Hooligans

WESTERN UNION

A gray Olds blundered on to me a couple of blocks before I got back to the hotel and followed at a

respectable distance. The driver was pretty good. I did a couple of figure.-eights, trying to throw him

off, but he didn‟t panic and he didn‟t close the gap. He stayed a block or so behind roe all the way to

the hotel.

I parked in front and let the doorman take the car. The Olds pulled in half a block away and sat with

the lights out. I checked the desk. Then I walked across the lobby and ducked behind a small forest of

ferns and ficus trees near the elevators.

A medium-sized man got out of the Olds and drifted across Palm Drive, acting like he wasn‟t in a

bony. I got a better look at him in the light of the lobby. He was neither tall nor short, fat nor thin, old

nor young. He was decked out in a nondescript gray business suit, no hat, and his chiseled features

might have been handsome except for the deep acne scars that pitted his cheeks. Once he got inside,

he picked up his pace, his deep-set eyes darting back and forth, perusing the lobby. He headed straight

for the elevators and speared the up button with a forefinger.

I stepped in behind him, grabbed a handful of jacket and collar, slammed him face-forward against the

wall, bent his left arm behind him, reached under his arm, and relieved him of a Smith & Wesson .38.

“What‟ya think yer doin‟?” he whined.

I leaned close to his ear and put a rasp in my voice.

„You just took the words right out of my mouth,” I whispered.

“You‟ve been following me for the last ten minutes. I don‟t think you‟re attracted to my beautiful

eyes.”

“Lemme go,” he continued to whine

I shoved his gun between his shoulder blades.

“You got a name?” I asked.

He paused and I shoved harder. He turned his face sideways, glared at me though yellow-flecked

snake eyes, and snarled, “Harry Nesbitt.”

“Just why are you so attracted to me, Harry?”

“I came to talk. Lemme loose.”

“You talk with your arm?”

“You got the gun, hotshot.”

“Yeah, and I‟m kind of jumpy, homicide being the hottest game in town right now. Talk first.”

“Look, all I‟m doin‟ is a Western Union. You wanna listen or not.”

“I‟m listening, Harry.”

“Johnny O‟Brian wants a meet.”

“Is that a fact. And what‟s that to you?”

“I work for him.”

“What do you do, carry his gun?”

“Very funny,” he said, beginning to put an edge back into his voice. I let him go, slipped his gun into

my belt, and backed away from the potted plants, out to the edge of the lobby.

“Do you mind,” he said, his eyes beginning to dance around the room again. “O‟Brian ain‟t anxious

the whole fuckin‟ world should know we‟re talking.”

“Uh-huh,” I said.

He moved farther back among the plants.

“This joint is crawling with people,,” he said, although all I could see was one sleepy bellhop and

desk clerk who was busy sorting bills.

“Just speak your piece and shag,” I said.

“O‟Brian says he‟ll meet you anywhere you say, any time. One on one. Nobody knows but him and

you.”

“What about you? You going to get amnesia?”

“Cute.” He chuckled. “Anyway, I already got it.”

“And how do I contact O‟Brian?”

“You don‟t. I do the go-between, okay? You tell me, I give it to the boss.”

“And why should I trust you? Because I like your taste in ties?”

“Lookee here,” said Nesbitt. “He wants to make a deal with you, okay? He ain‟t got nothing to do

with this hit parade goin‟ down.”

“Now how would I know that?”

“Look, it comes to O‟Brian that you heated up Cincy real good. It comes to O‟Brian that you burned

Skeet Tagliani and gave Uncle Franco and the rest of them a hotfoot there. It also comes to him that

you‟re a stand-up guy when it comes to your word. He wants to do business. What‟s the matter, you

got something against free enterprise?”

“Am I supposed to be flattered by all this?” I asked.

“You wanna talk or you wanna audition for vaudeville? O‟Brian ain‟t lookin‟ for trouble, okay? Am I

drifting your way?”

“Getting scared, is he?”

“O‟Brian don‟t scare,” Nesbitt said matter-of-factly.

“Pigs don‟t lie in the mud, either.”

“Look, my boss don‟t go to the party empty-handed, know what I mean? You wanna be the smartass,

don‟t wanna listen, fuck off.”

I thought about it for a moment or two—not about meeting O‟Brian, that was a gimme—but about

where and when to meet him. It could be a setup, except there was no reason to set me up. Was he

representing the family? Or was he free-lancing? What was he willing to talk about that could interest

rue? I was still guessing that O‟Brian was running scared, looking for an umbrella to hide under.

“Does he know who scratched Tagliani and the rest?” I asked.

Nesbitt shifted from one foot to the other and sighed. “Whyn‟t yuh ask him? 1 told yuh, I‟m just doin‟

a Western Union. I don‟t know shit besides that and my orders are to forget it!”

“When?” I asked finally.

“Sooner the better.”

“How‟s tomorrow morning sound?”

“Worse than now, better than later,” he said with a shrug.

“It‟s too late to do anything now,” I said. “It‟s got to be tomorrow, middle of the morning.” I make a

lot of bad decisions this late at night.

“That‟s the best you can do, that‟s the best you can do. You wanna pick the spot?”

I didn‟t know or remember the town well enough. I decided to test the water a little.

“Does O‟Brian have a place in mind?”

“Yeah, but he don‟t want you should get nervous, him pickin‟ it out, I mean.”

“Try me”

“He has this little fishing camp out on Skidaway. On the bay side, sits out over the water. It‟s private;

his old lady don‟t even go out there, Also it has good sight lines; there ain‟t a blade of grass within

twenty yards of the place.”

I thought some more about it. It would have been smarter to leave then and follow Nesbitt to the meet,

but I wanted to let somebody know where I was.

“Where is this place exactly?” I asked.

“You hang a right three blocks after you cross the bridge from Thunderhead to Oceanby. It‟s a mile or

so down the road, on the bay, like I said. You can‟t miss it, the road ends there.”

I studied him for a long minute, tugged my ear, and then nodded. “What‟s the name of the street?”

“Bayview.”

“I have a breakfast appointment,” I said. “It‟ll be about ten thirty.”

“No problem, he‟s spending the night out there. Ten thirty.” He smiled and held out his hand, palm

up. “How about the piece?” he said.

I took out the revolver, loosened the retaining pin, dropped the cylinder into my palm, and handed

him his gun.

“I‟ll give O‟Brian the rest of it when I see him,” I said.

His acne scars turned purple and pebbles of sweat began to ridge his forehead. He looked at me

quizzically. “Why the badass act?” he said. “You don‟t have to prove how tough you are. Like I told

ya, we know all about Cincy.”

“I‟m a cautious man,” I said. “Too many people are dying in town right now.”

“Did I lay any heat on you, Kilmer? No. I just come and delivered the message like I was supposed to.

Y‟know, I get caught in the middle of this thing, I‟ll end up in the bay, parley-vooin‟ with the fuckin‟

shrimps.”

“That‟s your problem.”

“So I come back with half a gun? It gets everything off on the wrong foot, know what I mean?”

I tossed him the cylinder for his .38 and he caught it without taking his yellow eyes off mine.

“You owe me one,” I said.

“You talk to O‟Brian, you‟ll be paid in spades,” he said, and was gone, darting across the lobby like a

dragonfly and out the nearest exit.

36