Serge pointed at the bowls. “I ordered the pupu platter. Try the crab Rangoon.”
“Serge, I have something important-“
“Bet you’re impressed I picked the Mai-Kai.” Serge glanced around at decorative coconuts, wicker and ceremonial face masks. “Since 1956, Polynesian splendor on the side of Federal Highway, recently mentioned by a Colombian hit man as a rendezvous point in the excellent documentary Cocaine Cowboys, now out on DVD.”
“This is serious!”
Serge opened a leatherbound menu. “I’m leaning toward the Singapore prawns.”
“Forget food! I need to tell you something-“
He was interrupted by loudness at the front of the room.
“Hold that thought.” Serge bent over to sip iced coffee through a straw from a hollowed-out souvenir fertility statue. “Stage show’s starting.”
A feverish beat of South Pacific drums filled the room as men in authentic loincloths twirled flaming batons. In the middle, five women, sensuous hips and grass skirts, gyrating at an astounding rate.
“Serge-“
“Isn’t Story great?” He took another sip. “Thought I was immune to exotic dancing, but this hula business is an entirely different proposition.”
“Serge! It’s Story I want to talk about!”
Still watching the stage: “What about her? … Hold it …” He turned to Mahoney in alarm. “You’re not speaking noir.”
“Back on my meds.”
Serge slumped in his chair. “Now why’d you go and do that? We had a thing, you and me.”
“I know what you’ve been into.”
“Enlighten.”
“Picking off the Eel’s gang.”
“Why would I do something like that?”
“Your code. They beat Howard pretty good. But not good enough. Left a living witness. There’s a contract out on him, which I’m guessing you already knew.”
“If I cared.”
“Serge, you don’t have to play coy. I gave you my word, so I can’t take you in on this. But let us handle it. They moved Howard to another hospital under an assumed name, and he’s got around-the-clock police protection.”
“President Kennedy had protection.”
“There’s more. A contract on you, too. The mess at those motels, not to mention down Homestead way.”
“Me?”
“Damn it! What do I have to say?”
“That you’ll stop taking your meds.”
Mahoney looked toward the stage. “Remember when I asked if you’d met anyone new, possibly even traveling with them? Someone who might be feeding info on your movements to whoever wants you dead?”
“Yeah, back at Harry and the Natives.”
“I was wrong.”
“This is a first.”
“It’s Story.”
“What about her?”
“She’s not passing info. She’s after you herself.”
“That’s crazy.”
“I would have thought so too, until I found out she’s Howard’s sister.”
Serge’s head snapped back. “You’re shitting me.”
“Been using you to lead her to the gang. Steve ring a bell?”
“I didn’t kill Steve.”
“I know.”
“Another first.”
“Don’t get all happy. I’d have bet anything it was you until I saw the tape.”
“Tape?”
Mahoney reached down for his briefcase and opened a laptop on the table. “Security camera at the end of the motel hallway. I downloaded the digitized footage.”
The agent turned the computer toward Serge. On the grainy screen, a woman walked down the hall. Stiletto heels, mini skirt, big hair. She stopped in front of a door and knocked.
“That’s Steve’s room,” said Mahoney.
“I get it now. Barracuda hooker. One of the oldest scams,” said Serge. “Getting her foot in the door to let the Eel’s hit men in.”
“There are no hit men.”
“What are you talking about?”
Mahoney fast-forwarded the video. The woman came back out and closed the door.
“She’s the killer?” said Serge.
“Keep watching.”
The woman walked back down the hall toward the elevators. As she grew closer to the camera, facial features became recognizable.
“It’s Story!” Serge smacked himself in the forehead. “Of course. Said she was studying.”
“Believe me now?”
“I believe she wants revenge for Howard. But there’s no way she’d whack me.”
“Howard was pretty incoherent by the time she got to the hospital. The police guard overheard him mention your name before going back under.”
“But I’m Howard’s friend. If she’s using me to get to the gang, she must know I want the same thing she does.”
“Serge, she’s not using you to lead her to the gang because she thinks you’re after them. It’s because she thinks you’re one of them.”
“What!”
“At first she wasn’t sure. Just had your name mumbled from her brother’s lips. So she went to the convention center show where Howard was supposed to appear next, figuring you’d be there, which you were, then followed you to the Skynyrd bar.”
“That is a big coincidence,” said Serge. “But it still doesn’t explain why she thinks I’m with the crew who attacked her brother.”
“Think about it,” said Mahoney. “All your cloak-and-dagger to infiltrate the gang, meeting with Steve, the guys at the Wreck Lounge …”
“You know about that?”
“… Surreptitious phone calls, feeding disinformation on nonexistent couriers-everything you did was designed to fool the gang into thinking you were a legit and let you in. Meanwhile, she’s been observing the whole time. Your plan worked too well. It also fooled her.”
Serge looked back toward the stage. Tahitian drums beat louder. Story’s hips reached blinding speed. “I don’t know …”
“Okay, if nothing else,” said Mahoney. “Doesn’t it seem a bit odd she’s still hanging with you?”
“We’re an item.”
“Please!”
Serge’s head sagged. “I thought it was too good to be true, View-Master and all.”
“How are you going to handle it?” asked Mahoney.
“Ambush.”
“You’re going to kill her just for being mistaken?”
Serge shook his head. “The Benevolent Ambush. If I wait for her to come to me, it might not turn out too well. I need to get the drop when she least expects it so I can explain everything without having to dodge bullets.”
“Isn’t she staying with you?”
“No. Packed everything up before her audition earlier today and moved in with roommates at her new school.” “That fits with everything I just told you.” “When you’re right, you’re right.”
“Serge, I know how stubborn you are, so you’re not going to like what I’m about to say next, but I want you to leave town, the whole state would be even better. Just until this blows over. I promise I’ll take care of the gang.”
“No can do.”
“Damn it, Serge! A crew is after you, Story’s after you and … I shouldn’t be telling you this but I’m way past the point of caring about whatever’s left of my career: State agents are closing in. They’ve been homing off your laptop’s wi-fi connection. You’ve been lucky because you move around so much, but it’s just a matter of time.”
“Have to stay. It’s a question of character, my loyalty to Howard.”
“Can’t you be reasonable this one time? I don’t have a good feeling.”
“Neither do I,” said Serge. “But nobody lives forever. Had a good run.” He reached down in his lap and placed a large, lumpy envelope on the table. He slid it across to Mahoney.
“What’s this?”
“Addresses and keys. Various storage lockers around the state.”
“Please tell me you’re not keeping bodies in refrigerators.”
“My Floridiana collection. If anything happens to me, I want you to be my executor-split it with Howard. That second page is the request for my funeral arrangements.”
“Serge, you’re scaring me. Don’t talk like that.”
“In return for the treasure trove, a small favor.”
“What’s that?”
“Adopt Coleman.”
“Huh?”