Swan Dive - Jeremiah Healy (20 page)

"The oh-twos used to be suites. Then they broke
’em up. Didn’t put showers and all in most of them." I moved
to the other door. Patch whisked it open for me. “The spacious
walk-in closet."

Four feet by five. A horizontal bar at eye level,
some wire hangers on it. An old baggage holder with two of three
straps broken. I said, "This where they found Marsh’s wallet?"

"So they tell me. After he hit the ground, some
guy off the street comes running in, saying there was somebody
splattered all over the goddamn pavement. I run out after him.
There’s a body all right. Kind of. Haven’t seen such a mess since
the war. It looks to me like her regular ’cause of the short hair,
but Kaghe’s the guy with the thick cheaters—he goes all to
pieces, so he’s no good, and I gotta call the cops, then go out and
make sure nobody fools around with what’s left of this guy Marsh
until they get here."

"So you weren’t in a position to see who was
leaving the hotel?"

“
Son, like I told the cops, with the commotion from
the sirens and all, you gotta understand, a lot of people in beds in
this place ain’t planning to sleep over. The joint cleared out like
one of them old-time cartoons of the rats leaving the ship, you know?
Like in speeded-up motion?"

"Did you see the actual scene in twelve-oh-two?"

Patch sighed. "Yeah. After the cops got here and
secured things in the street, I pointed up to the window. You could
see it was broke ’cause of the way the lights from the yards across
there didn’t shine off it. I brought one of them, the Guinness guy
was with you yesterday morning, I brought him up to twelve-oh-two and
let him in. He told me to stay outside, and I did, but I could see
the girl, down by the bed there." Patch swung his index finger
left to right from the bed up to the wall near the closet door. "So
much blood and the way she was lying, you could tell she was dead."

I walked around the room one more time. It wasn’t
telling me anything. I thanked Patch and left.
 

EIGHTEEN
-♦-

I got back to the condominium about 4:00 PM. My
office answering service gave me the same two messages that my home
tape machine had. Hanna Marsh and J.J. Braxley. I called Hanna first
at the Swampscott number.

"Hello?"

"Hanna, this is John Cuddy, returning your
call."

"Oh, thank you. Two men come here to see me."

"Who?"

"Two black men. They say that Roy was in
business with them."

Here we go. "When was this‘?"

“
This morning. Before lunch."

"What did they want?"

"They want something they said Roy had. They
didn’t say the drugs, but I knew that was what they meant. I told
them I knew nothing, I was not with Roy then or before even. The man
with kind of funny hair just smiled. The other, he didn’t say
nothing but he smelled so bad."

"Did they threaten you?"

"No. Well, no, they didn’t make to hit me or
nothing. I looked through the window when they ring the bell, so I
send Vickie upstairs where they can’t see her."

Out of sight wasn’t exactly out of mind. "What
did they do?"

"Nothing I could tell the police or anybody.
Just that they wanted the—the smiling one called it ‘the
material’—the material back or else they would have to ‘pursue
other alternations’ or something like that."

“
Hanna, listen. If they’re willing to visit you
in broad daylight, they’re not planning on doing anything just yet.
They also probably expected you to call me, which means they’ll
want to give me time to find the drugs for them."

"So you think Vickie and I are safe'?"

"For a while, anyway. Still, better keep Vickie
around you a little closer than usual, okay?"

"Okay. John?"

"Yes?"

"I thank you for helping us, but please don’t
get hurt again."

"Don’t worry. I’ll be careful."

I rang off and dialed the number J.J. had left. A
crusty voice said, "Yeah?"

"Can I talk with J .J . Braxley?"

"Who want him?"

"The guy he called."

"J.J., he call lotsa folk."

It didn’t sound like Terdell, so I said, "Look,
pal, tell you what. You tell J .J. that the guy he wanted to talk to
spoke to you and you fucked it up. Or I can mention it to J.J. the
next time I see him."

“
You lookin’ to end up—"

"Because I’m pretty sure he’ll know it was
you, since he really needs to talk to me and he left me this number
to call, which means he probably knows that you’re always around to
answer it."

Some hesitation, then barely civilly, "He got
the number you at?"

"He’s got two of them. Let him guess which
one’ll be good for fifteen more minutes."

"Hey, I don’t—"

I hung up on him. No more than five minutes later,
the telephone rang.

"This is John Cuddy."

"Mon, you think you a pretty slick dude."

"Let’s just say I’m not too impressed by the
quality of your staff."

"My staff, huh? My staff Terdell, he like to
know exactly what happen last night."

"Hard to say. I was delirious."

"Terdell, he not too smart to start with. Last
night didn’t improve things none."

"They can do wonders nowadays with learning
disabilities."

"Oh, mon. Two quality players like you and me,
we shouldn’t be all the time fighting. We got lots of things to
talk about, be beneficent to both of us."

"I guess I wouldn’t have called last night so
beneficent."

"My mistake. Don’t like to admit to such
things generally, but I approach you all wrong. Didn’t realize your
depth."

"Why don’t we cut the crap, all right'? I’ve
got other calls to make."

“
I expect you do at that. I want another meet, try
a different approach this time."

"What about?"

"I tell you when I see you."

“
You’re wasting my time, J .J."

"You pick the time and the place. And I
guarantee it won’t be no waste."

"Okay. Half an hour. Bar on Boylston Street
called J.C. Hillary’s."

"I be there."

"Better leave Terdell in the car. Unless you’ve
had him hermetically sealed."

"You not exactly on Terdell’s kiss list, mon.
I’d walk wide around him, I was you."

"Half an hour."

I hung up and debated with myself for all of ten
seconds before punching Murphy’s office number.

"Lieutenant Murphy."

"Lieutenant, John Cuddy."

"Cuddy, I told you already. I can’t talk with
you."

"Then talk with your buddy Sergeant Dawkins.
Tell him I’m meeting Braxley at Braxley’s request at J .C.
Hillary’s in thirty minutes."

"The one on Boylston?"

"Right."

"You got something going with Dawkins, why don’t
you call him yourself`?"

"Because he didn’t dress like he hung around
his office much. Besides, I think I’m going to want a council of
war tomorrow with Holt, and I know where his office is."

"I’m not even gonna ask why the hell you don’t
call Holt then."

"Be back to you tonight."

"I’ll be in Saint Croix by then."

Murphy hung up. I was glad
to see him regaining his sense of humor.

* * *

J .J. came through the heavy front doors by himself.
I was seated at the bar. He casually looked around, the place nearly
empty at 4:30, as the convention facility across the street was under
construction. He walked over to me and said, "How about we take
us a table‘?"

I led him to a back corner. We sat and the waitress
took his order for Chivas on the rocks while I sipped my screwdriver.

When she moved away, he said, “Smart. You picking a
place this public and this confidential, all at the same time."

I raised my drink, turning the glass slowly in my
hand. "I picked this place because they use fresh-squeezed
orange juice in their cocktails."

Braxley gave me a barracuda grin. "You a little
more than I bargain for, Cuddy."

"How do you mean?"

"I figure, mon so dumb he get whomped on the
head and lose his piece, that mon be a little easier to push."

"I take it you finally buy my version of what
happened?"

The waitress brought his drink. He worked his smile
on her, but got nothing in return. He hooded his eyes, tossed off
half the drink, then settled back.

"I don’t buy nothing. I already bought. Bought
and paid for the stuff Marsh had on him."

"I think we already had this conversation."

"Oh no, mon. Not this conversation. Last night
just an exhibition compared to what come."

"You make me too nervous, I might spill my drink
on you."

"No, my friend. What come ain’t gonna come on
you. I watch just now, coming over to the table here. You move pretty
good for what Terdell whale upon you last night. You gotta hurt,
nobody take that and not hurt, but you cover it. That mean you can
take a lot more, and probably be real careful not to get suckered
like we do last night. No, I was not thinking on you."

“
Your visit to Hanna Marsh?"

Braxley looked pleased. “Thought she be calling
about that."

"She doesn’t know where the drugs are. She had
nothing to do with Marsh for a while before he died."

"I believe her."

"So?"

"So, I visiting not to see the woman so much as
the house. Saw it once before, but that was in the night, time we
paid Marsh himself a little visit."

"The one that put him in the hospital?"

"Marsh, he made of milk, mon. Can’t take the
lickin’ like you."

"Didn’t you get a good look at it the time you
and Terdell tossed it?"

"Just Terdell that time."

"Maybe if you got to the point?"

Braxley lapped a little more scotch. "Thought
you be smart enough to see the point."

"I’ve always been disappointing that way."

"Maybe I better sharpen the matter up for you
then." He put down the glass with a flourish. "I get the
stuff from my supplier, I pay him. I give the stuff to Marsh, he
don’t pay me. The word is out on the street. ‘J.J. get the
sting,' ‘J.J. give the credit and get burned,' and like that. But
the stuff, it ain’t on the street. That don’t ring true. Some
people get ideas, think maybe I’m gone soft about things. Business
things. Somebody work up the balls to try me, see if I push a little
on the territory. Means I gotta push back. Inefficient. Waste my
resources on fights I don’t want and can’t make pay."

Braxley affected a woeful look, playing to the second
balcony. "Or maybe my supplier talk to one of these dudes, get
the word that I’m loose with his shit, he think, ‘Fuck, J.J.
slipping the knot, getting ready to bolt on me, gotta groom this new
J .J., take his place? Then I push the new man, supplier say, ‘Fuck
is this shit? What the hell J.J. doing?' Then the supplier, he ask
himself, ‘How come the last load ain’t hit the street yet?' I
don’t need those kinds of troubles, mon."

"Sounds like you got them. Through your own
fault with Marsh."

The woeful look dissolved. “Sound that way to you?
Well, let’s us see how this sound. I give Marsh the credit, he
don’t pay up. He do that to a bank, what the bank do?"

I didn’t respond. Braxley reached for his drink and
finished it decisively.

"Tell you what the bank do. The bank treat that
like a family obligation, mon. The bank go take his house and toss
his family on the street. Well, you talking to a bank now, the First
National Bank of Braxley. Terdell I and me visit the missus this
morning, polite as can be. We wearing hats, they woulda been in our
hands. We give her notice this morning, but I spell it out for you. I
get back my shit, or we take the house to cover it."

"You ever hear of duress?"

Braxley started to laugh, then cut it off."
‘Duress,' huh? That woman own that house now, she can do whatever
she want with it. Like she can put it on the market for maybe twenty
thousand less than it worth, and sell it like in a few weeks, and she
get plenty on it, mon, plenty enough to cover her husband’s debt.
And she gonna wanna do it, too. Know why?"

I still didn’t say anything.

"Sure you know why. You just don’t wanna hear
the words in the air. You a sensitive son of a bitch. Well, maybe you
better brace yourself, ’cause here they come, ready or not. She
gonna wanna do that for me because I like be holding her little child
in excrow. The daughter she so careful not to let us see this
morning. You know what excrow mean?"