Джанет Иванович - Twisted Twenty-Six

Lula and I got out of her car and went to Shine’s front door. I rang the bell and an elderly woman answered. She was wearing tan walking shoes that looked orthopedic, tan slacks, and a pink floral-print shirt. Her hair was cut short and curled, and the color matched her shoes. She squinted at me over the top of her granny glasses.

“Yes?” she asked.

I introduced myself and gave her my business card. “I’m looking for Charles Shine. Are you his wife, Loretta?”

“Yes, and he’s not here. He’s probably with his honey.”

“You know about her?” Lula asked.

“I send her a fruit basket once a month,” Loretta said. “God knows, she deserves it.”

“Have you seen him lately?” I asked.

“He was here yesterday, getting clothes. He looked in the refrigerator, didn’t see anything he liked, and he left.”

“I’d appreciate a call if he returns,” I said.

“No problem.”

We left Loretta, and Lula drove slowly down Willet.

“Now where are we going?” Lula asked.

“The Mole Hole.”

“I knew you were going to say that. I think that’s an excellent idea because it’s coming up to lunchtime and I could get a burger there. Plus, we could check it out for Grandma’s wake.”

The Mole Hole is close to the train station. It’s on a side street along with several other sketchy businesses. A pawnshop. A tattoo parlor. A Chinese restaurant that’s regularly cited for health infractions. Mixed in with the businesses are narrow townhouses owned by slumlords.

Lula parked in the lot attached to the Mole Hole and marched over to the attendant.

“I expect my car to be in perfect condition when I get back,” she said. “I don’t want a fingerprint on it.”

The attendant was a scraggly kid with a gold tooth up front. “You gonna pay for extra protection, Mama?”

“First off, I’m not your mama. And second, I’m not paying nothing, but you need to take out some insurance on your nuts, because they’re gonna be in your throat if I’m not happy with my car when I come back.”

I gave the stay signal to the Rangeman guys, and Lula and I went into the Mole Hole. It was aptly named because we went from bright sunshine to no sunshine at all. We stood at the entrance while our eyes adjusted. It was one large room with tables on the perimeter and a circular bar in the center of the room. A stage and three poles were in the middle of the bar. A lone woman slithered around on one of the poles to music I didn’t recognize. She was wearing heels and a G-string and pasties that looked like daisies. Several of the barstools were occupied, and a man and woman sat at one of the tables.

“Not a lot going on here,” I said to Lula.

“It’s early for the lunch trade. It’ll pick up. This is going to be a good venue for a wake. It’s got a parking lot and lots of room in here to mingle and hand out condolences. You could even have entertainment up on the stage. Not the daisy nipple lady, but something classy . . . like a harp player or dueling banjos.”

I moved to the bar and flagged down a bartender. Lula was next to me with a menu.

“I want one of these man-eater burgers with extra curly fries,” she told the bartender. “And I’ll have that with a glass of chardonnay.”

He looked at me.

“I’d like to talk to Charlie Shine,” I said.

He took a beat. “No food?”

“No. Just Charlie.”

“Do you have a name?”

“Stephanie Plum.”

He punched Lula’s order into a computer, turned his back to us, and made a phone call. A couple minutes later a guy who looked like he ate way too much pasta came out of a door behind the bar and walked over to us. He was in his early sixties, wearing a golf shirt and pleated pants. He had thick lips, little eyes, and a comb-over.

“Stephanie Plum?” he asked.

I raised my hand.

He pointed to a table. “Let’s sit.”

Lula started to go to the table with us, and he stopped her.

“Private conversation,” he said to Lula.

“Well, I’m staying right here by the bar, and I’m watching,” Lula said.

I took a seat, and he sat across from me.

“I’m Stan,” he said. “Who’s your friend?”

“Lula.”

“She looks mean. Is she muscle?”

“No. My muscle is waiting in the black SUV in the parking lot.”

“Ha. Good one.”

He thought I was kidding.

“I hear you’re looking for Charlie Shine,” Stan said.

I gave him my business card.

Stan pocketed the card. “I know who you are. You’re the widow’s granddaughter. The boys in the back room wanted to talk to you, but you declined our offer of a ride.”

“I was walking my boyfriend’s dog.”

“Well, you’re not walking the dog now, so I’m going to talk to you.”

“Are you one of the backroom boys?”

“Yeah, I spend some time there.”

“Do you have a La-Z-Boy chair?”

“No. I got a couch. There’s only so many La-Z-Boys.”

“About Charlie Shine,” I said.

“About Jimmy’s keys,” Stan said. “What do you know?”

“I know that they’re lost. That’s it.”

“We searched everywhere, and we can’t find them. So our conclusion is that your granny has them. She was with Jimmy at his last moment. We think he handed them off to her.” Stan made the sign of the cross. “He should rest in peace.”

“My understanding is that the last moment was more like half a moment. I don’t think he had time to hand anything off.”

“You need to have a conversation with Granny. Out of respect for Jimmy we wouldn’t do anything to ruin his funeral, but after the funeral I can’t guarantee your family’s safety if we don’t get the keys. And you should know we aren’t the only ones who want the keys. There are others involved who aren’t as civilized as us.”

“Others?”

Stan stood. “So be real careful.”

“Wait! What about Charlie Shine?”

Stan lumbered away and disappeared through the door behind the bar.

Lula was sitting at the bar, sipping her chardonnay and waiting for her burger.

“Well?” she asked. “Is Shine coming out?”

“No. I’m going in.”

“In where?”

“In whatever is behind the door behind the bar.”

“Are you taking the Rangeman guys with you?”

“No. I don’t want to make a big fuss. I just want Shine to go with me to get bonded out again.”

“I’d go with you but I’m waiting on my burger,” Lula said.

“No problem. I’ll be right back.”

I walked around the bar and tried the door. Locked. A little plaque on the door said PRIVATE. I knocked and waited a couple beats. I knocked a second time. Two very large goons appeared out of nowhere.

“There are gentlemen playing cards in the private salon, and they don’t wish to be disturbed,” one of the goons said. “You’ll have to leave.”

“I’m not leaving until I have Charlie Shine in custody.”

“Unfortunately, you’re creating a disturbance for our floor show,” he said. “We’re going to have to remove you.”

In the next instant I was bookended by the two goons, who each had a hand under an armpit. My feet were four inches off the floor, and I was whisked out of the Mole Hole. Slam! The door closed behind me, and I stood blinking in the bright sun.

A minute later, the door opened, and Lula joined me. She had her burger and fries in a bag and her chardonnay in a cardboard to-go coffee cup.

“This worked out good,” Lula said. “They didn’t charge me for my burger. Where are we off to now?”

“Drop me at the office so I can pick up my car and go to my parents’ house. I want to talk to Grandma. I’ll have lunch there and meet up with you later.”