A Mighty Fortress (42 page)

“It’ll never get that far, I promise. But maybe this guy, this Mr. Silver, if he’s as hard-up on finding you as I think he is, will show himself.”

She didn’t seem to be buying it. “So this guy, if he really killed Chad, he’s just going to email me for a date? You really think he’d do that?”

“I do, if he wants to kill you, too.”

She swallowed hard. “Thanks, but I think I’ll pass on being the bait.”

“It will never come to that. We’ll just be posting, at least for now.”

She thought about it over a few more sips of the coffee. “Just one more problem with that.”

“What’s that?”

“If Vinnie Pilka were to find out I’d gone independent, especially in light of what happened last week,
he’d
likely be the one to have me killed.”

I finished my coffee and found myself smirking across the table. “Let me worry about Vinnie Pilka.”

Our first stop that morning was at a Target on Gandy. The malls weren’t open yet, but Angie needed clothes. She still wore my Johnny Cash shirt along with a pair of Val’s gym shorts and my ill-fitting flip-flops. When we arrived at the store, the sky was dark with clouds, too dark to see any silver lining, and a light humid mist moistened everything in its reach. It would’ve been a bad hair day, if I still had hair.

Angie was easy to shop for. She picked out two pairs of shorts and matching shirts, and a sundress. She had a body that seemed like it would fit in anything you put on it, and she knew that body well enough to buy the clothes without trying them on. Once we’d checked out, she disappeared into the restroom and then emerged a few minutes later wearing the sundress. Every man within eyeshot stood mesmerized, jealous of me, as we made our exit.

“So we’re off to see this McSwain guy?” she asked once we were back in the car.

I checked the time. It was going on eleven, and I figured a self-respecting businessman like McSwain might be busy at that hour on a Sunday morning. Plus, I was hungry and had realized earlier that morning that we had other work to do. “McSwain can wait.”

Ten minutes later, I parked the Volvo outside the Palma Ceia Country Club. “What is this place?” Angie asked.

“What’s wrong, you’re not the country club type?”

She threw me an incredulous glare.

“It’s okay. I’m not either.”

The same attendant I’d met Tuesday morning was working the dining room. He gave me the same judgmental stare; only this time, it showed a hint of recognition. “Remember me? We’re running late for brunch with Mr. Pilka.”

“Vincent Pilka?” he asked snootily.

I nodded. “The one and only.”

“May I tell him your names?”

I glanced at Angie, then back to Herr Douchebag. “Sure. Tell him Chad Scalzo and Angel Hunter are here.”

Angie squeezed my hand as we waited.

It took Jace all of thirty seconds to make his appearance. He grimaced when he saw me. “I should’ve known it was you.”

“I’m sure you should’ve a lot of things, Jace.”

He got a good look at my guest. If he knew her, he wasn’t showing it.
 

Herr Douchebag cleared his throat as if to remind us where we were. “Is everything in order?” he asked, directing the question to Jace, if anyone.

I gave Jace a pat to lead the way. “Everything’s copacetic, right, Jace?”
 

I started walking, and Jace had no choice but to follow. A moment later, he gunned it to pass me and assumed the lead. Once he did, I noticed he was walking with an awkward limp. “You need to get that checked out,” I told him. Angie was still holding my hand.

“You don’t scare me, Porter,” Jace said.

“That’s good to know, Jace. I don’t like to scare people unless I mean to.”

He stopped us before we entered the main dining room, and then he turned to give me a serious stare. “No funny business, you understand?”

I looked past him and saw his employer scraping the bottom of a bowl of oatmeal in the far corner of the dining room. It seemed they liked to keep Vinnie Pilka out of sight at Palma Ceia. I couldn’t blame them.

I pushed past Jace without answering him. As I neared Pilka, he raised his phone to his ear and took a call. I knew he’d seen us when he raised his other hand to tell us to hold on, all the while never making eye contact with us. “No, I’m still here,” he said. “That’s fine. We’ll wait.” He lowered the phone and scanned my body, up and down, with his round empty eyes, and then did the same for Angie before looking back to Jace. “Well, look what the cat dragged in.”

I couldn’t tell whether it was Angie or I who’d prompted the comment. His eyes were still fluttering between both of us, his lips wet with saliva and sweat. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” He was definitely eyeing Angie now.

She nudged me to answer.

“We’re here to resign and get paid for services to date.”

Jace was trying hard to look tough. He tried to cross his arms and raise his chest, but that only seemed to cause him pain. He took a seat and moaned as Angie and I took the other two chairs. “Jace here is in pain,” Pilka told me once I was seated. “And it’s your fault. But we’ll come back to that. First, tell me why you and this whore are interrupting my meal.”

Angie crossed her arms, and her cheeks turned the color of the pepper sauce Pilka was sprinkling on his scrambled eggs. I tried gesturing for her to let it go, but by then she’d already started hurling a litany of insults at Pilka that would’ve made Chris Rock blush. Pilka set his fork down and finished chewing the food in his mouth while a smirk of amusement blossomed across his face. He waited for Angie to catch her breath, and then asked her, “Now is that any way to talk to your employer, sweetheart?”

“I don’t work for you anymore.”

“News to me,” he said.

Angie glanced at me as if to say it was my turn, so I took over. “Actually, we have a lot of news for you.”

But Pilka’s eyes were still on Angie. He snorted as he laughed, and then he wiped his chin with the back of his sleeve. “Listen, sugar, you think I don’t know all about what you and Chad cooked up? You think I couldn’t have stopped it like that”—he snapped his fingers—“if I wanted to? The only reason I let you go with Scalzo is because he promised me ten percent of whatever you made the first two years, and that I could still bend your ass over anytime I wanted.” He stood up and grabbed hold of the braided leather belt snugged tight around his portly waist. Then, leering at me, he said, “You mind? I’m about to take advantage of what’s mine.”

I cleared my throat. “You take that belt off, you’ll find it wrapped around your neck faster than you can say ‘fat piece of shit’.”

He nodded at Jace before he unbuckled the belt. Then he set the belt on the table, glared at me, and said, “Fat piece of shit.” He snorted another laugh, and then said, “I called your bluff, Porter.”

I sprang to my feet, but Jace produced a Saturday Night Special that he waved just the right way to guide me back to my seat. Once I was seated again, he lowered the gun beneath the table. He tapped it on my knee to let me know where it was pointed. “No more disrespecting Mr. Pilka.”
 

I was beginning to understand why Pilka liked to sit in the far corner. “What you gonna do, Jace, shoot me right here? Wouldn’t they revoke his privileges?”
 

“You heard me,” Jace said.

I nodded faintly. “You better be a good shot. I’ve been shot twice this week. That’s a total of five times in my life I’ve taken lead and lived.”

Jace didn’t flinch. “Then I guess I should call you Superman.”

Pilka studied me, his expression turning with an idea. “Put the gun away, Jace. I want to hear what he has to say.” Jace was slow to obey, but once he finally did, Pilka cast his moribund eyes on me. “What the hell do you want, Porter?”

“Angie’s going independent. You’re going to respect that. And you’re going to leave her alone.”

“She’ll be lucky to last a week without protection,” he scoffed.

“I’ll be protecting her.”

“Then you obviously have no idea what I’m talking about.”

“I guess I don’t,” I said.

Pilka glanced around the dining room. “Without the right
protection
, she’ll be behind bars before you know it.”

This was an interesting subject, and one I didn’t want to change too soon. So I played along. “We got that taken care of.”

“Is that so?” Pilka glared at me, as if to call my bluff again.

I just nodded.

“I find that hard to believe. Very hard to believe.”

I gave him nothing but an angry glare.

He folded and picked his fork up again. “Okay. So Angie doesn’t work for me anymore.”

“And whatever deal you had with Scalzo died with him,” I said.

Pilka smirked again. “Now, how convenient is that? Whatever deal I had with Scalzo died with him? You know, Porter, this girl here with you, in my humble opinion, she’s quite the troublemaker. You ever really consider the repercussions of what you’re saying? It sounds to me like she stood to benefit more than anyone else from Scalzo’s death. I’d keep a close eye on this one if I were you.”

“And I’d keep a close eye on the Scalzo family if I were you. Because I feel like they’re keeping a close one on you, too.”

His pasty skin managed to turn a shade whiter. He tried grinning, but it didn’t work. “And how would you know that?”

“I guess you could say I’m working for them now.” I didn’t mention the
pro bono
part. “Which reminds me, you owe me some money.”

“You never worked for me.”

“Wilcox hired me to find Scalzo’s killer. He was working on your case. The way I see it, you owe me for these.” I pulled out my expense receipts. “Not to mention Wilcox promised me six grand for my work this week.”

“Screw Wilcox,” Pilka hissed. “The little pansy runs away, falls off the face of the earth, and you expect me to pay his debts?”

I handed over the receipts. “This is
your
debt.”

He started skimming through the receipts. “Six-hundred ninety-seven dollars for a hotel?” he demanded incredulously.

“And parking,” I added.

“Eight hundred dollars for clothes?” his tone rose.

“I had to go undercover to find her in Miami.”

“Seventy-eight dollars for gas?”

“The Volvo likes high octane.”

“A receipt to Target for sixty-nine dollars?”

“Angie looks great in cheap clothes, doesn’t she?”

“You say you’re working for the Scalzo family now? Then why don’t they pay these for you?”

“Should I tell them you say so?”

“Do whatever you want.” He wiped his brow with a linen napkin. “Besides, the way I see it, Porter,
you
owe
me
, and big.”

“How so?”

“Well, Jace here has been pretty useless for two days now, as a result of you. You made fun of him the other day and threatened his manhood.”

“Please, Mr. Pilka,” Jace interrupted. “We don’t need to discuss this.”

Pilka waved him off. “So after you left the gym here the other day, Jace here wanted to show that he could do those squats you were going on about. He didn’t do so well. Look at him now.”

I frowned at Jace. “And I thought he walked that way because he fell a few rungs down the evolutionary ladder.”

Pilka frowned. “So, between chiropractor visits, and the time I’m having to wait for him to do anything, shit, even bring me my coffee, I’ll consider us even.”

“Doesn’t sound too appealing to me,” I said.

“We can write this off, I’ll let Angie go, and I won’t call the cops to turn you two in.”

“Turn us in?”

“Yeah, for harassing me and admitting your intent to conspire in prostitution.”

“You’re a piece of work, Pilka. You know that?”

He grinned over his double chin. “A one-of-a-kind masterpiece.”

“Throw in an hour in Alexi’s office with all access to his computer equipment, and we got a deal.”

Pilka shook his head. “Sorry, the police already have the good stuff. And I’m under a court order not to tamper with what they left behind.”

“Is that so? Let me guess, a detective named Chris Rodriguez?”

He glanced at Jace and nodded. Then someone across the dining room caught his attention, and he raised his hand and waved. “Perfect timing,” Pilka said.

A moment later, a tall man in a blue pinstriped suit appeared. His hair was as thick as a doormat; he looked like Clark Kent in his early fifties. He nodded at Pilka and set an attaché on the table.
 

Pilka turned to me. “Porter, meet Wilkes Donahue, our new attorney.”

I glanced at the lawyer as he pulled a document from the case and handed it to Pilka. “Wilkes has settled the McSwain case for us,” Pilka added.

“Is that so?” I asked.
 

Wilkes stood there like a statue. “This is the settlement for your signature. Then we can get the case dismissed in front of the judge tomorrow.”

Pilka was still glaring at me. “He was able to negotiate very favorable terms for us.”

The lawyer cleared his throat. “It’s a confidential settlement, sir.”

Pilka ignored him. “Even got me a release for your attempted extortion.”

“And I suppose McSwain gets all the copies of his special video,” I said.

“All that are within our custody, possession, and control.” Pilka looked to his attorney. “Isn’t that how we worded it?”

“It’s confidential,” Wilkes said uneasily.

Pilka shrugged. “Sorry, Porter, it’s confidential. And you don’t work for me no more.”

I glanced at Angie and back to Pilka. “You say the case is being dismissed tomorrow?”

Pilka nodded. “That’s the plan. Right, Wilkes?”

Wilkes nodded reluctantly. “Tomorrow morning.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” Pilka whispered. “But Wilkes knows the judge pretty well.”

Wilkes cleared his throat again.

“Isn’t that a conflict of interest?” I asked Wilkes.

“The judge doesn’t have to rule on anything. The parties are stipulating to dismissal. But yes, he’d have to recuse himself if the case went forward.”

“How convenient,” I said.

“Yes, how convenient,” Pilka said. Then he took the papers from his attorney and pulled a silver Mont Blanc pen from inside his jacket. He began reviewing the papers in front of him, and a moment later he scribbled his signature on the last page. Once the ink was drying, Pilka looked up at me. “It says here I need a witness.” He pointed the pen at me. “Would you do me the honor, Mr. Porter?”