The Reapers

“Looks like our two friends picked the wrong guys to mess with.”

“I guess so.”

“You say they were looking for a car?”

“A car, and money.”

“You got much money here?”

“Not a lot. Most people pay by check or credit card. We still get some that like to work with cash, though. Old habits die hard around here.”

“I’ll bet,” said Bruce, as though Willie was not talking about cash payments but something else entirely. Willie tried to figure out what that might be, but there were so many possibilities from which to choose, legal and illegal, that he was spoiled for choice. Finally, Willie made the co

In the meantime, Bruce gave Willie the hard eye. “I’ll bet,” he said again. He waited. Willie could hear Arno’s voice coming from the office. He was talking a lot more than Willie was. In fact, Special Agent Lewis appeared to be having trouble just getting a word in.

Welcome to my world, thought Willie.

Eventually, Bruce seemed to realize that Willie wasn’t about to break down and confess to every unsolved crime on the books, and resumed his questioning.

“So they wouldn’t have raked in a whole lot of money for their trouble, even if they had managed to get away with it.”

“Couple of hundred maybe, including petty cash.”

“Lot of grief for a couple of hundred. There must have been easier pickings for them.”

“We don’t have a camera.”

“Excuse me?”

“Security cameras. We don’t use ’em. Most places do now, but we don’t. Maybe they figured we didn’t have them, and thought, what the hell, let’s try it.”

“Desperate times, desperate measures.”

“Something like that.”

“They strike you as desperate men?”

Willie considered the question. “Well, they weren’t friendly. I don’t know from desperate.”

“I mean, they strike you as the kind of men who needed money?”

“Everybody needs money,” replied Willie simply.

“Except our friend who got his head stoved in had four or five hundred in cash on him, not to mention a very nice gun. Doesn’t strike me that he was hurting enough to take down an auto shop for a double century.”

“I got no insights into the criminal mind. That’s your department.”

“No insights into the criminal mind, huh?” Bruce seemed to find this fu

“What about the car?” said Bruce, when he was done laughing.

“What about it?”

“According to what you told the police, they drove here, and the other, uh, ‘alleged’ thief got away in the same vehicle. Why would they need a car if they already had one?”

“Could be they were pla

“Would have meant killing you and your buddy, then, just so you couldn’t identify them or the car.”

“Well, that’s why one of them ended up wearing a hammer instead of a hat. Look, Mr. Bruce-”

“I prefer ‘Special Agent Bruce.’”

Willie stared at Bruce impassively. There was a moment of strained silence between the two men, until Willie sighed theatrically and continued.

“Special Agent Bruce, I don’t understand what your problem is here. We didn’t get a chance to make these guys a cup of coffee so they could sit down and explain their motives to us. They came in, busted my nose, told me what they wanted, and you know the rest.”

“Yeah, I know. You’re heroes. There’s already a guy from the Post outside, waiting to take your picture. You’re going to be famous. Should be good for business.”

“Sure,” said Willie, a touch uneasily.

“You don’t sound too happy about it,” said Bruce.

“Who needs that kind of publicity?”

Bruce’s grin widened. “Exactly!” he said. “That’s just my point. Who needs it? Not you, and maybe not your partner in this operation.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t you? Who bailed you out when you were in trouble back in the day? Your ex-wife wanted you to sell the business as part of a divorce settlement, right? Things weren’t looking good for you and then, suddenly, poof! You got the money to pay her off without having to sell. Where’d the money come from?”

Special Agent Bruce seemed to know a lot about Willie’s business. Willie wasn’t sure that he approved of his tax dollars being spent in this way.

“A Good Samaritan,” he said.

“What was his name?”

“Came through an agency. I don’t recall any names.”

“Yeah, Last Hope Investments, which was in existence for about as long as a mayfly.”

“Long enough to help me out. That’s all that matters to me.”

“You ever pay back the loan?”

“I tried but, like you say, Last Hope don’t exist no more.”

“Hardly surprising, if they go around making loans and then not seeking payment on them. Curious name, too, don’t you think?”

“Not my problem. I declared the loan. I’m all straight.”

“Who owns this building?”

“Property company.”

“Leroy Frank Properties, Incorporated.”

“That’s it.”

“You pay rent to Leroy Frank?”

“Fifteen hundred a month.”

“Not much for a big place like this.”

“It’s enough.”

“You ever meet Leroy Frank?”

“You think if I worked in a Trump building I’d meet Donald?”

“You might do, if he was a friend of yours.”

“I don’t think Donald Trump is friends with many of his tenants. He’s the Donald, not-”

“-not Leroy Frank,” Bruce finished for him.

Willie shook his head, a simple man faced with someone who seemed intent upon deliberately misinterpreting everything that was said.

“I told you: I never met no Leroy Frank. I cover my rent, I run my business, I pay my taxes, and I never even got so much as a parking ticket in my life, so I’m all square with the law.”

“Well,” said Bruce, “you must be just about the honestest man between here and Jersey.”

“Maybe even farther than that,” said Willie. “I met people from Jersey.”

Bruce scowled.

“I’m from Jersey,” he said.

“Maybe you’re the exception,” said Willie.

Bruce looked momentarily confused, then decided to let that particular conversation slide.

“He’s hard to trace, this Leroy Frank,” he resumed. “Quite the paper trail around his companies. Oh, it’s all clean and aboveboard, don’t get me wrong, but he’s a mystery. Hard for a man to stay so enigmatic these days.”

Willie said nothing.

“You know, what with this threat of terrorism and all, we’ve been spending a lot more time looking into finances that don’t add up like they should,” said Bruce. “It’s easier than it used to be. We got more powers than before. Of course, if you’re i

“I hear Joe McCarthy used to say that,” said Willie, “but I think he was lying.”

Bruce realized that he wasn’t getting anywhere for the present. He took his considerable weight off the Olds, which seemed to groan with relief. His grin faded and his scowl returned. Willie figured it was only ever going to be a short vacation for that scowl at the best of times.

“Well, I guess I’ll be going, but we’ll be seeing each other again,” said Bruce. “You happen to meet the mysterious Leroy Frank, you tell him I said hi. Unfortunate that all of this should happen in one of his properties. Be a shame if someone suggested to the press that it might be worth looking into the ownership of this place. It could threaten his anonymity, force him out into the light.”

“I just pay my money into the bank,” said Willie. “The only question I ask is, ‘Can I get a receipt?’”

Special Agent Lewis emerged from the office. If anything, her expression looked more pinched than before, and she was practically shaking with frustration. Willie suppressed a smile. Arno did that to people. Trying to get answers from him when he didn’t want to give them was like trying to straighten a snake. Bruce picked up immediately on his partner’s unhappiness, but didn’t comment upon it.