Luis called and showed up about ninety minutes later at the coffee shop. He slid into the booth and motioned to the waitress to bring him a mug. “So, Mary's gone.” Mickey had already told him this on the phone. “And if someone took her, that means someone knows you two are here as well.” Mickey and I had thought of that already, too, which is why we were in the coffee shop. Safety in numbers.
“Luis,” I said, “we've been talking, and we're now convinced that Mary
is
involved with Jake. I think she was waiting for him in your cab, when she saw us run out. She must have phoned Jake and told him the cab number or license plate or somethingâ¦except he must have still been tied up at that point.”
Luis shrugged. “She probably texted him. I don't remember her calling anyone from the cab, anyway.”
The waitress, Jackie, was busy serving a few tables of hungover people from the wedding, but managed to bring a mug to Luis. Mickey picked up the copper thermos on the table and poured Luis a cup, followed by another one for himself. I was watching Jackie get back to her ailing customers, making a mental note to leave her a big tip, when I wondered, who in the world gets married on a Monday? This was Tuesday morning. But then I heard one of them talking about the wedding “on Sunday” and figured that a lot of them had stayed over for at least another day.
Mickey sipped his coffee. “Right, Luis. So maybe now you can fill us in. Who's Jake? What do we need to know about him? Why is he after us?”
“I don't know why he's after you. Like I said, he's a bad cop. I know this because I'm a cop. On suspension.”
Mickey and I both gave a little start at this piece of news. I reached my hand under the table and put it on his leg, for my own reassurance.
“His real name is Chuck Lowery. He's been on the force for about ten years. He's a bruiser, a guy who cares only about being in charge. He likes power and he likes to prove to people that he's powerful. He used to beat up kids after he'd arrest them for smoking a joint.”
Luis paused and shook his head as he looked across the room at a couple of bleary-eyed revelers. “He'd have no problem, for instance, coming into a place like this and yanking that poor kid up by the back of the shirt and smacking him around after accusing him of being on drugs, even though it's obvious that the guy is just hung over.”
The thought of Jake coming in here and yanking anyone to their feet didn't start my day off with a bang.
“Why do you think he told me his name was Jake?” Mickey asked.
“And why do you think he was hanging around the Royal Opal and trying to kidnap us?” I added.
“Chuck is tied in with some high rollers. He hangs at the casinos a lot. I think he gets paid on the side for being a bouncer for some of them. Look, I made a couple of calls to some of my friends on the force. They told me that nothing new is going on that they know about. Chuck's up to his usual shit, but that's all I could find out. He got the Jake nickname a little while ago when he had trouble with one of his victims, and this guy slit the side of his nose, just like Jack Nicholson got it in
Chinatown.
”
“Jake Gittes.” Mickey and I both recited Nicholson's character's name in unison. We looked at each other.
“Maybe Mary wasn't lying,” I said.
Mickey shook his head. “I don't know. I don't think we can trust anything Mary told us.” Then he took a swallow of coffee. “Okay, so why not go to the police? Will they all rally behind him? Can't we bring charges?”
“Sure, you can, but you might end up dead if you do that. Like I said, he is tied in with some big names in Las Vegas, and they won't put up with anyone messing with their boy.”
“Are you talking about the mob?” When I asked that I suddenly left my body. I mean, how would I ever be in a situation when I was seriously asking someone about mob connections?
“No, not like you mean. Just a local Vegas mob. But still very dangerous.”
I started playing with the salt and pepper shakers. These are important tools for reducing tension, in case you didn't know. Twirl them around, dump some salt on the table, make designs in it with your fingers, really, there's a multitude of things you can do.
Mickey and Luis watched me for a minute until Mickey coughed and I stopped.
“Luis,” he said, “why are you here? Why did you come back for us? Hanging out with us could be dangerous for you, right?”
Luis nodded. “Right. But I hate this guy. He's the reason I'm on suspension, and he's the reason I'm driving a fucking cab in Las Vegas. He's the reason my wife doesn't want to leave the house. I want to figure out a way to bring him down.”
“What did he do, to get you suspended?”
Luis gazed across the room again, then turned back to us. “I caught him stealing money off a corpse. Not a drug-dealer corpse, mind you. An
abuela,
an old lady who had just won a jackpot. She got hit by a car. She was dead. And this piece of shit robbed her. And he saw me see him, and he put me up against the wall and said if I told he wouldn't come after me, he'd come after my wife. And when I got home that night, Ruby was crying. He had called her a few minutes earlier and told her that I was dead. That she was a widow, and he'd be visiting her real soon. I held her and told her what had happened, and she calmed down. But the next day when she went to work, Chuck followed her there, and when she left, he followed her home. He did that for a full week. She was terrified.”
Luis stopped and took a sip of coffee. “So one day in the squad room I lost it. Jumped him, all the while screaming that he was a thief. The guys pulled me off him before Chuck had a chance to take a swing. I got suspended. Two months.”
“No one believed you?” Mickey asked.
Luis shook his head. “I've got no real evidence, and he's been around longer than I have. Now I'm spending as much time as I can following him, trying to nail him. So far, all I have is a lot of photographs of him coming in and out of casinos.” He paused. “I'm working weekends as a private security guard at a casino off the Strip, but mostly I'm driving a cab, filling in for a friend. Even now, once a week, Chuck comes by and parks outside my house for about an hour. Just sits there. Ruby's a nervous wreck. She took a leave of absence from her job and rarely goes anywhere.”
I sat on my hands, rather than play with the salt again, and my left leg started bouncing as my heel began a fast tap on the floor. Mickey put his hand on my knee and sat up straight, his other hand clenched in a fist on the table. “Jesus, man, don't you have anyone on your side?”
“My partner's doing what he can. Keeping an eye out. Look, Lowery is ruining my life. I need to fix this, and whatever mess you two are in might be the way for me to get him.”
Oh, great. Just what we need. Someone who wants a shoot-out with Jake or Chuck or whoever at the OK Corral. “Luis, sorry if I'm being rude here, but why don't you just move to another city, work for another police department?”
Mickey answered me quietly. “Luis is no coward.”
“Oh jeez,” I said. “I didn't mean to imply that. But Ruby's scared out of her mind, and it sounds like it could be impossible to bring Jake down.”
Luis sighed. “I want to get him. I want to expose him. I've been trying to come up with the right plan.”
“And that's us?” I paused. “I'm sorry for your troubles, I really am, but I don't think we can help you. We don't even know why we're mixed up in this, and right now I'm thinking, let's get the hell out of Las Vegas. Let's go to the airport, now, let's go. Okay, Mickey?”
He didn't move. I reached for my purse and turned toward him, indicating that he should slide out of the booth, but, again, he didn't move. “Annabelle, when did Nana die?”
I didn't get it, but answered. “A couple of months ago.”
“Mary knew her, Jake is probably Mary's son, we think he's after you, her granddaughter. I wonder if⦔
“â¦something bad happened to Nana? You think he
murdered
her?” My stomach wound itself into an instant knot. I picked up my water glass and drank in huge gulps. When I put the glass back down my hand was shaking.
Mickey put his hand on top of mine. “Sorry. Just a thought.”
I took a few deep breaths. “I don't know why anyone would kill Nana. She didn't have much besides her house, and my parents sold that in order to afford Tall Oaks. But Jake did hurt an old lady⦔ Something was adding up, but to what, I had no clue. How could all of this have anything to do with Nana? “What do you want to do, Mickey? I'm sensing more and more that this is my situation, not yours, so don't you want to leave town?”
“I'm the one who was knocked out. I've got a stake in this. I can't walk away from it.”
“Don't go all Gary Cooper on me.” I was mixing up
High Noon
with the OK Corral, but you're allowed to do that in frightening situations. “You don't have to be a hero. Let's get out of here.”
“What if something happened to Nana, something bad? Don't you want to find out?”
I wasn't sure if I wanted to find out or not. “We can find that out in California better than we can find it out here. Come home with me, we'll drive up to Tall Oaks, ask some questions.”
Mickey considered this, then frowned. “What about all our things at the hotel? My laptop? It's got all of my business stuff on it.”
This bothered me. I mean, I was willing to let go of the six pairs of shoes I had brought to Chicago, and my new Donna Karan raincoat, and, oh yeah,
my
laptop with all of
my
business stuff on it. But I had the distinct impression that Mickey was coming up with reasons to stay, so that he and Luis could face the enemy rather than head for the hills. Me, I was all for running.
Luis said, “Amigos, let's go back to the hotel, get your things. I'll notice if anyone is watching or following us. Then I'll take you to the airport. I promise. No fare.” I was about to say “What's not fair?” when I figured it out.
Luis and Mickey waited for me to give in. I was outnumbered and suddenly exhausted, so I nodded my agreement, thinking to myself,
my god, Annabelle, you are an idiot.
We left the coffee shop and headed for Luis' taxi. But when Mickey opened the back door, a dark blue sedan screeched into the parking lot and pulled up next to the cab.
Two men poured out and yelled, “Police! Don't move! All three of you! Stop there!” They had guns. So we stopped, with our arms in the air.
“Line up against the cab there, hands on the roof, spread eagle,” one commanded, and so we did, while they patted our legs and hips and sides and arms to see if we had any guns or other weapons, I guess. We didn't. They pulled Mickey's and Luis' wallets out of their back pockets and fished out their licenses. Then they grabbed my purse and rifled through it, finally finding my license. They took a look at all of the IDs and then handed them back to us. They calmed down.
“Okay turn around.” We did.
“What's this all about?” I tried to sound calm while expecting Jake to show up any minute. Mickey apparently had lost his voice.
“We're looking for a Mary Rosen, and we got a report that this cab was seen picking her up last night on the strip.”
Somehow all of this search and seizure had rallied my strength and made me a littleâno, a lot more than pissed off. And that anger was feeding my voice. “You mean that we are dangerous criminals because we are using the same cab?” I didn't like these guys much. Mickey was still silent.
“We have reason to think the lady was kidnapped. We are taking all precautions. Which is why I would like to hear from the cab driver here if he remembers her, and if any of you are connected to her in any way.”
I saw Mickey steal a look at Luis, and Luis shook his head, just the slightest bit. I thought about lying and telling them that I had never seen or heard of Mary Rosen in my entire life. But if these guys were good cops and not Jake's buddies, and if Mary really was a criminal, then that lie could land me in a Las Vegas slammer for obstructing justice. And one rule I live by is that when in doubt, either say nothing or tell the truth. I said nothing.
Mickey obviously had a different rule book. “We don't know the woman and we can't help you. Luis drove us around all night last night, and we never picked up another passenger. In fact, I paid this man a two-hundred-dollar tip for the privilege of chauffeuring me and my girlfriend, isn't that right, Luis?” With this Mickey put his arm around me and smiled like he and I had been together for years. I, on the other hand, looked at him like he was out of his mind.
The policemen turned to Luis for confirmation, and Mickey took the opportunity to whisper in my ear, “These guys are not cops.”
I didn't know how he knew this, but I had about half a second to decide whether to trust him or think he was crazy, and if I thought he was crazy, or leading me into danger, what would that have meant about our night together? So I trusted him, and before Luis could open his mouth, I said, “That's right. We're here on a kind of romantic holiday. Some friends got married on Sunday, and we decided to stick around for a couple of days after the wedding. Luis turned out to be the perfect driver.” I smiled at Luis.
“So, Mr. Maldonado, what's your story?”
“I could not have picked up any lady last night since I was with this couple from about six on.”
“Then how do you explain the report that your cab was outside the Royal Opal last night and Mary Rosen was seen getting in it?”
Luis thought for a moment and came up with an answer. “I wasn't driving this cab last night. I drove my own car, it's nicer, and these people wanted a nice evening. I left the cab in the street. Perhaps someone took it for a joy ride?” I didn't think this explanation was going to fly, but if these guys really weren't police, and they were only looking for Mary, then any explanation would do.