10: Crime SuspenStory

OUR STORY SO FAR: The Vice Squad is gearing up to send their informer into McCarthy Paint's annual Christmas party. What they don't know is that their informer is pregnant with Leo McCarthy's child.

Based on true events.

After four days of sporadic rainfall the clouds blew away and allowed the sun to heat the steel and brick of the city. Claudia stood at the window of the hotel, watching the cabs and cars and buses navigate Van Ness, people scurrying around like colored dots twenty stories down. She turned, glancing at her companions, and decided to shut out the world by closing the heavy drape and shrinking the room in shadow

Judy was still sitting on the bed, holding the purse and shifting it around in her hands, getting a view of it from every angle. Alex Flores, one of the vice squad’s A/V technicians, sat at the hotel desk with his laptop perched in front of him. His head kept shifting from the monitor and over to Judy. Dan stood in the corner and switched on one of the lamps to watch Judy handle the new toy.

“I told you it wasn’t big. It’s tiny,” Claudia said.

Judy nodded sullenly, continuing to turn the purse around.

“It’s not even all that ugly,” Judy said. “It’s kind of cute even.”

“You can basically let it hang from your shoulder and just point yourself in the direction you want to film at,” Dan said.

“Well, you're not going to want to just have it on your shoulder the whole time, that would be weird,” Claudia said and Judy looked over at her.

Claudia stood up from the chair and gently pulled the purse from Judy’s grasp, then carried it over to the corner and sat it on the shelf next to the alarm clock. She shifted it around before motioning for Judy to go over to the computer. The girl made her way around the desk, looking over Alex’s shoulder to view the monitor.

“It doesn’t even need light really,” Alex explained. “It adjusts to whatever the light is in the room right away.”

Claudia switched off the desk lamp, then walked between the beds in front of the purse.

“See that?” Alex looked up at Judy. “You can see her face clearly and it’s pretty f’ing dark in here.”

Judy played with her hair and watched Claudia sit down on the bed on the monitor.

“It looks weird though? Kind of like that Paris Hilton video,” she said.

Alex grimaced and hid the image by clicking and shrinking the page.

“The point is just to get a clear reading to make everything out,” he said.

“Judy, we need to talk about the plan if something goes wrong,” Claudia said from the bed.

Judy moved away from Alex and his computer, her wide blue eyes blinking into the dark room. She took a few steps back into the corner.

“What would go wrong?” she asked.

“Probably nothing, but it’s something we need to talk about.”

“What do you mean?”

Dan sighed from the opposite corner.

“What if someone discovers the camera?” he said.

Judy didn’t say anything. No one could make out her face in the dimness of the room. Claudia switched on the bedside lamp and Judy was looking down at the floor.

“We’re going to be right outside the entire time,” Claudia said. “You have nothing to worry about except getting those shots. If anything was to happen we’ll be in there. I promise you.”

Judy wasn’t listening. Her eyes were wandering around the room, desperately looking for a means to escape or to wake up from a bad dream. Claudia stood up from the bed, coming closer, and Judy turned around into the corner giving them all her back.

“Please don’t make me do this,” the girl said.

“Are you kidding me?” Dan said. “This is what it’s all about. This is it. The only way you’re going to be able to get the sentence we discussed in the original deal is to do this. This is every God damned thing right here!”

Judy’s shoulders were shaking and they knew the girl was crying.

“It’s not just the deal Judy,” Claudia said quietly. “You need to think beyond that. What you’re doing is the right thing, the only thing. Just do your part and remember that you're saving your own life along and other people’s  as well. The girls that get victimized by these people, who throw away their lives on drugs. The people that are killed.”

The shoulders stopped shaking. Judy nodded with her head still turned away, then wiped her face with the back of her hand before snatching her jacket off the back of a chair.

“Dan will pick you up at noon at your apartment,” Claudia said. “We’ll meet at the van and go over everything one last time and then we’ll wire you up and test everything. Then you’re on your way. You got it?”

Judy nodded.

“Just remember that all you have to do is be yourself and everything will be fine. Point that camera where it needs to go and we’re right there with you, right outside.”

Judy exited the room without saying a word.

“You sure she’s up for this?” Alex asked the two detectives after the door closed.

“She better be. She has time hanging over her head,” Dan replied.

“She’ll be fine,” Claudia muttered “She’s just dragging her feet like she always does.”

She walked back over to the window and pulled open the drapes. They all blinked in the late morning sunlight.

****

Rollins had woken up that morning with the feeling of a man with his head in a guillotine. He walked around the apartment waiting for the blade to fall and it was slowly driving him insane. He drove to work early and the first hour and a half had given him just enough distraction to make the feeling go away. He had gone through all the inventory, all the little chores he usually put off. When he was finished he could feel the blade coming again and he could feel the ants running wild under his skin

It wasn’t until the cop had called him at Golden Duck that it really sunk in where he had landed. Ten years of relative stability and calm and now this shit? It made no sense. He had moved kilo upon kilo of cocaine during the eighties and had simply ended up broke after a short bid, everyone else from that time was dead. He had beaten a woman nearly to death outside Las Vegas in nineteen ninety two and everyday for five years afterwards he had expected the door to blast open and for some sort of retribution to come. But nothing had. Now he had been caught with a few movies and all the good luck that had followed him for most of his life was for nothing.

He left his office and looked out over the floor of the club. Tracy was doing her job, leading an Arab by the hand, taking him upstairs. By the look of the Arab’s clothes Rollins knew she would be able to milk the guy for at least a few thousand dollars. Rollins took off his glasses and rubbed both of his eyes with the back of his hand. It was a chore to watch over all the small scores, especially with the pressure in the back of his head. He had the sickening realization that none of it mattered at this point

The cops hadn’t asked for much yet but he could tell what was coming. The bitch wasn’t going to let up. She knew too much. It was strange because Leo seemed to want people to know but not really know, it was how he ran a business. Rollins had never thought Leo sloppy but how could a police operation like that be going down and the crew wasn’t aware of it? What the fuck was the point of paying off that fat fuck of a cop when all the other cops were in on everything that went on? Then again, maybe they did know about it. But the bitch knew about the Duck for Christ sake. She knew about the Croat.

Not that Rollins really knew about the Croat, but he knew. He had seen it before. One day a guy was coming to work and shooting the shit and the next day he wasn’t. It’s how it had been with Martinez which had been a relief because Martinez had always been coming in and getting free action from the girls. When Rollins had brought it up with Pat he had been laughed off, the prick. Then Martinez stopped showing his face and then the body popped up and the rumors started. Rollins had thought it might have had to do with his complaint before he heard about the girlfriend’s kid and what had gone on and he knew he had nothing to do with it.

Rollins hadn’t slept since the arrest. He had the sick feeling that he wasn’t the only one around with a blade above their head. He looked towards the front door and saw Murph talking to someone. Murph was smiling wide and his cheeks were pink cherries like they always were. Rollins eyed Murph’s leather jacket and thought of wires and microphones. He looked around a group of three men making their way towards the exit, they didn’t look like cops but who knew? The bitch hadn’t looked like a cop either. She had just looked like another Latin down on her luck, searching for a handout. Picking up a chick in a parking lot, what the hell had he been thinking?

He needed a drink, making his way towards the bar before he noticed Vimal by the wall surveying the crowd. Rollins cursed his luck when Vimal’s head turned his way and they made eye contact. The little Indian slipped across the carpet,  planting himself in front of Rollin.

“I’ve been trying to get a hold of you man. Where you been?”

The little indian looked up at him with his big dark eyes and Rollins wanted to puke.

“Not right now God damn it,” Rollins said through gritted teeth.

“What the hell Marv?I told you last week I need another box to go up north. The guy can get rid of them all.”

“I’m not in that business right now.”

“What are you talking about? You crazy? Listen to what I’m saying: he’ll take whatever we got. He’s linked it with some sickos up north in Oregon. You listening to me Marv?”

The dark eyes were probing. Rollins knew he needed to calm himself and get a grip before everyone could see the blade above his neck.

“I’m just not in it right now. Too busy.”

“Too busy? What the fuck too busy. I’m telling you, I can get rid of the whole shit right now. This is is.”

“I can’t damn you. Get away from me.”

Rollins tried to brush by and get to the bar but Vimal stayed in stride next to him.

“Put me on your source then. I’ll give you a percentage,” Vimal said.

“I can’t.”

“Don’t be a fucking hard ass Marv. I told you, this guy is connected to a whole network that will buy this shit.”

Rollins felt the distinct need to run. He walked along the bar, the little Indian next to him. He just needed to breath, he knew how to survive this. He just had to be cool. He had done it before. Just be cool.

“I’ll see what I can do. But give me a week you little fucker. And don’t call me. I’ll call you,” he said.

“Good, finally. You’re killing me here.”

They had made it to the bar and Bridgett was bringing Rollins a Captain and coke.

“Which of these girls is the best ass,” Vimal asked, arms crossed.

“All of them,” Rollins replied and sipped his drink.

The little Indian broke away, making his way onto the floor as the DJ introduced the next girl and music began to pulse out of the sound system and against the walls. Rollins gulped the drink down. He looked towards the entrance and spotted Oscar making his way inside. Rollins nodded at him, stumbling towards the office.

“I came in early to get a bunch of work done,” Rollins said stupidly.

Oscar didn’t reply, he just closed the door and stood there. The moron. Rollins didn’t like this one any more than any of the others but he didn’t hate him like he did Leo’s nephew. That was a true prick.

Rollins hit the combination on the safe and pulled the envelope out. He handed it to Oscar and the kid turned around and slipped through the door, never saying a word. Rollins sat on his desk, rubbing his temples with the tips of his fingers. Here he was in his fifties for Christ sake and he was being flipped by the fucking police. Why now? A few more years of working and moving the kiddie videos and he could be in some sunny little south American country, living like a king. He dropped his hands and looked at the blank wall, defeated. He just needed to remember to be cool, and maybe, just maybe, he would get out of this thing on his feet.

****

Oscar maneuvered the car around the block and pulled into the garage under the Duck. He parked next to the Escalade they kept there for pick up’s and hit the security combination into the pad next to the steel door in the wall. As he pushed the door open he looked up and saw the new camera that had been installed into the concrete above him. It watched over the parking lot, where the Croat had supposedly left with the money.

He passed Javey in the hallway after he got out of the elevator and the man wouldn’t look at him. He knocked on the door to Yellow Charlie’s office and got no reply so he headed down the passage, making his way to up to the entrance to the bar. He knocked on the door three times and Bobby Flores opened the door for him, nodding. The usual drunks were sitting at the bar and the Filipinos were playing the dice game with Tek.

He was surprised to see Vaughn, sitting by himself at the end of the bar. It was dark outside and dim in the Duck but the man had his sunglasses on, a plastic cup of water sitting on the bar in front of him. He didn’t move a muscle as Oscar sat in the stool next to him. They were both silent while the bar carried on around them, then Vaughn opened his mouth.

“I’m headed off tomorrow,” he said. “I don’t like leaving unfinished business but time’s run out, so-”

He sipped his water and turned his head towards Oscar.

“You’ll probably end up having to look for that money yourself,” Vaughn muttered. “As much as the old man may say the money wasn’t the issue he’s still going to have someone looking for it.”

Vaughn’s tone was regretful and Oscar realized he was getting what amounted to an apology.

“I wouldn’t even bring it up,” Vaughn continued. “But frankly, it’s bugging me. Why didn’t that piece of shit just tell us where it was? I’ve seen a lot of tough bastards hold things back no matter what; a few cigarettes on their chest, a pick in the balls. But once you’ve got them out there and they see where they’re going to be spending eternity then they usually give you what you want before you do them anyway.”

Oscar glanced back at Bobby and saw him opening the door to the passage, allowing Pat into the bar who made his way over to the two men.

“Charlie’s ready for you,” Pat said to Oscar.

“Is Leo here yet?” Vaughn asked .

“Not yet. He should be soon.”

Oscar followed Pat towards the passage downstairs and found Vaughn following behind them as well. Pat noticed too and hesitated at the door way. He made a long glance back which Vaughn ignored and Pat had no choice but to continue down the stairs with both men following.

Pat knocked on the door to the office and this time the locks popped and the door swung open. All three entered and found Yellow and White Charlie counting cash at the old beat up table. Dick was leaned back in a chair near the corner, watching with a cigarette dangling from his lips. Oscar placed his four envelopes down next to Dick and the other man glanced at them absently, then picked them up in his hand, testing their weight.

“A little on the light side, in’ it?” Dick grunted up at him.

Oscar shrugged his shoulders and stood against the wall. Dick took a quick glance at Vaughn and then brought his gaze back to Oscar.

“You hear me boyo? This drop is light. The lightest we’ve had tonight.”

Dick kept his mean blue eyes on him while Oscar stared back, no reaction.

“You gotta make sure there’s nobody holding out you know?”

Oscar had expected Dick to challenge him at some point. He knew the man was seething after being left out of the business with the rat, the ugly Mick had hinted at it with mutters and a condescending tone when he had the rare chance to address Oscar directly. Not that it phased Oscar. Dick could make comments and stare from across the room, it didn’t matter.

           “What do you mean by that?”
           Dick swung his head towards Vaughn, surprised the man had spoken. Both Charlie’s eyed him momentarily before going back to counting, trying to keep the numbers straight in their heads. Dick let the envelope drop onto the table.
           “I mean the drop’s light. What do you think I mean?” he said.
           “The way you’re saying it. With the tone. You accusing somebody of something?”

“There’s no tone friend. I’m just saying it.”

“So it’s supposed to be funny?”

Vaughn was looking at Dick with both arms stiff at his side. The Irishman was glaring back, his lips clenched into half a grin, the cigarette sticking out.

“If it was supposed to be funny then I don’t get it,” Vaughn said.

Dick stood up from his chair, the cigarette dropped to the floor and spread sparks.

“Now watch’a yourself there partner. I don’t take kindly to an outsider coming in my place of business and telling me the what’s what,” he said.

“If you don’t sit back down I’m going to bash in that thick fucking skull of yours,” Vaughn said.

“Who the fuck do you think you are eh?”

Both counters had stopped. White Charlie held up a pale wrinkled hand in protest.

“Take it easy Dickey,” the old man said.

“Take it easy?” Dick cried out “This is our place. This man needs to start showing us some God damned respect!”

Oscar saw the solemn grin appear on Vaughn’s face, and he knew the inevitable moment had arrived where someone would get hurt. He knew it was going to be Dick. He almost pitied the poor bastard.

“What the fuck is going on here?”

Leo stood in the doorway in his suit and tie. His face was cold, the thick white eyebrows stiff above his eyes. He took a few measured steps into the room and his eyes dug into each man individually before letting them linger on Vaughn. The other man didn’t notice, his murderous gaze was still locked on the Irishman.

“Dick, get up to three and check on the game. See if those guys from the union want some girls to come by.”

Dick blew a gust of breath out of his nostrils like a bull ready to charge, then spun on his heel and exited the room. He slammed the door behind him.

“What are you doing here?” Leo asked Vaughn cautiously. “I told you I would have the kid bring your package over.”

“I figured I would save you a trip,” Vaughn said.

White Charlie slapped a stack of cash on the table and wiped the sweat from his forehead. He had lost count.

“We’ll get it together now,” Leo said. “Oscar, why don’t you get our friend a drink upstairs. Somebody will bring his package up shortly.”

Oscar headed for the door then paused, giving Vaughn time to follow. The other man took his time, flattening out the lapels of his sports coat with his palms and slowly making his way around the table before following through the door and up the passageway.

****

Judy came out of the dressing room with her track suit on, her coat and purse hanging over her arm. She sat down at the bar and waited for Sandra to finish with a customer. She watched Sandra talk to the man, lightly flirting, finding out what he wanted, how many, how did he want them. Judy looked at Sandra’s make up and her big hair, it make her think of her own mother; Debra July still tending bar Friday nights at the old biker dive down the street from her cabin, dragging men home that would sleep in her bed and sit around the house drinking beer for days at a time.

The man at the bar stepped away with his drink and Judy quickly took his place in front of Sandra.

“Do you know if Leo’s in the office?” she asked.

Sandra squinted at her with that look that made her feel stupid.

“Honey, I have barely seen him since he got back. If you're trying to get back to the Nip forget it. That boat has sailed. They got a full rotation going over there just like everywhere else.”

Sandra walked away and Judy eyed the office door. She felt like there was something everybody knew except her, a collective secret that everyone around her was hinting at but refused to say outright. She had to get out of that place, the thing that was growing inside her demanded it. She had been dancing since she was sixteen, she knew it was no big deal, but the baby might not understand that especially when the other kids began to say things on the playground about her that the kid wouldn’t be able to defend. Children were cruel, all of them pretty much, but not this kid, this kid had a chance to be better.

She kept her eyes on the door, convinced that Leo was actually in there, until the door swung open and the big black guy Cabbagpatch swung his huge frame through the door.

“Is Leo in there?” she asked him.

The big man seemed surprised that she had addressed him. He moved the wet toothpick in his mouth from the right corner to the left corner of his lips.

“Naw, he ain’t here. He’ll be at the Christmas party. You working at the Christmas party?” he asked.

Judy touched her purse and thought of the little red one that sat waiting for her somewhere in the vice squad office.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure,” she said.

Cabbagpatch nodded, making his way passed her, the slow plodding walk of a bear in search of a place to hibernate. Judy sat at the bar and watched Melody get one dollar bills shoved at her  by a group of men in a bachelor party. She wasn’t going to be able to wait until the Christmas party to talk to Leo. She had to talk to him sooner than that, right away if possible, by whatever means necessary.

A__holes on the Train

A Study of Humanity on Public Transportation
By Sam P. Clemmons

I've been involved in some spirited discussions where it's been stated that to fulfill your obligation as a citizen it is mandatory that you support society at large by utilizing it's public schools and most importantly, it's public transportation. I did my time in the first some years back and continue my relationship with the latter by riding Bay Area Rapid Transit whenever possible. Being a semi-shut in who enjoys his time alone I sometimes find a train ride with the people of my community refreshing, a chance to observe, even fall into conversations if the opportunity arises. And then there are the rides where you cross paths with a BART train asshole, which I will be discussing in some detail at this juncture.

There are minor assholes, the common assholes, the ones you come across every other ride, and then there are the extreme assholes who you luckily only run into once a year or so, depending on the frequency of your riding. The assholes appear in all shapes and sizes, men and women, young and old, all different ethnicities. Their common trait is an obliviousness, a lack of shame, an inability to give a rat's ass about any of the people around them.

The minor assholes are sometimes equipped with a device that allows them to fill the train car with their choice in music, which for some reason is always God awful. The guy with the boombox is never playing The Beatles, or some beautiful opera that would bring your spirits up and make your day brighter, it's some shitty pop rap, something already popular on the radio that the asshole feels he should continue to expose us to. The tiny speakers in the asshole's device can't handle the bass, they sputter and crackle, even if the music was good it would sound like garbage. The noise interrupts your read, or your nap, or just your thoughts. You want to get up, walk down the car to the asshole's seat and ask: "have you never heard of headphones? I believe they're pretty common these days," but you don’t. Neither do the other passengers around you who you can feel bristling with irritation as well. The guy with the boom box doesn't notice either, that's why he's an asshole.

There are also the assholes that do come equipped with headphones but don't grasp the concept. They sit in their seat with the ipod and sing along from 16th street to North Berkeley. This asshole is on the train but don't point that out, in their minds they are in the shower or in their car, belting it out for the sick freaks at the American Idol auditions. Like the asshole with the boom box this person's taste leaves much to be desired, plus they can't sing. We're talking about assholes here.

Some assholes on the train are also assholes off the train and they discuss this with their friends, loudly, so everyone can hear. They don't give a fuck about that bitch because she don't know shit about shit. This asshole over here talking to his friend is letting everybody know that he is making a lot of cash at his new job. It's obvious he wants everyone to know he's getting paid and it's obvious he's lying. There's the asshole on his phone, across the aisle from me, yelling at his friend for ditching him in the City and forcing him to be "riding on the train with all these assholes." Wait, we're the assholes?

If you ride the train late then chances are you will come across a drunken asshole. This asshole is yelling for no apparent reason, letting everyone know he's on one now. He's a happy asshole but a little edgy, not sure if he's too drunk or just drunk enough. Some of us may have been that asshole once or twice in our lives. Best case scenario they yell something for the people in the car to enjoy and laugh along with. Worst case the drunk fills the car with the stink of their vomit or urine.

There are some assholes that you will cross paths with on BART that are members of the animal kingdom. These can be found in the purses of strange women who in some cases actually have prescriptions for these tiny lap dogs that yip and yap their way through the tunnels and under the Bay. These ugly bastards cry out until their "mothers" feed them pieces of red vines and Cheetos and then they stare at you in your seat and growl like the little ghouls they are.

The big German Shepard assholes sometimes come aboard as well, accompanied by their human partners from the BART police. These assholes always seem to get on after I've smoked a joint and am fully alight with paranoia. They never seem to really notice, possibly using their keen senses to track down the attractive smells of bombs and knives instead of pot. I don't mess with them and they don't mess with me. I also don't mess with their human counterpoints either who are known to cuff you, put you on your stomach, and execute with a shot in the back if the feeling moves them, especially if you're young and black.

Another extreme asshole that can pop up at inopportune times is the con artist/robber/BART train bully. I came across this breed when I was taking a journalism class in the City. This asshole approached me at the ticket machine and confessed that he had just savagely beaten a friend of his after catching him in an intimate embrace with his girlfriend. He told me, red eyed and upset, that he needed to get out of town fast to evade prosecution and would I be so kind as to lend him the money to do so? I had no money, and said so, at which time his face went blank and he strode away with less than a grunt.

A week or so later, who do I see approaching me at the ticket machine but my friend the broken hearted batterer. He came with the exact same schpiel: betrayal, violence, and would I be so kind as to aid a friend in need? I was honest, which was stupid: “dude, you told me the exact same thing a week ago”. The con man's eyes stayed red but changed, as they shifted from desperation to intimidation. The con man morphed into bully as he said: "Well why don't I just take that money motherfucker."

I gave him the money, three dollars, and with it went a little bit of my manhood. He walked away, sneering back at me as he climbed the subway stairs. I hoped to God that would be the last time I would cross paths withs this particularly foul form of asshole but no, just a little over a month later, there he was. I was coming out of a train and going through the turnstile when I spotted him and he spotted me. He didn't recognize me but he spotted me, an easy mark, just like he had probably concluded the last two time he approached me. My heart beat kicked up and sweat broke out across my scalp. I panicked, thought about running, but he was on top of me.

"Hey man, shit. I just  found my girl with my boy man. No playing! I beat that fool. I didn't know what to do, you know what I mean? What would you have done man? I got'a get out of here man, f'real. Can you spare a little cash brother? I gotta stay low, you know what I mean?"

I looked at the asshole, right in his eyes, and I said: "Sclebu ba, rafffen toff bel higha ban back, ouden duden viddle saften tuddi braghen."

The con expression shifted through intimidation to confusion and on to irritation, I knew I had succeeded in my ruse. The BART bully had run into a mark that couldn’t produce, some sort of immigrant, a marble mouthed European visiting the City. He scowled and moved on, I took a breath and marveled at my quick thinking and good fortune.

I continue to ride the train and run across assholes from time to time but it doesn’t bother me. Sure, public transportation can bring out the dregs but it beats the alternative. I imagine being in my car, driving along the streets and freeways, and all the times I could be getting cut off by assholes, hit by assholes, honked at by assholes. Behind the wheel, that where the true assholes of America dwell.

Sam Clemmons is an essayist and critic for Fiber Magazine

9: Crime SuspenStory

OUR STORY SO FAR: The Croat is long gone but the money he stole from Golden Duck is nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, Detective Dela Cruz continues to try to build her case against the McCarthy Mob before the department moves forward with its raids against their clubs, which she thinks will destroy the case before it even gets a foothold. What she doesn't know is that Leo McCarthy himself is back in town and her main informer Judy July is pregnant with his child.

Based on true events.

Claudia tried to sit as far away from the door as she could but still felt the bite from the wind every time someone went in or out of the donut shop. She sipped her coffee and pulled the collar of her jacket higher around her neck. Judy was late like always and it was putting Claudia on edge. Every time the cold rushed in from the door she glanced over from her booth. She tried to yank at the collar but it wouldn’t go any higher.

There was a prostitute and her pimp sitting a few tables from her and Claudia watched them out of the corner of her eye as the pimp counted a pile of wrinkled up bills, laying them on the table. He was trying to look younger than he was by wearing the clothes of a teenager but it wasn’t working. His jowls were starting to sag, the dark skin around his eyes and mouth showing its wear. The girl was no spring chicken either, the lights of the donut shop exposing the worn face that was encased in fading day old makeup.

Claudia thought of Tina. She would have been about the age of the hooker, early forties maybe? Tina would have been beautiful though. Her sister had always been beautiful, people saw her pictures and would say she looked like Penelope Cruz but taller and more voluptuous. Then people would ask where she was and what she did, was she in law enforcement too? Claudia would have to tell them that she was nothing, she was dead.         

The person would be silent for a moment, maybe they would talk about something else to spare her feelings or because they were uncomfortable, but usually they would ask how Tina died and Claudia would tell them she committed suicide with pills. People would ask if her sister had been unhappy, maybe had a history with depression? Claudia would just end the discussion by saying she didn’t know, she was just a kid when it happened.

But she did know. She had only been twelve but she had known. She had known the moment she had come home and found Tina lying on the carpet of their Mother’s apartment. She had known it wasn’t suicide, it was a murder. Yes, her sister had ingested the pills herself, but it was the world that had forced her to do it. A world that allowed their step dad to go into Tina’s room and do what he did. A world that had let that man then have his friends come over and one would go into Tina’s room while the rest stood in the kitchen drinking beer and waiting their turn. A world that would let that man get away.

Mexico probably, they said. The two officers had told them as a family, her, her sister, and her mother. It’s up to the Mexican authorities now. Claudia had looked at the two men and cursed them in her mind. They could have done something, they had the means. They had cars and phones and guns and badges, it was just a matter of doing something. It was just a matter of caring.

Judy finally floated through the door. She looked around the room absently, not seeing Claudia until she had made two sweeps of the tables. She sat down across in the booth, unzipping her jacket while Claudia pushed record on the device.

“I fucking hate this wind,” Judy muttered.

“Any word on Leo?” Claudia asked.

“No small talk or nothing huh?”

“No.”

Claudia cleared her mind of all the memories that haunted her and focused in on the girl. She peered into Judy’s dull blue eyes, looking for  what was going on behind the round childish face.

“I haven’t heard nothing.”

Judy waved her hand dismissively.

“Nothing at all?”

“Nope.”

“He’s got to be back before the Christmas party,” Claudia said. Judy looked down at the table, studying the salt shaker.

“How about that new guy? Any sign of him?” Claudia asked.

“Not since I saw him the first time. I haven’t heard nothing either.”

“Who else haven’t you seen? Anybody else I should know about that’s missing.”

Claudia said it without really expecting an answer and reached down to sip her coffee  as Judy played with her hair, taking a moment to think on it.

“I guess the Croat quit,” she said.

“You heard that?”

“He usually works the door at Paradise Isle or hangs around on the week days, but he hasn’t come around.”

“Bill Rodasavich?”

“I think so. That’s the Croat right?”

“And you haven’t heard anything?”

“Melanie said she asked Murph about him and Murph acted weird.”

Claudia sat up straighter and yanked the collar of her jacket down.

“Weird how?”

“He just started yelling. He got pissed off. He told her to keep her mouth shut and mind her own business. We all thought it was weird when she told us.”

        “When was the last time anybody saw him?”
        “I don’t know. It might have been when that man showed up.”
        Claudia sat back and looked over at the door, the prostitute and pimp leaving. Bill Rodasavitch was gone and it could be nothing, or it could be something, or it could be-
        “I wouldn’t have even noticed if one of those guys was gone but I like the Croat,” Judy continued. “He’s a sweet guy. He’s funny. Most of the other guys kind of treat us like dirt.”
        “What does he do at the club?” Claudia asked.
        “Security I guess.”
        “Does he do other things for Leo?”
        “Like what?”
        “Anything.”
        “I don’t know.”
        “Does he work at the Gold Duck?”
        “Maybe. I don’t know.”
        Claudia would pump Rollins. He would have to know something if a guy had disappeared. It was time to make the scum bag step up.
        “Are you ready for the Christmas party?” Claudia asked.
        “Yeah. I got this cute little red dress that I got a long time ago that I’ve never worn. It looks cute on me.”
        Judy smiled and it made Claudia pause. She had never seen the girl smile before.
        “How many dancers will they have there?” Claudia asked.
        “A few. Last year they had four or five I think.”
        “Are the girls asked to do anything more than dance?”
        “We barely dance even. We just walk around and talk. Leo’s got all these guys with money that want to be flirted with, they want’a look at us. There’s important people there sometimes. It’s just fun.”
        Fun she called it. Claudia looked across the table and couldn’t hide her disgust. The girl was so naïve and so young and so blind. Claudia had to remember to show her the pictures of what was left of Alex Martinez next chance she got. Somehow she needed to get across to Judy that it wasn’t going to be just another party. She would be in a den of thieves and killers and this naïve little girl was going in alone.
        “Judy, we’re going to be fashioning you with a special purse that you’re going to bring with you to this party,” she said and tried to look directly into the blue eyes to get across the seriousness of what she was saying.
        “A purse?” Judy questioned, the word not making sense to her.
        “Yes. It will be specially equipped with a camera inside that will transmit a signal to us. It’s going to be important for you to make sure that the eye of the camera takes in all the people at the party. Everybody.”
        Judy stared across the table at her, the dull eyes finally widening.
        “A camera? Wait a second-“
        “It’s important that you be low key with it but also make an effort to document everything that you can. It’s going to take a lot of concentration on your part, do you understand?”
        “Wait, wait, wait. Hold on a second. I can’t take a camera-”
        Judy tried to protest with her palms pointed out across the table but Claudia barreled on.
        “We’ll want to see everybody that shows up to this thing. We’ll want to see who talks to whom and especially who talks with Leo McCarthy.”
        “I can’t do that!” Judy cried out. Other people in the donut shop glanced over at their table.
        “Yes you can. It’s hidden in the purse. No one can tell that it’s a camera.”
        “The purse?”
        “Yes. The purse is the camera.”
        “What color is it?”
        Claudia squinted her eyes, her turn to be puzzled.
        “What color? You mean the purse?”
        “Yeah.”
        Judy rolled her eyes, annoyed that she had to explain herself.
        “I have no idea what color the purse is.”
        “Could it be red?” Judy asked and formed another grin. “A dark red. That would go perfect with my dress.”

****

        Things seemed to have gotten back to normal. Bobby Flores was leading a group of drunken pollacks (or Swedes, Oscar couldn’t remember which) through the front door and over to the bar. The men looked around at the picture of the tennis player and at the rust of the place and laughed their heads off. Tek poured them a round of drinks and Pat came up from the passageway, shaking their hands and slapped them on the back. Soon they would all head upstairs to play cards and as the night went on some of them would break off into other rooms above Golden Duck to snort cocaine and choose girls. They would go back to where they had come from and recommend San Francisco to all their associates.
        Oscar watched the men drink and laugh. He felt a burning sense of loathing for the Golden Duck and everyone in it. This is what it was all for. Leo let these men and all men like them roll themselves in whatever vices they wished and drained them of their money while they did it. It was for this that Oscar got up every day and went to work. It was for this that the whole operation was run and for this the Croat got capped.
        Oscar felt weak, drained, like he had been bouncing around in a repeating loop for years. The high stakes game would be starting in the next half hour and then he would go up and stand in the room and watch. He would watch the men play cards until it was time to go down and exchange cash with Yellow Charlie and make a drop into the safe. He would watch the players as they got drunker and smoked cigars and cigarettes and filled the room with a dense haze that covered the girls as they came in and coaxed those having a good night join them in another room and get to know them better. It would go on and on, passed when the sun came up. If the players were high rollers the games could go on for days.

Pat stepped away from the party and snapped his fingers at Tek who poured him a whisky. Pat shot it back and slapped Oscar on the shoulder good naturedly.

“You remember these guys?” he asked and pointed his thumbs back at the Polacks. “They were over here six months ago, remember? They’re all Serbian or Yugoslavian or something.”

Oscar shook his head. Yugoslavians. He was pretty sure that was a type of Croat or vice versa.

Marvin Rollins came in and made his way around the bar, slipping an envelope to Tek who then handed it over to Oscar. Rollins nodded and made a quick line for the door before he was intercepted by Pat who gripped Rollin’s arm, dragging the older man back over to the bar.

“Where you rushing off to?” Pat asked.

“What the hell?”

Rollins didn’t make a move or break away.

“Relax you fuck. I’m just trying to make sure you got it all figured out for the party.

Rollins looked confused, grimacing at Pat.

“Christmas Party?” he said dumbly.

“Yes, the Christmas party you fucking moron. Leo wanted me to double check that you had the girls lined up and everything’s good to go.”

Rollins rubbed his mustache with his pinky and the grayish eyes behind his glasses shifted.

“Yeah, it’s all fine. Nothing to worry about.”

Pat snapped his finger at Tek but kept his eyes on Rollins.

“I hope so Marvin. Remember: Leo wants the more wholesome kind of girls. No scanks who are going to go around trying to turn tricks in the bathroom, you understand? There’s going to be some respectable people there and we don’t want some street whore going in there giving McCarthy Paints a bad name. Clean chicks for Christ’s sake.”

Rollins nodded absently, then reached into his sports coat where his cell phone was vibrating. He answered with a “what”, quickly turning his back on Pat and making his way towards the door. Pat sat down on the stool next to Oscar and Tek brought him another whisky.

“I can’t fucking stand that son of a bitch,” Pat said, sneering as he reached for his glass.

Oscar’s phone was vibrating now. He pulled it out and looked at the blocked number, hesitating before putting it up to his ear.

“Yeah?”

“Come over and pick me up at the hotel.”

Vaughn’s voice buzzed and cracked through the phone.

“I’m about to go to work,” Oscar said.

“That’s right. You’re about to go to work and pick me up.”

Oscar put the phone down and looked over at Pat.

“You’re going to have to pull somebody else up to the game tonight,” he told his friend.

Pat shot his drink back and glanced at the phone in Oscar’s hand.

“Is that the guy? What the fuck does he want now?”

“I gotta pick him up,” Oscar put the phone back to his ear. “I’ll be over in twenty minutes.”

Vaughn had already hung up.

****

The tree was lit up, bright and beautiful. Claudia took a moment to stand and admire it while the shoppers and tourists swarmed around her. It was a huge tree, towering over Union Square. She remembered seeing the actual lighting ceremony when she was a kid, nine or ten maybe. She and Tina had watched it from the Macy’s side of the street. She remembered men stopping and looking at Tina and she was so young she wondered why. Tina hadn’t let it bother her; she had still believed in the world at that time, hadn’t seen it as a threatening place.

Claudia scanned the crowd, spotting Rollins making his way through on the other end. The limp was moving fast, an angry stagger that made him stand out from the people around him. Claudia ducked through, quickly making her way behind him without his noticing. She watched him continue to limp and she let him, hoping it hurt.

He stopped in front of the tree and glanced around. She decided to announce herself by creeping to his right ear and whispering right into it.

“Take out your phone and act like you’re talking to someone,” she hissed.

Marvin spun around, outraged. He stared defiantly before going into his pocket for the phone.

“You can’t fucking call me like that,” he said.

“Like what?”

“Out of nowhere like that. You never know who’s around.”

“I understand. You don’t want to end up like Bill Rodasavitch.”

“Who?”

Claudia gazed up at the tree.

“Please don’t fuck around Marvin. You’re bullshit is tiresome and pointless. Where’s the Croat?”

“I don’t have a clue officer.”

Rollins was making it a point to look off into the crowd, trying to sell that he was on the phone.

“Its detective Marvin and I do think you at least have a clue.”

“I don’t even fucking know the guy,” Rollins protested.

“But you know of him.”

“I mean, he’s done pick ups at the club. He might have worked the door a few times. I don’t know. I don’t know shit really. It’s pointless for you people to even use me. I don’t know a fucking thing.”

Claudia crossed her arms in front of her.

“You don’t know anything. In that case I can put some cuffs on you and take you to jail right now.”

Rollins’ head shifted around, his bad foot tapping on the cement. He gripped the metal handrail that lined the cement stairs. Claudia savored his anger.

“Are you going to make it to McCarthy’s Christmas party Marvin?” she asked.

“No. I mean, I might stop by. I don’t know. I probably have to work.”

“I want you to ask around about Bill Rodasavitch. I want you to find out where he is. I want you to find if he had anything to do with what happened at the Golden Duck.”

“What’s the Golden Duck?” Rollins said.

She turned around, staring at him directly, no longer continuing with the illusion that they weren’t talking to each other.

“Jesus Marvin. You must really want to go to jail. How are you going to stand there and try to bullshit me? You think we don’t know about the Golden Duck? You think we don’t have ears and eyes everywhere with you guys? You need to pick a side Marvin and I would suggest you make the right decision because you really don’t have a choice. You’re old and have no future. Go with the retirement plan where you spend some time in jail instead of the one where someone drops a line to McCarthy and you end up with a bullet in your head. That’s pretty easy right?”

Rollins had dropped the phone to his side, looking back at her. She could feel the hatred bubbling out from behind his glasses. He wanted to hit her. She wanted him to as well. She wanted him to at least try so she would have her chance to hurt him. She realized this and it must have been plain on her face because Rollins shrunk away, taking a few steps back.

“I don’t deserve this,” he said weakly.

“Yes you do.”

“I’ll do what you say.”

“I know you will. You get everything you can on where the Croat went and you get back to me. You have two days. If you come back and try to tell me that you couldn’t get anything then I’m going to fuck you. You believe me right?”

Rollins watched her speak, his eyes wide behind the glasses. He swallowed and nodded at her, the understanding between them complete. She watched him turn and enter the crowd of people circulating through the square. She watched his shuffle disappear down Geary.

****

        Shimiya stepped through the sliding doors of Whole Foods with the bags hanging loosely in her hands by her side. She didn’t need to go to the store but when she started to make the pasta she allowed herself to think of Bill and if he came back that night it would be nice to have enough for him. She had stared down into the boiling water for a moment and then grabbed her coat and headed out.

Bill had been gone for almost a week and while at first she had walked around with a heavy sense of dread she convinced herself on the third day of his absence that he had only left for the moment and would be back at some point. When he first showed up at her apartment the week before it was obvious he was in trouble. He had looked at her, his face pale, his eyes not completely catching hers, and he asked if he could stay for a few days and she said he could. He seemed scared but more confused than anything else. She wondered what was going on but held back from asking. Part of her didn’t want to stress him more than he already was and part of her knew that if she did know there was the chance that she might put her own self in danger.

She had heard him in the kitchen talking into his cell phone in a hushed desperate voice one night and it had worried her. All he told her was that he needed to stay over for a few days, that it was very important that she not mention to anybody that he was there. She had asked why she would tell anybody when the thing they had was a secret at work and they were the only people she ever saw anyway. ‘Well just don’t say it to anybody, don’t tell your friends or anybody you don’t know’ he told her and it seemed to her he was having a hard time looking her in the eye.

She had liked having him there in the apartment. He stayed all day and then when she came back from work he was still there, sometimes drunk after having gone to a bar or finishing a bottle off there at the kitchen table. She liked watching him sleep, his mouth wide open. He was a good man, the best she had been with which wasn’t saying much but she had realized his potential when he defended her against his mother. The old bitch had looked at her with those eyes some white people had; not quite hateful but still full of distrust. His mother had made some comments and Bill hadn’t let it slide, he had stood up for her and she had loved him for it.

Then he was gone. She came home and sat around all night waiting, then the sun was up and she continued to wait until her eyes wouldn’t stay open anymore. She danced on the stage at the Cat Nip, her eyes barely open. A regular that hadn’t come in a long time asked for a lap dance and she agreed to it. She got home that night and expected Bill to be there and when he wasn’t her anger collapsed. Everything became longing and exhaustion and she decided that he would be back at some time and it would be best to let it go until then.

She pushed him to the back of her mind and kept him there, not in anticipation or as a hope, just there. She could keep him there for years if she wanted to. It was her talent to compartmentalize just so, a talent she had picked up as a little girl, one that she had developed to survive.

She was just twenty feet from her building with the grocery bags when she finally noticed the two men. They had been lingering near a car parked across the street, then had moved quickly towards the building entrance when she got closer. She cursed quietly. The younger one looked familiar, she was sure she knew him. The older one was staring right at her.

“Shimiya right?” the older one asked.

He grinned and she knew better than to trust it. She wanted to get a good look at the one that seemed familiar but she kept her gaze on the one speaking. Something told her to keep her eye on him.

“Do I know you?” she asked. She stopped in front of the steps, not wanting to enter the building with them there.

“I’m Bill’s brother Jimmy. I’ve been looking for you.”

She didn’t answer, she just looked at him. Bill’s brother? He didn’t look anything like Bill. Then again it was hard to tell with a lot of white people.

“Where is he?”

She hadn’t meant to say it, it just came out. The man who said he was Bill’s brother straightened up, nodding.

“He’s gone back east. To his wife,” he said.

“His wife?”

Shimiya felt the anger jump into her throat. She wanted to swing the grocery bags around and hurl them in the street.

“Yeah, he’s been married. I thought you knew that,” Jimmy said. “He told me he stayed with you last week. Do you know why?”

She could feel something giving way inside her but she forced it away. She would sort it all out later. She would cry later. Not in front of these two men. Maybe never.

Jimmy scratched the side of his face and looked confused. He glanced over at the other man and Shimiya did too. The other man was young, maybe her age. She knew him but she couldn’t remember his name. She was sure he used to be around the club. He worked with Bill and she knew Bill might have mentioned his name but she couldn’t remember.

“You know, I’m real sorry about intruding like this,” Jimmy grinned at her again. “Bill made off in a hurry to work this thing out. He was at some airport back east when I talked to him and he mentioned that he left some stuff at your place.”

“Just some clothes,” she said.

“Nothing else?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah I’m sure. Maybe some clothes but that’s it.”

Jimmy pointed at her and shifted his head to the side.

“Well there you go. He left some clothes. You mind if we come up and grab the clothes and whatever he might have left? That alright?”

        She didn’t like him, she was sure of that. She looked down at the bags in her hands and back at him. He watched her, then he stepped forward.
        “Here, we’ll take your bags up. It will only take a second.”
        She wasn’t sure what to do. Bill was married? Maybe that was the real reason that the mother had made the comments and made her feel unwelcome. She looked at the grinning face in front of her. Fuck Bill, and his freaky ass brother, and this silent ass motherfucker that’s just standing there.
        “He didn’t leave nothing. You don’t need to go up to find out,” she said.
        “I think I do,” Jimmy said. The grin flattened then came back quickly. “It will only take a second and then we’ll be out of your hair. Promise.”
        She knew that whoever this man was he was coming up to her apartment whether she liked it or not. She had known men like this. She knew from the eyes and the tight forced grin. She knew the fastest way to get rid of him was to to let him have his way.
        She led them inside and up the stairs, keeping the grocery bags by her side, not taking Jimmy up on his offer. She unlocked the door, making her way into the kitchen with the bags while the men stood in the main room. When she came back out Jimmy was walking around, glancing at things while the guy from the club stood planted in front of the door.
        “His stuff is all right there,” Shimiya said and motioned towards the chair where a pair of pants and t-shirt sat in a crumpled pile.
        Jimmy didn’t look at the chair. He continued to glance around, then brought his gaze back on to her. The look he gave made her go cold.
        “Just give it to us and we’ll be on our way,” he said.
        “Give you what? I told you he didn’t leave nothing.”
        “The bag. The suitcase. Whatever it is.”
        “I don’t know who you are and I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about no suitcase.”
        He moved very fast. One moment he was standing in the middle of the room and the next he was on top of her, his hand around her neck and dragging her into the bedroom. She had expected something, this might have been it. She didn’t scream but she scratched at his face. He threw her away from him, onto the bed. She only had a second before he was on her again and the gun with the long black silencer was against her head.
        “Where is it,” he said calmly.
        “Where is what?”
        “Oscar,” Jimmy called.
        That was his name, Oscar. He walked in and looked at the two of them on the bed.
        “Go through the place,” Jimmy said.
        Oscar went out of the room and Shimiya averted her eyes from Jimmy who stared down at her with the gun to her head. She could feel his breath on her check, hot and overpowering. All she wanted to do was survive that moment and knew it wasn’t up to her.
        She heard a few things falling on the floor, then she heard Oscar’s footsteps go into the kitchen. She heard the slight screech of the metal pans on the shelves being moved around. She expected to hear the crashing of plates as he turned the place upside down but nothing came. He seemed to be doing it diligently, almost respectfully.
        The weight in the bed shifted as Jimmy got up and opened her bedroom closet. She didn’t look over to see if the gun was still trained on her, she could feel it. It wasn’t the first time she had felt a gun pointed at her. She listened to him digging through the closet, his approach much different from Oscar’s as he threw boxes and clothes savagely on to the floor. Oscar walked back in while he was still in the closet.
        “Under the bed,” Jimmy said to him.
        Oscar came in to her line of vision as he bent down on his knees to peer under her. She watched the top of his head and his shoulder. She imagined he saw a dust bunny, some socks, maybe a few pairs of her underwear.
        “Nothing,” he said as he stood back up.
        She felt the bed shift again as Jimmy got back on it. He put his legs on either side of her and forced her to look up at him with one hand on her chin while the other still held the gun. She stared back but could feel the tears beginning to stream down the side of her face.
        “Alright, I’m going to ask you once more,” he said it with the same flat tone. “Did the Croat hide something here or give you anything to hide for him? Before you answer I want to be clear. If you say something and I think you’re lying then me and my friend are going to throw you out the window there. You’ll probably survive the fall, I really don’t know. But I think we can both agree you won’t be shaking your ass around a club for awhile. Maybe never again.”
        She stared up, the tears blurring his face.
        “He didn’t give me shit and I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
        He sat there on top of her for a few seconds and then the gun disappeared back into his jacket. She saw the awkward grin appear again through the tears.
        “Good. I believe you,” he said and got up off the bed.
        He walked out of the room. She stayed flat, not able to move. She shifted her eyes over and watched Oscar head towards the door as well. He was looking back at her with a strange look on his face, almost like he was sorry. He went out into the main room and then she heard the door close. She was all alone on the bed and the ceiling was going in and out of focus.