“I had some time to think on the drive down, and I decided that I had to get away, far away, once and for all. I figured that if I could get enough money, I could get lost somewhere, maybe another country. I don't know. I just knew I had to get far away. So I talked Joey V. into working with me. Then I went down to the
Mirage,
and I let Leon think I was glad to be back.”
I remembered the picture of Denise, smiling with her arm around Leon's waist. She put on a good act.
“I did whatever I had to do to make him think I was glad to see him. I told him I'd always known he'd get off and that we'd be together. I told him I divorced him to throw the cops off my trail. I told him I did time for him rather than flip for the DEA, and he believed me.” Denise's eyes filled with tears. “I slept with him, Sierra. I made myself forget about Frankie, just so I could save my own ass.” Denise scuffed at my carpet with her shoe, not looking at me.
“I told Leon I had a contact with the Outlaws and that they were looking to score something really big. He liked that, but he was having trouble getting his organization to front him more dope 'cause the last bust was so big. I told him that if we brought new business into the organization, then it would restore their confidence in him.” Denise had to be telling the truth. No one could talk that fast and lie at the same time.
“I told him I'd go get the front money from the bikers and put it with whatever he could come up with, and then maybe Mack âthe Fish' Tunnato would do business. It was Leon's idea to send me to Mack with the money instead of using Joey V. He said Tunnato always liked me anyway. You know what he meant, Sierra,” she said, moving restlessly on the couch. “He meant I should sleep with Mack.
“There was no turning back then. I let him think that I was going to go along with it. Leon said he'd send Joey up with the money for Mack. He figured Joey would keep an eye on me; he sent Joey because he didn't really trust me. Then I went to Frankie and told him I was back in the business. He wasn't happy about it, but he finally agreed to introduce me to the club president so I could set up the deal.”
“You were lying to me,” I said. “You were planning to disappear all along.”
“Sierra, I couldn't tell you how it really was. I couldn't tell nobody. Not you, not Frankie. Leon was poison, Sierra. He'd kill or torture anybody or anything I loved, just to see it eat away at me. It would only be a matter of time before he decided to pay me back for deserting him. He was using me to get back in business. I had to leave or stay and let Leon kill me.
“I thought I had it all together, the timing and everything, until Arlo disappeared and somebody stiffed Joey V. and left him in my room.” Denise shook her head slowly. “There I was, holding a hundred thousand dollars and too stupid to run off and leave my damn dog. Time was running out. Leon thought Mack the Fish had his money. Frankie's club thought I had their front money. If I didn't show back up in a matter of hours, they were going to get squirrely.” Denise hit the couch with her fist. “I guess somebody didn't trust me. Joey V. was a warning and Arlo was the insurance.”
I was seeing another Denise and I wasn't so sure I trusted her. “So why did you come back? How do you know that Arlo's even alive? And why'd you put a hundred thousand in my car?”
Denise got up and started pacing the length of the living room. “I got to think that Arlo's alive. I can't leave until I know for sure. I put the money in your car 'cause I hoped you'd know I was around. I figured it was safer to stash the money there in case something happened. If it didn't work out like I planned, well, I knew you could use the cash. I was going to try and see you, but you been covered over with cops. Sierra, I'm sorry. I was so scared that I guess I didn't think about anything else.”
“So, what,” I said, “you're here for your money?”
Denise sighed and ran her hands impatiently through her hair. “No, I need help, Sierra. I can't pull this off by myself. You're the only one with balls enough to help me. If you don't want to do it for me, then think of Arlo. I know he's alive, Sierra. I just know it.”
“Denise,” I said, “who killed Joey V. and Leon?”
“I don't know,” she said, her fingers nervously twitching at her frayed jeans. “At first I thought Leon had somehow found out what me and Joey were planning, but then when Leon got killed I couldn't figure it.”
“Denise, did you kill them?”
“No.” Denise's eyes blazed with anger. “Do you want me to say I'm sorry they're dead? 'Cause I can't say that. Maybe Mack Tunnato did it. Maybe Leon's own people. I don't know.”
“What about Frankie?” I asked.
Denise's eyes filled with tears. “Not Frankie,” she whispered. “He's not like that.”
I couldn't believe her. “Denise, wake up,” I said. “If Leon's dead and Mack Tunnato didn't kill him, then Frankie's your next best bet. He knew where you lived. He knew you were crazy for Arlo. He knew you got the dope from Leon. And Denise, you ripped him off.”
Denise was openly crying now. “Not really,” she said. “I didn't really rip him off. I ripped off his club.”
“Same thing,” I said. “And Frankie's gonna be the one they're gonna turn on when you don't show up.” I thought of Frankie, his front tire shot out from under him. Perhaps they were already cutting him out of the pack, keeping him alive, hoping he would lead them to Denise.
This line of thought clearly hadn't occurred to Denise. Her eyes widened.
“What are we going to do, Sierra?” she said, sinking back down onto the futon. “What in the world am I going to do?”
Twenty-nine
I found myself at seven-thirty the next morning rolling up in front of Bay County Medical Center, half asleep and cranky. I didn't care what Denise thoughtâno mobster worth his salt would hold a dog hostage. Frankie had to be behind it; nothing else made sense.
I stepped off the elevator, wishing I'd had one more cup of coffee, and found Frankie's bodyguards sleeping in the visitors' lounge. If someone had really wanted to get to Frankie, it would've been a piece of cake, because I sailed right past. It occurred to me that maybe the guards weren't sent by the Outlaws to keep others out. Maybe they were there to make sure Frankie didn't leave.
Frankie was awake, trying to force down the lukewarm breakfast the hospital was trying to palm off as food. He looked up when I walked in, and stretched to see behind me.
“They're sleeping,” I said, answering his unasked question. “You want me to take my blouse off, or can we have a decent conversation without all the hoopla?”
Frankie still looked bad. His bruises were turning gray-green and his contusions were a rusty brown color. He tried to smile and failed, then reached into the bedside table drawer for his cigarettes and lighter.
“You can't smoke in here,” I said.
“You think they're really going to try and stop me?” he asked. I watched him go through the ritual of tapping the cigarette on the filter end, then sticking it in his mouth, and flicking the silver-and-turquoise lighter until the flame caught and held.
“No, I guess not,” I answered. “So when are you getting out?”
Frankie took another long hit on his cigarette and squinted at me through the haze of smoke.
“Probably tomorrow morning,” he said. “They were watching for internal bleeding.” He shifted in the bed. “So, did you hear from Denise?” he asked.
“No, nothing like that.” I pulled a chair up by his bedside. “I was here getting some blood tests run and thought I'd stop in on you.”
“Is that right?” Frankie didn't look like he believed me.
“Well, I guess I had a couple of questions,” I said. “I mean, maybe I can help you find Denise.”
Frankie raised himself up in bed and blew smoke rings toward the ceiling.
“Maybe you can,” he said slowly. “So, ask me.”
“All right, where was Denise supposed to meet you?”
“She wasn't supposed to meet me, she was supposed to meet Rambo, back at the clubhouse, and do the deal.”
Rambo, I thought, my favorite. The image of his boot connecting with Fluffy flashed through my head.
“Where's the clubhouse?” I asked.
Frankie frowned. “Well, it's not a clubhouse like the Masons or nothing, it's a house where some of us live. Behind Tan Fannies.”
“The strip club?” Definitely two steps down from the Tiffany.
“Yeah, convenient, huh?” Frankie leered.
“You couldn't pay me to live there, but it's your party, I guess.”
Frankie's features clouded over and he glanced toward the closed door to the hallway.
“I don't know where I'm going after this. The president's pretty pissed that Denise took off with the money. He's not sure I didn't have something to do with it. Rambo and some of the others think I did. They're going to hold a tribunal when they get back from the rally in Daytona this weekend.”
“What's a tribunal?” I asked.
“Like a biker court,” he answered. “They'll have a trial and decide if I was involved with Denise in ripping them off or not.”
“And what if they think you were?” I asked.
“They'll kill me,” he said simply.
“Why don't you take off?” I asked.
Frankie laughed caustically and stubbed his cigarette out in his scrambled eggs.
“Why do you think those guys are out there?” he said. “Sierra, it isn't the money. With the Outlaws, it's the principle. They'd as soon kill somebody for taking five bucks as they would for taking a hundred thousand. They've got to make an example out of someone. If it isn't Denise, it might be me. Hell,” he said, “I might've been gone a long time ago if I hadn't wanted to stick around and try to protect her.”
“Did Denise know that?” I wondered aloud.
Frankie laughed. “She left before I could tell her. Story of my life, I guess. Something good finally happens and boom, it ends before it starts.”
“Where's Arlo, Frankie?”
“You don't need to worry about Arlo, Sierra. We needed to get Denise's attention.”
“So you took him?”
Frankie glanced toward the door again. “No, that wasn't my idea, but when the decision gets made, you got to go along with it. I'm keeping an eye on him.”
I didn't point out that it was hard to keep track of a dog from a hospital bed. And Frankie wasn't in any shape to influence what happened to Arlo. They seemed to be in the same sinking rowboat.
“You sure are asking a lot of questions about me and the Outlaws,” Frankie said. “Sierra, if you know where Denise is, or if you've heard from her, tell me and then let me handle it. Don't go getting any ideas about saving Arlo. That would make the situation a lot worse for everyone.”
“Frankie,” I said, “I'm not stupid.”
I slipped out of Frankie's room and past the still-sleeping bodyguards. There were worse places to be than in a hospital, I thought. There was no way I'd want to be in Frankie's boots. The elevator slid open and I stepped inside. As the doors slowly started to close, I watched an aide pushing an empty breakfast cart down the hallway. He wore the faded blue uniform all the other aides wore, but something stood out about him. It was the slow way he moved, as if going nowhere but watching everything. He drew even with the elevator as the doors were closing and I could see his face. If I hadn't been quite so tired, I would have sworn it was Lyle.
Something didn't sit right with me about Frankie. There was something he'd said, something he'd done that had set alarm bells off in my head. I couldn't quite put my finger on what it was, but something was very wrong with the picture he was painting.
Thirty
At one
A.M.,
Saturday morning, Dennis Donlevy began to think he was in trouble. Raydean, her favorite Easter bonnet perched atop her frizzled gray hair, a yellow raincoat the only covering between her and mankind, had left her home and was singing “Onward Christian Soldiers” at the top of her lungs. To further complicate the situation, she had entered the carport, released the emergency brake on her vehicle, and was now pushing it down the slight incline of her driveway and into the street.
At 1:05
A.M.,
young Detective Donlevy began to panic. Raydean's Plymouth Fury had completely blocked the road, making it impossible for young Donlevy to follow his assigned protective duties. As I smoked tires and sped off down the Lively Oaks Trailer Park Drive, Dennis Donlevy was standing in the middle of the street, screaming at an unresponsive Raydean. By the time he returned to his car and radioed for assistance, I had vanished.
At one-fifteen
A.M.,
Denise and I were parked around the corner from Tan Fannies, watching the Outlaws' clubhouse and trying to determine if anyone was still inside the faded wooden building.
“We look ridiculous,” Denise said, looking in the passenger-side visor mirror. “What if someone sees us?”
She was right. It was my idea to dress in black and blacken our faces. I figured we needed all the help we could get. Of course, if someone spotted us crossing the street and creeping up the dirt front yard to the Outlaws' house, we'd stand out like sore thumbs.
“No one's going to see us,” I said. “We'll make damn sure they don't.”
Denise started to giggle. “Did you see the look on that cop's face when we drove off and Raydean wouldn't move her car? Man, that was great.”
“Hush, Denise,” I hissed. “Keep your mind on what we're doing. Let's go.” I reached for the door handle and started to open the car.
“Wait, Sierra,” Denise said, her face pale around the edges of her makeup.
“What?”
“Nothing, I guess,” she murmured.