The Tomorrow No One Thought Of

“Roy, some ivory tower guy will say that the gun violence problem of big cities like Central City is due to the inequality between the rich and poor and to housing and education and guns and blah blah blah. But the Good Book says that evil intentions come from inside and those include stupidity. Any copper worth his salt will tell you that big city gun violence is due to someone without a lifeline playing fast and loose with forever by doing unbelievably stupid and vile things within seconds.”

After another day working the mean streets of Central City and a half hour of listening to Desk Sargent Grasso Il filosofo di strada, I was on my way to have a dinner of pork chops with my best girl. But then Sarge stops me in the parking lot. He wants me to check on a domestic disturbance in my neighborhood. Neighbors are calling the station.

I get to the Lopez place, walk up the steps, and find the door open. I poke my head inside. That was a mistake.

I come around half-conscious and curled up on the floor. Something like a sledge hammer wacked the back of my head. I look up and see a woman holding a cast iron frying pan

“Sorry, señor . . . Winder. I thought you are my soon-to-be ex.”

She had taken the ID out of my coat pocket. Does she have my service weapon? I check. It’s in the holster. I check the back of my head. There is a lump the size of an Easter egg. But no blood.

“I feel soon-to-be ex.”

Someone walks in the door and steps over me.

“Who’s this?”

“It’s policía.”

“You hit policía?”

“I thought Manny come back.”

The man helps me to my feet. I bring the swirling room up with me. He tells the woman to get some ice.

“Sorry, señor, it was mistake. No feelings hurt, OK?”

“You’ll get a raincheck on that, pal.” My knees crumble.

The guy walks me to the sofa and I lay down. He places a bag of ice behind my head.

““Why are you here, señor? The man asks this with ‘r’s rolling.

“The neighbors. The neighbors called saying there was a disturbance going on here.”

“I see. Manny was here. Matty and Manny they don’t get along.”

“Who are you?” I ask trying to remain conscious.

“Eduardo. Matty call me and say Manny outside. She throw him out last night. She no want him here.”

“I wish he’d been here a half hour ago.”

Eduardo laughed. “Yeah, me too señor.”

I open my eyes and see the frying pan woman standing at the foot of the sofa. She is holding a pocket mirror up to her face and putting on red lipstick. She looked like one of those femme fatales in the el cine negro movies my father-in-law likes to watch when he visits – a dangerous combination of beauty and vice. Her large dark eyes would bring men to their knees. Those two wrecking balls would make sure of it.

She turns away from the mirror. “Are . . . you . . . OK . . . señor . . . Winder?” Her deep voice purred out each word.

“I need to call my wife. She must be worried.”

She gives me a once over and says, “Lucky girl.”

I didn’t ask what she meant. Eduardo didn’t like what she meant. He narrowed his eyes and stared back at her.

Not with me I tell her.

A small boy peeks out from behind her wide hips and then hides again.

“Te veo hombrecito. Hi. Holá.”

The boy peeks out again. This time with a toothless smile.

¿Cómo te llamas?

He comes out from behind the woman with a hold on her silky dress.

“Miguel.”

“Mucho gusto Miguel. ¿Cuántos años tienes?

The boy holds up four fingers.

“Ah, no tan poco.” The boy let go of the dress ready to grab it again.

Eduardo helps me to my feet. My head is throbbing like a vodka toast hangover from a Polish wedding. I ask for my ID back and tell Matty to get a protection order if she feels threatened by Manny. “You don’t want to go from the frying pan into the cooler.”

What I said doesn’t make any sense to me or to them. So I say “I don’t want to come back here unless I am forced to. ¿Entiendes? Adios Miguel.”

The boy bits his lower lip and tugs on the dress as he watches me go out the door. I step out into the oppressive August heat and feel my heartbeat in my head. I call Laci and tell her I’m on my way.

~~~

Three AM Saturday morning the phone rings. It’s Sarge.

“How did things pan out for you at the Lopez place?”

“Who told you?”

“Laci. She knew you wouldn’t say anything.”

“Yeah. She’s right. I’m not down for the count if that’s what you’re wondering. And I’m guessing this isn’t a welfare check at three in the morning.”

“I need you to go over to Baila Escena over on fifth street. There’s been a shooting. One dead. CSI are headed over there now. Get going. And watch where you stick your head, Roy. Never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”

I hung up wondering what spirit Il filosofo di strada was imbibing at 3 AM. Was it the spirit of Hemmingway or Donne or of port wine?

Before I head over to the Zona Roja part of the city, I stop at Nighthawk Diner for a black coffee to go. Max, the owner, hands me the coffee and tells me that there is a full moon tonight. Of course there is, I say.

Baila Escena is on a rundown backstreet along with a pawn shop, a loan shop, a tattoo parlor, a package liquor store, and a smoke shop – each with bars on the windows.

There are two neon signs on the front of Baila Escena. One says it’s a dance studio during the week and the other says it’s a nightclub at night.

I go inside. The place has the wet cardboard smell of stale beer. And it is dark even with the house lights on. The walls, the small tables, the chairs, the dee jay booth, and the bar – everything is black. The windows are painted black. The only relief from the colorless setting are the liqueur bottles behind the bar and a few posters.

Behind the bar there is a dia del los muertos poster. Male and female skeletons are dancing in colorful outfits. A poster by the tables has a lively couple doing what is called “rumba caliente.”

I walk up to the bar. On the floor are three yellow evidence markers next to 9mm casings. The dead guy is seated on a bar chair and slumped against the bar. He’d been shot three times in the back. On the bar in front of him is an almost empty bottle of Salvadores Anejo and a shot glass. Shots in back. Shots in front.

The CSI guy is taking photos. I ask him who the dead guy is.

“Manny Lopez. He and his wife Matilda own the joint.”

The names had an all too familiar and painful ring. I guess no man is an island.

A short mustachioed man with a Guayabera Shirt pops up from behind the bar.

“We call her Matty.”

The CSI guy points while taking pictures. “That’s the guy who called 9-1-1.”

The little man hadn’t popped up. Was four foot six was all he had to offer?

“Who are you?”

“Emilio Estrada Ramírez. I am barback.” The little man began wiping the counter and I tell him to stop.

“What did you see?”

“Nothing, señor. I was in back when I hear shots. I stay there and call 9-1-1.”

“Who else was working last night?”

“Milana. She is bartender.”

“What’s her last name?”

“Kharinova. She is Russian.”

“Anyone else?”

“The bouncer.”

“What’s his name?”

“Ron. I don’t know his other name.”

“Milana and Ron – were they around when this happened?”

“Everybody go home. They go home. We close at two.”

“So, Emilio, was it just you and Mr. Lopez?”

“Yes. Me and him. Manny alway have drink when close. I stay with him to he close.”

“Was Matty here?”

“Oh no. She leave with Eduardo . . . I say about five when dance class is close.”

“Was anything taken? Anything from the cash drawer?”

“No sir.”

There are no CCTV cameras inside or outside. I have nothing and no one showing me who entered and shot Manny. I need to question Milana Kharinova and Ron the bouncer. I bring Emilio to the station for his statement. I find out from Emilio that Milana goes to MMA class on Saturdays. “She wants to be UFC fighter.”

~~~

I track down Central City MMA Academy in an industrial park outside city limits.

The Academy is in an industrial use space with high ceilings and a loading dock. There are mats on the floor and on the walls. Kids, teens, and adults are going at each other, some wrestling, some Muay Thai Kickboxing, and some with Jiu Jitsu. I ask an instructor if Milana Kharinova is training today. He calls her over.

Milana looks to be about five eight and a flyweight. Her short chestnut brown hair, gray eyes, and sharp jaw line give her a sophisticated and confident look. That she is training in Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu told me that under her disarming beauty was a dynamo looking to take on all comers.

I take Milana outside and show her my ID. The first thing she says: “Is Miguel OK?”

“Miguel? Is he four years old?”

“Yes. Miguel is four. Have you seen him?”

“I saw Miguel over at the Lopez house. He’s OK. Was he supposed to be there?”

“Yes. Matty watch him so I can train.”

“Milana, I am here to ask about the shooting last night at Baila Escena. You’re the bartender, right?”

“Yes. Wait. There was a shooting? Last night?”

“Yes. Manny Lopez was murdered.”

“Oh my God! I say goodnight to Manny and go to Matty to pick up Miguel.”

“What time was that?”

“Last call at one-thirty. I leave at two.”

“Did you see anyone go in around closing time?”

“No. Everyone go out.”

“Were there any cars parked out front.”

“No. No cars. Just homeless people. I take taxi to Matty.”

I tell her that I am going to see Matty and check on Miguel. I tell her that I need her to come to the station to make a statement after her class.

~~~

I drive over to the Lopez place. I want to have a talk with the woman who didn’t want Manny around.

This time I ring the doorbell, stand back about four feet, and wait for her to answer.

“Well helloooo detective. May I help you?”

“I’m sure you could, but I’m married. Ms. Lopez, I need to ask you a few questions.”

“Come in.”

I walk in and notice Miguel watching cartoons. He turns to look at me and turns back to the TV. I walk over to him and pull something out of my coat pocket. It’s a box of licorice pastilles. I offer one to Miguel. He takes one, puts it in his mouth, begins to screw up his face, and then asks for another.

“What did you give him, detective?”

“Licorice.”

“Are you trying to take him from me?”

“I was just talking to his mother over at MMA class. Now, I want to talk to you about last night. Privately.”

We walk into the kitchen. I keep an eye on the frying pan.

“You talk to her about what? What about last night?” She had dropped the smooth sultry voice and began using sharp tones.

“Where were you last night Ms. Lopez?”

“I was here. With Miguel and Eduardo.”

“All evening?”

“Yes.”

“Manny was murdered about ten hours ago.”

“Oh. I see. Who knows what he’s been up to. What’s that got to do with me?”

“That’s what I’m here to find out. With your husband and business partner out of the picture, you get Baila Escena all to yourself. And the other day when you conked me on the head, you thought it was Manny that you were smacking with that frying pan over there. You don’t want him around. You have motive. And you don’t seem at all bothered by his death.”

“I don’t want him around, detective, but no that way.”

Eduardo walked into the kitchen wearing only pajama bottoms.

“Oh señor. You are back. How is your head?”

“My cabeza is fine. But things are not fine at Baila Escena.”

“What do you mean?”

“Manny Lopez was murdered last night.”

“¡Dios mío.”

“Let’s talk privately.” I bring Eduardo to another room and out of earshot from Matty.

“Where were you last night, Eduardo?”

“I was here. With Matty and Miguel.”

“The whole night?”

“Yes. The dance studio close at five. I leave with Matty and Miguel.”

“When did Manny arrive?”

“Manny he come in at four to ready the club.”

“You leave with Miguel?”

“Yes. Miguel come to the club with Milana the bartender.”

“What time does she start?”

“Five. She brings Miguel to the club and we take him home with us. When Milana leave club at two she come pick him up.”

“This is Saturday. Miguel is here with you and Matty this morning.”

“Matty and I watch him in the dance studio when Milana goes to class on Tuesday and Saturday here.

“Is Milana in class right now?”

“Yes señor.”

“What is Matty’s relationship with Miguel?”

“She loves him very much. She wants to adopt him. She say she can’t have children.”

“I need you to come to the station right now and make a full statement. I’ll get Matty’s statement later today. I don’t want to leave Miguel alone.”

I didn’t want Matty and Eduardo alone together. I needed to find a hole big enough in someone’s story to crawl through and find the killer.

Before I go, I offer Miguel another pastille. He takes it and says thank you.

¿Estás bien, Miguel?

“Yes, sir.”

Miguel spoke with a raspy throat. His nose was running and his eyes were bloodshot. He’d been rubbing them.

“Cats bother you?” I point to the three cats that had the run of the place.

“Yes, sir. I like dogs better.”

“I like dogs, too. I’ll talk to your mother about the cats. I’ll check on you again, Miguel.”

Miguel smiled and rubbed his eyes.

~~~

At the station I walk in with Eduardo. Detective Smoltz is waiting in the hallway.

“Need any help with that hot tamale Matty, Roy?”

Eduardo lunges at Smoltz and unloads a punch to his jaw. Smoltz tries to return the blow, but I put myself in between him and Eduardo. The Sarge walks up. “You will not press charges, Smoltz. Go back to work.”

I interview Eduardo and he repeats the same things he tells me at the house. Then I ask “Eduardo, what is your relationship with Ms. Lopez?

“We teach dancing together.”

“And what else?”

“What else?”

“You were in pajama bottoms this morning. Is Matty divorcing Manny?”

“She want to but business is problem. She love dance studio but need club business to pay bills. They business together but no live together now.”

“Why does Matty want to divorce Manny?”

“Matty say Manny cheat on her. But I do not think it was true.”

“Why?”

“Manny a good man. He help people. He help Milana. I tell Matty Manny good but it no matter.”

“So why are you taking a good man’s place?”

Eduardo didn’t answer.

“Did you kill Manny to have Matty and the business to yourself?”

“No señor.

“Would Ms. Lopez be crazy enough to have someone kill Manny?”

“No señor. She can be crazy in her blood but the boy make her less crazy.”

I finish the interview and have an officer take Eduardo home and bring Matty to the station.

If those two had anything to do with Manny’s death, they would alibi each other. I needed more to go on.

~~~

Milana arrives at the station. I bring her to Interview Room 1.

“Milana, I saw Miguel this morning. He is allergic to cats. He’s having a hard time breathing. Matty has three cats.”

“I find better place.”

“Milana, how many nights do you work at Baila Escena”

“Six nights.”

“You said you left Baila Escena at two last night?

“Yes. At two. Everyone leave.”

“You saw no one come in?”

“No.”

“Did you ever see Manny cheat on Matty?”

“No. I never saw him cheat. He talk to women every night but I never see him do anything else.”

“Has he ever come on to you?”

“No. He knows what I can do to him if he did.”

“Do you know anyone who wanted to kill Manny?”

“No.”

“What do you know about Eduardo?”

“Eduardo is a friend. Maybe father.”

“Miguel’s father?”

“Maybe. Maybe father Jasper my MMA instructor. I see him when Eduardo stop with me. Eduardo is afraid of Ron.”

“Ron? Is he the bouncer at Baila Escena?

She nodded her head.

“What’s Ron’s last name?”

“Laverty.”

“What’s the story? Why is Eduardo afraid of Ron.”

“Ron watch me all the time. Ron is big man. That why Eduardo is afraid of him.”

“Why does Ron watch you?”

“I meet Ron online what they call mail-order service. In Russia I live with someone but he drink a lot and hurt me. I want to be MMA fighter. Take care of myself. But he says no.

“Ron pay for me to come to America. He want to marry me. I come to America with my friend Daria. I come stay with him. He talk to Manny get bar job for me. He keep eye on me. But I no want to marry him. He drink a lot and get mean. I stay maybe two week with him. No more. Manny help me get apartment.

“I meet Eduardo at club. He nice to me help me with rent but Ron scare him. I meet Jasper at MMA class. He nice to me. Give me free classes. Then I with child. Manny help me when baby come.

“Is Ron the father?”

“Ron think maybe is father but Ron say he had snip job. You know snip job?”

“Yes, I know.”

“Is the guy in Russia the father?”

“Maxim? I don’t know. He rape me and I leave.”

At this point, there are at least four lines of inquiry into a dead man with no say in the matter, a mother and a boy who don’t know who the father is, and a tomorrow no one thought of.

“Does Matty know that you and Eduardo were together?”

“No. We careful.”

“Does Eduardo think Miguel is his son?”

“I think yes.”

“Does Matty know Miguel could be Eduardo’s son by you?

“I don’t know what Eduardo say to Matty.”

“Here’s what I heard you say, Milana: you come to America to get away from a drinking and abusive guy who raped you. You stay with Ron, who paid your way to America, maybe two weeks because he drinks and is mean to you. He got you a job at Baila Escena maybe to keep an eye on you.

“Your boss Manny gets you an apartment. You hook up with dance studio Eduardo who helps pay the rent. But Eduardo is afraid of Ron and leaves you. Then you hook up with Jasper who gives you free MMA classes. You find out that you are pregnant. All in less than a month. Is that right?”

“Yes.”

“And now, after four years, there are four men who think that Miguel may be their son: a Russian, one who shoots blanks, and two who help you in exchange for God knows what.

“Detective, men use me and I use them.”

“I am not here to judge you, Milana. I am working for the dead man. And the boy.”

There is a scuffle and shouting in the hallway. Orbits colliding? I get up to see.

~~~

Five officers are having trouble restraining two guys. One of the guys is huge. He had to be six foot five and two-hundred-fifty pounds. The other is a scrappy looking guy with dirty blond hair, mustache and goatee.

One of the officers says, “These two were going at it outside the Lopez house.”

“Who’s the big lug?”

“Ron Laverty.”

“The other guy?”

“Maxim Chernykh. He shot some guy named Eduardo.”

“Is Eduardo OK?”

“He took a bullet to the gut. He’s in ER right now.”

“Was a guy named Jasper there?”

Both handcuffed guys growled, “Who’s Jasper?”

“No. No Jasper, Roy.”

“Was the boy in any danger?”

“Not that we could see. He stayed behind his mother.”

“Put the big lug in holding and put the shooter into Interview Room 2. Is the gun 9mm?”

One of the officers said it was.

“Before you send the gun to ballistics have it fingerprinted and check the serial number.”

“One other thing, Roy.” Sarge walked up to show me the two Russian passports found on Chernykh. One was for Maxim Chernykh and the other for Mikhail Chernykh. The boy’s picture looked like a cut-and-paste job.

“Sarge, send this one to Immigration. It looks fake.”

I return to Interview Room 1. I tell Milana that a guy named Maxim Chernykh was picked up outside the Lopez place. I tell her that he was threatening Ron with a gun and shot Eduardo.

Milana jumped out of the chair ready to fight. She looked at the door and back at me.

“Miguel . . . is Miguel . . .?

“Miguel is safe. You’re safe here, Milana. Ron is in holding and Mr. Chernykh is waiting for me to interview him. Please sit down.”

~~~

Before I talk to the Russian, I go to holding to interview Ron.

“Ron, what were you doing at the Lopez place?

“I followed Milana this morning. I wanted to see where she goes with Miguel. If he is my son, I have a right to see him. I pay fifteen thousand dollars for Milana to come here. Fifteen thousand dollars! And she stays away from me. She keeps the boy from me. I try not to be difficult but difficult people try my patience.”

“What happened over there?”

“I’m in my car and see this guy go to the door. He looks like the homeless guy I blocked from the club last night. I wonder what he is doing here.

“He starts yelling “I vant ze boy come out now!” A man opens the door and tells him to go away but the nutcase pulls a gun out and starts waving it around. So, I get out of the car and start yelling for him to back off. The guy points the gun at me and I tell him I’ll break his neck. The guy is in a hurry to get the boy. He turns the gun back on the man at the door and shoots him. I rush the nutcase and take him down and hold him for the police.”

“Ron, the situation could have been a lot worse if you hadn’t been there. You protected Miguel and saved lives. Now it’s time for hard words and hard choices. You need to go your own way and leave Milana and the boy alone. From what Milana tells me, Miguel is not your son. And she left you because in the short time she’s known you, she thinks of you as no different than the same drinking mean guy she left in Russia who is the nutcase you took down today. But you showed me better than that today.”

“I know I’m a big galoot. I paid big money not to be lonely and I’m still lonely.”

“I’m no Dr. Phil, Ron, or a Sargent Grasso, but maybe find a focus outside yourself.”

~~~

I walk into Interview Room 2. Chernykh is pacing with clenched fists.

“Sit down Mr. Chernykh.”

He scraps the chair back, sits down, throws both arms on the table, leans in, and scowls at me with an open mouth and wolfish green eyes.

“Mr. Chernykh why were you are the Lopez house?”

“Mikhail.”

“Mikhail?”

“Milana call him Miguel to hide him from me. But I find out from Daria.”

“Milana’s friend?

“She is my friend, too. I send her money.”

“You came to America because you believe four-year-old Miguel is your son because four years ago you raped Milana and she left Russia with Daria?”

“Detektiv, you tupoy? You do not know how vomen are?”

“You’re not as smart as you think, yobik.”

“Oh, yes. I get Mikhail take him to home to Russia. Daria come, too.”

“You shot Eduardo. Why?”

“He tupoy problema.”

“The gun. How did you get it?”

“Daria has friends.”

“I hope Eduardo makes it. You better hope so too, Mr. Chernykh. There are several charges pending including assault with a gun, attempted kidnapping and passport fraud. No Russia for you, pal. No Daria. No Mikhail. Yesli ti dyéystvooyesh’ kak doorák, ti boodyesh’ traktovat’sya tak.”

~~~

I return to Milana with a bottle of water.

“I talked to Ron. He followed you to the Lopez house this morning. He saw Miguel go in there and he saw Chernykh trying to take the boy from Eduardo. Chernykh shot Eduardo and Ron took him down and held until police arrived. Ron saved Miguel from being kidnapped.

“He isn’t happy, Milana, that he paid for you to come to America and that you and the boy stay away from him. I told him that Miguel is not his son and to let you and Miguel be.

“I talked to Chernykh and found out that Daria is not your friend. She’s been helping Chernykh so he can take Mikhail back to Russia. She told Chernykh where to find Mikhail. Chernykh said Daria was going with him.”

Milana’s face turned fierce. “I tell her everything. I tell her I leave Ron. I tell her I have baby. I tell her that Manny help me get apartment and help me with baby. Maxim kill a good man because good man help me and Miguel.”

“Chernykh shot another good man because Eduardo wouldn’t let him get near Mikhail. Ballistics is looking at the gun Maxim used on Eduardo. If it matches the gun used on Manny, he will be charged with first degree murder. And, if Daria is involved in Mikhail’s attempted kidnapping, in supplying a gun for Manny’s murder, and in passport forgery I will bring her down.

“There are several charges pending against Chernykh including assault with a gun, attempted kidnapping and passport fraud. I told him that if he was going to be an idiot he would be treated like an idiot. He will be locked up for a long time.”

Before I send Milana on her way, I tell her to find a place for Miguel that has no cats. I give her my card and tell her to call me when she finds it. I’ll come and check on Miguel. Milana’s been to the mat several times and not for Jiu Jitsu. I hope the boy comes out on top.

It’s been a long day. I head toward the parking lot hoping Sarge doesn’t see me. But he does.

“Roy, I’ve been aware for many decades that most murderers are morons. Aristotle said that actions are consistent with character.”

I tell him that Mrs. Sarge called. I tell him she has some pasta e fagioli and a bottle of chianti waiting for a character like him at home. I tell him I’m going home to Laci, and to some Pozole that my father-in-law made, and to watch Ninón Sevilla in Víctimas del Pecado with him. I pop a licorice pastille in my mouth and walk out the door.