Goodbye Natalie
Chapter Nine: Blood for Mudcat
Darla Jones carefully guided the heavy Cadillac into a cramped parking spot behind the Denny’s on Sunset and Vermont. She checked her wig in the mirror, put on some designer sunglasses and retrieved a hospital visiting i.d. badge from her purse. Last time that she did temp work at Kaiser Hospital, she kept the i.d., anticipating it might come in handy. As an L.V.N. she filled in frequently at L.A. area hospitals; the R.N.’s were making the big bucks but Darla Jones was an entrepreneur and had her own way of making ends meet. She used the Denny’s lot for two reasons. One being, why pay for parking when you don’t have to, the other, she didn’t want to utilize hospital parking because she didn’t want any record of her coming and going.
As she crossed Sunset, she pulled the too-big handbag over her shoulder and clipped the i.d. badge onto her nurse’s uniform, strategically positioning it to draw attention to her impressive bosom. If a security guard bothered to check her i.d., a subtle shoulder shake would create just enough jiggle to distract even the most thorough scrutiny. It always worked and today was no exception. She breezed through and made her way to the elevators, pushing the button for the fourth floor. That’s where they kept the refrigerated blood supply, at the far end of a corridor on the same floor as the operating rooms. In two minutes she was in and out, with four two-liter bags of fresh ’B’ negative; she also grabbed a sterile transfusion packet and a clean set of Kaiser scrubs. Everything fit nicely in the large handbag, even with the dry ice packs lining the bottom to keep the blood cold. It was easier than shoplifting at Winn-Dixie. Nobody was suspicious of a well-mannered, professional appearing nurse going about her rounds. In the surgical unit, everyone was too busy with their own life and death business to take notice.
Darla was familiar with the business of life and death herself and her heart rate didn’t even flutter, she’d been in far more suspenseful circumstances than this. Just last week she had to help her husband dispose of a couple of bodies when an insurance scam she had set up went awry. There was no doubt who the brains of the operation was, but she still needed Mudcat alive in order to carry out the wet work. It wasn’t that she was averse to killing, on the contrary, but some things just needed a man’s hand.
Mudcat had come home early this morning, shot up and losing blood rapidly. She got the bleeding stopped and removed all the small caliber slugs, but he needed a transfusion or else he wouldn’t make it through the day. Darla knew that Kaiser stocked a full blood supply, and the hospital was busy enough that just another nurse drifting through wouldn’t raise alarms bells. She was familiar with their operating wing and figured she could make it there and back within an hour or so. Vermont Avenue was heavily congested so she cut over to Normandie and floored the powerful engine. She let her mind drift as she weaved through the morning traffic. She guessed correctly that Mudcat was likely out chasing ho's when he got himself into trouble. She checked her watch, she’d make it back to South Central within thirty more minutes. If he was still alive, she might kill the s.o.b. herself. Sitting at a traffic light she wondered who in their right mind had the guts to pull the trigger on Mudcat Jones, and leave him alive. She clicked her tongue and muttered to herself. ”Uh, uh,...I would NOT wanna be that person, not by no means!” She knew Mudcat better than any living person. The only reason they got along was because they were equally ruthless and cutthroat and worshipped the same God. Their idol was green and gold and meant to be stoled. Darla would arrange the insurance fraud scams, approaching relatives of elderly patients in her care at the nursing home. A quick death for the victim, a split between the beneficiary, herself and Mudcat and everyone’s happy. It had been going relatively smoothly and barring unforeseen complications, should be clear sailing from the poverty from which she came, to the promised land of the good life she sought. A few more hits and she’d have enough to leave Nickerson Gardens, Mudcat and the dirty past behind. She’d find herself some fresh-faced young gun to spend the money on and get her groove back. She could never let on to Mudcat, though, he was the meanest, most heartless, soulless, evil being she had ever encountered...perfect for killing, not so desirable as a life mate. He was the devil for sure and had so many kills that he himself had lost count. He always bragged that...”My mama told me, if you’re gonna do something, do it right and be the best in the world at it. I’s a killer, and da best damn killer I can be!” He’d follow the redundant statement with an equally evil laugh that penetrated her eardrums and soul. She knew there’d be only one way to escape Mudcat. It was either him or her that would eventually walk away alive. At the next traffic light she stared absently into the distance.
”Yeah honey...I’d hate to be that unlucky s.o.b. that left Mudcat alive... whoever he is, his life ain’t worth spit.”
* * *
Living on the edge was nothing new for Frankie Valentine. He’d been involved in and seen his share of treachery and sorrow, but as he stood in the small crowd of onlookers behind the police tape across the street from four-four-two Alexandria, his world was collapsing. Amid police radio chatter, forensic photographer’s camera flashes and bright ambulance lights, the lifeless body of Emma Cuenca was being carted away like a load of yesterday’s garbage. A few hours earlier they’d been enjoying a midday nap when Mudcat Jones had forced his way into her apartment. Frankie had barely gotten away, leading Mudcat on a harrowing chase through mid-Wilshire. He’d escaped by loosening an air-conditioning vent in the little office building basement gym where he was cornered, crawling through the air ducts and dropping into an underground parking structure. Realizing now that Mudcat had slaughtered his beloved Emma, made his skin crawl and his heart drop into his stomach. That anyone could be that cruel and brutal was beyond his understanding. If he had imagined it even remotely possible that Emma would have been in danger, he would have stayed and fought. He’d probably have died as well, but for a moment, he wasn’t sure if living on was an option. Knowing it was his fault that Emma was gone and had met such a violent end, was too much to bear. If he was going to survive the shock and heartbreak, he was going to have to shut down emotionally. That was something he knew how to do. Going into a shell, blocking out the world...people, events, emotions...you always ended up hurting when you let them in, once again, Frankie Valentine found himself blocking out the world in order to continue on.
He’d started out romancing Emma because of her nice car, well-paying job and good looks. Cardiac surgery nurses made a plump check, especially with lots of overtime. He considered it a fling and was enjoying the agreeable sex and nice gifts; Emma was very generous. She knew he had a couple of girls in the building before they’d met, but she never really pressed him on it. Her long work hours enabled him to still visit the other ladies and maintain not only separate relationships, but separate lives. It got tricky sometimes, three girlfriends in one small apartment building. It involved a lot of luck and timing and taking the back entrance, but somehow it had worked out. Frankie had all the attributes that allowed him to be a successful gigolo; good looks, charm, manners, eloquence...he easily fit into any situation and could converse on any topic. He knew how to make a woman feel beautiful and wanted and satisfied. He had one serious flaw however, that was fatal in his profession...he occasionally allowed himself to fall in love with his clients. Emma Cuenca was one of those occasions.
Growing up the son of a Hollywood legend was a double-edged sword. It had its advantages, you learn manners, etiquette, social skills; you meet the famous, highly-motivated and successful and learn by imitation the intricacies of social climbing. It’s all about who you know and how you manipulate. You also see and encounter the hanger-on’s, liars and scoundrels. The glitz and glamour of an ego-dominated business has its dirty underbelly in equal proportion. Also, there’s no such thing as a normal family life. He barely saw his mother in person as a child and after awhile he refused to see her movies. He was constantly handed off from one nanny to another and there was confusion as to who his true father was. Accepting gifts and lies as love had left built-up scar tissue on his heart, feelings and emotions were best buried or suppressed.
He rarely visited Vivian Valentine’s mansion anymore, he called it the haunted mansion because there were so many ghosts of bad memories there. He ran with the Hollywood crowd for awhile. It was a fast-paced and expensive world with even faster women and outrageously expensive cars. He’d even fallen for a starlet or two. Hollywood parties are immortal and he’d been to some of the most memorable. That’s where most of the movie deals get made which explained why so many turkeys get produced. Coked up producers making promises to ambitious directors while big-breasted blonds gave their all on hands and knees under rotating disco balls and loud thumping music. Frankie showed up at a highly anticipated event that was famous for its wild gangbangs to find the main attraction was his starlet girlfriend. He cut ties with the scene and landed in mid-Wilshire, no income and no clue. Nobody knew his past or who he was and that’s just how he liked it. One day while strolling though a high-rise office building looking for work, a middle-aged Filipino woman approached him with a proposition that lead to his present occupation. The flesh trade had it’s downfalls but it paid the rent without looking for a handout from Vivian Valentine. Unfortunately, you came into contact with the occasional Mudcat Jones and the harsh realities of life hit you in the face like a cold bucket of water. What was left to do now? Go running back to the warm confines of the Hollywood Hills now that things turned a little rough? Frankie thought seriously, a ’little rough?’, that’s an understatement. Mudcat had murdered over a dispute concerning an Asian dancer at a dive B-girl bar, what’s he likely to do once he gets a hold of Frankie’?
”Oh crap!” Frankie spoke out loud. He just remembered Joanie Kwan. Mudcat would go after her next maybe. He was going to have to do something about that, and this...but what? He was no match for Mudcat Jones in physical strength or sheer meanness, he was no killer. Still, this can’t stand as is. He couldn’t just walk away and let Mudcat kill with impunity. And he couldn’t go to the police, no, that was out of the question. Some of the things he’d done since arriving at mid-Wilshire prevented that. He checked his watch, Dragon Lady would just be closing at this time. He made his way via the backstreets to Sixth and Normandie, only four or five blocks away. As he neared the ridge of Fifth and Normandie, gunshots rang out. He hastened his steps and as he neared the bar he saw Kwan being lead by the hand by another slender female. They dove into a parked car and sped off before Frankie could approach. He surmised that the shots had something to do with Mudcat Jones and also calculated that the police would respond to the gunshots within minutes. For an instant he froze in place, sensing that Mudcat Jones was in the area. Frankie quickly determined that he would be better off getting off the street, and fast. He analyzed his options and slipped into the dark. He knew Mudcat was out there, and there was only one thing that would appease that monster...blood.
* * * * *
