The Gumshoe Diaries (20 page)

“He’s not hungry any more Marco, I’ll take
that,” said Lt. Dill-hole as he swiped my meal and gave me the
finger. This was not the best way to start a road trip, especially
a potentially dangerous one. I wasn’t sure how they knew, whether
they were hip to Hassan or the Russians, but I suspected they were,
why else would they have landed here like the Marines? Whatever, I
would think of some way to ditch these two by the time we landed at
McCarran.

“You can thank me later for saving your ass
from the Turk,” Oscar mumbled through a mouthful of my slice of
Mama Manzano’s pepperoni pizza.

“You mean the Arab,” I said correcting him,
hoping the greasy pepperoni gave him the trots.

“No, I mean the Turk. You never were very
good at pegging suspect’s origins Roode. If they weren’t
Anglo-Saxon you were flummoxed,” Oscar said sarcastically.

“
Turkish, huh?
Hell, I thought Hassan
was an Arab name,” I replied.

“It is Whitey, the Arabs and the Euros have
battled over that land for ages, Islam versus Christianity. You
never heard of Wikipedia? Welcome to the 21st Century gumshoe. By
the way, thanks for the tip, I was wondering what to call that guy
in the surveillance photos, now I know,” Oscar said, laughing as he
finished the last of my slice. Shit! When am I gonna learn that
less is more and keep my trap shut! Too late now, cat’s outta the
bag, I hope jack-hole chokes on the pasta!

“Let’s go Whitey,” Iggie said taking my
arm.

“I’m coming,
I’m coming
…”

****

(“Cause blue eyes you are all that I need. Cause blue
eyes you’re the sweet to my mean…”)…Cary Brothers…2004

Chapter Twenty-seven

Cesar’s Palace…Las Vegas...Tuesday, Feb 24,
2009…12:30pm

Judy Looney checked her wristwatch for the
umpteenth time; it was two minutes later than the last time she
checked. Apparently Whitey Roode’s friends
were
all assholes! At least this Wally character was especially where
promptness was concerned. Oh, and he had a bad attitude too. For a
crime fighter he sure had no tack with a damsel in distress! She’d
been hiding in plain sight for over an hour, knee deep in wannabe
gamblers busily pissing away little
“Johnny’s”
college
tuition on a chance at the next jackpot. Wally told her to lay low
in the Keno parlor because traffic was heavy there since people had
to pass through it to get to either the gaming tables on one side
or the slots on the other. He said he’d meet her there in a few, in
a few what? She’d taken that to mean a few minutes, but she
realized now that he could have meant hours or days! Judy felt so
overly conspicuous, positively naked. She was convinced that
whoever was after her was close; really close, she could feel it in
her bones. Her neck ached from jerking it this way and that with
every sudden movement or new face. She was mentally and physically
exhausted from trying to cover the circumference of the room with
all six of her senses, and was about to leave when Wally the prick
showed up abruptly.

“Dr. Looney I presume,” he said in a monotone
that came off as condescending?

“Jesus! You startled me, Detective Price,”
she asked, holding a hand to her face trying to push the squeal
that escaped her lips back into her mouth?

“In the flesh, may I sit down,” Wally asked
in a gracious tone Judy wasn’t expecting?

“Sure be my guest,” she answered, scooting to
the far side of her own seat unconsciously.

Wally Price sat beside her and quickly
surveyed the room from this new perspective. Actually he had been
there the whole time having arrived shortly before Judy had. Like
any detective worth his salt he knew that the Boy Scouts motto had
it down right,
be prepared
. He had positioned himself at a
“Wheel of Fortune”
slot machine and watched for her arrival.
While he waited he memorized every face in the general area, on the
look out for anyone more interested in Judy than he deemed
reasonable. Anyone might gawk at a beautiful woman, and Judy Looney
was a dish, but a trained observer like Wally Price with thirty
years experience hunting bad guys would notice someone with murder
in their eye. The eyes are the mirrors to the soul,
or
so
they say
.

He had followed her at a safe distance when
she walked into the casino and headed for the Keno Parlor. She
found a seat with her back to the wall. Smart girl he thought,
Whitey knows his dolls. He watched her nervously watching everyone
else. It was probably a little unfair to let her sweat like this,
but if anything was going to happen it would happen when the perp
felt safe enough to try. That was an axiom in the murder game.
Wally waited until his instincts told him it was all clear before
approaching her. Sure, he could have told her about all of this but
it was safer this way. It was better she thought of him as a badge
carrying prick then to have her wise to his tactics and next time
shout out his name in recognition at exactly the wrong moment!
Wally let her eyeball him a moment before opening his yap.

“Alright Dr.Looney…” he began.

“Call me Judy, please,” she said interrupting
him.

“Alright Judy, let’s get down to it. Whitey
says you have some kind of micro thing that contains some
interesting stuff. Some stuff that the Russian mob in LA might be
willing to kill for. Is that about it,” he asked, leaning in close
so that her reply couldn’t be overheard easily? Judy flinched but
answered without hesitating.

“Yeah, that’s it in a nutshell I guess. I
mean I don’t know anything about a Russian mob, I didn’t even know
such a thing existed. The only mobsters I know are Brando, and
Pacino and all the others in those Godfather movies,” she said
managing a weak smile. Wally cleared his throat and leaned in close
enough to whisper in her ear.

“Tell me the truth, did you read everything
on that chip,” he whispered. Judy nodded in the affirmative pursing
her lips as she felt his warm breath on her neck. He had a gyro for
lunch she noticed, she liked Greek food.

“Tell me the truth, did Whitey read it also,”
he asked, his tone remaining hushed?

This time she shook her head in the negative,
she was lying, but her instincts told her to do so, she didn’t know
why? She waited for Wally to move away, but he didn’t. He whispered
in her ear once more.

“Are you quite sure that you are telling me
the truth Judy? Think it over carefully, your life may depend on
it,” he said a little louder this time.

That was it
;
Judy
was officially more pissed than scared now and she was about to
tell him where to get off when she heard a soft
“pffft”
sound and
Wally
suddenly slumped onto her shoulder. She
tried to push him off of her but he was heavy, like dead weight.
She discovered why instantly when she saw a tiny trail of blood
trickle down his forehead and into two very cold very dead eyes.
Judy swallowed a scream and pulled him back to her like a long lost
lover and surveyed the crowed room. Nobody seemed to notice
anything was out of the ordinary even though she could actually
hear her own heartbeat booming like the cannonade in Beethoven’s
Fifth Symphony! She started thinking about what to do next but she
didn’t get to think very long. A split second later a gruff older
man in a tattered gray suit walked up to her. He sat down
confidently and quietly as you please; on the opposite side of the
dead weight resting on her shoulder. Mr. Gruff held a chubby
forefinger up to his lips and told her to shut up with his eyes,
which looked as cold as the ones on the stiff, only his were blue
instead of shit brown like Wally’s.

The ragtag man, in his late fifties she
guessed, reached over and felt for a pulse with one hand and
flashed his LVMP credentials with the other. Judy gasped,
she’d been had
. The stiff on her shoulder wasn’t Detective
Wally Price, the man in the rumpled suit was. Judy started to swoon
as if she would faint, realizing just how close to her own death
she had come. The real Wally Price grabbed her and stood her up in
one swift movement and they were halfway to the nearest exit before
she caught enough breath to say anything.

“WAIT,
WAIT
,” she hissed shaking loose
from the hold Wally had on her elbow!

“
What
the hell was that man?
Who
the hell was that man?”

“Not here Dr. Looney, let’s take it outside
before someone figures out that fella on your shoulder isn’t just
sleeping it off,” Wally said quietly but forcefully.

Judy sized him up quickly, how did she know
that
this
was the real Wally Price? She never saw the guy
before and Whitey never actually described him, other than to say
that he was an old friend willing to help us? She was scared and
this guy was standing on her last raw nerve. She felt a panic
attack coming on when he suddenly said the magic word.

“
Stifle
doll
face
, Uncle Wally has everything under control,” he said
nonchalantly.

Only Whitey Roode’s friends talked that way,
like they walked straight out of a Humphrey Boart movie, minus the
cigarette though, none of Whitey’s friends smoked, that was weird?
It was weirder that she even thought of that given the jam she was
in, but that’s how the human psyche works, it distracts you from
painful experiences with laughter or trivia, strange.

“Okay, okay, just tell me you’re the real
Wally Price, Detective Wally Price,” she said calming down. She
allowed him to gently take her by the arm again and lead her out of
the casino.

“That’s right sweetness, Detective Wallace
Jordan Price, at your service. Now, let’s get the fuck out of here,
I’ve got some more bad news for you. I guess this must be your
unlucky day doll, sorry,” Wally said as they passed through the
glass door from the air conditioned room into an unseasonably hot
February afternoon.

Judy flinched at the blast of hot air and
Wally put on a pair of cheap shades. He steered her toward the
parking lot and his waiting car as his eyes covered the 180 degrees
in front of them. He knew that he hadn’t dropped whoever that Arab
bastard was back there, and he was certain that whoever did was
watching them both right now; and possibly taking aim as well.

****

(“Understand what I’ve become It wasn’t my design And
people everywhere think I am something better than I am But I miss
you”) Cranberries

Chapter Twenty-eight

McCarran Airport…Las Vegas...Tuesday, Feb
24, 2009…3:30pm

If it hadn’t have been for the fact that
Rebecca Tran was seated between us I do believe that I would have
grabbed Iggie by his Windsor knot and dragged him (still yammering
no doubt) to the head and flushed him down the john on out into the
sweet silence of 39,000 feet! The old fossil whined and complained
the entire trip and I could see by a few of Becca’s facial
expressions that she wasn’t as tired as I was of all his noise. We
covered the 231 air miles between Los Angeles and Las Vegas in 48
minutes versus the quoted 55 thanks to a merciful tail wind,
further proof that God isn’t always out to mess with my life! I’m
pretty sure that I’ll have a lot of explaining to do when it’s my
turn at the Captain’s Mast way up in the great beyond. I guess I
won’t need any tap shoes then, you can’t deceive the fella who
invented truth. Where that concept is concerned all of Humanity
will have turn in the hot seat. There’s no hiding from the alpha
and the omega or so the penguins hammered into us every time they
called for us to turn in our homework. I’m sorry, I get preachy
when I’m irritated (Iggie), thank goodness we’re here.

“Turn your cell phone back on Whitey and give
Wally a call while we wait for the crowd to thin,” Iggie said,
leaning back in his seat for the first time since we boarded the
packed Southwest flight.

“Okie-dokie,” I replied, digging into my
jacket pocket for my trusty Samsung. Becca excused herself when
accidently nudged me while she stretched in the cramped space that
was the fuselage of a Boeing 737-NG. I smiled at her and gave her a
wink that I hoped conveyed that it was my pleasure to be sure. She
blushed and picked up the first distraction she could find, the
airplane’s emergency pamphlet in the seat pocket in front of her.
Hmmm, interesting, maybe there was a coffee date in our future,
providing I survived all this of course? I had to fish a little
deeper in my pocket to retrieve the little spiral note pad I had
jotted Wally’s new number on. As soon as I flipped far enough back
(should have started from the back…never fails) I punched in the
nine digits including the area code and waited for an answer. Wally
picked up on the second ring, jackpot!

“
Price,”
he barked! He
sounded pre-occupied?

“Wally, it’s Whitey, I’m in town. Have you
met up with Judy yet,” I asked?

“Yeah, I did, and you’re early, I wasn’t
expecting you till tonight?”

“Change of plans, I flew and I’m not alone,”
I answered. Rebecca scolded me for saying so with a tight lipped
huff. Iggie did likewise, but I didn’t care.

“I thought we were a tea here,” I said
covering the phone with my hand.

“Less is more Whitey, just tell him we’re on
our way to his precinct,” Iggie said, sliding his finger along his
throat subtlety telling me to cut the conversation short.

“Ah, listen Wally; we need to deplane, so
I’ll fill you in at the station house. We’ll be there in forty-five
or so.

“Change of plans here too old buddy. Meet me
at the Union Plaza Hotel, room 3023, I’ll fill you in. By the way,
it’s a crime scene so make sure your escort flashes his badge. It’s
not Iggie is it?”

“Oh yeah, you pegged it. And what do you mean
it’s a crime scene? Is Judy alright? What about Ronnie? Did she
tell you about the chip,” I replied, rambling as my mind started
conjuring all sorts of unpleasant scenarios?