5 Tutti Frutti (24 page)

We
headed out the back door to her car. I forget what we chatted about on the short drive to her place. But all of a sudden we were on her street and the next thing I knew she pulled into her driveway and parked.

“Do you ever park in your garage?”
I asked careful to annunciate clearly.

“Yeah, in the winter I guess, or if it’s raining. Otherwise
, I just don’t need the hassle of hitting the wall when I pull in, or backing out and snapping off a side mirror. I just park in the driveway, at least as long as the weather stays nice.”

“Maybe it’ll rain to
night, might be a good idea to pull in,” I said.

“Dev, hello
, anyone home?” she asked, climbing out of the car. “In case you forgot, we’ve been in a drought for the better part of two and a half months. Rain?” she asked, looking up into the clear sky. There was a half moon up there and lots of stars. “I don’t think so. Come on, I’m hungry.”

I c
ouldn’t put my finger on it, but as we walked into Candi’s house I had that feeling I’d forgotten to do something. I reflexively checked my fly, it was zipped up.

“Grab a stool and l
et me throw something together. Chicken sandwiches okay with you?”

“Yeah, sounds great,” I said follo
wing her into the kitchen. I realized what I’d forgotten the moment I saw the four-dollar flower bouquet I’d left on her kitchen counter earlier.

Candi
spotted the flowers the same time I did and moved toward them quickly acting like they belonged right where they were.

“I
better put these in some water. You want another beer?”

“Oh
, I don’t know.”

“Yeah right, le
t me get you one,” she said. She tore the cellophane off the flowers I’d left behind. She opened the refrigerator, grabbed a beer, and handed it to me. She tossed the cellophane in the trash, opened a cupboard, and took down a nice looking vase, which she proceeded to fill with water. It took her about five minutes to prepare our sandwiches.

“Another beer?”

“Better not,” I said.

She reached into the refrigerator
, took out another beer, and handed it to me.

“I was thinking I should
be on my game tomorrow.”

“
Sure you should,” she smiled.

“Nice flowers,” I said
, giving the nod to the vase she’d put on the kitchen counter.

“Yeah, I love flowers. I always have some in the house
. It just seems to brighten up the mood of the whole place. You know how it is.”

Did I know? Not really. Had she meant to buy flowers and thought she did?
Flowers struck me as the sort of item you don’t forget whether you purchased or not. A bar of soap, lettuce, dinner? Yeah I might not remember if I bought that stuff. But flowers? Really? I don’t think so, I felt pretty sure I’d remember. Yet here she was acting as if everything was normal. I kept thinking this isn’t making sense.

“Ready for bed?” she as
ked, snapping me back to reality.

I drained the remnants of my beer bottle then pushed the empty across the granite counter.

She took my hand and led me upstairs to her bedroom. Everything looked the same as I’d left it. I was still curious about the men’s clothing in the bottom drawer of her dresser and the sport coats hanging in her closet, although right now there were other things on my mind. I crawled onto her bed then watched her undress.

She
stripped down to her black thong, winked, and pulled on a pair of knee high boots with spiky heels. She flashed a wicked grin and said, “I’ll be right back.” She wasn’t kidding, just when I thought I heard the TV go on in the other room she was back with two crystal glasses filled with a thick amber liquid.

“Little something to
get us started. God, no matter how hard I try to stop it, you just seem to have this effect on me,” she said. She bent down and kissed me along the side of my face. She pulled back a little and held the glass to my lips. I attempted to just take a sip, but she kept raising the glass forcing me to gulp until I’d drained the thing. All the while she kneeled over me and giggled.

“What the hell is that s
tuff?” I gasped. It burned on the way down and felt like it was taking the enamel off my teeth.

“Like it?”

“It’s hot or strong or something. It must be about a thousand proof.”

“Got
this in Mexico. It’s pretty strong but you’re gonna need it to get through what I have in mind.” She sort of laughed then pushed me back on the bed and slowly unbuckled my belt nibbling her way through my jeans.

I remember thinking this is going to be great then wishing I maybe hadn’t had all of those beers. I thought I heard the TV again and was vaguely aware of the show sort of playing in front o
f me. Were those real people? It was hard to tell and I couldn’t seem to find the remote or reality.

The sound wasn’t very good and I looked at one of them and tried to say
something clever like, “She’s with me,” only I couldn’t seem to get the words out and then everything just went black.

Chapter Forty-Seven

I was uncomfortable. Let
me rephrase that; I was in a hell of a lot of pain. I was slowly regaining consciousness, gradually becoming aware of a conversational rumble from some distant corner. My hands were secured behind my back, and I couldn’t seem to move them.

I was
seated on a wooden chair that seemed vaguely familiar. I stared at a concrete floor that rang a distant bell. I shook my head a couple of times in an attempt to clear it. Not that it really worked. The voices sounded like a bad recording on slow speed. They were deep, drawn out, and unintelligible.

I blinked and tried
again to move my arms, but couldn’t. The floor seemed to come more in focus as I glanced left and right peripherally. The area gradually began to take shape. I was in my basement. I recognized the mountain of laundry on the floor in front of my washer waiting to be attended to. I looked up and recognized the bare light bulbs with pull chains hanging from the white enamel fixtures. Then I noticed the red-painted wooden stairs that led up to the first floor and my kitchen.

The voices seemed to be growing more intelligible.

“… for another couple hours ‘til it clears his bloodstream and looks like an accident…”

I
shook my head in an attempt to clear the cobwebs and realized I was alone. I was still tied to the wooden chair, but whoever had been down here with me was gone. I’d no idea how long I’d been alone in my basement. I could tell by the light making its way through my grimy basement window that it was daylight. I was also aware that my head was throbbing.

I was guessing I’d be
en drugged and my sense of self-preservation strongly suggested that I had better get the hell out of there and fast. I could stand, sort of, if I hobbled bent over.

The chair was a rickety
, antique oak thing. I’d promised to strip, re-glue, and refinish it for a pretty brunette named Kylie about two years ago. She dumped me before I ever started the project and never asked for the chair back.

I hobble
d toward one of the solid timber supports that held the massive floor beam running across the basement ceiling. The support was about a foot square and my thought was to smash the chair against it and flee the scene. It took some time. I hobbled for a couple of steps, then had to sit for a moment to rest, hobbled a few more steps and sat again until eventually I got to where I was going.

I
swung my back to smash the chair against the timber. It didn’t work and the chair just bounced off innocently. I sat down again and used my foot in an attempt to break one of the horizontal pieces between the chair legs. After a good deal of effort, I heard the piece crack and felt the chair legs splay slightly.

I shifted to the side
a little and applied pressure to another horizontal support. It suddenly snapped audibly, and one of the front chair legs cracked causing me to fall to the side and come to rest against the large timber. I inched my way back onto my feet then swung the chair back and forth against the timber. I began to feel the chair come apart a little more with every swing. One of the back legs snapped off, then the other with part of the seat. Finally, the turned dowels connected to the pressed wooden back began to fall apart. I was able to get my fingers on what felt like tape around my wrists and was in the process of pulling that off when I heard faint voices and then footsteps overhead. A moment later the basement door opened and more than one pair of legs began to descend the wooden stairs.

I
wiggled my hand out from the tape and picked up one of the turned wooden legs from the pile of chair kindling on the floor. I smashed a bare light bulb hanging overhead hoping to darken the room.

“The bastard
’s loose,” a voice yelled.

“Damn it,” another voice shouted and stormed down the
last three steps.

I swung the chair leg and caught Joey Cazzo across the bridge of his nose just as he began to raise a shotgun in my direction. The thing went off as Cazzo went down
and a light bulb shattered somewhere behind me.

My ears were ringing and I was seeing stars from the blast
. My hand seemed to work and I grabbed the barrel as Cazzo crumbled to the ground. Through the cloud of gun smoke I could just make out two figures stop and turn on the stairs. I could taste the acrid cordite in the air.

“Fuck!
Come on,” one of the voices shouted as they both raced up the basement stairs. I fired the shot gun without aiming. I just sort of half pointed in the general direction and pulled the trigger. The blast forced a scream from the last figure on the stairs and the lower portion of his right leg, just above the ankle, seemed to disappear as he turned into the upstairs hallway. I waited but didn’t hear him fall. I didn’t even hear him scream again.

Footsteps pounded
on the wooden floor overhead and seemed to race out my back door. I waited for a very long time shotgun at the ready pointed toward the basement door. Eventually my attention was drawn to some groaning from the bloodied figure of Joey Cazzo lying on the floor. He was beginning to regain consciousness.

I spotted
what was left of a roll of duct tape sitting on my dryer, grabbed it and, keeping one eye on the stairs, I taped his wrists. I was just wrapping the tape around his ankles when he began to regain consciousness and blink his eyes.

Blood was sp
lattered down the front of his formerly spotless golf shirt. The bridge of his nose sported a vicious looking split and seemed to swell even as I stared. Blood had run down the sides of his face and into his ears as he’d lain unconscious on the basement floor. His eyes were already darkening and he was going to sport two beautiful black eyes in short order. He coughed a few times and spit a mouthful of blood, splattering more on his shirt than on the basement floor. With the broken nose his voice sounded like he suffered from a severe head cold.

“Oh
, God, what the hell do you think you’re doing?” he groaned. He coughed and spit some more.

“You better work at improving you
r aim. You’re spitting all over that expensive shirt,” I said.

He attempted to sit up
, and I slammed his head back down causing it to bounce off the concrete floor.

“Ouch
, Jesus, are you crazy? We were coming down here to save you and you attacked me, I mean us. What the hell are you doing? Get me out of this shit,” he half screamed. He shook and attempted to wiggle his wrists free from the duct tape.

I couldn’t resist and kic
ked him in the ribs.

“You are certi-fucking-fiable, Haskens,” he screamed then shook some more.

“It’s Haskell. And Cazzo, you prick, you’re going to tell me what in the hell is going on, and then I’m calling the cops.”

“The cops? Don’t do that, we can work
something out here.” He coughed and spit again, this time his aim was better and he hit the floor.

“I don’t think so.”

“You call the cops you got any idea the kind of trouble you’ll be in? Don’t be stupid. Come on, think about it.”

“Think about it
? You come storming down here with a shotgun…”

“We were going to rescue you.”

“From who, me? Hey, wait a minute, this is my shotgun. You piece of shit, you took this from my bedroom closet the other day didn’t you? You came here and grabbed Swindle off the couch.”

“I don’t know wha
t the hell you’re talking about. Besides she said she wanted to go with Tommy,” Cazzo said.

“W
hatever you had planned, it doesn’t look like it was going to bounce my way. The D’Angelos, that’s who was with you, right? Gino and Tommy, those two fuck sticks. Well, I got news for you, the cops are going to be able to trace those two idiots from the monitor bracelet. You’re finished, Cazzo. I don’t know what the deal is but it’s done, finished as of now.”