Jimmy headed straight for her. How could he not, she thought. She stuck out of the crowd so badly, she might as well have been phosphorescent.
“So now you’re going to buy me that drink, baby?” Jimmy said, and plopped onto the bar stool next to her.
“Sure, what the hell,” Mary said. “You must be thirsty after all that hilarity.”
“Yeah, I remember you,” he said. “The one that’s always got something to say.” The bartender set a beer in front of Jimmy.
“Here’s to silence,” Mary said and clinked Jimmy’s bottle.
She watched him drain half the beer in three big swallows. “So now that I’ve bought you a drink,” she said. “Why don’t you tell me who paid you to send me off to Vista del Mar?” she said. Mary watched his reaction closely and recognized the briefest flash of surprise in his eyes. He recovered quickly.
“Hell no!” he said. “Nobody told me to send you over there! You one of them conspiracy theory people? Aliens landed and shot Kennedy?”
“Ah, the beauty of true words being spoken.”
“Don’t give me that shit,” he said. “I’m serious. That old dude told me where he lived, like he wanted me to come over and grill some hot dogs with him or somethin’. Maybe he’s into handsome black dudes. Can you blame the poor bastard? Shit.”
Mary let it all go by. “Now, Jimmy. I hate to point out your blatant lies…”
“Hush your mouth!” he said.
“…but the first time I asked you where the old guy lived you told me it was part of his act,” she said. “You said that’s how you knew where he lived. Remember?”
“No.”
“Now you’re telling me something different. That this old guy told you where he lived, as opposed to it being part of his act. So which one is it? Which one is the truth?”
“I hate to disappoint a pretty lady,” he said. “But you’re barking up the wrong tree, baby.” He took a long drink from his beer and set it back down on the bar, empty. He stood up to go.
Suddenly, a deep, cultured voice behind Mary spoke. “Why don’t you tell the woman what she wants to know?”
Mary turned into the face of Whitney Braggs.
“Oh, Christ,” she said.
“More like Moses without the beard,” Jimmy said.
“Shut up, punk,” Braggs said to Jimmy. To Mary, it was incredibly odd to hear such coarseness come from a man who looked like a spokesman for the AARP.
“Who the hell are you?” Miles said. “Bob friggin’ Barker? Why don’t you go back to the Price is Right? Or if not that, the goddamned nursing home!”
Braggs walked past Mary and to Jimmy’s other side. He looked at the bartender. “I’ll have what they’re having.”
When the bartender turned to get the beer, Braggs slammed his forehead into Jimmy’s face.
“Shit!” Mary said.
She heard the crunch of cartilage. Jimmy sagged but Braggs held him aloft and half-walked, half-dragged him to the door.
“I don’t believe this,” Mary said as she threw some bills onto the bar.
She stepped outside just as Braggs propped Jimmy up against the wall. With lightning fast speed, Braggs hit him twice in the belly, then threw a wicked uppercut that made Jimmy’s head snap back into the brick wall. Another right and another left drove into Jimmy’s face. Blood covered the comedian’s face. Teeth dropped onto the sidewalk.
“Stop it,” Mary said, stepping toward Braggs. Braggs ignored her and grabbed a handful of Jimmy’s greasy hair and held him upright against the wall.
“Who told you to lie, asshole?” he shouted. “Who got to you? I need a name. Right here. Right now.”
Mary reached inside her coat and reached for her.45.
“Braggs, you are going to let him go right now,” she said.
Just as her automatic cleared leather, Jimmy coughed and spat out blood.
“No name,” he said.
“Liar.”
“Sheet of paper,” Jimmy gasped. “Two hundred bucks if I did it. Bad news if I didn’t. What did I care?”
“So you never knew Barry Olis?” Mary asked, keeping the.45 inside its holster for the moment.
“Shit no!”
“You don’t know anyone,” Braggs said, sneering. “How convenient. You worthless shit!”
“Shut up Braggs,” Mary said.
“Matter of fact, I don’t!” Jimmy said. “I don’t know no names. But I do know something else.”
“Yeah?” Braggs said, his voice dripping with doubt.
“Yeah,” Jimmy said. “I know who killed Brent Cooper.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
“He was a big guy,” Jimmy said, and spat out more blood and another tooth.
“Did you see the actual murder?” Mary asked.
“Nah, but…”
“Then how do you know who did it?” Braggs said.
“Cuz he and Cooper were really goin’ at it, man.”
“What do you mean going at it?” Mary said. She heard the sound of sirens in the distance and shot a look at Braggs. “You mean like fighting?” she said to Jimmy. “In the alley?”
“During Cooper’s act, man. The guy was hecklin’ him somethin’ fierce.”
“A heckler killed him?” Braggs said. “Yeah, right. You can do better than that, jerkwad.”
“But Cooper, man. That guy had a nasty mouth. Almost as bad as yours,” Jimmy said, looking at Mary. “Cooper ripped that guy a new one. The dude was huge and Cooper went off on all these fat jokes. Christ, he had a million of ‘em. The guy couldn’t take it and finally left, the few people there was all laughin’ at him.”
“How come you didn’t tell the cops any of this?” Braggs said.
Mary looked at Braggs. How the hell could he know what was told to the cops and what wasn’t?
“No one asked,” Miles said. “‘Cept her,” he said, again looking at Mary.
“Do you know the big guy’s name?” Mary said.
“Nuh-uh,” Jimmy said. “But he’s a regular at all the comedy clubs. You can’t miss him. Sometimes he likes the attention, you know. Some of the guys like to make fat jokes about him and he don’t mind. Sorta likes the attention. But Cooper, man. He just went off on him.”
“What’s he look like? Other than being a big guy,” Mary said.
“Tall, too. Maybe 6’4”, 6’5”. Gotta be 350, 400 pounds, easy. Usually wears a suit and tie and a baseball cap.”
The sirens were closer and Mary looked at Braggs. “Give him something for the abuse.”
“What do you mean?” Braggs said.
“She means cash, Lawrence Welk! ‘Less you want me to go tell the cops how you and your girlfriend here assaulted me. What are you,” he said to Mary. “One of Barker’s Beauties?”
“Shut up, Jimmy,” Mary said.
Braggs whipped out his wallet and was carefully selecting a bill. Mary reached in, grabbed a handful of fifties and shoved them into Jimmy’s shirt pocket.
“Hey…” Braggs said.
“What are you worried about?” Mary said. “Bill it to Visa.”
“Visa?” Jimmy said. “I thought I recognized that voice. You the Visa dude?”
Jimmy looked at Mary, then back to Braggs, then down the front of his shirt which was streaked with blood.
“Always hated those commercials.”
Chapter Twenty-Five