So I was relegated to serve as Eddie’s gofer. I sighed. “Give me thirty minutes.”
True to his word, I saw Eddie leaning against the front counter drumming his nails on the solid wood top. The desk clerk was engaged in a conversation with my ubiquitous buddy, Marco Fabian himself. As I walked up, I could hear his whistling lisp berating the clerk.
“Has my package arrived yet?” he asked. “I instructed the person yesterday to notify me as soon as it arrives.”
“Not at this time, sir,” the clerk was saying. Fabian still looked like that angry pelican. He spouted off a few more orders to the clerk and turned to leave. That’s when Eddie’s venality got the better of him.
“Say,” the party animal said, “I happen to be a dentist and couldn’t help but notice your jaw. You have a skeletal Class III malocculsion, better known as an anterior crossbite. May I?” He reached up and tried to touch Fabian’s protruding jaw. The other man’s head jerked back defensively.
“Keep your hands off me!” he said. He drew his balled-up fist back.
Eddie recoiled and for a moment I thought he might even blush. “Hey, I’m a doctor of dental surgery, sir. A professional. I specialize in helping people like you.” He leaned his head back, scrutinizing the prognathic jaw. “There are several procedures I could use, but they would all leave you looking like Rock Hudson.”
Rock Hudson? I mentally groaned.
The dark eyes glowed with anger. I was afraid Fabian was going to deck Eddie so I stepped up, trying to use my midwestern roots to extinguish this fire.
“Say, didn’t I see you on the plane from Chicago?”
Fabian turned his dark gaze on me. It looked cold enough to freeze water. Without speaking to either of us, he stormed away.
I looked at Eddie. “What exactly were you trying to do?”
He rolled his head in an aww-shucks gesture and grinned, showing his white teeth again. “Hell, I’m always cruising for a new customer, and the
best way to do that, I’ve found, is self-promotion. That’s why I’m so successful.”
I glanced after Fabian’s retreating form as he entered the opening elevator. “You call that success?”
“Hey, I wasn’t like you, having GI bennies pay for my schooling. I had to work my way through college selling these aluminum pots and pans. That’s how I learned, you’ve got to be able to approach people, to sell yourself.”
I shot him a skeptical look.
“You should have paid more attention in your practice management class.” He flashed a sly grin. “If there’s one thing I learned, it’s that there’s a sucker born every minute. Plus, I’ve got two greedy exes to support.”
I was willing to bet that this time next year, the number would be three.
“How about that Luigi?” Eddie was grinning as we headed over to the church. “Don’t that tux fit like it was made for you?”
“As well as I’m sure his bridge does.”
Eddie laughed. “I’m just like a Lexus. Relentlessly pursuing perfection. And the dollars that go with it.”
Alicia, who was in the backseat, reached over and slapped his shoulder. “Don’t be so cynical.”
“What?” Eddie made a half-assed attempt to look wounded. “I got a right to do follow-up work on things, don’t I? Jim’ll tell you.”
Not wanting to get in the middle of what I hoped would be their penultimate pre-wedding day disagreement, I kept my mouth shut.
“So I bill his insurance for a little occlusal adjustment. Who gets hurt?”
“You should be nicer to him, all he did for you with the tuxes,” she said.
“Nicer? He’s got some great-looking choppers now. Thanks to yours truly.”
“And what about the insurance company?” she shot back. “Somebody still has to pay, right?”
“And that’s all part of the game of life,” Eddie said, his expression showing that he obviously felt he’d scored the deciding run. “You didn’t see him offering to give us a free ride on the tux rentals, did ya?”
I stretched and glanced in the side mirror, catching a glimpse of a silver Lincoln following us. The “objects may be closer than they appear” mirror made it impossible to tell, but I almost thought I caught a glimpse of a long-jawed driver who looked vaguely familiar. I turned to look out the back window, but the Lincoln slowed and made a right turn.
“See something?” Eddie asked.
I shook my head. “Not really.”
“Oh,” he said, “I figured you spotted a nice looking chick.”
Alicia reached up and slapped him again.
As wedding rehearsals went, this one was pretty typical. The minister gave us the rundown, and we practiced our entries. I was partnered with a maid of honor who looked young enough to be my daughter. I wondered if anyone would mistake Eddie for the father of the bride. Still, Alicia had turned out to be a very nice young lady, and, since it was her first wedding, she’d insisted on wearing white. I glanced at my watch and mentally calculated the hours until my return flight on Sunday.
Eddie had informed me that we were dropping Alicia off at her girlfriend’s so she could have her bachelorette bash. “Then we’re going to your hotel for my party,” he said.
“Haven’t you already had one of those?”
“Yeah.” He grinned. “Twice. The third time’s gotta be the charm. I’ve got a couple of strippers lined up that’ll do the deed. They been rehearsing this act called ‘The Dentist.’”
“Hey wait a minute,” I said. “I don’t want to get mixed up in that sort of thing.”
“Aww, relax. They’re strippers, not hookers.” He grinned again. “Plus, it’ll just show some innocuous business name.”
Frowning, I shot him a glance that told him how I felt about it.
When we got to the hotel, our first stop was the bar. Eddie had two martinis and I had a virgin piña colada. I figured one of us needed to remain sober. He was busy punching in numbers on his cell phone and frowning
when the call seemed to take time getting connected. Finally he got hold of someone and reconfirmed the strippers were coming. He was getting sloppy now, as he covered the mouthpiece with his hand and asked me loudly, “What’s your room number again?”
I felt like belting him, but relented, against my better judgment. I said, “Four twenty-five,” in as low a voice as I could.
“Got that? Four twenty-five!” He was speaking so loudly now practically everyone in the damn bar must have heard him. “Forty minutes? Good.” He terminated the call, then leaned drunkenly toward me, placing a hand on my shoulder and confiding that he was ready for them.
“You don’t look so ready,” I said.
“Whatcha mean?” His face grew lugubrious for a second, as if I’d insulted his manhood. Then the sly look reappeared and he withdrew a mouth mirror out of his pocket. “Don’t leave home without it.”
I nodded, but he shook his head.
“This,” he said, edging closer to me and looking around to make sure no one else saw, “is what they call a multifaceted tool.” He gripped the small, circular mirror and twisted. Suddenly the end slipped off and a shiny blade protruded from the end. His voice was a whisper now. “See, when they tie me up, so they think I can’t grab their boobies, I just slip this outta my back pocket, and presto! In no time flat my hands are free to roam.”
I watched his self-congratulatory simper as he tried to reassemble the mouth mirror. Finally, I grabbed it and did it myself, handing it back to him and watching him try three times before finally slipping it back into his rear pants pocket.
He had one more drink while I nursed mine, glancing at my watch. Maybe he’d be so drunk that I could just slip the strippers a quick tip and get rid of them at the door. I could tuck Eddie onto the couch in the room so I could get some sleep. It was already getting late, by my standards.
We went up to the room and Eddie ordered a bottle of champagne on ice. When he mumbled to charge it to the room, I thought seriously about cutting his wedding gift in half. Donna had convinced me that it would be
best, considering the groom’s proclivities, to just give money inside a card. The universal gift. But I was thinking about including a copy of
How to Win Friends and Influence People
.
The knock at the door startled me. Figuring it was the strippers arriving early, I went to open it and got the shock of my life. Roland Vanderberg stood in the doorway looking somber. His next words answered my unspoken query.
“Dr. Link, we have to leave right away.”
“What are you talking about? And what are you doing here?”
He licked his lips. “It’s your wife and daughter, sir. There’s been an accident.”
Eddie came over and stood by the doorway looking as dumbfounded as I felt. He blinked several times and began fishing in his pocket for his keys.
“Where are they?” I asked, reaching for my cell phone.
“I’ve got the hospital number on my cell,” Roland said. “Let’s go down to the lobby.”
He stepped back, allowing the door to slowly close. I rushed over, grabbing it, but it swung inward from a hard push. Roland came inside with it, followed by Mr. Pelican himself, Marco Fabian. He held a long pistol that I realized had a sound suppressor on it.
“Don’t move,” he said.
I looked at the black hole of the barrel and raised my hands.
Fabian motioned for Eddie to raise his also, but the alcohol was obviously overriding his better judgment. He smirked and said, “Why? What are you gonna do? Shoot me?”
Fabian moved forward with a quick step and backhanded Eddie across the face. The blow left a red mark on his cheek. The Pelican then jammed the elongated barrel into Eddie’s soft gut.
“You wanna make more fun of my jaw now, ash-hole?” His face showed a controlled rage, the dark eyes full of hate.
Eddie raised his hands, saying, “Okay, okay. I didn’t mean anything about your underbite. I was only trying to offer some professional advice.”
“Shaddup,” Fabian said, cocking his arm back again. Eddie cringed but
no blow came. Fabian turned to Vanderberg. “You get their keys. I think we’ll use this dude’s Lexus. It’s time to go start another one of them wildfires.”
“Roland, what’s this all about?” I asked.
He compressed his lips and looked down at the floor as he went through Eddie’s pockets.
“What about my family?”
“They’re fine.” He swallowed hard. “It was just a ruse. I’m sorry.”
A ruse? Suddenly it all came together in my head. Good old venal Roland. I should have seen this coming. “Montoya. He bought you off, didn’t he?” Vanderberg seemed to wither under my stare. “You Judas.”
“Look, I didn’t have any choice,” he said. “They made me do it. I owe them a lot of money. This’ll get me out from under.” His eyes met mine for a fleeting second and I suddenly knew how this little train wreck was going to play out. A nice, convenient accident in the desert somewhere, with drunken Eddie strategically placed behind the wheel. We’d both be conveniently killed, I’d miss testifying before the Grand Jury to obtain the search warrant for the original plaster mold, which was probably already being destroyed, and Montoya’s trial date would never arrive. Vanderberg fished the keys out of Eddie’s pocket and handed them to Fabian. He shook his head and tossed two plastic flex-cuffs on the bed.
“You’re gonna drive that one,” he said. “Now tie their hands.”
He looked hesitant, and the Pelican barked a repeat of the order. “Do it! Do it now!”
As Vanderberg grabbed my hands he muttered, “Sorry, Doctor.”
“What makes you think they’ll let you off the hook, Roland?” The moment they took us out of the room, we were as good as dead. “Once you’re in this, you’re a liability.”
My words had little or no effect. He tightened the plastic band around my wrists so I couldn’t move my hands. Fabian fingered Eddie’s keys, then handed them to Vanderberg.
“You drive this one,” he started to say, then his dark eyes flashed at the
sound of a knocking on the door. “Go see who it is. Use the peephole.” He turned to us and pointed the barrel of the pistol at Eddie’s forehead. “Not a sound.”
Vandenberg moved to the door, then scampered back. “It’s two bimbos.”
“They alone?”
“Looks like it.”
Fabian considered this for a moment, then tapped the long barrel on Eddie’s forehead. “Who are they? Hookers?”
“They’re not hookers, they’re just strippers,” Eddie said. Tears rolled down his swollen cheek. “It’s my bachelor party tonight.”
Fabian stared at him intently. Another knock, more persistent this time, caused him to smirk. Turning to Vanderberg, he said, “This might work out better than I figured. Go answer the door. Tell them things ain’t ready yet and take ’em downstairs for a drink.”
Vanderberg blanched. “I wasn’t supposed to get this involved. Montoya promised—”
Fabian whirled and grabbed him by his shirt, doubling it up inside his fist. “You do what I tell ya! Now go take ’em downstairs. When I call your cell, take ’em to the Lexus.”
“How am I going to do that?”
Fabian pulled Vanderberg’s face close to his. His voice was low, guttural. “Tell ’em you got some weed in the trunk. I don’t care, just do it.”
He released Vanderberg with a rough shove and I almost wished he would have shot him. I know I wanted to.
Straightening his collar, Vanderberg moved to the door, opened it slightly, and began to step out. I could already hear him exuding that unctuous, artificial charm. The son of a bitch.
Fabian waggled the long barrel at us. “Come on, we’re taking the stairs. And if either of you tries anything, I’ll shoot you both and leave you laying there.”
My mind raced. I’d been an airborne ranger before I’d entered dental school, and had seen a little action in Operation Urgent Fury. I’d learned
that escape was best accomplished before your enemy was totally set up, using the element of surprise. But with my hands tied behind me, I also knew I’d be dead before I could do anything. We went to the door and Fabian opened it, glancing up and down the hallway, then motioning us out. He draped a jacket over the long-barreled pistol and carried it down by his side. “Go down that way to the stairs,” he said. “Real slow.”