Baca - Page 8

“Yes sir. The cost of importing the Tunguska’s secret ingredients are very expensive. They are unique in the world.”

I paid her and tipped five more for the privilege of watching her walk away again. Oh well. I looked at the drink and it had stopped fizzing. I tossed it back.

It went down like molten heat and made a silent explosion in my stomach, then spread like the blast of an A-bomb. It was a cold-hot thing, like menthol, but not severe. I felt it running through my veins all the way to my fingers and toes and up to my head.

Roto-Rooter couldn’t have opened my sinus cavities any wider and it felt like every capillary in my lungs was drawing a super charge of oxygen and shooting it through my system. My eyes watered a little as I breathed. Good grief, this stuff was so good it was probably illegal in seven states. I came back to normal and thought about ordering another one, but decided to pass for now.

I walked toward Frank but watched Rakes. He appeared to be almost asleep. If you looked a little closer, you could see he was alert, aware of everything around the room, including me as I approached Meadows.

Carl came off the wall as smooth as magic and stepped in front of me. He said, “Thad is far enough. I help you?”

He was bigger than I thought, one of those well-proportioned people who look average until you are beside them. This guy was a good five inches taller than me. He had some major halitosis, too. I said, “You bet you can. There’s some mouthwash for sale across the street. You go buy yourself a quart, gargle that around awhile so we can start healing the ozone layer. Hey, better yet buy yourself one of those Tunguska Blasts. That’ll clean your tonsils.”

Frank and the bodybuilder stopped talking to watch us.

Frank said, “Can’t. He’s allergic.”

“Allergic?”

“He drinks one, his eyes water and he starts coughing, nose stops up, all that stuff.”

I looked at Rakes and said, “Choke up over your Mother country, huh? Well, that still leaves the mouthwash across the street.”

Carl said, “You come oudside for me, ve talk inside my breath.” He started to put his hand on me and I slapped it away. He grinned. “Oh, I vill like dis.”

The back of a black sofa was behind him so I gave him a sharp push -- his body felt hard, like someone made of gristle and bone -- and his legs caught on the edge and he went over, but not like I’d planned.

In a twisting acrobatic move amazing for someone his size, Carl turned in the air as he was falling and did a somersault, landing on the balls of his feet on the opposite side of the sofa, facing me. “You peckershid, I ged you now,” he said.

Peckershid? I said, “Russian Ebonics don’t impress me, Igor. I’m here about Bob Landman, and I need to talk to Frank Meadows, not waltz with you in the parking lot.”

Meadows looked at me, “I know you?”

“No, you don’t. I’ve been hired to locate Bob Landman, and I need to ask you a few questions.”

“You private?” I nodded.

“What’s your name?”

“Ronny Baca.”

“Baca, huh? You don’t look like a spic.”

“My parents were from Bolognia. It’s a province in France.”

Meadows nodded his head like he’d heard of the place, then said to Rakes, “It’s okay.” Carl went back to his place against the wall as if nothing had happened.

Meadows asked, “So, what’s this about Bob?”

“He hasn’t been heard from in three days. Some people close to him are worried. I’m trying to locate him.”

The bodybuilder started to leave and Frank said, “You bulk up a little more, you know what I mean, then we’ll talk about you being the next Scorpion King.” The bodybuilder had biceps over twenty inches. The only thing left for him was steroids or an increase in steroids if he was already on them, which he probably was. “Now go,” Frank said. The bodybuilder left and Frank turned to me, “Okay, some people are worried about Bobby Landman, some people close to him. What do they expect me to do? I’m not his nursemaid. He’s a grown man, rich, he can go anywhere. He’s done this before, leaving for several weeks and coming back to tell everybody how he got in touch with himself. What crap.” Frank motioned for me to sit down and said, “What can I tell you. I haven’t talked to Bobby in about a week, since he came to the office to do his latest pitch. Where he is and what he’s doing, I don’t know.”

“Do you socialize much with him?”

“You mean go to parties? Sure, my wife and I have been to lots of parties with Landman. Last one was two, three months ago. Can’t see how that would help you.”

If this guy knew his wife was fooling around with Robert Landman, well, he could play a great hand of poker. I gave him my card and said, “If you hear from him, would you contact me at that number? I would appreciate it.”

Tags: Billy Kring Mystery
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