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“I’ve got an idea.”
“Good. Now I know that Joh
“Depends what you’ve changed them to.”
“Fair enough.” Be
Victor watched him move. His eyes were difficult to read. A poker player. Abruptly he scratched at his chin, and Be
“The people who think consequences don’t apply to them end up on the floor. Yeah, I’m careful. You’re Joh
“That you had a specialized product. He also said that you may have been doing the whole thing as a con. That both the people who robbed him and the corpse in the alley might have worked for you.”
Be
“Why?”
“I want to know how a
Victor considered for a moment, then shrugged. “I pressed him. But he’s silly putty, not steel.”
“There’s an understatement, brother.”
“My turn for a question.”
“Shoot.”
“Why are you here, Mr. Be
“Just Be
“So you don’t believe Mr. Loverin was in on it?”
“Joh
“I agree.” The man paused. “That does put the suspicion back on you.”
Be
Victor returned the smile. “Andrews, show Mr. Be
There was a buzz, and the partition rolled down. The driver was perched on his knees in the front seat, a Colt 1911 zeroed in perfectly steady hands. For a moment, Be
“Just the exterior glass.” Victor turned. “Thank you, Andrews. That’s fine. And you can relax now. I think we understand each other.”
Be
“Seems unlikely the robbery was random. Someone knew something.”
“No kidding. How are you working it?”
“To start, Joh
“Risky.”
“Only to him.”
“Still.” Be
“You’re right.” Victor leaned forward. “What I need is someone on the ground who has a brain. Who can operate with a little grace.”
“Uh-huh. And what’s in this for me?”
“I get my goods. You get your money.”
“No deal. The product they won’t know what to do with. But money goes easy. I could find these assholes for you, discover they’ve spent what’s mine.”
“How much did Joh
“I should say three hundred. But two-fifty.”
Victor nodded. “All right. I’ll stake you. Whatever we don’t recover, I’ll make up.”
“Your margin that good, huh?”
“My margin is my business. Deal?”
“Sure. Understand, though, I’m not working for you. We’re cooperating. I work alone.”
“Fine. And I only stake you if I get my goods and they’re intact. Half the product, half the money.”
“Fair enough. I’ll be in touch.” Be
“I could ask the same.” Victor leaned back, crossed his legs. “And, Be
“Could be the start of a beautiful friendship?”
“Maybe ‘profitable’ is a better word.”
“I hear you, brother. Consider them found.”
CHAPTER 20
“I’M SORRY,” the teller said. “I don’t understand.”
“I want to make three deposits,” Alex said. “Separately.”
“To the same account.”
“Yes.”
“So why not…”
“Look, I just want to deposit this money, and then I want a cashier’s check cut for the total amount to Tricia Kern-I mean, Tricia Stevens.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t understand.”
“Why do you need to understand?” He hated this dynamic: Give an imbecile a vest and a counter to stand behind, and suddenly they had some say in your life. Banks weren’t nearly as bad as the post office, but still. And it wasn’t like he could explain he was trying to cover up the cash deposit from his robbery. “Why can’t you just do your job?”
“Sir, I don’t have to listen to that kind of talk.”
He started to snap at her, caught himself. “I’m sorry. I’m just having a bad day.” He gestured at the bandage on his face. “My head hurts.” Her face softened some, and he continued. “I know it seems strange. But could you humor me?”
The teller glanced past him at the growing line, all of them checking their watches or glaring. “Who was that check to again?”
Alex understood what Je
“Here you are.” The teller slid the check across the counter. “In the future, I’d appreciate if you didn’t take that tone with me.”
And I’d appreciate it if you’d fucking do what I asked. He folded the slip into his pocket, shouldered past the line, and stepped out the double doors.
The bad mood faded as he left the toxic quiet of the bank. He had a couple of hours to kill before heading out to Trish’s, decided to grab di
Or maybe not. He had time to figure it out. Regardless, everything would change now.
He ordered a pulled pork platter and a Jolly Pumpkin bomber. Someone had left the New York Times on the bar, and he skimmed through. The headlines were depressing, full of news of the mortgage crisis, the stock market bottoming, the recession.
Alex was conscious of a certain split in himself. Part of him was feeling good, excited, the other part wondering what they had done, and if they would get away with it. Processing the fact that one of his friends had committed murder.
The thought hit hard, as it had all day long. He’d forget for a while, and then it would hammer him again. What had Mitch been thinking? Aiming a pistol at someone and pulling the trigger?