Philadelphia Story by Bruce Sarte

___________

After Nathalie left I was able to unwind on the couch with Copper
and another glass of Jack Daniels. It wasn’t until my phone began ringing did I
remember that I missed a call while being accosted by the inner city version of
Menudo.

Unknown. Great… my favorite caller.

“Hello?” I offered, hoping for a response but just like earlier in
the day, nothing. It was actually starting to get on my nerves considering the
kind of day I ended up having. “Look, I know that you are with or work for #1
Velvet Dragon Industries and I know where the warehouse is so I’d really…”

“You shouldn’t have come to the warehouse today,” she interrupted
in a flat monotone.

“No? Why not? You…”

“Javier and Miguel will shoot you,” she interrupted again in the
same flat monotone. So that’s what Sleeves’ and Crucifix’ names were. Wonder
which was which.

“Your Hispanic friends don’t scare me. I was just trying to make
sure you weren’t in trouble.” I paused hoping for some input from my mystery
caller. “Are you in trouble?”

“I… I…” she stammered, unsure of herself suddenly. “I should have
never called you, I just want to tell you not to worry and that it was a
mistake for me to call you.” Her speech pattern had increased almost to the
level of panic. “Just stay away… they will hurt you and…” She stopped suddenly
and let her words hang.

“And?” I prompted.

“Nothing,” the flat tone had returned, “just stay away.”

“Who is this? Why are you calling me?” No response. “Hello? Are
you still there?” But the mystery girl was gone. Just like before, I didn’t
have anything tangible but I felt like something was wrong and I was
responsible for thisgirl. And somehow, she felt a responsibility for… me?

I looked at my missed calls and saw it was Linc who had called
earlier.

“Lance. Linc. Call me. You want to know whose car that is.” He
said it matter-of-factly, as if I wanted to know whose car that was. Not
implying a question. So I did as instructed by my venerable partner of few
words but many skills.

“Hey Linc!” I said in my best mobster impression. Linc loves it
when I poke fun at his Italian heritage. “Wassa happening!” More ethnic humor.

“The car is registered to Soriano Mustafa.” That Linc, always
right to the point. But this little piece of information caught me off-guard.

“Say what now?” Soriano Mustafa was one of the biggest crime
bosses this side of New York City and the word was that he even had ties
upthere.

“And do you want to guess who is listed at the owner of #1 Velvet
Dragon Industries?” Linc added in his gravely baritone.

“Soriano Mustafa?” I wagered a guess.

“Bingo.” His gritty voice stayed steady.

“You didn’t happen to see what #1 Velvet Dragon Industries does
exactly?” I took a shot.

“They are listed as an import and export enterprise. But I made
some calls.” Linc is nothing if not thorough. “You familiar with Savannah’s?”

“Of course.” Savannah’s is a high-priced, elitist gentlemen’s
club. It was the kind of place that had a membership fee per year, not a cover
charge. Only the wealthiest people were members. Only the youngest and most
beautiful women danced at Savannah’s. There were rumors that for the right
price, anything could be had. “You know, I’ve heard of it.”

“Number 1 Velvet Dragon Industries owns eighty percent. They also
own a stake in the Maritime Museum and The Moshulu.”

“So why does this make me want to find this girl even more, Linc?”

Author,
Sands of Time, Towering Pines, The Star of Christmas

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