Part 20:
A
Matter Of Life And Death
Nick lured the security
guard into his room with his innocence and pleas for company, but he kept the
guard in his room with quick wit and endless tales of “Girls Gone Wild On A
Cross Country Tour Bus With Five Guys.”
At first, the guard just
leaned in the doorway of the room, chuckling mildly as Nick told a story about
the time two sets of twins boarded the tour bus after a concert one night.
“I was so damn drunk, I
couldn’t even see straight,” he said, rolling his eyes around with a goofy
smile. “But man, those chicks could have
cared less. They grabbed my hands and
headed us straight for the big room in the back of the bus, whispering sweet
nothings in my ear.”
By the end of the first
hour, the guard had slowly worked his way over to the chair beside Nick’s bed. Sitting there, elbows on knees, he stared
wide-eyed at Nick, listening as he told him about the time A.J. and Howie had
taken two hot girls up on top of the tour bus, traveling eighty-five miles an
hour down a stretch of highway in the middle of nowhere U.S.A., to do the deed.
“I would have gone up there, too, but I
was scared shitless that I would end up roadkill!”
“I would have gone up
there in a second,” the guard said, slapping his leg.
“No way.” Nick shook his head.
“Bet me, man.” The guard stuck his hand through the railing
as he and Nick shook hands. “I mean, how
often do you get a chance to say you had sex on top of a moving tour bus?”
By the end of the third
hour, the guard had his feet kicked up on the guard rail of Nick’s bed, roaring
with laughter, as Nick recalled the time he and A.J. came back to the bus after
a show in Phoenix – or was it Los Angeles? – to find three blonde girls in
ponytails, covered in nothing but head to toe pink glitter, with huge grins on
their ditzy faces.
“They said their names
were Taffy, Sugar, and Cookie.” Nick
waggled his eyebrows at the guy with a wink as the guy winked back. “And man were they sweet!”
Okay, so none of those
things had ever happened, at least not on any tour that Nick had ever been on,
but hey, at least it was getting the guard to stay and keep him company for
awhile, which was step one of his plan.
“I’m starving.” The guard tapped on his stomach, glancing
around Nick’s room for some sort of snack.
“You already ate
everything I have in here,” Nick said, pushing his bangs out of his eyes and
dropping his head back to the pillow, as the guard surveyed the floor around
him, littered with empty boxes of chocolates, cookies, and candy that people
had brought as get-well presents for Nick.
“Damn, you’re right. I’m going down to the cafeteria then. Do you want anything?” he said, sliding his
chair back and standing up.
“Nah, I can’t eat real
food yet.” Nick motioned to the IV bags
on poles beside his bed.
“But thanks, man.”
The guard walked towards
the door, tapping his hand on the gun on his hip.
“Hey!” Nick called out. “You’re coming back, right? I mean, to hang out and all?”
“You betcha, buddy. You tell me some more stories like that, and
I’ll hang out with you all fucking night.”
***
Working on a tip from a
woman Dan found walking by the same gas station where Nick and Brian had been
seen the day of the shooting, Dan was now pulling his car into the parking lot
of the Bowl N’ Beer. Sliding into a spot
between two semis, he shoved his cell phone and notepad in the pocket of his
jacket and headed for the entrance of the place.
Walking across the parking
lot, he could see that there was a fairly rough crowd milling around outside. And everybody seemed to look him over twice in
his Ralph Lauren golf shirt and dark pressed jeans as he made his way inside,
ordering a beer and sitting at a table in the corner of the darkened lounge.
The woman he had spoken
with earlier at the gas station said that, while the name Mo did not ring a
bell, the description Dan gave her did. She had been more familiar with Gus Monroe,
although on the streets, most people knew him as ‘Monty.’ And she did recall seeing ‘Monty’ several
times with a “a guy with big muscles and a square jaw.” She also thought that she remembered seeing
that same guy coming out of the bowling alley a few times since ‘Monty’ had
been killed.
“Hey there.” Dan winked at the waitress, who now stood
wiping down his table with a big, dirty rag that he was sure harbored fifty
kinds of airborne illnesses that could kill him.
“Hey.” She slapped down a bowl of peanuts on the
table and cocked out a hip. “Do you want
another beer?”
Dan looked down at the
full bottle of beer in his hands and smiled. “Not quite yet, thanks. Do you-?” She turned and started to walk off. “Um, yes, yes, I’ll have another beer!” Dan
shouted. “If you’ll come over here and
talk to me for a few minutes.”
The woman walked back to
his table, narrowing her eyes at him. “This
ain’t one of those kinds of places. I’m
not some stupid whore that will give you a lap dance for a couple bucks and a
beer.”
“I never said you were.” Dan set down his beer, raising his hands in
the air. “Honestly, Miss, I just wanted
to ask you a few questions.”
“Are you a cop?” She was talking to Dan, but her eyes were
darting around the bar, scanning for the bouncer who was probably in the
bathroom taking a piss. He was never
around when she needed him.
“No, I’m not a cop. I’m a rep… a writer. I’m a writer.”
“So what the hell do you
want to ask me questions for? I don’t
got nothing to say that is worth writing about.”
“Well…” Dan reached in his jacket pocket and pulled
out the photograph of Gus. “Actually, I
am doing a story on this guy.” Dan slid
the picture across the table.
“Monty?” She tapped a hand on the picture. “He was a real nice guy. It’s a shame what happened to him.”
“Did you know Gus- I mean,
Monty?”
Dan noticed her facial
features soften when she spoke about Gus. “Yeah, I knew him. I knew him really well. And I’d probably still know him if he hadn’t
have gotten mixed up with that big fuck.”
“What big fuck?”
“I don’t know his name. He was just some guy Gus hung with.”
“When was the last time
you saw this guy, the ‘big fuck’?” Dan
could feel his pulse quicken. He was
getting closer; he could feel it.
“I dunno. The other day, I guess. I usually work the early shift, but I traded
with Cecelia ‘cause her daughter was having a baby, and he was here that night.
Sitting right here at the same table
you’re sitting at now.”
Sitting up a little
straighter, Dan shoved the photo of Gus back into his jacket pocket and grabbed
for his notebook. “Did you talk to him?”
“No, I ain’t got nothin’
to say to him. Besides, he’s all fucked
up. Somebody said they saw him hanging
around with some little Latino kid after Monty died. It’s like he had to go and hurry up and
replace Monty or something.”
“A little Latino kid?” The homeless guy’s words played over and over
in Dan’s head.
“So you know who he is then, this guy Mo?” Dan stood an arm’s length away from the guy,
trying not to inhale the foul stench of body odor mixed with cigarette smoke.
“Nobody really knows Mo,” the old man replied, scratching at his chin
before grabbing at some unseen thing in the air.
“What does that mean?” Dan rubbed at his eyes, wondering what the
hell time it was and how much longer he was going to have to play quiz games
with the great unwashed on the Los Angeles city streets.
“Well, nobody but the kid. Maybe the kid knows Mo.”
“What?”
“The kid would probably know him better then
anybody.”
At the mention of a kid, Dan grabbed for his pen
and notepad. “You keep saying there is a
kid. What, like a little kid, or a big
kid?”
“Yeah, the kid had that spooked look in his eyes,
so he definitely knows Mo more than you and I know Mo.”
“Well, I mean, he isn’t
really a kid, I guess. People said he
was maybe in his twenties or something, so I guess that can still be a kid?” The waitress shifted her weight from one foot
to the other, impatient with the whole conversation.
“Who saw him with the kid?
I have to know.” Dan grabbed for her wrist, but she pulled away.
“Hey, you gotta calm down,
man, or I’ll have you thrown out of this place.”
“Look, you have to tell me
who saw this guy and the Latino kid, and you have to tell me right now. It could be a matter of life and death.”
***
“Okay, do you know how to
play poker?” The security guard returned
to Nick’s room with a tray of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, ‘hospital
style.’ Which meant it smelled like
total shit and probably tasted about the same. But the guard didn’t seem to care, as he
gnawed the chicken down to the bones, licking his fingers, as Nick dealt the
cards out onto his lap.
“I kind of know how to
play.”
“Okay, well you either
know how to play, or you don’t. There
isn’t a ‘kind of,’” the guy said, swiveling his security guard cap backwards on
his head.
“Hmmmmm.”
Handing the guy his cards, Nick laid the
deck on his food tray. “Okay then, I
guess I know how to play.”
“Okay then, let’s play
five card stud, aces wild.”
***
Mo pulled his car into the
underground hospital parking lot, pulling into a sweet spot that was close to
the elevators before killing the engine and the headlights and placing the
security guard cap on his head.
Running a hand across the
faded dash of the Ford Escort he now drove, he sure missed the fancy BMW, with its
CD player and plush leather seats.
Despite the fact that he
had long ago changed out the license plates, it had gotten too risky to drive
after reports hit the news regarding the missing vehicle that Brian Littrell
had been driving the night he was killed. So Mo had been forced to sell the car for a
nice price to a guy he knew that fenced stolen cars in Encino.
Stepping out of the car,
straightening the collar of the generic security guard’s uniform he now wore,
Mo headed to the elevators, nearly bumping into a young man who reached out to
push the up button at the same time he did.
“Sorry.” Kevin backed away from the button, signaling
that Mo could go ahead and push it.
Mo pushed the button,
standing back and folding his arms across his chest as he tapped the heel of
his boot on the ground.
“Nice boots.” Kevin nodded to the shiny black leather boots
with the intricate tooling peeking out from beneath the cuffs of the man’s
pants.
“Thanks.” Mo nodded with a smile, as the elevator doors
opened and both men stepped inside.
***
