She returned to the table, where she arranged herself provocatively on Jimmy’s lap, straddling him, with her skirt hiked up to her crotch, her breasts so close to his face I thought he’d munch on them like cupcakes. I spent the next half hour having my hearing impaired by the music while Jimmy Tate and Bibianna Diaz exchanged steamy glances, (more or less) making love in an upright position with then-clothes on, the resulting friction scorching all the layers of fabric between them. The air smelled of desire, like the sweet perfume of wet grass after a rainstorm. That or cat spray.
The band finished one number and began the next, the only slow song I’d heard all night. Bibianna went off to dance with someone else. Jimmy didn’t seem to mind. The fact that other men in the bar were seeking out her company apparently lent him stature. It also gave me time to figure out where his head was and whether he represented a help or a hindrance in my attempt to get close to Bibianna. Jimmy held his hand out. “Dance with me,” he said.
7
I PUT MY hand in his and followed. He was one of those men who can make you feel like Ginger Rogers on the dance floor, conveying an entire set of suggestions in the way he applied pressure to the small of my back. He moved automatically while he scanned the bar, his gaze shifting restlessly across the room. It was behavior I recognized. There’s really no such thing as an “ex-cop” or a cop who’s “off-duty” or “retired.” Once trained, once indoctrinated, a cop is always alert, assessing reality in terms of its potential for illegal acts. Whatever Jimmy’s failings as a police officer, corruption being foremost, I couldn’t picture him doing anything else with his life. It was hard for me to believe he’d sabotaged himself so thoroughly, cutting himself off from the only work he’d ever cared about. It wasn’t really out of character for him, but it wasn’t smart. What was he going to do now? Retire to what?
He sensed my preoccupation and refocused his attention. “Why so quiet?”
“I was thinking about the trial, wondering how you got caught up in that stuff to begin with.”
“I started out as a JD,” he reminded me.
“You were twelve. You didn’t have anything at stake back then. I know you’ve had problems, but I never thought you were dirty.”
“Lighten up. What’s that supposed to mean? I’m no dirtier than anybody else. Come on, Kinsey. You know how it is. I palmed cash sometimes. Hell, everybody does. I saw guys palming cash the first day I ever went to work. So it’s not like this was anything new – it just wasn’t organized. I didn’t cheat little old ladies out of their Social Security checks. These were fuckin’ coke dealers – human garbage. The worst. The money wasn’t even legal, but there it sat. You have any idea what it’s like to make a bust like that? You could have two hundred thousand – hell, half a million dollars – layin’ on the table in these nice neat stacks, all tied up with rubber bands. It doesn’t even seem real. It’s like funny money. Props. So who’s gonna point a finger if a stack of bills disappears? The launderers? Get real. Those guys repudiate cash on the spot because then you got no hard evidence. By the time it gets booked in, there’s twenty thousand less. Who knows where it went? Who even gives a shit?”
“You were skimming off more than twenty thousand, from what the papers said. Didn’t it ever occur to you that you were being set up?”
“Sergeant Renkes was rakin’ off four times the money we were, so why would I think he was setting us up? On the face of it, he had more to lose than we did.”
“But why all the conspicuous consumption?” I said. “The newspapers talked about speedboats and condos … luxury cars. On a cop’s salary? Didn’t you think anybody’d notice?”
Jimmy laughed. “Nobody said we were smart. I wanted the perks. We all did, and why not? So it turns out the whole thing was a setup. Maybe we shoulda guessed. Anyway, that’s why Bosco blew his brains out. Because we’d been stung and he couldn’t see any other way out. Renkes headed up the unit we were working … he set the game up, invited us to play, and then he turned us in. It was all departmental housecleaning, and Danny Renkes was the janitor.”
“Did you know the bust was coming?”
“In some ways, sure. There were rumors for months. Nobody really wanted to believe it. I was on disability by then, so I wasn’t an active player when the bust went down. I’d done my share, of course, and Renkes knew that. First time I heard the scuttlebutt, I started asking around. Everybody said the same thing. Run for cover, dude. Bail out. Get a lawyer before the shit hits the coast like a hurricane. I hired the smartest motherfucker in the business. Had to hock everything I owned to pay the man’s retainer, but it was worth every penny. Wilfred Brentnell. You ever heard of him?”
“Who hasn’t? I was told the only case he ever lost was up here. Nikki Fife, remember her? I guess the Santa Teresa courts weren’t that impressed with his expertise.”
“That’s the price you pay for living in the provinces. The man’s a whiz. First rate. They call him ‘Bent Willy’ because he’s got a finger crooked like that from some kind of accident.”
“What about Renkes? Aren’t you bitter about him?”
“I don’t hold it against him. I mean, I understand why the man did it. I wouldn’t have done it myself, but then I wasn’t caught first like he was. I didn’t have the DA breathin’ down my neck, cuttin’ deals.”
“Deals?”
“Shit, yes. They got him on another rap. You knew that, didn’t you?”
I shook my head. “I only caught the story in fragments.”
“Oh, yeah. They had that dude cold. Thing about Renkes is he sold out cheap. He got burnt. He should have taken it on the chin instead of blowin’ the whistle on the rest of us. But that’s life, right?”
The music ended. We moved toward the table, passing Bibianna. Jimmy uttered a low growl and gripped her by the back of the neck, claiming her with his touch. She turned with a smile and he pulled her in against him in a hip-grinding embrace, probably meant to reassert his proprietary rights. Bibianna pushed him away, but she was laughing as she did it and the gesture had no force. He slung an arm across her shoulder in an affectionate hammerlock. They kissed again. I could feel my eyes roll heavenward. We sat down and ordered yet another round of beers.
The noise level was rising, alcohol unleashing a manic babble of laughter and loud talk, with quarrelsome undertones. The air was gray with cigarette smoke, the sharp report of slammers coming down one after another in steady succession, like a trio of carpenters with hammers. The music started up again, this time with lighting effects added, guaranteed to send you into seizures. Out on the dance floor, a drunk toppled backward, crashing into a table. A shriek went up, a chair broke, glasses flew in a spray of glass shards and tequila. Jimmy and Bibianna didn’t seem to notice. They were doing a sit-down version of the dirty-boogey, imitating all those terrible movie scenes where coupies tongue each other on the screen and chew each other’s lips. Being with lovers can be such a trial to those of us who are celibate. The very air was charged, sparks leaped between them in a nearly imperceptible arc. Every time their eyes locked, I could sense their underwear getting damp.
I glanced at my watch: eleven-fifteen. Enough of this. I scraped my chair back. “That’s it for me,” I said. “Time to go. Good night. It’s been great.” It took a while to get their attention. Jimmy managed to pull out of a nosedive of a kiss. He looked up at me with heavy-lidded surprise, still breathing hard.
“Hope I didn’t interrupt anything,” I said.
Lust had slowed his responses and I could see him grope for his speaking voice. “Don’t go,” he croaked. “Stick around. We need to talk.”
“About what?”
Bibianna had to lean forward in order to be heard, but she seemed pretty cool by comparison. “Too noisy here. We’re going next door to grab a bite to eat. Why don’t you come with us?”
I was torn, I confess. I’d spent much of the day setting up the contact and I knew I’d be smart to cement the relationship. There was a possibility, of course, that Jimmy Tate might reveal the truth about my identity, but I thought I could trust him to keep his mouth shut. At the moment, he seemed more concerned about getting laid. They were teasing themselves, postponing the inevitable, while I was only marking time. Oh, hell, I thought, I’m going to end up alone in my bed anyway, so why rush? I zipped up my leather jacket while I waited for them to disentangle all the various body parts. As we moved through the crowd toward the front door, I got a couple of offers, but I didn’t take them seriously. Both were addressed to “Hey, you … yeah, you …” accompanied by much display and posturing. One kid looked like he was sixteen. The other had a big gold tooth sticking out in front.