positive aspect to his
being here was that I had a perfect excuse to leave the
party early-but not until I had visited with Samuel
Bradford, senior Senator from the state of Texas. And as
I promised Janice, I would behave myself.

The Model T was both fun and a challenge to drive-fun
because of the attention it drew, and a challenge because of
the coordination demanded by two forward speeds and a
reverse initiated by the use of foot pedals. At times my feet
were dancing like the proverbial cat on a hot tin roof.

Another small challenge was the fact the little car did
not respond to commands instantaneously, like modern
automobiles. There is more play in the steering, so the car
actually turns a few moments after the wooden steering
wheel is moved. It's quirky, but a driver adjusts, which I
finally managed to do after running over the curb several
times turning into Janice's driveway.

Now, as we tooled along Loop 360 at a steady thirty
miles an hour in the outside lane, I continued to check the
mirror for a maroon car, trying to appear casual so as not
to alarm Janice. I spotted three or four, and each time I
turned into a bundle of nerves until the car passed.

I frowned when I spotted a Cadillac convertible weaving through the traffic and changing lanes as it rapidly
drew closer. It pulled up beside us and honked. We looked
around into the grinning faces of Diane and Jack. They
both waved, and we waved back. Jack yelled, but the wind
blew his words away. I shrugged and shook my head.

He waved again, and they sped away.

"Well, she certainly didn't lose any time," Janice
snapped.

"Uh, oh. Someone's claws are showing" I glanced at her.

She shot me a blistering look, then smiled. "I guess that
was a little too catty"

"Looks like the two of them hit it off"

"At least, she isn't hanging around you"

I suppressed a grin. "Yeah, that's okay. But you know,
it is tough on a guy's ego to be dropped like that"

She looked around at me in disbelief, trying to figure
out if I was serious or not. When she saw the grin slide
onto my lips, she slapped playfully at my arm. "You have
enough of an ego as it is"

Beatrice Morrison's receptions were the talk of Austin
society. Everyone who was anyone or who thought he was
anyone went to any length to wheedle, wangle, or finagle
an invitation.

True to her word, Beatrice's caterers dumped my court
bouillon and steamed rice into silver serving bowls. God
forbid simple aluminum pots touch her blue Provencal
table motifs-tablecloths to rednecks like me.

Around 12:00 NOON, guests started arriving, and by
1:00 P.M., a chattering crowd milled beneath the blue and
white marquis that was half the size of a football field.
The tent stood in the middle of a grassy quadrangle surrounded by a neatly-trimmed, ten-foot Privet Hedge. An
eight-foot semi-circular arch had been cut in each side of
the hedge, allowing access and egress.

A string quartet played Beethoven and Debussy at one
end of the tent while a large bar did landslide business at
the other. Cynicism insisted there was a direct correlation
between various musical selections and the amount of
traffic at the bar at certain times.

As at every other one of these functions that we had
attended, Janice left me to my own devices while she
remained at her aunt's side. In B. A. A.-that's Before
Alcoholics Anonymous-I had occupied my idle time at
these receptions by seeing how big a dent I could put in
Aunt Beatrice's booze supply. Since then, I simply passed the time wandering through the crowd, sipping soda and
lime and people-watching.

I found an empty table near the musicians and settled
in for a sampling of Austin's upper-class culture.

Beethoven and Debussy are recognized as classical
music geniuses. No reflection on their brilliance, but I
can't tell "Moonlight Sonata" from "Clair de Lune" To
me, their plaintive strains could never compete with my
deep appreciation of the Cajun beat of Fernest
Arceneaux's rendition of "Jolie Blonde," or Waylon
Thibodeaux's "Perrodin Two-Step"

When the dark limo pulled into the parking lot beyond
the privet hedge, I was on my second club soda, which I
might point out does nothing to enhance my appreciation
of classical music the way a half dozen bourbons "neat"
once did. A hulking figure emerged from the driver's side
and stared over the top of the car at the milling crowd.

There was only one person in Texas that size. Godzilla,
aka. Huey, Danny O'Banion's bodyguard, driver, and designated hit man. And it didn't take any musical genius to
tell me why they were here. Taking one last sip from my
glass, I set it down on the fancy blue tablecloth and headed across freshly mown lawn to the parking lot.

I spotted Senator Bradford mixing in the crowd. I
glanced at the limo, then back to Bradford. He could wait.

The back door opened as I drew near. I paused before
climbing in and grinned up at Huey who stared impassively at me through the slits that hid his eyes. "Hey there,
Huey. Pull off anybody's arm today?"

He said nothing as I slipped into the limo. Huey closed
the front door but remained outside, giving Danny and me
our privacy.

"He's going to pull off yours one of these days if you irritate him too much, Tony." A crooked grin slid over
Danny's face. "So, how's the job going?"

One thing about Danny. He had never believed in wasting time.

I answered seriously, "It's going. In the last four days,
I've talked to several people, most of whom figure
Hastings got what he deserved" I went into detail about
what I had learned, but with each detail, the furrows on
his forehead deepened. I related the warning phone call,
the sideswiping incident, the attempted rundown, and the
death of Don Landreth.

When I finished, he stared at me for several seconds,
then said. "I don't hear a thing that we can use for
Bobby"

"I agree, but we're getting closer. Tomorrow, I'm making a trip to the County Clerk's office downtown"

"What's at the County Clerk's office?"

"I'm not sure. I want to look up some businesses to find
out who owns them. There might be something there"

"I don't understand, Tony. Seems like that's a waste of
time, just like being out here today instead of working"
His eyes grew cold and his normally fair skin reddened.
"This is the second of the month. Bobby rides the needle
on the fourth," he said impatiently.

"Everything points to Sen. Sam Bradford's involvement" I glanced back at the reception. "I saw him a
moment ago. I'm going to visit with him here. If we can
establish a connection between him and the triad and their
drugs, then maybe we have a chance"

My explanation seemed to somewhat mollify Danny's
impatience. He lowered his voice, "What about that information I gave you?"

I glanced at the empty driver's seat. "I'm expecting
something this afternoon. I'll act on it as soon as possible"

"You need to work fast, Tony" I read the veiled warning in his words.

"You know me, Danny," I replied, eyeing him coldly, "I
don't lie. I'm doing the best I can. This case is cold, ten
years cold"

He studied me skeptically. "I'm getting worried, Tony.
Big time"

I grunted, "You think I'm not?"

Back at the reception, I picked up another soda with a
slice of lime and wandered among the guests, searching
for Bradford, hoping to buttonhole him for a few moments.

I had seen him earlier, but now he was nowhere to be
found. I hoped he hadn't left.

Taking a seat at an empty table near the bar, I absently
studied the guests while I pondered the last few days,
searching for a link, or any connection that would confirm
my suspicions about the senator. I had toyed with the idea
that Landreth's death was part of the grand scheme, whatever that scheme might be. I truly believed that someone
killed Landreth so he wouldn't give me the proof to clear
Packard. If that were true, then that someone must have
overheard or intercepted Landreth's message to me.

Without warning, a guttural voice broke into my musings. "Mind if I join you, Boudreaux?"

I looked up into the impassive face of Huey's double,
Godzilla II.

Before I could answer, another voice rumbled to my
right. "Me too" This Neanderthal was only about threequarters the size of the first. He was puny, probably not
much over two hundred and fifty pounds. His chin looked
as if it had been sculpted from granite, and in the middle
of it, there was a cleft deep enough to hold a quarter. Both
men looked out of place in the expensive suits they wore.

I was in no position to refuse. "Be by guests, boys" My
brain raced, wondering what they had in mind. Surely
they wouldn't waste me in the middle of Beatrice
Morrison's annual reception. Not even Joe Basco, the
mob boss in New Orleans, would risk her wrath by causing chaos during one of her precious events.

Cleft Chin leaned forward. His voice had the texture of
gravel. "We know you was hired to do a job. Nobody can
blame you for trying to make a buck. My boss is concerned that if you keep nosing around, you might not have
the chance to spend the buck"

He couldn't have made his point any plainer.

I cut my eyes to his cohort, who sat motionless, his
black eyes piercing me with a look that left no question in
my mind that he would not hesitate to carry out that promise with great delight. I wanted to tell them what they
could do with their concern, but my one hundred and
sixty-five pounds against their five or six hundred-plus
seemed insane odds, even to a dummy like me. Nodding
slowly, I replied, "I appreciate your boss' concern for my
health"

They stared coldly at me for a few seconds longer, then
without another word, rose and disappeared into the
crowd of guests.

I made my way after them through the laughing, guests
but jerked to a halt when I spotted the two goons crossing
the parking lot. I quickly stepped back a few feet into the
crowd, knowing I could see them easily enough, but they
would have trouble picking out one individual deep in the
crowd.