GUMSHOES

Chapter 15 - Offers and Compromises

Don Parco set her cigarette in the ashtray and poured herself another glass of wine. The two hit men and the three escorts sat around the room, awaiting orders.

"Miguel, call my father and tell him what has transpired so far. I promised to keep him informed. Do not answer any questions about our plans."

"He told us not to communicate." Raphael reminded her.

"He told you and Jesús not to communicate. I make my own rules." She sipped some wine, then picked up her cigarette. "I want you both to find Where Hardy Menken stays, just watch him, and wait for word from me. Miguel, Sandro, and Louis will come with me to collect Max Shine."

The two hit men eyed one another.

"Your father wanted Menken dead." Jesús said.

"As do I, but I am the one giving orders, cousin, not my father. In case you both forget, he works for me." She jammed the cigarette into the ashtray, scattering ashes across the table then stood and left the room.

The mirror was unkind to her reflection, as she leaned on the bathroom counter, staring at herself. Thirty-six and still rocking a great body, but being tough and uncompromising had left their residue, in spite of Estée Lauder, L'Oréal, and Maybelline combined. She touched up her lips, patted her hair and glared back at the image.

"I am Don Parco DeTega, Jefe Madrina, and I command my organization. My father is a figurehead." She announced aloud, confirming her status to the mirror.

******

The viewing screen showed one knockout babe, and Max pressed the entry lock without even asking who or what. When he opened the shop door, he stepped back, angry and confused as three men pushed their way in, securing him for the woman who looked so inviting on the screen and now not so much.

"What is this? What's going on?" Then suddenly he gaped. "You're the face in the photograph, the one I made the mask for."

"And a very good job you did, Mr. Shine. I hope you were paid well for the work." Don Parco lit a cigarette and stood balanced on one side, glancing around the shop. "These are all very good, but not custom, I can see. You make these for sale to anyone?"

"I have a small retail market. Even those are expensive, it's the material--"

"I do not want a lesson."

"Then what do you want?"

"I want you to understand that from now on you work for me, and me only. There will be no more retail and you will be ready to produce whatever I need when I need it."

Max made a weak effort at struggling to free himself from the two men, his face flushed red with anger and fear.

"You don't just come in here and start giving me orders, telling me who I work for."

"Sandro." Don Parco, nodded toward the masks on the wall, a plume of smoke led the way, and she walked up to Max, a smile from her mouth only.

"Hey! Don't touch those you dumb spic!"

"What did you call me?" Sandro marched over to Max with a mask of Teddy Roosevelt, flicked open a knife, and slit it in two.

"You bastard!"

"You got a whole wall full here, Shine, which one should I do next?"

"Awright, awright, can we talk?" He stared at Don Parco, who gave a blink to Sandro.

"I'll talk, you'll listen."

Max was dragged to his stool and sat down with a warning not to open his mouth, while Don Parco spelled out his future in cold hard terms.

******

Wendell paced back and forth in front of the sofa. Watching in silence, Audrey and Fletcher glanced at one another, each unsure of how the other should be treated. Jerome kept a nervous watch at the window.

"Undergrove was your call, pal. We had that guy under control, so don't think that we're all buddy-buddy all of a sudden. We still want your boss, and if you're smart, you'll give him up."

"You two bumpkins are way in over your head. Donnie isn't the only threat you need to worry about. The people we were dealing with sent hit men after my boss, as you call him. Now he wants my head too, and I'll give you odds that Max Shine is on his list now.

"Wadda ya mean, hit men?" Jerome turned from the window and shot nervous looks at Wendell and Audrey.

"They had an argument over the money paid for the extraction, and the result was an exchange of threats. I got blamed because I was handy, and you guys are standing right in the path of whatever is going to go down."

"Outta the path! I'm steppin' outta the path!" Jerome waved his arms negatively. "I'm retiring from the firm, Wendy."

"Don't be an idiot, Jerome. If what he says is true, you think retirement will save you?"

"Oh - wonderful. Marvellous. I can't thank you enough for that." Jerome stomped across the room and sank onto the sofa.

"Mr Fletcher," Audrey spoke into the vacuum, "if it is true, wouldn't you be better off siding with us- these two? I mean, yes, you won't walk away a free man, but you could walk away a live one."

"Side with you how?" He said hesitantly.

"You could all go to the police together and give them what you all know. Let them clean up whatever you suggest is happening."

"Hey, wait a minute, Aud-"

"Be quiet, Wendell."

Full name usage meant serious trouble, and Wendell shut up.

"What we all know?" Fletcher snorted. "What the hell do you know?"

"We know that you hired a man to dispose of that Donnie fellow, and that you are, or maybe were, a member of that gang trafficking people. I don't think you'd want us telling our version of that alone - right?" Wendell piped up.

"That's blackmail!"

"Dear me."

Fletcher sagged back in his chair and surveyed the eyes watching him. Could he really trust these bozos to put in a word? Would their word even matter? Did he have a better alternative, because while he could run, he could never hide?

"Just exactly what would you guys say on my behalf?"

"Why don't I put on some coffee and we can all discuss it."

"Audrey."

"All of us, Wendell."