Josh Stallings - Beautiful, Naked and Dead

“Hacking into the phone company is illegal,” he said.

“Yes son, it probably is.”

“It’s also easy. Their firewall is almost a welcome mat.” I gave him Jeffery Sabatini’s name and had him search the Bay Area, after a flurry of keystrokes he delivered an address on Skyline Boulevard in the mountains above Palo Alto. He smiled like a kid who had just won the spelling bee. I had given him a moment to shine, no need telling him that it would lead to some punk’s bloody end. I thanked the kid and promised to send his greetings on to my niece and moved out into the thickening fog. It was time to start dropping some chum in the water and see what I could bring to the surface.

The Barbary Coast was in full gear when I entered. A short chunky black man in a derby with a tall blonde on his arm bumped into me, he looked up and let out a loud laugh. “Boy, you a mountain of a man! ‘Scuse my rudeness, but my full attention is on this fine tail here.”

“I completely understand,” I said, flashing him a grin. At the bar, Jane was busy piling drinks onto a tray for a waiting waitress. I liked watching her, she had on low cut black jeans and a short tee-shirt with “Bitch” in rhinestones written across her chest. She caught me looking at her and her eyes twinkled. Working her way down the bar she joked with the drunks, serving drinks and flirts in equal portions, but from the corner of her eye she was watching me, getting closer and closer. It was a dance and I was her willing partner. Leaning over the bar so I could get an eye full down the cut in her tee-shirt, she looked deep into my eyes.

“For a man who isn’t interested, you sure keep coming back.,” she said in a quiet voice, meant just for me, I had to lean into her to hear.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested, just said it wasn’t going to happen.”

“Your eyes tell a very different tale. Now what is a girl to believe?” She ran her thumb down my jaw pausing to tug on my lower lip.

“Be a good girl and get me a drink,” I said, fighting the urge to bite her thumb.

“Gimlet, right?”

“Absolutely.” She poured the drink, set it down, gave me a wink, then moved back down the bar to service a cocktail waitress. I watched the money-mating dance gyrate around the room scanning for signs of mob boys. Rich men, poor men, old men, young men, hard men, soft men, but none had the look I was hunting for.

“I need you to do me a favor,” I said, when Jane had returned from her round of the bar.

“Does it involve two sheets and a lot of sweat?”

“No.”

“Then I’m not interested.”

“How about as a favor to Benjamin Franklin?” I slid a bill onto the bar top.

“My old dear friend, what does he need?” she said, scooping up the hundred.

“Some thugs may come looking for me, I need you to put the word out I’m staying at the Best Western down the street.” I handed her one of the cards with the phone number on it.

“Is that where I can find you, say, two thirty when I get off?”

“Straight up, girl, nothing would be finer. But there are some very mean men bent on cutting my life short. Last thing I want to see is you getting caught in the crossfire. When the smoke clears, if I’m still standing maybe we’ll go down to Chinatown have some dinner, see what happens. But until then, we better keep this bar between us.” She took it all in, watching my eyes. I wasn’t the first man she’d met who was in trouble, I doubted I’d be the last. Maybe that’s what attracted her to me. She set a fresh drink in front of me and smiled.

“This one’s on me big guy, and I prefer sushi, so when you get whatever it is you have to get done, done, we have a date. Right?”

“Right.” I shot her a wink. She moved back down the bar, shaking her head once and dropping back into her bubbly barmaid character for the drunks. I watched her go and for the hundredth time in the past few days, I wondered why I didn’t just let it all slip away, drift off into the night and forget I had ever heard of Kelly and Cass.

The fog had turned to an almost solid wall of white and grey in the streets outside. From the sidewalk I could see the glow of headlights but the cars were murky ghosts. I moved slowly along, feeling my way to the curb. Out of the mist an arm reached up grabbing my shoulder, pulling me down. I stumbled falling into the fog, landing in the back seat of a car. Before I could react, I was roughly shoved inside and we were rolling. I was sandwiched between Agent Sanders and a large Black fed with a massive shaved head.

“We have a real problem, McGuire,” Sanders said. I kept my eyes focused straight ahead fighting to steady my pulse, the illegal.38 in my boot holster weighed heavily on my mind. “We have a tap on some undesirables and it seems your name keeps coming up. In a very short time, you have stirred up quite a hornets’ nest. What were their words exactly, Bob?”

“I want that big rat fuck dead, bring me his head on a platter,” the bald fed said.

“Yes, that’s it. So, I now have a couple of choices. A, let them kill you and hope to catch them in the act. B, cool you out in jail on some trumped up charge. Or C, you tell me everything you know to date and I see if I can keep you alive long enough to be an asset to us.”

“How about I say fuck you and get out of the car,” I said looking Sanders square in the eyes.

“Tell him what he gets, Bob,” Sanders said, enjoying his power.

“You do not collect two hundred dollars, you go directly to jail,” Bob said, flashing me a gold tooth. I could feel my blood starting to boil, I wanted to smash their faces in. They had me dangling and they knew it.

“You want to know what I know? I know that every time I turn around somebody is trying to jack me up. I’m just trying to make it home in one piece and it keeps getting harder every step I take. And now you want to take a shot at me? Well come on, let’s dance. I’ve done jail time, it don’t scare me. Now the next time I open my mouth it will be to my lawyer. We all clear on that?”

“Pull over,” Sanders barked at the driver.

“What are you doing?” Bald Bob asked.

“I’m cutting him loose.”

“No, he talks or he goes to jail.”

“I’m the agent in charge of this case. I say he walks, then he walks, now pull over.” As soon as we stopped he turned on me. “Get out.”

He led me into the fog away from the car, out of earshot of the other cops. He leaned against an abandoned storefront plastered with torn posters. “Alright McGuire, look I’ve read your jacket. You did some dumb things when you were younger, but that was a long time ago. You were in the Root, right?”

“So?”

“I was there, army intel.”

“Is that supposed to make us friends? You intel fucks killed more of my buddies than the enemy.”

“You don’t have to like me, I don’t really care if you hate me. But believe this, I am your only hope.”

“Then I’m fucked without a kiss.”

“If you decide you want to live through this, give me a call.” He faded away into the fog. I could hear the car door open and close and then move off down the street. It was a long slow walk back, stopping at street corners to search the mist for street names. At the Best Western I checked for messages from a way too cheerful young clerk. I took the elevator down to the parking lot, slipped out the side door and walked up the block to my little dive of a hotel. It was past midnight and the clerk was snoring away deep in some junkie dream.

From my room I called a number in Glendale, a groggy high-pitched voice answered. “Put Gregor on,” I demanded.

“Who the fuck is this?” he squeaked.

“Gregor, now.” After a few long moments Gregor picked up.