Big Jake? Oh Christ, you’d think they would’ve told me ahead of time that he’d be coming to the office. This could be a problem. “Jake’s okay. He’s on our side,” I said with a sigh.
“Do you want me to call the police about the break-in?”
“Did they take anything, the typewriter, stuff like that?”
After a short pause, she said, “Who’d want to take this junk?”
“Yeah, you’re right.”
“Just the file on your desk.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The only thing missing.”
“What! The Rodriguez file is gone?”
“I was going to file it away for you, but now it’s gone.”
“Don’t call the police and don’t clean up yet. I’ll be at the office in twenty-five minutes.” The file hadn’t really held much-police report, crime scene pictures, and some notes I’d jotted down, my thoughts about the case, but Karadimos didn’t know that-until now.
My heart sank when I saw the mess. Everything broken, destroyed. I tiptoed through the junk, stopping once to pick up a framed photo of the old 1951 Los Angeles Angels minor league baseball team. The frame was shattered and the autographed picture had been torn. Maybe I could glue it back together somehow. My dad had given me the picture on my thirteenth birthday along with a cap and jacket. It wasn’t much, but it’s about all I had to remember him by.
Rita wasn’t at her desk, but Big Jake stood by the window, looking out. “Hi, Jake, big mess, huh? Where’s Rita?”
“I sent her for some donuts and a bottle of Jack Daniels.”
“How long ago did she leave?”
He wore a blank look on his face. “’Bout fifteen minutes ago. When your visitors came. I didn’t want her around while they were here. She’s a foxy little babe.”
“What visitors?”
“A couple bruisers. Karadimos sent them here to discuss a few things with you. They mistook me for you. Imagine that.”
A knot formed in my stomach. “What’d they say?”
“Not much. I explained to them who I was and what I’m doing here.”
“Then they took off? Just left?”
“Yeah, they were in a hurry. The guy that could still walk had to get the other guy to the hospital, fast.”
“Jesus, you beat them up?” I said. “Two of ’em?” I looked at Jake. Christ, there wasn’t a mark on him.
“I told you, I had to explain to them guys who I am.
Don’t think they’ll be back.”
He pointed his thumb over his shoulder to my inner office. “There’s a little blood in there. Couldn’t be helped.”
I moved toward the office door, but stopped. “Hey, Jake, did the visitors say anything about the break-in? They must have noticed the mess.”
“They didn’t have no time to notice nothin’ but my fists.”
This wasn’t the random act of vandalism that it was supposed to be. When Rita told me that the only thing missing was the Rodriguez file, I thought I knew who had sent the thugs. But why would Karadimos send thugs to scare me off the case during business hours, if he’d sent them to trash the office during the night? Could someone else also want me off the Rodriguez case?
C H A P T E R 21
Rita had returned and tried to create some order out of the chaos. Jake sat at my desk while I rummaged through the debris looking for the checkbook and my old tax returns. I’d carefully put the torn baseball picture in my car. I didn’t care about the rest of the stuff.
I gave some money to Rita. “Go over to the All American Home Center and buy a rake, the kind you use for leaves, and rake up this trash and toss it. Okay?”
She stood with her hands on her hips. A little lock of hair-a curl-slipped down on her forehead. She looked cute as she glanced around the room. “Yeah Boss, we can start all over. Your filing system was no good anyway.”
“When you leave, call Mabel at the service. Ask her to take the calls. I’m going out with Big Jake. We’ve got to talk.”
“Do you don’t think whoever did this will come back?”
“Nah, they got what they wanted. They won’t be back.”
I told her she could have the rest of the day off after she got rid of the junk. “Thanks Jimmy, but I’ll stay and tidy up a bit before I leave.”
Jake moseyed out of my office. “Hey, O’Brien, gonna gab all day? I want to chow down. Let’s go.”
The four-hundred-pound muscle machine needed fuel but I had a lot to do and really didn’t want to go to lunch.
However, I needed to talk to him about our deal. He suggested Marmac’s, the prime rib joint on Florence, behind the Union Oil gas station. I agreed, but insisted on separate cars. I left and Jake followed close behind. A banner hung across the front: Marmac’s. All You Can Eat Buffet, Prime Rib, $3.95. I pulled into the parking lot and Jake pulled in next to me. We walked in together.
Inside, patrons formed a swarming, slipshod line in the hallway leading to the dining room. The line led to the buffet station and it grew longer by the minute. Customers picked out their food cafeteria-style before passing into the dining room. By noon this place would be packed.
“Coming through. Get outta the way. Hey, pal, move it.” People stepped aside as Jake pushed past the line into the dining room. I followed in his wake.
We moved to a roped-off area and sat at a table reserved for eight customers. One of the roving cocktail waitresses, dressed in a plain black skirt and white blouse, spotted us.
She rushed to our table. “Hey, guys, you can’t sit here. This area is closed. You’ll have to move.”
“Sweetheart, bring me a double Jack Daniels on the rocks, tall glass. What do you want, O’Brien?”
“Now wait a minute, sir!”
“Coke,” I said.
A $20 bill appeared in Jake’s hand. He waved it in front of the waitress’s face.
“Well helloooo, Mr. Jackson.” She snatched the cash.
“Yes, sir, double Daniels on the rocks and a Coke.” Her teeth flashed. “Now what else can I get for you fine gentlemen?”
“After you get the drinks, get me a big plate of beef, rare, extra portion.” Jake gestured in my direction. “You gonna eat, O’Brien?”
“I had a late breakfast.” I lied about that, but I couldn’t eat with Jake. Thinking about how he wolfed down the donuts killed my appetite.
The waitress did a little curtsy and departed to get the order.
“We’ve got to talk,” I said.
“So talk.”
“No offense, but you can’t hang around me all the time.”
“Say it like it is. You don’t like us, don’t like what we do, and you’d get a bum rap hanging with wise guys.”
“Yeah, my credibility would suffer. I can’t be seen with you all the time. It wouldn’t look right to certain people for me to be constantly seen in your company.”
“Change of plans, gotta clear it with Joe.”
“Talk to Joe, okay?”
“I’ll call him right now. Watch my food when it comes.”
Like someone would steal this guy’s food. “Sure, I’ll watch it.”
He left to find a payphone. While he was gone, the waitress brought the order. Jake’s plate was heaped with slabs of semi-raw meat. The sauce dripped over the edge, creating a rust-colored stain on the white tablecloth.
Jake soon returned, grabbed a fork and a small butcher knife. He hacked off a couple hunks of meat and shoved them in his mouth. He chewed, swallowed, and started to cut off another big piece.
“Here’s the deal,” he said. “Two things. First, we’re doing Silverman a favor protecting you.” He talked and ate at the same time. He finished chewing, grabbed the drink, and downed half the glass. “Second, you do your job, maybe Karadimos will be outta business.”
“That’s right, I think-”
“Hear me out!” he demanded, his mouth half full of rare prime rib.
“Okay, sorry.”
He looked at me sideways and set the cutlery down with a bang. “So anyway, we’re not going to get in your way.” He tossed back the rest of the Jack Daniels.
“Good, and if I need you, I’ll just give you a call.”
He swallowed. “You don’t call nobody, goddammit.”