The
Continuing Saga of:
”ICICLE BILL and Tommy Two-Head”
Chapter Twentyfour: Hell to Pay
Before Bill, Tommy, G Lu and Jimmy Fingers could leave Las
Vegas, for what Bill considered a doomed mission (recovering the hundred-grand
paid out to Blinky Mo and Heavy Griz to ransom G Lu), they stopped off at the
L.V. Police Department. Detective Smith fitted Bill with a tracking device,
securely attached to his ankle. Bill was in the custody of Jimmy Fingers, who
was convincingly passing himself off as an investigator for the Los Angeles
District Attorney’s Office. As far as Smith knew, they were headed back
to L.A. for Bill to stand questioning for an embezzlement charge and a missing
persons case involving his former fiancee. As long as Jimmy had him back in
Vegas in time for their own case against Bill, the rest of it was irrelevant
to him. He was suspicious of the kinds of contacts Bill or Jimmy had that managed
bail with such serious charges pending, but that was the court’s decision.
In reality, Smith wasn’t entirely displeased that the whole ragged bunch
would be out of his hair for the time being. He could use the down time to get
his own life in order. Belinda was going to have to go and it wasn’t going
to be easy. Chasing scumbag bad guys, manipulating evidence, even leaving a
body here and there was playtime compared to giving up Belinda Buttluggage.
Kicking heroin would be easier. It put him in a foul mood and he was taking
it out on the plastic strap holding the tracking device. He wrenched it tighter
than necessary and snipped off the excess. As he stood up and tested the signal,
he peered deeply into Bill’s eyes to get a read. If he was hurting, he
wasn’t letting on. If he was guilty of the despicable acts his record
had him associated with, he wasn’t showing that either. Smith could usually
get a sense of a guy’s character after doing police work for so long;
with Bill he wasn’t feeling it. He just seemed like a regular guy. But
then again, a psychopath’s best weapon is his ability to pass himself
off as normal.
Two inches from Bill’s face, Detective Smith stared him down. Bill could smell the Scope and Old Spice, and just a hint of cheap bourbon. Probably well-bourbon Bill thought, Smith didn’t look like the type to blow money on something designed to kill you slow. The fresh haircut and close shave contrasted sharply with Bill’s own haggard appearance. The head and facial wounds were beginning to heal but left him badly scarred and disfigured. Bill momentarily reflected on a time when clean haircuts and tailored suits, rooftop restaurants and midday liaisons with soft-skinned companions on fresh sheets was a part of his routine. Career ambition, corporate competitiveness and chasing sweet smelling skirts seemed very far away now...replaced with stark survival. Yet, in all his time at the law firm he’d never met a friend as loyal at Tommy Two-Head, and despite her stripper’s past, G Lu’s degree of beauty, aura, grace and depth of character compared with, or exceeded most any Bill had ever known.
Was this a part of what the Gypsy was talking about when she alluded to Bill’s ”journey”? Was finding his way by finding himself a reference to discovering that ambition, money, greed, lust and all the other elemental desires merely poor substitutes for lasting friendships, honorable intent, discovering one’s own true nature and recognizing the inter-connectedness of all things and people? And with deeper introspection and realization, might he someday, somehow recognize the futility of hanging onto lingering remnants of guilt, remorse, hatred, revenge and begin to understand that all the events of a life amount to the ebb and flow of existence. Accept the good and bad, even when it’s your doing? How long had man deliberated these same questions? How long did Bill have to set his course straight?
”Two weeks.” Detective Smith’s booming voice filled the tiny office. ”You got two weeks till arraignment here Bill. I expect you to show up, else bail’s revoked and your girlfriend here loses her cash bond.” Smith leaned in closer. ”That happens, and you got me on your ass. That’s something you don’t want.” Bill knew that Detective Smith really was sincere.
The burly detective hitched up his pants and gave a glare to the unlikely foursome. He felt he got his message across. It crossed his mind that the bunch was an odd lot, the pretty girl didn’t seem to fit in. She was a true beauty for sure, and classy. ”Do I know you? You look familiar.” He posed the surprise question to G Lu.
”No, I don’t think so. I’m a dealer at Pioneer, maybe you came in one time or another.” G Lu was cool as ice. Smith nodded.
”Yeah, maybe that’s where I saw you.” He was thinking, if this dude’s tapping that, he’s way out of his league. He gave Bill a quizzical glance. G Lu didn’t let on that she’d seen Smith at the Crazyhorse Saloon on numerous occasions, he had it bad for one of her co-dancers. She smiled inwardly to know that toned down makeup and clothes could be such an effective disguise.
The group piled into Jimmy Finger’s out-of-date Buick, gassed up, got supplies for the drive and hit the highway. Bill adjusted the uncomfortable ankle device, stretching the band to allow blood flow. He was thinking perhaps Detective Smith had a touch of the sadist in him to purposely leave it that tight. Yeah, that cop’s definitely got some issues. Speaking of which, he surreptitiously surveyed the faces of his traveling companions. Now this crew’s got issues for sure. He gazed at G Lu in the rearview mirror. Not an unpleasant task. Obviously, her motives were for revenge and what she considered honor. Go after the killer or killers of her brother...and to visit her brother’s grave. He understood that. He still didn’t think it was a good idea, but there would be no changing her mind.
What about Tommy Two-Head? Why was he along for the ride? Bill knew the last place Tom ever wanted to see again was Vulture Flats and be reminded of what he had suffered there. Yet, he was willing to tag along...chances are this sad, albino-looking mutant would be willing to follow Bill just about anywhere, or perhaps it was G Lu he was following. In them maybe Tom found the family he felt he needed to make himself whole. Being abandoned so young can leave some mighty deep scars, the kind that never heal.
Jimmy Fingers wasn’t so complex to figure out. He had a job to do, and nothing would stop him. Jimmy was cold, calculating and deadly. The firm had hired him to find Bill, and he had accomplished that. His contacts in the L.A.D.A.’s office allowed him the ability to pass himself off in whatever guise suited his purpose and he had done so brilliantly. Mission accomplished. What a stroke of luck for Bill that Andy Leopold was now in an influential position at the Miami Police Department. Good for him, and Bill also. Andy had managed to get his hold released, and Bill only now was realizing that perhaps the situation in Florida had healed itself over time. Maybe no one was after him after all. This new realization pumped a bit of optimism into Bill’s meanderings. Maybe things would work out after all. The questioning regarding Elena’s disappearance wasn’t going to be easy. There was no way he was going to be able to explain that in his despair he couldn’t go to the police to report a drowning. It’s all too bizarre to even try to explain. He was going to have to feign ignorance. Then there was the law firm. How to explain to them why he’d gone crazy and taken their money? He, as well, couldn’t tell them of Elena, maybe the strain of the Miami situation could be utilized. Hiding from killers might be a reasonable excuse. And the added burden of a girlfriend, gone suddenly missing. Actually, it made a lot of sense.
The closer they got to the unmarked turnoff to Vulture Flats, the heavier dread weighed down Bill’s heart and thoughts. Gangster G was buried there, and now his sister was going to have to be a witness to Bill’s own handiwork, leaving a young boy in the dirt for the vultures and snakes. Optimism turned to gloom as Bill slowly realized that there was no setting things right for all the disastrous chain of events that had lead him to this point. No explanations were ever going to be good enough, no reasoning was ever going to fix the heartbreak and turmoil. The only absolution he was ever going to receive was going to have to be from himself. He knew it was suicide treading into gang-infested neighborhoods trying to track down a couple of young Hispanics in a low-rider to get the hundred-grand back.
He pointed out the dusty sidetrack and Jimmy pulled the Buick onto the sand. As they crossed barren desert, Bill also began to realize something else. Jimmy Fingers would never go investigating around barrios to recover the money. That wasn’t his style. He’d have flunkies doing that type of dangerous grunt work. He also knew that a hundred-grand was a pittance to the law firm and his repentance wasn’t their motive. This wasn’t a recovery and return mission for Jimmy Fingers, this was an assassination. And if he was the target, Tom and G Lu were also. Jimmy could easily explain that Bill had gotten away with the others, who would know7 He’d provide proof of the kill to the firm, the D.A. and L.V.P.D. would be none the wiser.
Bill’s mind raced. They’d secured the weapons in the trunk. before leaving. And he hadn’t been able to warn Tom and G Lu about Jimmy being a killer, Jimmy never let him out of his sight. Was he being paranoid? He didn’t think so, and he felt certain that the chances of both he and Jimmy... leaving the desert alive was none.
As they drove the two miles from the highway to the lone Mesquite tree, Bill’s thoughts were darkening...and so was the sky. From the backseat, G Lu asked, ”Why do they call it Vulture Flats?” As they neared the dreary spot, it became obvious. It appeared as though a swirling mass of storm clouds was circling the tree in a slow-moving tornado funnel...as they drove nearer, each of them reacted similarly, in shock and disgust. The dark vortex surrounding the sky above the Mesquite was a massive flock of ravens and vultures, hundreds of them gathered in morbid funereal drone orchestration of rancid death. But why now? Why would the mass of scavengers be drawn here at once? Bill wondered of the symbolic significance, but quickly realized it was something else. There, at the base of the tree, something...someone was tied there.
Almost in unison, three of the four on-lookers realized the form secured there was familiar. G Lu spoke, ”Isn’t that one of my brother’s homeboys? Isn’t that the driver of the low-rider in Vegas?” Mesmerized, Bill and Tom mumbled that it sure looked like him. Everyone was wondering the same thing though, how? Why’? It was too confusing and disquieting to try and figure out how they all had arrived at the same place, at the same time. As if thoughts connected and clicked simultaneously, Bill and Tom looked at one another as if to say: Who could have done this? When their eyes locked, both spoke at once, ”Bumperjack Joe!”
The others weren’t listening and wouldn’t have understood who Bill and Tom were referring to anyway, plus their attention was drawn to the gruesome sight below the Mesquite tree. The mass of winged predators were steadily inching closer to their prey. One of the larger, braver ravens was actually perched atop Blinky’s shoulders, set to begin pecking away hungrily at his eyes. G Lu spoke, breaking the hypnotic trance they all were experiencing, as if the scene they were watching, witnessing first hand, was somehow detached from reality...It seemed as if they were watching some bizarre Hitchcock film in extreme sense-surround. ”Isn’t he alive?” G Lu’s words filled the car in eerie simplicity, a statement of fact that fell on all of their ears but failed to register in the mind. Bill shook his head in an attempt to clear the dreary malaise and try to take some action. He felt and knew they couldn’t just sit here and allow the inevitable to occur. Yet, even as he was surmising the situation, the birds increased in numbers, the cloud of flying death thickened and drew nearer. Now they were also drawn to the car, as if they could smell fresh blood flowing through the veins of the occupants. The scratching and pecking on the car hood and windows was alarming and maddening. A human could quite easily contend with one or two attacking birds, even the larger vultures, but so many, many, scores or hundreds...fear could easily turn to paralysis.
Bill knew they had to act quickly or they’d be overrun. ”Jimmy! Lay on the horn, flash your lights! Gimme your gun! I’ll get the others out of the trunk, we gotta move fast!” Jimmy was wide-eyed and not responding. Bill could see he wasn’t going to give up his revolver though and there wasn’t time to debate. He grabbed the car keys from the ignition and forcefully threw the passenger door open. The birds were surprised by the quick movement and drew back momentarily, just enough time for him to get to the trunk, key it open and grab G’s old .45 and G Lu’s nine millimeter. As he made his way back to the car door, the birds were eyeing him and ready to pounce. Jimmy was in action now and pounding the car horn, flashing lights and firing at the throngs right through the car windows. The explosions filled the car with deafening concussions, Bill took a quick second to aim at a large buzzard that was closing in on Blinky Mo, a direct hit sent the bird’s carcass scattering across the desert floor, feathers and blood splattered Blinky’s face and torso.
Bill jumped back in the car and tossed the nine to G Lu. They cracked the windows and began firing into the heaviest masses. The noise and flashes proved effective and the attack weakened and the birds backed off. The four took heavy breaths and surveyed the damage; dead birds, cracked and shattered window glass, nerves frayed and fragile. Bill spoke, ”Come on, let’s get him untied while we can.” Jimmy looked at him in disbelief.
”Are you kidding me? We’re outta here.”
”Jimmy, we can’t just leave the guy there.”
”We can, and we are.”
Bill was persistent. ”Jim, that’s one of the homeboys that took the hundred-grand. He knows where it is. I don’t know how or why he ended up where he is...but we’re not just leaving him here.”
Jimmy’s face contorted as he thought about what Bill was saying. It was obvious he was confused as to the coincidence of Blinky and the rest of them being all in this God-forsaken place at the same time. He looked at Bill for some explanation, then at a bloody and pitiful Blinky Mo tied to the tree.
”That’s one of the guys we’re lookin’ for?”
Bill was just as querulous. ”Yep, that’s one of ’em.”
As the two were talking, they hadn’t noticed that G Lu had exited the car and was striding up to a dismayed Blinky Mo. She stepped into their eye line though and both noticed interestedly that she was drawing down on him with little doubt of her intent. Jimmy stated the obvious, ”That’s not good.”
Bill concurred, ”No, it’s not.” They jumped out in unison.
As they hurriedly rushed to the tree, G Lu was speaking in a cold, adrenaline driven rage. ”You fucking piece of crap, you killed my brother and now I’m going to kill you. But first, I want you to know something. My brother is no rat!” G Lu’s voice was trembling and full of hatred. ”I got him out of that prison! It was ME! I traded my ass to a pervert judge to make the deal, that’s how he got out.” She was crying now and everyone present realized that it wasn’t just her rabid hatred for Blinky that was the cause. ”Not only did I have to sleep with a nasty old man to spring him, but his freako friends too. Do you have any idea what that’s like to lower yourself to such shame? Would you do that for someone you loved?” She was shouting now ”Would YOU? No, you only think of yourself, your money, your dope. You didn’t even have the honor to make sure your own homeboy was guilty before you turned on him. Now you’ll pay...”
”G LU!!!” Bill
was insistent. She hesitated. ”Gloria...don’t do it. If you do this
you’ll have to live with it the rest of your life. This is not who you
are.”
”Stay the fuck out of this, this is not your concern.” G Lu told Bill.
”It IS my concern. YOU are my concern. Don’t do it G, you’re not a killer. Your brother is buried right over there.” Bill motioned to a small mound nearby. ”He wouldn’t want you to be a killer Gloria. He wouldn’t want you to waste your life. You gotta live for both of you now.”
G Lu was wavering, maybe he was getting through. ”Gloria, if you give in to revenge and hate, it’ll haunt you. Think of how much you loved your brother, how much you still love him. You’re gonna find someone else in this fucked up life and you’re gonna fall in love with them and you’re going to be able to go on. If you do this, nothing’s ever going to be right. G....G Lu, please.” She was faltering now, having to think about pulling the trigger for that brief moment might have been the hesitation she needed. Bill thought he could talk her down now. Jimmy Fingers approach was a bit different.
”He’s the only one who knows where the money is.” Bill knew immediately that this was not a good argument. G Lu flashed rage and twirled toward Jimmy.
”I don’t give a DAMN about that money! That’s all you idiots think about is money, or dope, or pussy...you’re all freaks! You’re all no good!!!” With that, Bill thought for sure one or all of them were going to get it from G Lu’s nine. With full strength and surprising quickness and accuracy, G Lu flung the weapon at Jimmy Fingers; it thudded to a harmless stop in the middle of his chest. G Lu was staggering in a weeping lunge at her brother’s grave as Bill made a move to console her. He thought better of it and let her cry it out in heavy sobs. Everyone witnessing the depth of grief and the degree of earnest emotion, stood quiet and motionless. In that desolate, dry place it felt as if the weight of the entire world had fallen from the sky, heaping itself on the fragile shoulders of one poor girl. If life is a balance, then at that moment, nature was taking its payment for the wealth of beauty it had blessed upon G Lu. As the setting sun cast long shadows over Vulture Flats, from the deepest point of his wretched soul, Bill hoped with all his heart that G Lu’s debt was paid in full.
Bill untied Blinky Mo from the weathered Mesquite as Jimmy Fingers stepped to the Buick to pull it in closer and round everyone up. When he turned the ignition key, there was no sound, no spark. It was dead. If there was any question as to the outstanding debts the rest of this group owed, it seemed it was being answered. Bill just looked down at the sand and slowly shook his head. A few yards away, a big headed buzzard watched patiently. Bill knew there was still hell to pay to clear the balance owed...and they were in the perfect place to make payment, directly over the fiery furnace. He even imagined he heard the gnashing of teeth, but realized it wasn’t teeth at all. It was the sound of the hungry bills of several large birds as they alit on the upper branches of the Mesquite.
