The Case of the Mistletoe Mistress - #4

The Case of the Mistletoe Mistress


EPISODE 4

The Favor

Room 936 is teamin’ with hotel folk cranin’ their necks at the dame in the red dress, lyin’ on the floor. O’Riley quickly flashes her badge—the one I told her to leave home—and runs everybody out after tellin’ the desk manager to call 911. What I can’t figure is where O’Riley kept her badge in that outfit she’s wearin’. It’s like skin. She’s probably got her piece stashed in there somewhere, too. Dames … I just can’t figure ‘em.

After clearin’ the room, she kneels down next to me and checks Miss Patterson’s pulse. She nods at me, meanin’ it’s strong, an’ that’s a good sign. I takes off my tux jacket an’ covers her since the roughin’ up she took has her poppin’ outta the top of her evening gown. She’s driftin’ in an’ out o’ consciousness, so I stokes her cheek an’ tries to bring her out of it while O’Riley wipes the blood off her face with a wet towel from the john.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” O’Riley says. “Just a broken nose and a black eye.”

“Ever had a broken nose, Colleen?”

“Well … no.”

“Trust me. It hurts.”

Colleen wiggles her own nose like she’s tryin’ to imagine how if feels. “You know this girl, don’t you?”

“Yeah. She’s Zoë’s receptionist. But she didn’t look nothin’ like this when I saw her the other day. Short spiky hair and horned rimmed cheaters. I wouldn’t o’ recognized her at all, ‘cept for her eyes.”

“So, she’s not one of Zoë’s girls?”

“No. I don’t think they take turns at the desk. Besides, she ain’t on the list.”

“List? What list?”

Shit! Me an’ my big mouth. “Whadda ya mean, 'what list?' Santa’s naughty list, of course. What did ya think I was talkin’ about?”

Colleen gives me a look like she ain’t foolin’ around. “You’re going to have to give me that list, Greyson. We’ve an ongoing investigation into Zoë’s operation and that’s potential evidence.”

“I don’t know from nothin’, Colleen. My business ain’t all that, but if I starts turnin’ over documents belongin’ to my clients, I won’t have no business at all.”

“She’s not your client.”

“Don’t care. You get nothin’ from me.”

“I could arrest your for impeding an investigation.”

“Take a hike. Why don’t you do some real cop stuff and pinch the louse that mugged this girl? That’s assault, if I ain’t mistaken.”

Colleen starts strong armin’ me when Miss Patterson comes around.” She opens those crystal blues, looks at me an’ Colleen, and starts cryin’.”

“Its okay, Doll. You’re safe.”

Colleen’s still kneelin’ next to me and smiles at Miss Patterson, reassurin’ her while tossin’ daggers at me. But she lays off runnin’ me in … for now. I’m sure it’ll come up again later.

“C’mon, Doll,” I says. “Let’s get you off the floor.” I helps her to a sittin’ position and picks her up. She don’t weigh nothin’. A hundred an’ twenty, maybe. She’s still clutchin’ my jacket real tight when I carries her to the bed and sits her down real gentle like. She glances up at me an’ I sees her nose is pushed to the left, her right eye is swollen and there’s still traces o’ blood smeared on her cheek that O’Riley missed.

“You remember me, Miss Patterson?” I says.

She gives me a quick gander, nods her head a little and whispers, “Yes.”

“Why don’t you tell me what happened.”

“Mister Acosta … he … he wanted sex. When I refused he….”

“I know about the blackmail, Doll. I know you’re Angel. Now give it to me straight. On the level.”

She’s stunned that I’m on to her caper. Her mouth drops open and I sees the wheels turnin’. She wants to lie her way out of it, but when I shows her the picture, she cups her face in her hands and starts cryin’ again. That’s what dames do when they need time to think. A minute later, she collects herself. When she looks up at me, I sees the tears runnin’ down her cheeks mixin’ with her mascara and blood, an’ she wipes ‘em away, smearin’ everything across her face in streaks of black and red. Her voice is soft, almost like she’s apologizin’ for somethin’.

“I needed money. My mother’s real bad off. Needs a kidney transplant and has no medical. I handle all the bookings for Miss Zoë and I know all her clients. I saw a way to make some fast money, so I took it.”

“You had five suckers on the hook,” I says. “Why’d you show up here tonight? You hadda know you’d run into one of ‘em.”

“I didn’t think they’d have the nerve to show up. Besides, I wanted the Mayor. He’s her biggest fish. But I couldn’t find him, that’s why I was talking to his assistant. And I didn’t think anyone would recognize me with the blonde wig. But Acosta spotted me.”

“It’s those eyes o’ yours, Doll. You shoulda known better then futz with Acosta. He’s bad news.”

“I didn’t know he was a mobster until he showed up with his men and dragged me up here. He started slapping me around and I thought he was going to kill me—kept asking me who I was working for, so I gave him the first name that came to mind hoping they’d leave so I could slip out of town. But I didn’t count on getting the shit kicked out of me.”

“Who’d ya tell ‘im?”

“That slimy little troll, Ramey. He couldn’t keep his hands off me at his party. Like he’d be able to get it up, the old fart. After that, one of Acosta’s thugs hit me in the face.” She touches her nose an’ winces. “That’s the last thing I remember before seeing you.”

Just as she’s finishin’ her story, I hears a gurney clatterin’ up the hall. The paramedics walk in with a couple o’ uniforms. Colleen tells Angel she’s going to the hospital, but she don’t want to go. Colleen says it’s either that, or she arrests her on suspicion of blackmail, so she ain’t got no choice. Then she pulls me out into the hall while the medics are seein’ to Miss Patterson.

“Acosta’s going after Ramey,” she says. “He’s not the type to put up with something like this.”

“Ab-so-lute-ly. And he assaulted Miss Patterson, too. You should have him picked up.” I knows Colleen better than she knows herself.

“Have him picked up? I’m going to arrest him myself! Pinching him, as you say, is a major collar and I’m not just going to give him to some beat cop.” She turns an’ grabs the nearest uniform, says something to him and they rush down the hall. I don’t let my grin show till she’s around the corner and headin’ to the elevators. I gives her a couple of minutes, then heads back inside.

If there’s one thing that comes in handy in this business, it’s knowin’ when people are lyin’. I gotta sixth sense about that, see? I watch their eyes when they’re answerin’ questions. If they ain’t makin’ eye contact, or if they blinks a lot, fifteen’ll get you twenty, they ain’t on the up an’ up.

The cop who’s still there is guardin’ the door, waitin’ for the paramedics to bring Miss Patterson outta the room. I tells him I forgot my jacket and he nods me in. Miss Patterson’s on the gurney an’ I asks her one more question.

“Tell me, Doll … who’s your mother’s doctor?”


By the time I gets to the lobby, O’Riley and her cop chauffeur are gone. She’s headin’ to Ramey’s house to intercept Acosta, but I knows he ain’t goin’ there. I’d give anything to see the look on her face when she wakes up old man Ramey.

I ain’t buyin’ Miss Patterson’s account of Ramey grabbin’ on her. The old fella can hardly walk. And if he ever ended up gettin’ some nookie, it’d probably kill him. Course, I can think o’ worse ways o’ checkin’ out. I figures Angel’s throwin’ us a curve, that’s why I asked about the doctor. She didn’t answer right away when I asked for his name. Her eyes were all over the place and she stammered some before comin’ up with “Jones.” My mom had four doctors before she passed on, and all their names was on the tip o’ my tongue. The dame can’t think fast enough. An’ her claimin’ she didn’t know Acosta was a hood is baloney. If Zoë knew, she knew. I think she picked him on purpose, an’ the others was red herrings to cover the real deal.

It ain’t no secret Acosta’s got a short fuse. Maybe she wants to rile him up so he’d do somethin’ she wanted. Like kill somebody. I figures that’s why she was here tonight. She knew he’d be lookin’ for her. And when he found her, she could blame it on somebody else … if, she lived long enough. She took a hellofa chance playin’ him for a sap. But, she’s still alive. I’m thinkin’ maybe she’s smarter than I gives her credit for, so I decides to play a hunch.


The ambulance is parked around back at the rear entrance near where I parked my hayburner. I waits for it to leave with Angel and follows it to Harbor General ten minutes down the road. They drops her in the emergency room and the cop escortin’ her turns her over to hospital security.

After parkin’ the car, I heads for the emergency entrance, tosses my ciggy in the ashcan and walks in. The security guard looks up from his magazine as I goes by an’ I gives ‘im a nod, but keeps walkin’ like I’m supposed to be there. He don’t seem interested. Can’t blame him. It’s almost Christmas and I’d bet he’d rather be someplace else.

I don’t see Miss Patterson anywhere, so I asks the skirt at the admitting desk. I tells her I’m her brother and she points me to a set o’ double doors leadin’ to the emergency room. After drawin’ looks from the staff cause o’ my tux, I spots Angel through open privacy curtains in a patient station. A hospital sheet’s drawn halfway up her evening gown and her eyes are closed. There’s an I.V. plugged into her arm and taped down so it don’t wiggle free. I guess they’re worried she lost too much blood. I steps inside an’ sits on the edge o’ her bed. She feels it shift an’ opens her eyes.

“Hi ya, Doll,” I says. “How you feelin’?”

“Mister Sloane…. Wha … what are you doing here?”

“Oh, I just dropped in to see how you’re makin’ out. They takin’ care o’ you in here?”

“Yes. The doctor came by. Said he’d be back to set my nose. I hope it isn’t crooked when he’s finished.”

“You’ll be okay, kid. Listen, I thought you’d like to know … the cops picked up Acosta down the road. They caught up with him before he could get to Ramey. Seems his limo got a flat. Him an’ his goons should be in Central Booking by now.”

I sees her jaw tighten and her eyes starts searchin’ the room for no particular reason. She ain’t sayin’ nothin’, but I can see she’s thinkin’.

“You’re gonna have to testify to the assault in court in a couple o’ weeks,” I says. “Think you’ll be up for it?”

“I don’t want to press charges. I’m afraid of him. Afraid of what he’ll do to me.”

“Well, Doll, my guess is if you don’t, the D.A. will bring blackmail charges against you. Don’t be a sap. They want Acosta. Not you.”

Now she gets real agitated. “NO! You don’t understa….” Her eyes are angry and she can’t sit still.

“Understand? Understand what?”

“Never mind. I don’t feel so good. Could you please leave now?”

“Sure, Doll. I just wanted to check on you.” I gets up to leave. “Don’t take any wooden nickels.” I turns and walks to the curtain, then turns back to her. “Oh yeah … I called Zoë an’ told her what happened to you.”

“Zoë?”

“Yeah. I called her to tell her you was beat up and in the hospital. I thought she should know. But I gotta tell ya, she ain’t happy you were at that party representin’ her business. Said she was gonna talk to you Wednesday mornin’. From the sound of it, I’d start lookin’ for another job, if I was you.”

I sees her face turn blood red and her hands curl into fists. She kicks a long leg under the sheet once, then twice. If looks could kill….

“That BITCH! It’s not enough that she….”

I stands there for a minute to see what else she says. Angel clams up after the outburst and don’t say another word. But now I knows what’s goin’ on. I walks out in a hurry and tells the guard he might wanna keep an eye on the blonde in the evening gown as I goes by. I run to the car and remember I still have O’Riley’s cell phone. I dig out Zoë’s card and dials her number, but she ain’t answerin’. What is it with dames keepin’ their cell phones where they can’t hear ‘em? I leaves her a message to lock her doors and stay outta sight. Then, I makes a beeline for her place. I figures I’ll be there in fifteen minutes, if I catch the lights.


I was lucky Zoë’s address was on her card or I’da had to call O’Riley to get it. That o’ been rich—seein’s how she headed to the other side o’ town.

I knows the neighborhood, see? Ritzy joints with three-car garages set close to the street for people with lots o’ dough. The houses ain’t close together on the same side, but they ain’t that far away from each other across the road. I kills my lights as I pull up around the block from Zoë’s house. The dome light don’t work in this hay burner either, so I ain’t gotta worry ‘bout that. I close the door real quiet like an’ starts toward her place.

There’s trees on both sides, so it’s easy to stay in the shadows of the street lamps. I ain’t runnin, but I ain’t walkin’ either. I rounds the corner an’ sees headlights turnin’ into her driveway. I picks up the pace. I’m pretty sure its Zoë, even though I don’t know what kind o’ car she drives. But I know it ain’t Acosta. He rides in style an’ likes his limos. I’m almost to the driveway when I hears a door slam and sees a shadow trot out to the middle of the road from a driveway across the street. Then, there’s a flash o’ light and a gunshot. I pulls my .38.

“DROP IT ACOSTA!”

The shadow turns toward me and fires and I hears two rounds wiz by my right ear. I ain’t got no time for none o’ that fancy drop an’ roll Hollywood razzmatazz and squeezes off three rounds at the shadow in the road. I sees it teeter and fall. There’s another shot and another round wings me in the left shoulder just as I sees Acosta’s goons in the far driveway. I dives behind a tree and settles myself. I’m gettin’ too old for this kind o’ shit.

A few seconds later, round after round starts slamin’ into the tree and tearin’ up the ground an’ sidewalk around me. I shoulda known they had automatic weapons. For some reason, the thought of five-hundred a day flashes through my noggin. I decides it just ain’t worth it.

Now I’m in a real jam. I only got three rounds left an’ bullets are flyin’ all around me. I don’t know where those goons are anymore since they got me pinned. I spots a hedge behind me and decides to move. If I ain’t where they think I am, they can’t kill me.

Stayin’ behind the tree, I stands up. I takes a deep breath and hightails it over the hedge and rolls behind another tree. The bullets ain’t followin’ me. I sneaks a peak. I sees two silhouettes runnin’ across the road an’ seperatin’, one to each side o’ where I used to be. I picks the closest target an’ squeezes the trigger.

I sees him lurch, but he straightens up an’ keeps comin’. I squeeze off one more an’ he drops to the ground. Now I got one round left. One round, one target. And he’s got a chopper. I’m in deep shit. I crawls to a four-foot-high white brick wall ten feet away and don’t move. I lost track o’ the other goon. If I ain’t real careful, I’m dead. I sees Acosta still layin’ in the road and he ain’t movin’. I don’t think about the problems that’s gonna cause me. I rolls over the wall and starts makin’ my way across somebody’s lawn to Zoë’s house. I stops at the end of the wall and sees Zoë in the driveway leanin’ against her car. She’s holdin’ her left side to stop the bleedin’. She’s still alive, but if I don’t ice the last thug, she won’t be … and neither will I.

I crouches behind the end of the three-foot wide brick wall and looks for the last man. I sees the goon I just snuffed layin’ in the road fifteen feet away, his chopper next to him. I gotta try for it. I takes me a couple o’ deep breaths, hopin’ they ain’t my last, and bolts from behind the wall while the ground behind me explodes in a hail o’ bullets. I sees flashes o’ light from the corner of my eye and fires my last round in that direction. I drops my .38 and dives behind the dead bimbo and the rounds follow me, slammin’ into the body.

I takes a chance. I waits for a lull and reaches over, grabs the chopper and ducks back. That’s answered with more bullets and the body I’m behind rocks under landin’ rounds. Then, the gunfire stops an’ I hears the sound of a bolt locking back. The punk’s outta ammo. I stands up an’ points the chopper in his direction just in time to see him hit the ground. I glances at Zoë. She gives me a wave and I heads for the last guy without takin’ the chopper off him.

He’s dead. I got off a lucky shot. Nicked him in the carotid artery an’ he bled to death. Took a while, but a fella as big as him would. Another inch to the left and up, and I’da dropped him where he stood.

All at once, I gets the shakes an’ drops to my knees. This must be what it feels like when a doper needs a fix, I thinks to myself. I lets go of the chopper an’ falls back on my legs lightheaded. It was kinda like standin’ up to fast, but worse. When everything stops spinnin’, I climbs to my feet and staggers to Zoë. She’s clutchin’ her side where Acosta’s bullet hit. There’s some blood, but it ain’t so bad. I helps her up and into her house.

I sits Zoë in the kitchen, calls 911, and then finds some bandages and peroxide in the bathroom to patch her up. In all the ruckus, I forgot I was hit. Zoë makes a big deal of it, but it’s just a scratch. I guess she’s gonna wanna repay me for this now, too. It don’t take long for the cops to show up. I’m surprised, bein’ Christmas an’ all. And you’ll never guess who sashays through the front door still wearin’ her gown.

“Hi ya, Doll. What’s shakin’?”

“I should have known you’d be in the middle of this, Greyson,” Colleen says.

“Nice to see you too, Doll.”


While the paramedics take care o’ Zoë, Colleen pulls up a chair and takes a gander at the blood on my shoulder. Her eyes soften and she looks worried. “You’re hurt.” she says.

“Everything’s Jake. It’s just a flesh wound. Zoë’s got a slug in her, but those three outside got the worst of it.”

“Yes … so I noticed. I’m going to need your version of what happened.”

“Well, Doll. My version is the only version. Those other guys? They ain’t talkin'.”

“So I gathered. Listen, I thought you’d be interested in knowing … while on the wild goose chase you let me take to Ramey’s, I ran some history on Angel Patterson. Seems she has a grudge against Zoë.”

“I figured out that much myself. What I don’t know is why.”

“Well then,” she says. “Let me tell you. Her mother worked for Zoë before she was born. One of her Johns knocked her up and Zoë fired her. Since Zoë got her when she was fifteen, hooking was all she knew, so she went back to the streets. After Angel was born, her mother went back to Zoë for a job. Zoë blew her off. She hooked up with a pimp who ended up beating her to death and dumping her in an alley like a piece of garbage. After that, Angel went into the system and the state placed her in foster homes from the time she was seven. There were reports of sexual abuse, but back then, no body took her seriously. Angel blamed Zoë. I gotta tell you, she’s one screwed up chick.”

I thinks about that for a minute. “So that’s why Angel sets up the blackmail scam an’ plays Acosta for a sap. She knew he’d do her dirty work and take Zoë for a ride. Meantime, Angel snags a cool quarter mil an’ takes it on the lamb.”

“Almost. When I talked to Ramey, he gave me the names of everyone she was blackmailing. I sent a couple of detectives to talk to some of them and got the off-shore account number for the payments. Turns out it’s bogus. They wouldn’t have been able to transfer the money if they wanted to. I’m not sure we can even charge her now, but that’s the D.A.’s problem.”

I pulls a ciggy from the pack an’ lights it. Leanin’ back in the chair, I waves off the paramedic who wants to look at me. He shrugs and helps his partner wheel Zoë out to the meat wagon. I looks at Colleen. She ain’t happy I ain’t lettin’ the sawbones look at me.

“I was just defendin’ myself, Colleen,” I says.

“Well, that’s pretty apparent, considering the hardware they used. But I’ll need you to come downtown for a statement.”

“Ab-so-lute-ly.”

Colleen smiles and shifts her body, crossin’ her legs so the slit in the side o’ her dress falls open. The dame’s got some great gams. “Do you want me to take you? I can give you a ride home after that, Greyson.” Colleen’s voice’s got that soft quality that says one thing, but means somethin’ else. And from where I’m sittin’, it might not be such a bad idea.

“Listen, Doll. If it’s all the same to you, I just wanna get some sleep. Besides, it’s still a couple o’ hours till dawn an’ I wanna be in bed when Santa comes.”

Colleen pouts that pout women do when they can’t get their way, but says she understands. I tells her I’ll be by for a statement the day after Christmas. No body should have to work on Christmas day. At least she’s got family. I grabs my jacket, gives her a peck on the cheek when no body’s lookin’, and heads back to my jalopy. I needs a drink, but the bars ain't open.


Headin’ back through town, I remembers I got a bottle in the bottom drawer of my desk, so I decides to stop at the office. I looks up an’ sees the lights from the Christmas tree blinkin’ through the window. I don’t remember pluggin’ ‘em in, but figures I left them on—an’ considerin’ the price of electricity now-a-days, I should turn ‘em off.

I parks the car in the back lot an’ gets out just when a black limo pulls in behind me. The front doors open and two goons get out, but they stays where they are. I thinks about reachin’ for my .38, but remembers O’Riley took if for ballistics. It’s just as well. It was empty anyway.

One o’ the goons opens the back door and I sees a small man climb out. He starts walkin’ toward me, the muscle three steps behind him. When he passes under the street lamp, I sees an old gent with thinning white hair, dressed like a Joe Brooks in a fancy overcoat an’ wearin’ wire-rim glasses. He walks right up to me an’ he ain’t got no fear. Now, I knows who he is. My heart climbs into my throat an’ my hands start sweatin’. He stops two feet in front o’ me an’ looks up into my eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Mister Sloane.”

“Merry Christmas, Don Caprici.”

“You know me,” he says.

“I’m bettin’ everybody knows you, Don Caprici.”

“That’s good, my boy. That’s good. I trust you’re ready for Christmas?”

“Everything’s copacetic, sir.”

He smiles. That’s a good sign. “I see you enjoy the classics, my boy. That’s excellent. So do I.”

Now I don’t know what to say, so I just waits.

“I understand you took out one of my lieutenants tonight, Mister Sloane. Not to mention, his bodyguards.”

I didn’t have to ask how he knew. Caprici has people. “They didn’t give me much choice.”

“With only six rounds.”

I shrugs my shoulders. What else could I do? I was a dead man anyways.

“Very impressive, Mister Sloane. Now, it seems, you have created an opening for a lieutenant. I could use a man with your resourcefulness.”

It dawns on me I ain’t gonna die, an’ not only that, the top crime boss on the eastern seaboard is offerin’ me a job. “With all due respect, Don Caprici … if I reads you right, you want me to come work for you?”

“It’s the least I can do, my boy. Giovanni Acosta was an embarrassment to me. You saved me the trouble of … terminating his employment, shall we say. You did me a favor, so to speak. And favors rank very high in our organization as you know. Due to that, I am indebted to you.”

“Don Caprici, I ain’t got an inklin’ what to say. You honor me, but I can’t accept your offer. And … if you don’t kill me, please consider the favor repaid.”

Caprici bursts into laughter. His goons looked at each other not sure what was happin’ an’ reached for their heaters. I’m guessin’ Caprici don’t laugh much. He waves ‘em down, an’ when he gets it out o’ his system, he says, “Very well, my boy. Consider it done. But please, stay out of my business. It can do you no good, and I would hate to see anything happen to you.”

I feels like I should bow or somethin’, but I just nods. He turns without sayin’ another word and gets back into the limo. His goons give me a quick look an’ one of ‘em grins at me before climbin’ into the car. I watch it roll out o’ the lot, an’ when I can’t see the taillights no more, I checks my pants to see if they’re still dry.

Breathin’ a sigh o’ relief, I climbs the stairs to my office. If I didn’t need a drink before, I do now. I steps through the door into a room lit only by the tree an’ hears Bing Crosby singin’ White Christmas. Figurin’ I left the radio on too, I closes the door and reaches for the wall switch.

“Don’t Greyson. Leave them off.”

“Arlene?” I turns back to find her standin’ right in front o’ me in a pair o’ jeans, a Christmassy red top, and a Santa hat.

“I heard you pull up, so I made you a drink.”

“Arlene. Whadda you doin’ here, Doll? It’s Christmas morning. You should be with your family.”

“Look up, Greyson.”

I looks up, an’ over my head is a branch o’ mistletoe. I feels Arlene take my hand in hers an’ when I looks back, I sees reflections of the tree lights dancin’ in the prettiest green eyes I ever seen. I feel like my heart’s gonna melt. Standin’ there like that, lookin’ at her on Christmas mornin’, I figures maybe Arlene’s right. Maybe if I’d just once, open my eyes…. I brings my face to hers and I can feel her breath on my lips. My eyes never leave hers as I squeeze her hand.

“Merry Christmas, Greyson,” she says, wrappin’ her arm around my neck an’ closin’ her eyes. She’s soft an’ warm an’ smells good, an’ somehow, I feels like this is where I belong. I pulls her close.

“Merry Christmas, Doll.”

***

© Copyright 2007 Bernie Thomas (UN: scribe59 at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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