Farewell, Amethystine

38

Fyodor had Cuervo, limes, triple sec, salt, and just the right glasses for a classic margarita. I’d finished making and serving the third round when Brennan started making moaning noises like he wanted to wake up.

It was nearly 2:30 in the morning and we were at peace with our cactus libation. Our attention was on the captive, but he was taking his own sweet time. Amethystine got bored waiting and so went into the kitchen and came back with a pitcher filled with water and ice cubes.

This she poured down the back of Fyodor’s midnight-blue shirt.

He lurched awake, struggling against his bonds. At first, I don’t think he was aware of our presence.

“Hey, Fyodor,” Mel said.

The attaché stopped thrashing around and looked up to the voice.

“Suggs? Why you got me like this?”

Mel took out the murder weapon, saying, “Either you gonna explain this gun or I’m’a choke you.”

That was when the police chief’s aide looked around the room. We must have seemed like a serious group, a lynch mob. He knew Mary and was at least aware of who I was.

“Cut his left hand free, Easy,” Mel said. “And pour the motherfucker a drink.”

I did as asked.

Fyodor gagged on the first swallow, but that didn’t keep him from the second, third, and fourth.

“You know you can’t get away with this,” he said to us all. When nobody trembled in fear he said to Mel, “You helped Peter Barth beat a grand theft charge.”

“Yeah, about that,” Mel agreed. “Evidence got lost but Master Sergeant Creaque located it just today. A new warrant’s out on Barth right now. So, Fyodor, you don’t have a card to play.”

“Laks’ll kill me.”

“Laks won’t be a problem,” I said.

“What do you know?” my prisoner asked dismissively.

“I know about that film Mirth killed Tommy Jester tryin’ to get.”

“The chief’ll see it first thing tomorrow morning,” Mel added.

We had him and he knew it.

“You don’t have anything on me,” he announced to the general populace of the room.

“We don’t need to,” I said. “’Cause you better believe Laks’ll take you down with him.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” Fyodor said loudly and yet unconvincingly.

Mel tensed. I put a hand on his bulging right biceps and he eased up.

“Look, Fyodor,” I said. “I know you can see what’s going on here. Laks is gonna be out on his ass and somebody’s gonna have to oversee the investigation. Mel tells me that it’ll most likely be you, especially if you’re the one hands over the film of Laks to the chief. The girls’ names are on the inside of the box.”

It was way too much information for the attaché. Fyodor had to wonder about what happened to Mirth. If Mel knew that he had anything to do with the cop assassin coming after him, what would he do in retaliation?

Fyodor’s eyes darted back and forth among the four of us. Finally he vomited — violently. Margarita and something like half-digested pastrami went down his dark shirt and onto the maroon carpeting below.

He was pathetic. Defeated and weakened, he slumped, his head hanging down.

Amethystine, the volunteer mother, went to the bathroom and returned with a dampened washrag and a bath towel. The latter she spread over the dampened rug. Then she pressed the cool washrag against Fyodor’s forehead.

He sighed in momentary relief.

When Amethystine moved away I pulled a chair up to face the errant cop.

“Look, man,” I said. “You’re torturing yourself thinking you have to make the right decision. But there’s no decision to make. Tomorrow morning Mel will be back in his office and a copy of the film clip will be in your inbox. You’re going to take that film to the chief and he’s going to take it from there.”

“Why, why, why doesn’t Mel take it?”

“I like being in special projects,” Commander Suggs said. “I don’t want or need to be an administrator.”

“Why me?” Fyodor asked.

“Because,” Mary interjected, “you’re in this shit up to your nuts and that makes you a loose end. And loose ends either get tied up or cut off.”

Seeing Mary in the role of inquisitor was yet another novel experience. She went right to the heart of the attaché’s problem; you could see it in his eyes.

“We’re, we’re good if I do this?” he asked Mel.

“Solid.”

“But remember,” I put in. “We have other copies of the film. If you give it to Laks, then all bets are off.”

I had no compunction about lying to him.

He tried to nod, but his face looked most like a quivering leaf.

“With that one hand, it should take you five or six minutes to get yourself free,” I told him. “Don’t forget what we said.”

“That’s right,” Mel added. Then he hit our prisoner with an honest-to-God haymaker. Fyodor was unconscious before hitting the floor, the chair shattering beneath him.

“What’s the chief gonna think about that black eye?” Mary asked her man.

“I don’t give a fuck what he thinks.”

The four of us drove back to the Hills Motel. After saying goodbye to our confederates, I drove Amethystine to Studio City. Once there I parked out in front of the building and we sat for a few moments in silence.

“You wanna come in?” she offered.

“I gotta get home to my own kids before they forget what I look like.”

“You live a very interesting life, Ezekiel,” she said.

“Not as a rule. Most of the time I work alone or maybe with one helper. For that matter, most often, I take on just one case at a time.”

“I know. I don’t want to pester you, but have you figured out who killed Curt?”

“No. And before I go any further, I’ll put you in touch with Mel. He’s a good cop and he owes both of us.”

Then she leaned over, gave me a long, soulful kiss, leaned back to smile and study, then kissed me again.

“Is that a goodbye kiss?” I asked her.

“Only if you need it to be.”

I got back to Brighthope Canyon and Roundhouse a couple of hours before sunrise. Fearless was sitting on the outer patio beyond the koi pond, smoking a cigarette. There looked to be a little creature trundling around his feet.

When I approached, he said, “Hey, Ease,” without turning to see me.

The creature yipped and jumped at me playfully. It was all black with soulful yellow eyes.

“Another dog?” I asked.

“Told you I was gonna get you a guard dog.”

“Guard dog? This just much a toy as the other two.” I reached down to scratch behind the puppy’s ears.

“Toy that’s gonna get up around a hunnert eighty pounds.”

“What breed?” I took the seat opposite Fearless and the guard puppy jumped into my lap.

“A few. Bull mastiff the dominant one, though. When he’s grown this niggah here could kill a lion by hisself.”

“Mastiff, huh?”

“He will love you and yours and take down anybody you point at.”

“An’ why you think I need somethin’ like that?”

“You gettin’ old, Easy, you know you need a edge.”

“Maybe.” I considered the little creature. There was something feral even in the way he played.

“Everything work out?” my friend asked.

“Some of it. Mel’ll be back in his office tomorrow morning, and if everything works, Laks’ll be out by the afternoon.”

“What’s the rest of it?”

“Amethystine.”

“I thought the cops were gonna work that case.”

“There’s only so much they can do.”

“What’s that s’posed to mean?”

“I’m’a go up to bed, Fearless.”

“If you don’t need me no mo’, I’ll probably be gone by the time you get up. Feather and Jesus know what to do with the dog.”

“Okay. Drop by the office to get what I owe ya.”