We hauled our sorry beaten tails back to the motel. I helped Hap to his room. When Hannah saw his face she wailed, “Oh my God, you almost killed him. What did you do? He looks dead.”
I didn’t want to tell her that I had seen him worse so I just left.
I called Greg Dorfmeier and told him I thought we had been set up; that there was someone waiting for us when we got to the warehouse.
“Shit. Little Pinky gave you up. We found him filleted and impaled on a post at the bottom of the rock quarry. It looked like he was tortured before he was sent packing to a better place.”
“That answers my question. Okay, I’m on the way to the Tres Chic Club to give the gift that will keep on giving to Shotgun. Hap took a pretty mean whuppin’ so I’ll be going it alone.”
“Don’t worry, I have a patrol car in the area that will remain on call. Give me a call when you are ready and I’ll send the officer into ticket Shotgun’s driver.”
Don’t worry? Right. So far this caper has gone about as smooth as sandpaper.
The Tres Chic Club was about twenty miles East of our motel. It was located on Piedmont Avenue. It was a big place with a semi-circular drive, like these clubs all, have now. I pulled up and gave my keys to the valet. He was a rough looking young Mexican. He took my keys and sped off in my rental. I hoped he didn’t dent it. I opted out of taking the insurance. I started down a long walkway with a line of torches on either side that made the leaves of the shrubs gleam like metal. The Tres Chic was made up as some sort of chateau. Beneath the chateau facade, you could see it was just a big brick shed, but the facade was nice, and I passed two doormen and walked into a foyer.
The carpeting was burgundy. Through the entrance to my left, I saw a coat room and a hat check girl at the counter.
I asked her where the phone was and she pointed to a bank of phones along the wall by the restrooms.
I walked back and picked up the receiver and dropped in a nickel. I dialed the number Dorfmeier gave me and told him I had arrived and I was about to go do my thing. He said give him five minutes, so I looked around the place. I wasn’t the only guy there not in a suit, but a dinner jacket would have been better. At the end of the dance floor sat an orchestra in gold tuxedos. In front of them stood a colored girl with a mouth like a cut plum, singing very softly about something that couldn’t be helped.
I went around a corner to the bar; it was carved out of dark wood and ran lengthwise along one wall of the big room. Behind the bar was a long mirror tinted gold. I ordered a brandy. The bartender commented on my beat up face and then told me they didn’t have any, so I had to settle for a Crown Royal. I put it away in one gulp and walked to the back toward the rear exit.
They conveniently had placed an illuminated sign over the back door that said exit in red so I knew I was headed in the right direction.
I opened the door and was met by the cool night air. It was dark. I turned around to make sure nobody had followed me. I couldn’t see anyone; so far so good. Our plan just might work.
I looked to my right and then left. Nothing. My adrenalin was flowing for the second time this night and my heart started racing. I reached into my coat pocket to get the kiddie porn magazine, and