Ill Gotten Gains: Diary of a Gentle Grifter, page 29
“I’m glad you called,” Elizabeth proclaimed when she answered. “I just landed at Harry Reid. Thirty seconds ago. I’m literally still on the plane. We’re taxiing.”
“Where’d you go?”
“Not that it’s any of your business, but I had urgent business to attend to out of town, and now I’m back. I’m so glad you missed me,” she said sarcastically.
I ignored that. “Why hasn’t Mother’s death hit the news?”
We had to pause our conversation while a freakishly loud PA announcement was made on her aircraft. When it was done, Elizabeth said, “Sammy bribed the EMTs to keep it on the down low, he said. I don’t know, Macon; I assume that family has a lot of people in their back pocket. And that worked to our advantage. Everyone kept it quiet while I was gone.” I heard some rustling and the sounds of other passengers. “I need to hang up. Let’s meet. I think you have something else I want. Meet me at the koi pond again this afternoon?”
I didn’t even consider it. “No way, I can’t. I’m all booked up. Maybe later in the week.”
“Are you kidding me?” More rustling. She seemed to be struggling with something. A bag from the overhead compartment, perhaps?
“Listen, lady,” I said. “I’m done. Okay? What’s the point now? You don’t need me anymore.”
“You fucking don’t know who you’re dealing with, Macon,” she said. Then she lowered her voice to a loud whisper. “My client demands your cooperation. Now more than ever.”
“I have nothing for you. Seriously. Nada. Goodbye.” And I terminated the call.
Drucilla had come back into the room for the end of the conversation. She glared at me. “Why are you playing with her like that? Just get it over with. What does she want now?”
I stood up and headed to the window and looked out at the mountains in the distance. “For some reason, she thinks I have something of Lucia’s.”
“Do you?”
I nodded. “I guess I need to reconnect with Sammy first. Yet again.”
“What do you have, honey? You said you already gave her the useless hard drive.”
I’m not sure why I hadn’t told her before, since I’d told Dru everything else. “The small leather book that belonged to Mother’s father. She gave it to me to keep in a safe place while she planned to fake her death.”
Drucilla’s eyes grew wide. “Then she went and really died. This is so fucked up.”
“But does it matter to us now if the book gets turned over? What do we care?”
She shook her head. “I guess it depends on what’s in it and who’s really after it. I suppose you could use it as leverage, if need be.”
“I guess that makes sense.”
Dru exhaled deeply. “You know what? We should just wash our hands of these people. Threats or no threats. Money or no money.” She examined her makeup in the mirror near the door. “Shall we get going?”
Money or no money? Who are you, woman?
Of course, I guess Drucilla was right on about the money; we could always make more of that. Unfortunately, she was dead wrong about the threats. Unless I was going to force my parents and dingbat brother into some kind of half-assed, unofficial witness protection scheme, I had to take Elizabeth’s intimidations seriously, whether I liked it or not. Plus, I didn’t want to see Dru, Moxie, Rocko, and myself behind bars. That would ruin everything.
With a trunk full of my personal belongings plucked out of storage, Drucilla and I let ourselves into the rental house with the provided six-digit code then took a quick tour. There were two en suite master bedrooms, and a third room set up as a home office. Besides that, the house featured a sizable family room attached to the kitchen, a tidy laundry room, a powder room, an attached two-car garage, and both a small plunge pool and a two-person spa in the backyard. It hadn’t changed much since I found the photos online and sent them to my parents and I knew it would do the trick nicely. I noted the separation between the two masters—each at one end of the house—so Drucilla and I wouldn’t be sharing a wall with my parents.
My new official girlfriend immediately got busy decorating, and she seemed eager enough, so I let her run free. She placed all of my photos, knickknacks, and objets d’art around the rooms, while editing out some of the homeowner’s garish items she said didn’t seem like things I would own.
I found a hammer and nails in the garage and replaced a repulsive modern art piece above the gas fireplace with my vintage James Bond movie one-sheet. I’d bought the Sean Connery-signed print years earlier at an auction and the original Dr. No was worth northwards of ten grand or so, not that I’d ever think of parting with it, unless I somehow found myself destitute and unable to score.
When she was finished, Drucilla seemed pleased with her work. “Alright. It looks like you.”
“I’m curious. Do you technically live here, too?” I asked. “Because there’s no you in this house.”
“Ah. Good thinking.” She pondered that for a moment. “We’ve only been dating six months. I stay over a lot, and I have some clothes in your closet, and stuff in the bathroom, too, but I haven’t officially moved in, because you haven’t formally asked me. Yet.”
I smiled. “You never cease to amaze me with that ability.”
She smiled back, looking proud of herself.
“What do you do for a living?” I asked her. “Are we going with Denny’s line cook? Or promotional products saleswoman? Because, trust me, they’ll ask. My parents will ask you everything.”
“I’m a flight attendant for Southwest, silly. That way, if I need to leave for an extended period of time for any reason while they’re here, it’ll be understandable. And if I don’t, I’m not flying this week. Easy. I’m a reserve, on call.”
“Would you actually enjoy being a stewardess?” I couldn’t picture her in that line of work, serving miniature Diet Cokes and bags of stale peanuts to the common people.
“Hell no.” She scowled at me. “With these nails? And, anyway, it’s flight attendant not stewardess; it has been for decades. You know that.” She flopped down onto the couch. “But, certainly not. Me? Can you even imagine? I hate people, and I’d end up spilling drinks all over everyone. Plus, I bet the pay sucks. It’s got to suck, right?”
“Where’d you grow up?”
“Los Angeles. Santa Monica, to be exact. My mother was a bohemian artist type and my father was a Hollywood contracts and employment lawyer. They’ve both passed away, sadly, and I have no siblings to speak of.”
“To speak of? What does that mean?”
“I have a brother who I hate and don’t talk to.”
I waved a finger at her. “Oh no you don’t. That’s my story. And it’s true.”
“Okay, okay. No siblings. Just a spinster aunt I see occasionally. She lives in Pasadena. We go to the Rose Bowl parade together every New Year’s Day.”
“You’re so ridiculously specific. I love it.” I sat down next to her and took her in my arms. I snuggled my face into the nape of her neck. “I like my flight attendant girlfriend. A lot.”
She pulled back a bit. “Oh geez, Macon…where’d we first meet?”
“A swingers sex party at The Plaza hotel downtown?” I offered.
“Ew. Gross. I’m not that kind of girl.”
“Too bad.”
She hit me playfully on my upper left arm and I yelped out in pain. “What the hell!”
She was mortified. “I am so sorry. I forgot. Are you okay?”
“I’ll live. Just don’t hit me there anymore. Anywhere else is fine.”
She kissed me softly on my cheek. “We met at a craps table at the Wynn. We both made out like bandits that night. In more ways than one.”
I couldn’t argue with that. “I like that a lot.”
“Me too. It’s very Vegas.”
Sammy called at half past four that Monday afternoon. I nearly took off his head through the phone.
“Why are you yelling at me?” he pleaded innocently. “I can’t even understand you, Macon.”
I tried to calm myself. “Where have you been, Sam? I called and texted you all weekend.”
There was silence for a few moments. “Um, well, Elizabeth left town, so I got together with a buddy of mine. I guess we kind of lost track of time.”
You’ve lost all track of reality, my friend. The supposedly grieving son wasn’t grieving all that earnestly, it seemed. “Okay, whatever. What’s done is done. But now Elizabeth is back, and I talked to her earlier. She thinks I have something else to give up.”
“What’s that?”
I ignored that. “Tell me where she went. Elizabeth. Do you know where that crazy woman was this past weekend?”
“No clue, man. I have no clue about anything you’re asking.”
He was seriously trying my patience, but he seemed to be telling me the truth. “Can you please find out who she’s working for? Can you do that for both of us? Once and for all? It’s important for my next move. I’m going to need the ammunition.”
More silence. “Macon, man, I’ve been thinking, all weekend, actually; how is any of this your business? I mean it. It’s family business. Why don’t you go back to stealing cash from old blue hairs at the casinos and leave the Marinellis alone. Can you do that? I’ll take it from here. I can handle the likes of Elizabeth and her mystery client, whoever that might be.”
He left me pleasantly surprised. This was a Samuel Marinelli I didn’t recognize. He’d apparently found his balls since his mother was out of the picture. “I can’t do that, Sammy. I already explained this to you. Believe me, I wish I could. And I wish your mother hadn’t sucked me in. But she did. And she promised me up to…” An idea popped into my head. It probably wasn’t a good one, but I heard it come out of my mouth before I could stop myself. “I’d rather talk about it in person in a secure, undisclosed location. Come have dinner with Drucilla and me tonight at my house. Just the three of us.”
“Geez, man. I don’t know why I’d do that,” he said warily. “Why would you invite me to dinner? To your house? I shot you. Remember?”
“Do I remember? Are you being serious?” Maybe he did have his balls back, but not all of his marbles. “How about this, Sam…don’t bring a gun with you. Okay? I’d feel safer that way. And two, I think you’re going to be very, very happy with what I have to tell you. I’m talking extremely happy, Sammy. It’s going to be a game changer, I promise.”
After a bit more hemming and hawing, he reluctantly agreed, because, I think, he was curious. We set a time, and I gave him the address. And then I told him to make double-, triple-, quadruple-sure he wasn’t followed to the rental house. “Drive around like an absolute crazy person. Double back. Go in circles for a bit. Just be positively sure. I mean it like nothing else, Sam. This new place is very important to me. It needs to stay off the radar.”
He promised he would.
Drucilla and I were sitting by the pool. She was sunbathing. I sat on the edge with my feet in the cool water. After I hung up with Sammy and put down my phone, she ripped off her sunglasses and glared at me.
“It took all I had to hold my tongue, but what the hell was that all about? I am not cooking for that guy.”
I smiled at her. “Me either. We’ll order in. But this is going to be worth it. We need that numskull. We’re about to become a hell of a lot more liquid with his help.”
Despite my strict directives, Sammy showed up with a male date who, come to find out, was about half his age. The kid explained that he was a diving performer in Cirque du Soleil’s most popular water-themed show, O, at the Bellagio, and had just moved to town a few months earlier. Despite the fact they’d just met, Sammy insisted the two were, “…destined to be together,” and that the Canadian-born kid was, “…totally legal and completely trustworthy.”
Dru and I decided we’d take his word for it, even though she was certain the toned, muscle-bound performer couldn’t be a day over seventeen.
Over delivery from a famous old barbeque joint, we finally got around to informing Sammy he was about to become a multi-millionaire...with a catch. He just had to locate the Grand Cayman banking information among his mother’s stuff.
Drucilla and I agreed that we’d never, ever seen someone so excited in our entire lives. After the news sunk in, Sammy explained that his mother had unceremoniously cut him off from any possible inheritance earlier that year. “That loon of a mother of mine changed her will to leave everything to the Mob Museum downtown. I mean it’s sick and plain old mean, dontcha think?”
I agreed. “Good thing we brought you a backup plan, huh?”
“Damn right,” Sammy yelped. “I just can’t believe it—what luck!”
And with that, our casual dinner party quickly escalated into a tequila-infused backyard celebration, and all four of us got mighty sloshed.
Sometime during all the outdoor revelry, Sammy agreed to throw a one-million-dollar finder’s fee (otherwise known as an, ‘I’m sorry I shot you in the forearm’ fee) our way, if and when he got his hands on the Caribbean-bound dough. Securing the extra million was one of my shining moments, I decided. Together with the money we’d scammed directly out of Mitch, Dru and I were well on our way to a possible early retirement.
And, on top of it all, we scored VIP tickets to O, complete with a backstage tour for my parents and us.
It was a good night all around.
39
MOTHER’S DAY
At baggage claim, I handed my mom a bouquet of yellow tulips, her all-time favorite flowers.
“Because I missed Mother’s Day.” I planted a kiss on her cheek for good measure.
She seemed elated. “They are so beautiful. I didn’t know you could find flowers like these in the hot desert. Thank you, darling.”
“Welcome to Las Vegas. We even have running water. And fresh oysters.”
“This is quite something,” my father said, taking in our surroundings which included several massive LED screens advertising various Las Vegas restaurants, stage shows, and, of course, casinos.
“This is just the beginning, Dad.”
I helped my father locate the luggage on the carousel and then we walked through the loud, frenetic terminal to get to short term parking. They seemed enthralled with all the excitement and hub bub…and we hadn’t even left the airport.
We loaded the rental car as I explained that my Ford Explorer—which I didn’t actually own—was in the shop.
“This airport is about ten times the size of Richmond’s,” my father said as we drove out of the garage. “Right on the Strip, too. Will you look at that, Carol? There it is. It’s all right there.”
My mother cooed from the backseat. “I like the big black pyramid.”
“That’s the Luxor hotel, Mom. It’s got the world’s brightest manmade light at the tip. They call it the Sky Beam. It shines straight up into the night sky. You can see it from everywhere in the valley. Even from outer space, I’m told.”
“Did you sell them the light fixture?” my father asked.
“I wish. That was before my time. The Luxor was built in the early-nineties. They have a Titanic exhibit you might get a kick out of. Artifacts and crap they pulled up from the actual wreckage. Maybe we can go check it out. I’ve never been.”
We chatted about this and that, and my father’s health—he claimed he was “…as good as new, if not better,” since his heart attack—until we pulled into the garage at my fake house.
“This is the cleanest garage I’ve ever seen,” my dad quipped. “I guess you’re not too handy. Where’s your lawn mower? In a shed out back?”
I ignored him. I’m very handy, Dad. Just not with the kinds of tools he’s used to using.
My parents seemed to like the humble thousand square foot stucco-sided rambler, but they were most interested in the tall drink of water named Drucilla who greeted us in the family room. And, as I predicted, they bombarded her with endless questions that she oh-so-skillfully answered with a constant smile plastered on her gorgeous face. She never missed a beat and looked dazzling doing it. It made me melt inside.
Best of all, Mr. and Mrs. James Lence of Richmond, Virginia, seemed to approve of Drucilla.
And so did I.
We had a late-lunch brought in and we served it poolside, then the ‘rents retired to their side of the house to take power naps after their long flight. I told them they needed to immediately adjust to Pacific Time and stay up until nine-thirty or ten no matter how they felt. And I suggested they refrain from constant, “what time is it back home?” references. That just made it much harder to acclimate, I explained. It was for their own good. And mine.
After Drucilla and I finished cleaning up from the meal, she glanced at her phone then turned to me with a troubled look on her face.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I need to go out for a bit.”
“Okay. Where?”
She hesitated.
“I won’t judge, unless it’s another man.”
“It is another man,” she said sheepishly. “I need to go deal with Mr. Bender. Just for an hour or two.”
That’s not what I was expecting, and I didn’t like the prospect of it at all. Not one single bit. “I forbid it,” I snapped. I was only half kidding.
“Oh lord, Macon. I’ll be fine. The man is technically my husband, and there are things the two of us need to discuss about wrapping it up. If that’s possible.”
“Why wouldn’t it be possible?”
She rolled her eyes. “Perhaps I haven’t explained this to you before—he’s very, very Catholic.” She closed her eyes for a moment and exhaled. Then she looked at me with the puppy-dog eyes turned up to number ten. “Don’t you trust me, honey?”
What else could I say? “Of course I do.”
“Good.” She kissed me lightly on the lips. “I’ll let you know what happens and I’ll text you when I’m on my way back.”
