Stark: A Novel (14 page)

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T
he sun was rapidly burning away the gray overcast as Stark entered Oceanview. The tang of the ocean was in the air, even downtown. By noon the city would bask in golden warmth. It was a good day in several ways. Thinking of the scheme in its complexity, he chuckled. It might prove to be a helluva day…

The mood of gaiety was still with him as he parked near Momo’s apartment. He even whistled softly as he went up the stairs, though, as he knocked, he composed himself solemnly. This was serious business.

Bearded and unkempt, Momo opened the door. The guy’s black hair was a tangle and the only button fastened on his rumpled clothes was the top one of his pants, a concession to keeping them up. There was a stench of booze and his eyeballs were inflamed. On the cigarette-burned table in the middle of the room was an empty fifth of cheap whiskey. Beside it was a similar bottle a third full. There was an ounce package of heroin, broken open roughly, by drunken hands. Some of the white powder was spilled out onto the table. An outfit rested in a glass of water.

Stark scanned all of this as he waited for Momo to close the door behind him. The dumb slob was strung out on the broad and was hurting. She would never get to him that way.

“This is pretty careless,” Stark said, waving at the junk. “Leaving that ten-year sentence out there in the open. The heat might bust the door down. Then what?”

Momo waved a hand in a gesture rejecting the advice. He sank down in a chair next to the table and poured a drink. “If they bust the door down, then I guess I’d do that ten years.” He tossed the whiskey down and eyed Stark from head to toe.

“You’re lookin’ pretty sharp today, as usual. Who was that guy in England who was the famous sharp dresser? Couple hundred years ago, I guess?”

“Beau Brummel.”

“Yeah, that’s you. Big Beau. Want a drink?”

Stark accepted, though it was still morning.

“I should start wearing sharp clothes,” Momo continued, pouring Stark a drink and another for himself. “I might have been able to keep my old lady then.”

Stark’s brow wrinkled with surprise and concern. “What’s wrong, man? Where’s Dorie?”

“The bitch quit me. Poof.” Momo flapped his arms. “She flew the coop, sneaked out last night.”

“What’d you do to her? Kick her ass or something?” Momo managed a sickly laugh. “Kick her ass! Hell no. I was drunk and affectionate when we got home and told her we should get married. Go to Hawaii on our honeymoon. See my folks. She blew her cork. She acted like I’d said something dirty, like she would be going to bed with her father or something. Then I tried to make love to her and she wouldn’t let me. I almost whipped her then — wish I had - but I decided to get really drunk instead. When I was gone to buy liquor, she took off. The door was open and she was gone without taking her clothes or anything. No note. Nothing. For a while I thought she just went out for a walk to cool off or something, but she went farther than that. I hunted the neighborhood till three this morning. I know she didn’t hook up with you. She kept telling me to watch out for you. That you were evil. Dames. How can you figure them?” Momo tossed his shoulders at the futility of it.

“She might come back. She’s hooked, and she’ll need some stuff.”

“She can always get somebody to give her stuff, fine as she is.” Momo raised his glass, stared at its empty depths in the timeworn pose of reflection, and began to muse in a soft, whiskey-thickened voice. “I guess I loved her. She’s nuts, and a squarejohn broad, but she’s got a sharp mind. But she could run hot and then, suddenly, cold.” Momo shook his head slowly. Without warning, he drew back his arm and hurled the glass against a wall. It shattered. Startled, Stark jumped.

“Man, be cool. It’s only pussy. You knew she was nuts. You may be better off.”

Momo glared at him on the edge of violence.

“Don’t blow it,” Stark admonished calmly. “I’m your partner and your friend. I wouldn’t come between you and her. I know how you felt. Maybe she’ll stroll back in after she’s cooled off. You never know about dames. On the other hand, this may be a good thing for you. The broad is wacky and knows too much. What would’ve happened if they’d pulled her in and put the heat on her? She’d have given us both up. We’re better off without her.”

“Maybe you’re right, but…”

“So is a broad worth a trip to prison?” Stark shook his head in disgust. “Man, when we set this up, we can have really fine broads, those stylish bitches you see in magazines. We’ll have so much money… and you’ll be in a Caddy…” Stark drew a brief verbal picture of how they would live. His voice rang with glib optimism. Momo listened and calmed down somewhat.

“You’re right, I know that. But she had me hooked real good. I’ll be okay. I can see things like they really are and I’ll take care of business.” Momo even managed a grin of assurance, not wanting his associate to wonder if he was buckling under pressure. “You’re a good partner. You’re smarter than me. I know that. Maybe that’s why I didn’t like you for so long. I thought you was lookin’ down on me like I was a fool or something. And Dummy said not to trust you.”

Stark threw back his head and laughed. “Hell, I didn’t like you ‘cause you had all the junk. I was jealous. But forget all that. It’s nothing.” He cuffed Momo on the shoulder. “Let’s get this junk out of sight and get down to business. Leave out seven or eight grams. I might make that run to Riverside today and get rid of them… set up that pusher, too.”

Five minutes later, the heroin was hidden in a drainpipe just outside the bathroom window. The pipe had been plugged at the roof so nothing could come down. The package was hung on a wire at a joint that could be disconnected, but if the disconnection was not made in a certain way, after a pencil or knife blade was inserted into a hole a few inches below, the package would fall free down the pipe. Only Stark, Momo and Dorie knew the combination. It was easy to get at and almost impossible for police to find; if they did find it, the odds against ownership being proven in court were tremendous.

Together Stark and Momo partially straightened the dreary quarters. The bed was made, floor swept, and the bottles thrown into the wastebasket. Dirty clothes were piled in the bathtub as there was no laundry hamper. Stark took out the garbage while Momo went to shave. He was still shaving when Stark came back, entered the bathroom, and sat down on the toilet lid, leaning back in a comfortable semi-prone position. In the wastebasket were all of Dorie’s cosmetics.

“You ought to move out of this hole,” Stark said. “You’ve got enough money already.”

“I should, but -” he shrugged. “It’s better’n what I was raised in. On the island, my whole family slept in one small room. The toilet was an outhouse in the back.”

“I didn’t grow up in Beverly Hills either. But I got a nice little apartment, real modern.”

Momo paused the razor in midstroke. “Yeah, by the way, where is your place? It ain’t in the tenderloin or I’d know it. I wondered about that yesterday.”

“It’s over in that new apartment house area near Broadcrest,” he lied. “I’ll take you over in a couple days. Maybe tomorrow. In fact, tomorrow we’re gonna get you some clothes and find you an apartment in a better neighborhood. This place is too hot. The cops are always around and know where to find you. Too many junkies have your address. That’s dangerous.”

Momo finished with the razor and, without a rinse, wiped off the remaining bits of lather with a towel, discarding that into the bathtub. “You should give me your phone number so I can get to you if something important happens.”

“I will when I get one. They should put it in next week. I’ve been waiting for a month.”

“They usually put them in quick.”

“Maybe they goofed or something. It’s a new apartment building and the other people got theirs. I’ll call the company tomorrow.” Momo accepted the lie without suspicion and went into the other room. Before following, Stark checked the time. It was ten minutes to eleven. He walked out of the bathroom directly toward the front door, stopping just in front of it.

“I better get moving.”

“What’s the hurry? Stick around. Go to breakfast with me.”

“I ate already. It’s a long drive to Riverside, better than two hours. I don’t want it to be dark when I get there and I’ve got to hunt a guy down. Anyway, there’s no money just bullshitting with you. Nothing we could do together that you can’t handle alone.”

Momo smiled sheepishly. “You’re right again. I can sell dope in Oceanview without any help. I just wanted some company.”

“I’ll be back about four o’clock. What’re you gonna do?”

“After I get breakfast I’ll get a haircut — first step on the new, suave Momo Mendoza. Then I’ll do what I always do, take some junk down to the Panama. They’ll be waiting for me with their noses running and half of ‘em will be a dollar short.”

“I’ll meet you at the club about four. If I can’t make it until later I’ll telephone and let you know. Remember, tomorrow we’re going shopping for your wardrobe. When I get you elegant, I might even get you some sweet young broad… if you promise not to fall in love.” Stark waved goodbye and went out before Momo could reply. The station wagon covered two blocks swiftly and was parked beside a telephone booth. He dialed the number of the Oceanview Police. The same operator buzzed the extension.

“Narco Division, Crowley.”

“Look, boss. I just left Momo at his pad. He’s going out for breakfast in a few minutes. Hell eat in the neighborhood. Then he’s gonna get a haircut. After that he’ll make his usual run to the Panama Club. That’s the best time to get him, on the way, so no hustler sees what’s happening. The broad might find out and go on a panic. You know she’s not right upstairs. Get the idea?”

Crowley did not seem enthused. “Yeah, okay.”

“You’re gonna do it, aren’t you?”

“I said I was.”

“You don’t seem happy about it.”

“It’s just my job, a dirty part of it. I get paid and do it as best I can. You think I should jump up and down about scheming with the enemy?”

“Okay,” Stark said, understanding the attitude. “But there’s one more thing. He might have a balloon of junk in his mouth.”

“And that’s something new for street pushers?” Crowley growled sarcastically.

“No, but tell whoever makes the roust to make sure Momo has enough warning to swallow it. If they got it off him, you’d have to lock him up or it’ll look funny. You keep him in the slammer too long, the connection might get worried and disappear. This has got to look like ques- tioning about something. I know you can find something still on the books. Then let him out about five.”

“I know how it’s got to look. What the hell! You ain’t only finking, you’re trying to run my job. I never saw a stool pigeon so worried or so enthusiastic.” The contempt in Pat Crowley’s voice caused Stark to redden with anger, yet he managed to continue the servility and the nervousness act.

“I’m just trying to make sure it goes right, to protect myself. My neck is out. Man, you almost got my head blown off with that last uncool move.”

Crowley didn’t answer.

“Lieutenant?” he queried, wondering if they had been disconnected.

“Maybe your pal, the fat Hawaiian, will give me the name of his supplier. Then I won’t have to chase you. I’ll just let Dummy know you are ratting out all your friends.”

“That’s not funny, I’m trying to help you.”

The receiver went dead.

Mute fury burned as he climbed behind the wheel. He wished there was a way to destroy the cop. Maybe a slick frame-up… But there were more immediate things to consider. He checked the gas gauge. A fill-up was needed for the long drive. He had a couple of stops to make in Riverside and then south to an exclusive suburb of La Jolla.

__________

T
he night before, he’d called up Alfie to set up a meeting with the local Mex drug dealer. He told his friend he had a plan that would make him rich and eliminate the competition.

“You’re not going to kill the guy, are you?” Alfie asked. “That would be nuts.”

“No, calm your engine,” Stark responded. “This is strictly a business deal.”

Stark needed to get to the top guy in the Mex network, to see if they would be interested in his higher class shit. He had a plan that would put him in the driver’s seat and make him rich. The Mexican was waiting beside his rusty pickup truck. Nothing flashy that might attract attention. Every Mex drove one of these wanted to keep a low profile. The Chicanos with their souped-up low-riders were always eyed by the cops.

The pusher was huge, dark-skinned, his features Indian. Another big Mex was with him. The other guy looked like he was carrying heat. The bodyguard said nothing, his contempt for the two gringos apparent from the first moment. The dealer spoke only a few words, sprinkled frequently with obscenities. He was both surly and suspicious when he learned they were not buyers, but sellers.

Ten minutes later, the atmosphere had changed - not to friendliness, but to uncertainty. Stark gave him a liberal sample of the high grade heroin taken from the drainpipe in Momo’s flat a few hours earlier. Stark told him to show it to his boss and promised to deliver an unlimited supply at a price that was almost ridiculous. The offer was so good that the Mexican’s eyes widened in wonder. Later, Stark explained to Alfie that after the first delivery, they would start to jack up their prices. Stark was sure that greed would bring his boss forward for a meet. The fear would come from someone who wanted to buy, not someone who wanted to sell. The Mex would call Alfie to set up the meet with his boss.