The Ethical Assassin

The ringing ended. “Meadowbrook Grove police.”

It wasn’t him. “Chief Doe,” B.B. barked in a staccato voice, base and forceful, entirely unlike his own.

“Hold on.”

There was a brief pause. “This is the chief.”

“Chief Doe,” B.B. said in his disguised voice, “I am calling to warn you. Ken Rogers, the Gambler, is setting you up. He had your meth cook killed to frame you. He is out to get you and take over your cut for himself. You’ve been warned.”

“Yeah? Who is this?”

“Someone who works with him,” B.B. said.

“And why are you telling me this?”

The question stumped B.B. Why would someone tell Doe? “Because,” B.B. said, deciding to stick to the truth, “the Gambler’s a fucking asshole who deserves what he gets.”

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Doe said.

B.B. hung up the phone. Now things would follow their course. Doe was a ruthless bastard, and he wouldn’t hesitate to take out the Gambler. He’d deny it to B.B.’s face, but that was okay. In the vacuum, Desiree would step in, and B.B. would be able to toast his success with Chuck Fi

Doe slowly hung up the phone.

“Who the heck was that?” Pakken asked him.

“A guy who was disguising his voice.”

“That’s what I thought, too,” Pakken said. “What’d he want?”

“To tell me the Gambler is going to fuck me over.”

“You think it’s true?”

Doe pushed himself down into his chair. “I don’t think so. I mean, he would if he could, but I don’t think that’s what’s going on right now. But I’ll tell you that whatever is going on, it is highly fucked up because a disguised voice don’t mean shit to me. I recognized him.”

Chapter 24

ON THE BALCONY, standing in Bobby’s massive shadow, I watched a wounded palmetto bug the size of an egg limp toward the Gambler’s door and force its way in through the crack. I’m sure there was something very clever I might have said to Bobby to defuse the situation, to make it disappear in a puff of smoke, but I didn’t know those words.

“Bobby,” I said. My voice felt heavy and stupid. “What’s new?”

“What were you doing in there?” he asked me, pointing to the Gambler’s room.

The words just tumbled out of my mouth. “The Gambler asked me to get something for him.” Why not? Bobby was already puzzled about my earlier meeting.

He continued to stare. “Shouldn’t you be out selling?”

I shrugged. “You’d think, wouldn’t you? But you know. The Gambler and all. Anyhow, what are you doing back here?”

“I just needed to get some Tums,” he said absently. “My stomach’s bothering me.”

“Hope you feel better. I’ll see you at the pickup later, okay?” And I dashed off, leaving him in what I hoped would be a state of such perplexity that he wouldn’t say anything to the Gambler before the end of the weekend.

Back in my own room, still shaken from my run-in, I stared at the information I’d copied down and tried to figure out what I was going to do with it. Then, all at once, I knew.

I took out the yellow pages and flipped through it in search of “Private Investigators.” Nothing, but I was redirected to “Investigators.” There were perhaps two dozen listings, but only three ads. I wanted someone who had taken out an ad, because I couldn’t risk some small-timer ru

It was a local number, so I didn’t need my phone card, yet it didn’t seem like a good idea to me to talk in the room, thereby leaving evidence of the call on my bill. So I wrote the information on the same sheet of paper on which I’d copied everything from William Gu

A shrill voice answered on the first ring. “ Denton.”

Here I was mouthing off to Officer Toms about gender equality, and it had never occurred to me that Chris Denton might be a woman. “Oh,” I said stupidly. “I thought you would be a man.”

“I am a man, you asshole,” the voice shot back. “I’m a man who sounds like a woman, okay? Everyone thinks I’m a woman on the phone. Can we move the fuck on?”

“Yeah, sure. Sorry.”

“Don’t sorry me, douche. Just state your business.”

“Okay, can you do a background check on someone for me?”

“How’d you get my number?” he asked.

“From the ad in the phone book.”

“Did the ad say I could do background checks, Sherlock?”

“It might have alluded to something like that.”

“Then you’ve got your fucking answer, don’t you? Look, I’m just finishing up some paperwork. Be at my office in an hour.”

“I can’t,” I said. “I’m sort of in a tight spot, and I need to do this over the phone.”

“You go

“I’ll give you a credit card number. You can run it first, if you like, just to make sure everything is legit.”

“Can I now?” he snorted. “Thanks so fucking much for the permission. Okay, give me what you have.”

I read him the info off my piece of paper. “I’m looking for anything in the public domain about this guy. Does he have a criminal record? Are there any press articles about him? That sort of thing.”

“Fine,” Denton said.

“I need it pretty fast.”

“Said the priest to the whore. How fast?”

“Today fast,” I said.

A brief pause. “I need four or five hours, but a rush job will cost you. Two hundred.”

It was more than I wanted to spend, and certainly more than I wanted to put on my credit card. I knew I was going to get it from Andy. Even if I told him in advance, gave him the money in advance (which I wouldn’t do, since the last time I did that, he claimed I hadn’t given him anything when the bill came), he’d still give me a hard time, tell me I was wasting his credit (as though credit were like the elastic on a pair of briefs that could get stretched out). But the money had to be spent, so I read him the credit card information and hung up.

When I turned around, Melford’s car was parked directly in front of the booth. I hadn’t seen him pull up. “Howdy, stranger,” he said through the rolled-down window.

The truth? I was happy to see him. Clearly he’d had no problems with Doe and made a clean escape. But that didn’t mean I was ready for more adventures. “No thanks,” I told him.

“We’ve been through this,” Melford said with mock gravity. “Let’s cut to the place where you get in the car.”

“Forget it,” I told him. “I’ve seen people killed, I’ve broken into buildings, I’ve been harassed and hurt by cops and nearly arrested. And you know what the worst thing is? You hung me out to dry, Melford. You were going to let me go down for your crimes. So, if you think I’m getting back in that car with you, you’re crazy.”

“I hung you out to dry?” he asked. “Lemuel, I was right there, every step of the way. I wasn’t going to let anything happen to you.”