Dead Nolte (25 page)

A
black Bentley was parked in the weeds next to the house. It was hidden from
view until Ron had pulled his car up to the curb.

“Nice ride.”

“It’s a good sign that our money’s inside.” In a few
minutes, Ron was about to be a seven hundred and fifty thousand dollars richer,
yet, there was a 'too good to be true' feeling gnawing at his gut. “Have you
asked yourself, if what we’re doing is wrong, yet?”

“What do you mean wrong.”

“Nolte spent the last part of his life working toward this
one goal. This was his second chance, maybe. You don’t feel like maybe we are
robbing him of it?”

“Why does he of all people get a second chance, huh?” Charlie
scoffed. “He was the most miserable son of a bitch I ever knew. Every fucking
play he ever made had a 'for sure thing' outcome in his favor, or he wouldn’t
do it. He never did one fucking thing out of the goodness of his heart. You
want to know why?” He paused and looked at Ron, although he knew his brother
knew the answer. “Because, that sorry piece of shit has no goodness in his
heart.”

“Don’t you think that everyone deserves a second chance?”

“He backed every play he ever made. He never needed a second
chance; the deck was always stacked in his favor.”

“What if there is a Hell and we’re sending him to it? How do
we justify that with our greed?”

“After all this, you still wonder if there’s a Hell. There’s
a Hell, buddy, but he sent himself there. I don’t see why that mother fucker
would deserve a do-over. We all get one chance to make the right choice. I’ll
answer for mine, you’ll answer for yours and Nolte will answer for his. I’ll
bet you my half of the cash, waiting on the other side of that door over there,
if Nolte was told this very minute that all he had to do was ask for
forgiveness, he would turn it down. You’re shining a light on something, better
left unexamined.” Charlie pulled the door handle and the door popped open a
crack. “Now let’s go get our fucking money. There’s a Mississippi riverboat
callin’ my name.”

“You’re buying me a window and a fucking seat before you
piss your half away.”

As soon as Charlie’s shoe landed on the first step, the door
to the house creaked and the screen door swung open, there, in a lime green
dress, had to be the oldest, most wore out hooker in New Orleans.

“Get da fuck in heeya, ta to. You gone wake-up da whole
neighborhood.”

Charlie looked back over his shoulder as he stepped across
the threshold. “What fucking neighborhood?”

“You da talkative one, you
is
, ta
to. Mama hear
you
ass yappin’ all manner a
foolishness, outter inna car.” The old woman grabbed Charlie by the shoulder
and hurried him into the room. Ron received the same welcome. “You too,
muffucker, git
you
ass in heeya.” The witch poked her
head out the door and looked up and down the street. “Where
you
daddy? I cain’t feel dat white boy?”

“We haven’t seen him for a while. We don’t need him to make
this business happen, do we?” The empty house made his voice echo.

“Nah, we don’ need da white boy, ta to. We don’ need him fer
sho’.” The old witch made her way to the doorway leading to the back of the
cracker box house. “Da white boys
is
heeya, an’ dey be
lookin’ greedy, ta to.” She said, her voice had taken on a soft hush. The witch
moved to one side of the door to allow the most beautiful woman Ron had ever
put his eyes on, to pass into the room.

“This heeya be Miss Azazel, white boys, she da one be paying
you ass for da thing you brung.”

Ron could hear Charlie’s foot scuffing the floor, a nervous
tick that always popped up around beautiful women. Ron stepped toward Azazel,
offering his hand. The old witch quickly intervened by stepping between them.

“Reel back you tongue, White Boy, Miss Azazel be royalty an’
you ain’t gone touch her wit you foul dick skinners. Show da thing you brung,
Boy.”

Digging into the front pocket of his jeans, he produced a
small flat wad of gray duct tape; he held it up, pinched between his finger and
thumb.

Azazel chuckled, the most wonderful sound Ron had ever
heard. “Did you find the patina of the coin pleasurable to the touch?”

Her voice was more magnificent than her laughter. He shook
his head no. “It, uh.” Ron stammered and began to peel away the layers of tape
he’d used to protect himself from the unwholesome feeling the coin produced in
him. “It doesn’t feel right, it feels wrong. It
uh,…
”
He felt as idiotic as he sounded. “You might want to put some gloves on if you
have some.” Azazel stepped toward him and held out a slender, perfectly formed
hand. Ron quickly stripped away the last of the gray tape and felt instantly
sick in the pit of his stomach. He dropped the naked shekel in Azazel’s palm,
regretting he hadn’t taken time to remove the sticky residue; the duct tape had
left behind.

Closing her lovely fingers into a small fist around the
coin, a soft moan escaped her. Ron was blinded by the warm glow of her smile.
If love, at first sight, were possible, this had to be it.

Charlie was amazed by the foolish display of his brother.
There was no questioning how hot this chick was, on a scale of one to ten, she
was scalding, but Ron had always had a way with women. He had a calm, cool,
collected swagger about him, it was always Charlie who got tongue-tied and
tamped his hoof like Mr. Ed. Most of the time, Ron was already checking into a
motel, while Charlie was still struggling to pronounce his name correctly in an
introduction. Ron appeared to be fucked. If money was going to change hands,
Charlie was going to have to make it happen. “Uh, about the money, do you think
we could have it please?”

The old witch looked at Azazel, who returned a slight nod.
The witch walked into the back room and returned with what looked like a check,
to Charlie. “I thought this was a cash deal?” he asked as the witch handed him
the check. Charlie smiled. “You seem to have misspelled the word million, you
spelled it thousand.”

Laughter erupted from Azazel. Ron’s eyes never left her
face, he hadn’t heard a word. “You will have to excuse Mama; she’s rather
frugal when it comes to monetary matters. I’ve heard it said that in financial
dealings if her lips are moving, she is lying. Run and get the satchel Mama.”

She was surprisingly fast for someone of her apparent age.
This time, she returned with ratty, baby blue Samsonite. She tossed it on the
floor at Charlie’s feet. “I would tell you to count da money, but I don’ think
you got dat many fingers an’ toes.”

Azazel ran a long pink fingernail down the length of Ron’s
forearm. “You were right. Mama, he’s perfect.” Ron grinned like an idiot.

“He a’ight fer a white boy. Prolly has hisself a tiny
pecker.”

Charlie knelt and cracked open the case. It was a shit ton
of money, more than he’d ever seen in one place. Bundles of hundreds worth ten
thousand a piece, now he had a true visual the next time he heard the phrase,
‘fat stacks’. He closed the suitcase and looked over at Ron. “What the fuck is
wrong with you?” His brother was mesmerized by Princess Payday. “It looks like
it’s all here, even if it’s short, it’s a butt load of money. Let’s get the
fuck out of here, Romeo.” Charlie stood and grabbed the handle of the
Samsonite. A million five was heavy.

His brother ignored him.

“Romeo, would you like to come with me?” Azazel asked in a
pouty childlike voice. “You would, wouldn’t you? There is something I would
like to show you.” Ron nodded, he couldn’t believe his luck. Charlie was going
to have to fuck off for a bit, he wasn’t passing on this.

“Why don’t you take the cash and get a room at a hotel. Call
my cell and let me know where you’re staying. I’m going to take Miss Azazel to
lunch.” Ron tossed Charlie his keys.

“Whatever you say, love monkey, I’ll think I’ll donate some
of your share to the Harleys for Charlie Foundation.”

“What are you doing with him Azazel?”

The voice behind him made Charlie jump and spin on his heel,
the heavy suitcase almost pulling him over. It was the undercover cop, from
Nolte’s. He tightened his grip on the handle. “Where in the fuck did you come
from?” He stepped to one side of the room to get a better angle for the door.

“There are rules concerning free will Azazel, you are not
above them.”

Azazel smiled and stepped closer to Ron. “I’m not governing
him, Michael; he just likes what he sees.

“He doesn’t know what he’s seeing.”

“Is this a sting?” Charlie interrupted. He looked to Ron and
gave him a nod toward the door. Ron smiled and gave him a nod toward Azazel.

“Did you get the Shekel of Tyre?” Michael asked.

Azazel held out her hand and showed the angel. “It’s
beautiful isn’t it?”

“It’s an abomination.” Michael turned his attention to Ron.
“She’s not what she appears to be, friend; she’s playing with your head. You
two need to leave.”

“He’ll be fine, Michael. Things are about to change and I
can keep him safe.” Azazel lifted her hand so Michael could better see the
coin. “Good times.” She turned to Ron and ran her fingers through the hair
above his ear. “Let’s go, honey, I’m peckish.” Taking Ron’s hand in hers, she
strode to the door. “No rules have been broken, Michael. Paul told them to put
on the full armor of God, but no one ever listens”

“What are you going to do with the shekel, Azazel?”

“You will see.”

Ron bit the tip of his tongue in a grin and gave Charlie a
thumb’s up, on the down low as he passed.

The archangel stood at the door until the Bentley had pulled
away. Charlie had quietly made his way to the doorway leading to the back room.
The only other exit from the house was covered with a sheet of plywood. He
turned and started for the front door.

“What did she do to him?” Michael gave Charlie a worried
look.

Charlie shrugged. “She offered him a blow job.” Charlie
didn’t talk to cops.

Mama giggled, “Come heeya, Mikey, I give you a wet one.”

“What’s she going to do with him, demon?”

“You know I jes gone lie to you, Mikey. Why you even ask?”

Charlie stepped toward the door and Michael headed him off.
“You might want to stick around; your brother didn’t just go on a lunch date.”

Michael crossed the room in an instant, his fingers wrapped
around the old woman’s throat.

“Iya principality Mikey, you have no authority to visit
death on me.”

“No I don’t, but guess who I came here with?” Michael felt
the demon try to jump and chuckled. “Every single one of you knows you can’t do
that around us, but every single one of you tries.” He released the grip on the
witch’s throat, one finger at a time. “I’m going to ask you one more time
before I get Jerry in here. What did she do to him?”

“Fuck you, Mikey, he not wit you. You think Mama be stupid.
You woulda call him by now, ta to.”

“He’s busy with Baal. Have you ever known one of us, not to
tell the truth?” Michael asked

“There is another cop with him,” Charlie spoke up. The
suitcase was getting heavy, but he wanted to know what was going on. It was
unlike Ron to trust Charlie with money of any sum. Something was up.

“Dis heeya ain’t no cop, White Boy.”

“Fuck this.” Michael grabbed the witch by a bony arm and
dragged her to the front door. He opened his mouth and the sound of wind chimes
rang out.

In the distance, Charlie could hear the screech of tires and
a car engine racing. It grew louder until he heard it jump the curb and slide
to a stop in the weeds.

Mama recognized Jeremiel before he had a chance to shut the
door of the limo. “No, Mama tell you this thing, ta to. I jes playin’.”

“Who’s this, Michael?” Jeremiel looked the demon over.

“Well, she wanted to meet you. She tells me you’re her
favorite archangel.” The witch started to struggle against Michael’s grasp. He
wrapped his free arm around her chest.

Jeremiel walked up to the steps and the witch began to flail
in Michael’s grip. “Azazel do nuthin’ to da white boy! He be thinkin’ wit his
dick!” The old woman panted and shouted. It seemed she couldn’t speak fast
enough. “She gone rip a hole in hell wit da Jesus money! Da two white boys do
dis thing on dey own. I dinnit fuck wit nobody free will!” Her bare feet
scraped and slipped on the concrete porch as she tried to distance herself from
Jeremiel.

“Where did she go, demon?” Jeremiel asked.

“She at da Mazarin, she gonna clean up da white boy.”

Michael dropped the demon in a heap on the steps and rubbed
his hands on his jeans. “That was the truth.” He turned to Charlie. “I’m not a
cop and I can’t make you do anything, but we need to get your brother away from
the woman he’s with, she’s not what she seems.”

Charlie walked to Ron’s car and popped the trunk. More glass
fell out of the back window. He took one of the bundles of hundreds out of the
suitcase and stuck it in the back pocket of his jeans. “I’ll follow you.” He
slammed the trunk to another trickle of glass.

Michael nodded at Jeremiel.

Before he could shut the car door, Jeremiel was there. “You
can’t drive this; you have a flat tire. You can ride with us.” The angel walked
to the front of the car and kicked the tire off the rim. The air rushed out in
a muffled bump and the car dropped with a clunk in a cloud of dust.

“Holy shit!” Charlie screamed. Amazed at the apparent ease
the man had used to destroy a car tire. “What the fuck are you doing?” He got
out and looked at the tire. “Fucking retard strength.” He said to himself.

“Don’t worry, you can ride with us.” The angel said.

“You couldn’t use your words, asshole?” Charlie walked to
the back of the car and popped the trunk and Jeremiel pushed it back down.