Top Suspense Page 11

  She fell against him. This time joy laced her sobbing. He could almost psychically share the exuberance she felt knowing that he was as much to blame for Kevin Jr.'s death as she was. There was such a thing as the saving lie and he was happy to relieve her of at least some of her guilt.

  A numbing wind swept up from the river. She shuddered against him.

  "We need some coffee," he said. He slid his arm around her shoulders and together they started walking back toward the center of the city.

  "We never did decide if we want our daughter to be blonde or brunette," he said.

  "Or a redhead," she said. "I've got an aunt with beautiful red hair. "

  An image of an ethereal red-haired girl came into his mind. One who inspired lust and myth in equal parts. That was the kind of daughter they'd create. He couldn't wait to see the envy on Storz's face when the daughter was fifteen or so. The envy would be something to exult about for weeks.

  The Jade Elephant was originally published in Bleak House Books' Expletive Deleted Anthology in 2008. In 2010 it was republished in Nice Girl Does Noir, Vol. 2. It has also been optioned for film. Libby Fischer Hellmann is the award-winning author of Set the Night on Fire, the Ellie Foreman series, and the Georgia Davis crime fiction series.

  THE JADE ELEPHANT

  By Libby Fischer Hellmann

  Gus stared at the jade elephant in the window of the pawnshop, wondering if it could be his salvation. A soft translucent green, about ten inches tall, its trunk curled up in the air as if it was trumpeting the joy of existence. Charlieman, his fence, said that meant good luck. Charlieman was Chinese.

  Gus folded his newspaper under his arm. Charlieman's pawnshop was pretty much the same as all the others. Tucked away in a building with an illegal gambling operation upstairs, it was a grim and dingy place. Faded yellow Chinese characters — who knew what they said? - covered the window. A shabby dragon sat above the door spitting imaginary fire.

  Gus trudged down chalky cement blocks and pushed through the door of the restaurant. One of the few that hadn't fled to the suburbs, it had dim lights, but that wasn't all bad — at least you couldn't see the yellowed napkins and the stains on the tables.

  Pete was in the second booth, slurping his soup. The only other customers were three Asian men at a back table. The Chamber of Commerce claimed Chinatown was bustling with commerce, but much of that commerce was conducted by dubious "businessmen" in alleys or street corners or greasy Chinese spoons like this. Rumor was the mayor had slated Chinatown for urban renewal. Then again, that was always the rumor.

  Pete stopped slurping and looked up. "What kept you?"

  "Traffic." Gus slid into the seat across, wondering why they still came here at all. Habit, he figured. Inertia.

  His partner grunted and went back to his soup.

  "How is it?"

  "Like always."

  A waiter came over and offered Gus a laminated plastic menu whose edges curled away from the page. Gus waved it away. "The usual, Chen."

  "You want egg roll or soup?" he asked, rolling his "r's" so they sounded like "l's."

  Gus pulled his coat more tightly around him. The December cold had seeped into his bones. "Soup."

  Chen nodded and disappeared through a swinging door that squeaked when it flapped.

  Pete looked over. "So?"

  Gus leaned his elbows on the table. "It was benign."

  Pete cracked a smile. "Attaboy!"

  "I was lucky."

  "It's all that clean living." Pete laughed. "What'd the doc say?"

  Chen came out from the kitchen, carrying a steaming bowl of soup. He set it down in front of Gus.

  "That it happens when you get old."

  "Who's fucking old?" Pete sounded defiant.

  "You're pushing sixty, and so am I," Gus said. "He said I could get another in a couple of years. With the stress and all."

  "Stress causes tumors?"

  Gus nodded. "Said I should take better care of myself. Build up my immune system."

  "Eat your vegetables," Pete snorted.

  "That's what he said."

  Pete took a bite of his egg roll and chewed slowly. "But hey. You dodged the Big C. Time to celebrate!" He twisted around. "Hey, Chen. You got any champagne in that lousy kitchen of yours?"

  Chen's face scrunched into a frown. "Sorry. No champagne. Next door. I go?"

  "Naw. Don't bother," Gus called out. He looked over at Pete. "It ain't worth it."

  "You sure?" Pete looked like he wanted to argue, but then decided not to. "Well, at least have some Dim Sum."

  "I don't -"

  "Chen. Bring the man one of your fucking Dim Sum, okay?"

  Chen disappeared into the kitchen.

  "So you ready to get back to work?" Pete asked.

  "Why? You got something?"

  "I got lots of somethings." Pete grinned. "I was waiting to hear about you. There's this sweet job out in Barrington, for openers."

  Chen brought the Dim Sum on a plate. Gus studied the puffy white thing, not sure how to eat it, then palmed the whole thing and took a bite. It was surprisingly good.

  "There's this trader. Mostly retired now, see. Lives in a mansion, but they're gone most of the time. Snowbirds in winter, Michigan in summer, Europe in between. The place is empty. We get Billy to disconnect the alarm, and —"

  "Not Billy! Christ. He's a maniac on wheels. Remember the last time? He nearly got us picked up."

  "I know. But he's good with electronics." Pete made a brushing aside gesture. "So. You in?"

  Gus shook his head. "I don't think so. Not now."

  Pete frowned. "How come?"

  When Gus didn't answer, Pete shrugged and poured himself some tea. He took a sip and made a face. "Bitter."

  Gus cracked a smile.

  "What's so funny?"

  Gus shook his head. "Nothing."

  "Hey," Pete said. "There's something else we need to discuss."

  "What?"

  "I think we got a problem with Charlieman."

  Gus shot him a look. "What kind of problem?"

  "Well, you probably didn't notice, what with being preoccupied with your—your situation. But I got a feeling something's - well, he's just not himself. I think he's in trouble. I'm thinking he made a deal with the devil. Surveillance. That kind of shit. So I found this other guy, but he's not in Chinatown, see? And I —"

  "No." Gus shoved his bowl of soup away.

  "What do you mean, 'no'?"

  "Charlieman would have warned us. We've been working with him a long time."

  "I don't know, Gus. He's actin' different."

  Chen came with their food: chicken chow mein for Gus, sweet and sour pork for Pete. Gus sprinkled crunchy noodles from a wax paper bag on top. For a few minutes, the only sound was the clink of forks on plates. They hadn't used chopsticks for years.

  After a while, Pete blurted out, "Hey, man, what's the matter?"

  "Nothing."

  "Don't try to con a con. I know you twenty years."

  Gus stopped eating. "You're right." He laid his fork across his plate. "When I was sitting in the doc's waiting room, there were all these patients there. Most of them were really sick, you know? You could - I could tell from their goddam faces."

  Pete nodded.

  "The doctor was over an hour late. I don't know why the assholes can't get their act together, know what I mean?"

  Pete giggled nervously. "If we were that late, our asses would be warming benches at Cook County."

  Gus nodded. "I'm antsy, you know? I hate hospitals. So I take a walk down the hall. So there I am walking, and there's this pay phone at the other end. I walk past it and I see this woman on the phone."

  Pete speared a chunk of pineapple.

  "She was in a hospital gown, and she was crying."

  "Fuck. I hate to see a woman cry."

  "Me, too. So I turn around and go back the other way, but as I did, I sneak a look at her." Gus paused. "There was something familiar
about her. I don't know. Something about her face. Her voice, too. I'd heard it before."

  "Yeah?" Pete shook out a cigarette from the pack he kept in his shirt pocket.

  "I walk away real slow, but I can still hear her, you know? Turns out she's talking to her insurance company. Asking them to pay for a new kidney. But they don't want to. She's begging them, Pete. Says she don't got nothing left. She's got to get some help, or she'll die."

  Pete struck a match and lit the cigarette. "That's tough."

  "She looked bad, too. Scrawny. Pale. All bent over." He sighed irritably. "I mean, the woman's looks like she's about to keel over any minute, and no one lifts a finger to help."

  "Maybe her - what d'ye call it - maybe she reached her limit."

  "I dunno. So, I'm just turning around on my way back to the doctor's office, when it dawns on me how I know her."

  "How?"

  Gus licked his lips. "We, pal. She was one of our marks."

  "What?"

  "You remember the job we did in the high rise downtown? About six months ago?"

  An uneasy look came over Pete. "The one where the woman was in her bedroom and we had to —"

  "Yeah. The one where — where we scored the jade elephant."

  "No, man. You gotta be wrong. What are the odds —"

  "I'm telling you it was her. You was the one…" He paused. "…who took care of her, remember?"

  "I remember." Pete frowned. "Hey, do you think that was how —?"

  "I don't think anything. Except that she's gonna die because she can't pay for a damn kidney transplant."

  "Shit. That's Twilight Zone stuff, you know?" Pete shook his head. "But we didn't make her kidney dry up. All we did was rip her off."

  "You think?" Gus went quiet.

  "Hey." Pete went on. "This ever happen to you before?"

  "No."

  "Me neither, but Pauly… remember Pauly?"

  "We worked a couple jobs with him, right?"

  "Yeah. So he's doing a job out on the North Shore. Something looks familiar. He can't place it. Then all of a sudden, he realizes he ripped off the place five years earlier. The same place. But this time, he trips a silent alarm and some guy comes after him with a shotgun. He got five to ten."

  Gus kept his mouth shut.

  "Hey, don't get squirrelly on me. God didn't put her in your path. It's just the way it goes. Her luck ran out. Yours didn't." Pete wiped his napkin across his mouth. "By the way Mike - the new fence — says he can get us ten grand or more for that elephant."

  # #

  Pete did the job in Barrington the following week without Gus. He did another in Winnetka after that. Gus insisted he use Charlieman to fence the goods, but Pete wasn't happy. He wouldn't even go into the pawn shop. Gus handled the negotiations. While he was there, Gus scoped out the place, looking for tiny cameras, bugs, or recorders, but he didn't see a thing. The place looked like it always did: shabby and crowded with junk. He asked Charlieman how much he wanted for the jade elephant, but Charlieman said he didn't know. He was waiting for the right customer.

  The next few weeks flew by. The city glittered with lights, music, and tinsel. Even Chinatown was decked out, and if you walked down Cermak, you could hear a tinny rendition of "Silent Night" from somewhere. Pete convinced Gus to have lunch at a new restaurant in the Loop, but the waitresses were too young for the attitude they copped, and the food was too rich.

  "So what's it gonna take for you to come back to work?" Pete asked over apple pie. "You were right. Billy is a fucking lunatic."

  "I don't know, Pete."

  "You still thinking about that woman?"

  Gus shrugged.

  "You think it's your fucking fault. You want to do something for her."

  Gus looked over in surprise. "How did you know?"

  "You always had a goddamn soft spot."

  Gus shrugged again and finished his pie. They made plans to have dinner the next night.

  After lunch Gus bought himself a winter coat at Field's and started walking. He noticed the squealing kids and their parents in front of the department store windows. The Salvation Army volunteers shaking their bells. People gliding around the skating rink, sappy smiles on their faces. Why was everyone so goddamn cheerful? Come January, all the unkept promises would litter the streets like garbage. Now, though, the promise of hope and deliverance floated through the air. Gus fastened the buttons on his new coat.

  He hadn't planned it - or maybe he did - but just before dusk he found himself in front of a condo off Michigan Avenue. It was prime property, the middle of the Gold Coast. That's why they'd cased it to begin with. They'd hit more than one place in the building, and truth was, it had been a good day. In addition to the jade elephant, they'd scored some jewelry and a roll of bills some idiot had stored in his freezer.

  "Got us some cold cash," Pete had laughed afterwards.

  "Everyone's a comedian," Gus replied.

  Now, he peered up at a series of porches that jutted out from the building like horizontal monoliths. She lived on the eighth floor, he remembered. He counted out eight slabs. Light seeped around the edges of the window shades. What was she doing? He was surprised to realize he hoped she wasn't alone. That someone was looking in on her. He wondered how she got the jade elephant in the first place. Had she traveled to some exotic spot to buy it? Was it a gift? He lingered on the sidewalk, half-expecting to see some sign she had found a way to pay for her kidney. But all he saw were flat granite facings, slabs of porch, and light seeping around the window shades.

  He took the subway and then the bus to his apartment on the West side. He turned on the tube to some tear-jerker about a lost baby and a frantic mother. Ten to one there'd be a "Christmas miracle" where they found the little bugger. A few minutes later, he snapped it off and pulled out a bottle of bourbon.

  # #

  The next night Pete told Gus something came up and he couldn't meet him for dinner. Just as well, Gus thought. He wolfed down a sandwich and a brew at his neighborhood bar. Then he went home, and dressed in dark clothes, gloves, and a stocking cap. He filled his pockets with a knife, picklock, and flashlight. Opening a drawer, he lifted out his 38 Special. He raised it to eye-level and sighted, then slid it into his holster. He belted the holster around his waist.

  It was after midnight when he got off the Red Line at Chinatown. The Hawk was hurling blasts of arctic air that sliced through him like a blade. Halfway to the pawn shop, he heard footsteps behind him. He moved into the shadows. Three Asian goons swaggered down the block like they owned it. They probably did, thanks to an uneasy alliance with the Russians. The street was full of Boris's and Wan Chu's these days; Tony and Vito had been relegated to also-rans.

  Gus waited until they were gone, then snuck into the alley behind the pawn shop. A lamppost spilled weak light on Charlieman's back door. The smell of garbage was strong. He pulled out his picks and was about to start working the lock when he noticed the door was slightly ajar. Curious. Charlieman never forgot to lock up. Gus put his ear against the door. He heard a faint rustling. Mice? Then he heard a couple of steps. Not mice.

  Gus stuffed his picklocks back in his pocket. If Charlieman was working late, his lights would have been on. So it wasn't Charlieman. Maybe it was one of the Asians? Charlieman had been talking about getting a silent alarm, but Gus figured he was too cheap to spring for it. Still, he crept out of the alley and went around to the front and peered at the window. Damn! The jade elephant which usually sat in Charlieman's window was gone!

  Suddenly the overhead lights snapped on, and a harsh fluorescent glare poured over everything. In the stark illumination, Gus saw Charlieman at the back of the store, aiming a gun at someone. Gus squinted and craned his neck. Christ! It was Pete! At the back door. With the jade elephant in his hand.

  Gus froze. He thought banging on the window and yelling, "Hey, Charlieman, don't shoot." He thought about pulling out his 38, but knew he couldn't get to it in time. How could he shoot
his fence, anyway? Maybe he could buy Pete some time. Make a disturbance. Take Charlieman's attention off his friend. He started toward the front door, shouting, "Stop! Both of you."

  Pete looked his way, astonished. So did Charlieman. Gus jiggled the doorknob. "Listen, this isn't right. Put the gun down. We can work it out."

  Charlieman's gun hand waved dangerously from side to side, and wild Chinese exclamations spewed out of his mouth. But Pete took the hint. He feinted left, broke right and, lunged toward the back door. He even managed to throw it open before Charlieman pulled the trigger. The flash of blue made Gus blink. Pete dropped and bent over so far his face nearly touched the floor. Then he lurched through the door.

  Gus ran back into the alley. Pete lay crumpled on the ground. He was still clutching the jade elephant. Gus crouched next to his friend.

  "What were you thinking, pal?" he said softly. "Why did you do it?"

  The only thing that came out of Pete's mouth was a gurgle.

  Sirens whined in the distance. Gus looked up. Charlieman was at the back door yelling hysterically in Chinese and making big swooping gestures. But Gus was back in the shadows, and he knew Charlieman couldn't see him.

  The phone rang inside the shop. Charlieman backed away from the door. Pete lay curled up on his side. Gus gazed at the jade elephant. By some miracle, the thing wasn't broken, but Gus could see streaks of red marring its green surface. Merry Christmas.

  The sirens grew louder. The flashing lights were only a block away. Gus tried to ease the elephant out of his partner's hands, but Pete's grip was too strong. Gus had to pry back one finger at a time before he it came loose. Clutching it to his chest, he scrambled up and hurried away from the shop.

  # #

  The next morning, Gus wrapped the elephant in newspaper, stuffed it in a shopping bag, and headed downtown. The streets were full of beggars. Everyone had their hand out this time of year. He tried to steer around an old woman hunkered down on the pavement with a black kettle in front of her and a hand-lettered sign that said "Need money for food."