Shoot the Moon

Chapter Twenty-Nine - Let's Give The Man A Big Hand

I called TJ and filled him in on Mickey's resurrection from the dead and ran out to find a cab.

I had a lot to do in a short time because Echo's recital at the Joyce started at 8:00 and it was already five. The days were getting short and by the time I was in the East Village the sun was down.

I rang the bell again at Veeva and Charley's apartment on Second Avenue. For the fifth time there was no answer. As I thought there wouldn't be. The body in the tub wasn't Mickey but I had a good idea who it was. I hardly expected them to pop open the door and throw up their hands and surrender. I turned to go down the stairs and stopped.

In the street below Cruz's limo waited. The doors opened and the Ghost got out and Junior, the boxer I'd dunked in the toilet, who had come after me with the machete. He was limping but he still had his leg. Behind them was a six and a half footer, who must have weighed over two-eighty.

They spread out at the bottom of the stoop and looked up at me.

I said, "Hi."

They said nothing. The Ghost gestured with his finger. I reached for the small of my back - but the gun wasn't there. I'd gotten out of the habit of carrying it everywhere - less chance of being busted by Echo. There was nothing to be done.

We drove in silence to the offices of Tropic Enterprises. I sat in the limo staring out the window feeling like a fly in a glue trap. The limo stopped and I was unceremoniously hustled into the Brill Building. Teddy Dexter and Buddy Cruz were waiting upstairs when we arrived.

Cruz was teetering between rage and panic. Teddy was dressed in his usual beach bum-junkie drag, a yellow V-neck sweater under his rumpled silk sport jacket and black jeans. His feet were up on a second chair. Bass Weejuns. No socks.

He smiled when I walked in. "Dude! Good to see you."

Cruz turned and looked at him. Teddy snickered.

"Uh-oh," he said, pretending to be scared. Then in a schoolyard sing-song he chanted, "Mur-phy's in trou-ble." I smiled in spite of the situation. Teddy was so psychotic it was contagious. Cruz turned his attention back to me.

"Where is he?" he said.

I shrugged. "Mickey's dead."

"How do you know that?"

"I saw the body."

"That's not Mickey, dude," Teddy said and pulled back his lip, "Too many teeth. The police are concerned."

They had a man on the inside. They got the autopsy report and Teddy put two and two together just like I did.

Cruz spoke again. "Where is he?"

I shrugged.

"Find him. You don't, you're dead. Clear?"

"What's the problem?" I said, hoping innocence was sprouting like a rose from my face. I had a vision of their computer laboring away, calculating the infinite reaches of Pi, the boys unable to stop it and afraid to pull the plug. It must be very uncomfortable with the fellows just in from Colombia cooling their heels in the next room.

Cruz ignored my question. He assumed I knew all about it. That I was thick in it with Mickey from the beginning. Which come to think of it, I suppose I was.

"You find that bastard, or you find a way to straighten out the mess he made. Find the woman - " he snapped a glance at Teddy.

"Veeva Stackpoole," Teddy said cheerfully.

"You find her and bring her to us. You don't, you die. Understand?"

"I don't know where they are," I said.