Nice Place for a Murder Page 6

  “What’s his name?” Wally said. “Hick — ?”

  “Sosenko, “ she said. “Absolutely insane son-of-a-bitch. The most unpredictable, most vicious human being I ever met. And we get some rough ones here. He started coming in maybe a year ago. Bad trouble right away. Fierce temper. Start fights for no reason at all. Nearly choked a guy to death once, right on top of this bar, because he didn’t like his shirt. And my luck, he was crazy mad for me. Night after night, wouldn’t leave me alone. He’d sit there at the bar and sing to me, a song he made up. You know how it went? ‘Lulu, I love your titties,’ over and over. I told him get out and don’t come here no more. But he kept showing up. One night last month he walks in here with a knife on his belt, you know, from fishing. He gets drunk and starts coming after people with the knife. I take my gun from behind the bar and I say get out or I’ll shoot you. He just laughs and keeps flashing the knife around. So I shoot him.”

  “You actually shot him?” Wally said.

  “Are you paying attention? I actually did. Just once, grazed his leg. And he walks out under his own steam. You know what? He’s back again, bandaged up, limping in here the next night, singing to me. I get out the gun and point it right between those ugly eyes of his. I tell him I’ll kill him dead, he doesn’t stop bothering me. So he leaves. But he says he’ll be back, just loves me so much he can’t stay away from me. Right now I’m worried he’ll walk back in here one of these days. So I wouldn’t be unhappy to have him far away, behind bars, maybe. Or dead.”

  “Why don’t you call the cops, tell them about him?” Wally said.

  “Yeah, sure,” Lulu said. “That’s all my customers got to hear, that I’m talking to cops. Goodbye, Lulu.”

  “Maybe we can help you, get him out of circulation for you,” I said. “Where can we find him?”

  She sighed, long and deep. “If I knew, I’d tell you.”

  “You don’t know?” said Wally

  “Jesus, you are slow,” she said to him. “But what can you expect, somebody who orders fancy drinks.”

  “So we still don’t have a fix on him,” Wally said to me.

  “I do.” It came from the fat lady with the Coors. “I know where Hick Sosenko lives. And I’ll tell you.”

  I turned to face her. “How do you know him?”

  She slipped off her barstool and made her way down the bar, her huge stomach leading the way. “Well, he fucks me about once a week or so. Rapes is the right word, I guess, because I don’t really want to do it with him. I live up the road from him. He pulls me in when I go past his place. I read in a magazine fucking is fun, but this sure isn’t. I’d kind of like it to stop. You might take him out late at night and drop him in the bay. That would be a good way.”

  “Tell us where he lives,” I said.

  She did.

  Wally and I were about to get back into the car when the door to Lulu’s Lumpkin’s gin mill opened and she appeared. “Be goddam careful,” she called to us. “Hick Sosenko is one dangerous piece of shit.”

  CHAPTER VII

  Grim as Lulu’s saloon was, it couldn’t begin to reach the depths of dilapidation we found at Hick Sosenko’s place.

  It was easily the most run-down of the half dozen shacks that lined an unpaved lane, a street that made you feel discontented just to look at it, filled with tall grasses and overgrown shrubs, and dotted with piles of broken furniture, old TV sets and kitchen appliances, and black plastic bags stuffed with things I didn’t dare to imagine. To the side of Sosenko’s place stood the remains of what I suspected was once a 1969 Ford Fairlane sedan, tires gone now, resting on the rims of its wheels, all the windows broken.

  The shack itself was all of fifteen by twenty feet, blackened wood that had never seen paint, with a rusted metal roof. The stairs to a tiny front porch lay in pieces on the ground. A small stool stood in their place, evidently to provide the needed step up or down.

  “This sure is a tour through the low-rent district today,” Wally said. “I wouldn’t want to go in there even if there wasn’t some crazy son-of-a-bitch with a gun and a knife inside.”

  I lifted my jacket up so he could see the .38 in the holster on my hip. “Stay in the car.” I got out.

  “Don’t tell me stay in the car,” he said, getting out, too. “Makes me feel like a wimp. However, I’m going to let you lead this operation because of all your professional experience.”

  We made our way slowly toward the shack. I didn’t take my eyes off of the two windows that faced us. I could see no movement inside. “I’m going up. Stay here,” I said softly. I saw he was about to argue, so I added, “You’re not a wimp. I never said you were a wimp.” I took my gun out of its holster and held it down at my side as I stepped on the stool, then onto the porch. Up close now, I could see the door to the shack was barely ajar, maybe half an inch. I stood to the side and rapped on the doorframe. “Sosenko? Hick Sosenko? Time for us to talk.”

  There wasn’t a sound, not from the house, not from anywhere. I reached around from the side and put my toe against the bottom of the door, pushing it open slowly. Raising my .38, I stepped cautiously into the doorway and looked inside.

  It was all one room. A filthy mattress on a bedframe, single chair with the upholstery in tatters, TV set with rabbit ears perched on top of two milk crates, half-size refrigerator, two-burner hot-plate, ancient cast-iron sink, small shower unit tucked into a corner, and, right out in the open, a toilet, unflushed since its last use.

  There’s no place like home.

  But Sosenko wasn’t there. I holstered my gun. “Nobody home,” I said to Wally, but when I turned to face him through the open door, he’d disappeared from the front. I heard his voice calling me. “Come around back. I found Lulu.”

  When I got off the porch and around the shack, he was holding up a sizeable piece of quarter inch plywood, painted white, on which was lettered the name Lulu. There were pencil mark outlines for the letters, obviously made with the aid of a ruler, filled in with black paint, and nails protruding around the edges of the sign. It was Hick Sosenko’s maritime disguise, a sign he’d made to nail onto the stern of another boat, probably his own, to give it a false identity while he was out on the water ending the life of Kenneth Newalis.

  “Found it face down in the weeds over there,” Wally said. “He really does have a thing for Lulu, doesn’t he? What a guy.”

  We both sensed a barely audible approach through the high grass. Someone was moving toward us from around the far corner of the shack. I pulled my gun out of its holster and raised it, looking over the barrel as I waited. The noise continued, an uneven rustling, as if someone were deliberately kicking at the undergrowth. But no one came. Wally glanced at me, shrugging. What to do? I put out my free hand, palm down. Wait.

  Finally our visitor appeared, turning the corner, then stopping dead still, as he saw my gun pointed at him. “You going to shoot me, give me a minute to get ready,” he said, after a reflective pause.

  He was on crutches, a pot-bellied old man with a wild growth of mottled gray beard on his chin, and no hair at all on his head. He wore cheap rubber sandals, faded brown pants and a shirt that displayed the residue of a week’s meals. He looked skyward, as though for inspiration, then put his hands together in an attitude of prayer. He glanced over at us to make sure we were paying attention. “Dear Lord, if you’re going to take me now, I sure would appreciate having a ready supply of Old Crow bourbon waiting for me in my heavenly home. And it would be nice if I could have a friendly old lady who’s got some good fucks left in her. Amen.”

  Once again I put my gun in its holster.

  “Good thing he’s not going to send you to your reward right now, amigo,” Wally told him. “Looks to me like you couldn’t handle that old lady if you got her.”

  “Hard to tell, because I don’t receive that many offers. But I could try,” he said. He approached us at an incredibly slow pace, pushing the grasses away with his crutches as he came. “Looking for H
ick?”

  “That’s right,” I said.

  “With a gun,” he said.

  “We have to talk to him, but they say he can get nasty,” I said. “You live here?”

  “Over there. I’m Hick’s neighbor.” He pointed at a shack only marginally less hideous than the one we stood behind. “Talk to him? That mean you’re not here to shoot him?”

  “Not unless I have to,” I said.

  “That’s a disappointment,” he said. “But,” he paused for effect, “life is a compromise.”

  “We thought he was home,” Wally said. “Door unlocked, and all.”

  “Door’s never locked. There is no lock.” He looked at me. “You went inside. See anything anybody’d be desperate enough to steal?”

  “You know where Sosenko went?” I said.

  “He doesn’t tell me where he goes. Matter of fact, he doesn’t say boo to me. A lot of the time he’s at his boat, the Tiderunner, just there at the dock.” He pointed down the lane with one of his crutches. “But he’s not there now.”

  “How do you know?” I said.

  “Saw him drive off in his pickup, first thing.”

  “But his boat, it would be at the dock now?” I said. I gave Wally a look that told him I’d like to check it out.

  “Bound to be,” the old man said. “Look, if you catch up with Hick, don’t let him know I talked to you. Unless you’re set to kill the bastard. Then I’d appreciate it if you’d tell him it was me just before you do him in. Long as he can never come looking for me, I’d kind of like him to know it was me put you onto him.” He turned and began his slow motion journey back to his own shack. “Watch yourselves,” he said as he moved along.

  Tiderunner was Lulu, all right. We could see the marks where the phony name had been nailed to the stern of the shabby wooden boat, then pried off later. We boarded to take a better look inside, but found the door to the wheelhouse secured with a padlock. Seemed Hick Sosenko worried more about his boat than he did his home.

  “No problemo,” Wally said. “I’ll get a screwdriver or something from the car, pop the hasp.”

  “Don’t bother,” I said. “I see what I need to see. Look on the deck inside.”

  Wally pressed his forehead against a wheelhouse window, using his hands to keep reflections on the glass from obscuring his vision. “Scuba tank and regulator. And flippers.”

  “He changed the name of the boat, in case anybody might see it,” I said. “He anchored near the Julian place, and when Newalis went into the water, he did, too, with scuba and flippers, on the Greenport side of the boat where nobody could see him. He pulled the poor bastard under and drowned him. Then he got back on the boat and took off. It was all planned out.”

  “Adds up,” Wally said.

  “But why did he do it, anyway?” I said. “And why did he return? He was back there hours later, when I arrived. Doesn’t make sense.”

  CHAPTER VIII

  Time was you could get a lobster roll for four bucks, complete with the little paper cup of cole slaw. Now the menu begged the subject of money entirely with the announcement “market price,” which was supposed to mean the price of a lobster roll changed with what the restaurant had to pay for the lobster that went into it. What it really meant was that a lobster roll cost more every time you ordered one. Today it was fourteen ninety-five.

  Which didn’t stop Wally Prager from relishing his, his long fingers covered with the mayonnaise that leaked out of the roll, his mouth stuffed with lobster salad. “I never get tired of these,” he said, “especially when you’re buying.” He wiped his hands on a paper napkin and extracted slaw from its cup with a fork. “So? Que pasa? Now you know who he is and where he lives, you could just wait till he shows up and grab him, shoot him, whatever.”

  I finished the remains of the clam chowder that was my lunch, tilting the bowl to get the last spoonful. “Maybe. Or maybe he won’t show up there anymore.”

  “The guy is a bayman. All he has in his miserable life is his shack and his boat. Can’t believe he’d just walk away from all he owns,” Wally said.

  “He has a truck, too, don’t forget. Guy like that, he could go anyplace, live anyplace. Live in his truck, if he had to. He knows I’m looking for him. And that I have a gun.”

  “Yeah, but he doesn’t know Lulu Lumpkin fingered him. And he still thinks you’re looking for a boat called Lulu.” Wally dispatched the last of his lobster roll, then raised his hand to summon our waitress away from the handsome bus boy she had cornered nearby. “A slice of that chocolate mud pie, and another iced tea,” he told her. Then to me, “You want dessert?”

  “No, but it’s thoughtful of you to ask,” I said. The waitress departed for the kitchen. “Look, Sosenko is plugged in out here. He could find out what we’ve learned. Don’t forget, Lulu knows, the fat lady at the bar knows. And the guy with the crutches, he knows, too.”

  “You think Sosenko’s smart enough to get the picture? People seem to detest him so much, they might not volunteer to tell him anything.” Wally said. “He could go back home figuring he’s OK there.”

  “But you just know there’s going to be a buzz about us poking around, asking questions. These low-lifes, they know each other, talk to each other,” I said. ”My guess is Sosenko knows how to make people talk, even if they’d rather not. Anyway, he may have a reason for what he’s doing that’s bigger than a shack and an old boat.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know yet. Something.” I took out my cell phone. “I have to call Hector Alzarez.”

  “The guy who asked for you to go to Shelter?”

  I nodded. I dialed and waited. By the time I had Hector on the other end, Wally’s dessert and iced tea appeared. I watched him eye the chocolate concoction for a moment, anticipating the lusciousness of it all. It was almost with a sense of reverence, eyes closed, that he finally took a bite. It was worth paying for the pie just to watch him eat it.

  “Lisa Harper tell you about last night, about the shooting?” I said into the phone.

  “She told me. Awful story. You were right. Something major is going on,” Hector said. “Lisa told me you weren’t sure whether the shooter was after her or you,”

  “I still don’t know. But I found out who he is. And I’m sure he’s the same one killed Newalis.” Hector listened in silence as I gave him the whole story. “So I know the who, and the how, but not the why. Could be there’s a connection of some kind with Julian Communications. Let’s give it a shot. Run the name Sosenko through your computer, all your databases. Customers, employees, suppliers, wherever there are lists of names. He’s called Hick, but I can’t believe that’s a real name. Just try Sosenko.”

  “I’ll have that done right now,” Hector said. There was a pause that told me he was about to get into something awkward. “Look, I hate to ask you to do this.” Another pause.

  “But you’re not going to let that stand in your way,” I said.

  “I need you to come to New York. I know you’re trying to put the city behind you, but Arthur Brody wants to talk to you. In person, not over the phone,” Hector said. “I tried to keep him out of it. I’m not comfortable dealing with Ingo on one hand and Brody on the other. Not the way things are between them. But the news about Newalis is all over the company, and I felt I had to tell Brody about the shooting last night. He’s the president, right? And he asked for you. Come in tomorrow morning.” His tone told me it was more than a suggestion.

  “What does he want me for?” I said

  “It’s best you hear that directly from him.”

  “You know, of course, that I don’t want to do this. Come to New York, talk to Brady, dig myself in deeper.”

  “Yes, I know. But we need you. I need you.”

  “The truth is, you need more than me. This is a dangerous situation, and if I had to bet, I’d say it’ll get worse. There should be cops on this case. Or more protection from Empire.”

  “Ingo won’t do that.
Neither will Brody. Not yet. Not with $600 million at stake. Ben, please.”

  “All right,” I said, hating to hear myself agree. “I’ll be there at 11.”

  “Come in and see me first. I’ll tell Brody you’ll be in his office at 11:30. If we find anything about this Sosenko, I’ll have the information when you get here. And my friend — thank you.”

  Wally had nearly done away with his pie by the time I was finished with Hector. “Trip to New York? What, tomorrow?” he said.

  “They’re pulling me in tighter and they won’t let me go. First Teague and now Hector. And it’s all on me because they won’t bring in the cops, or even more people from Empire. It’s an invitation to a disaster, and it’ll be my fault. Goddamn, I hate this.”

  Wally scraped the last trace of chocolate off his plate, then licked his fork. “That’s what happens when you make yourself indispensable. You’re the one they ask for, and your ass is on the line all the time. You should do what I do. Pretend you’re incompetent.” He leaned back in his chair and laced his fingers across his stomach. “I’ll say this one last time. I wouldn’t be so quick to walk away from that Sosenko guy’s shack. Or Lulu’s saloon, for that matter. Where else is he going to go? He’ll show up. Take that wise advice in payment for a swell lunch.” He smiled. “I’d have another piece of pie, compadre, but I don’t want to ruin my dinner.”

  I thought Wally just might be right, so I spent the evening in Shinnecock, checking Lulu’s place three different times, with quiet looks inside, and watching the shack from my car the rest of the time. I stayed at it until midnight, but there was no sign of Sosenko or a rusty Dodge pickup. Wally was wrong on this one, and I was wrong for thinking he might be right. And for this, amigo, I gave up an evening with Alicia.

  It was one in the morning by the time I climbed into bed, and I knew there was no way I was climbing out again at four-thirty to make the only morning train from Greenport at five-twenty. Driving the hundred miles to New York was another unappetizing option. Early morning traffic was wicked on the Long Island Expressway, and once you managed to get into Manhattan, impossible. Which only left driving an hour to Ronkonkoma, halfway to the city, and taking a train from there, where they run to Penn Station every half hour. Not my most enthusiastic choice, either, but at least I’d get to sleep till seven.