At Their Own Game (19 page)

“Wow,” I said. I reached for my own glass. There was considerably more than a sip left, but I downed it anyway. Then I poured us both another. I raised my glass in the air. She lifted hers tentatively.
 

“Fuck it,” I said. “Here’s to beating all of them at their own game.”
 

She smiled and clinked my glass. “I’m in.”
 

“We’re both in,” I said. “All in.”
 

And we drank.
 

TWENTY-ONE
 

That night, I sat in the living room chair until late.
 

After all of the talking we’d done, it seemed as if both Helen and I craved silence. We ate a quiet meal together, me chewing slowly and wincing occasionally. Helen kissed me and took a shower. When she was finished, she said she was exhausted and was going to sleep. I nodded but said I’d be up for a while.
 

I sat and thought.
 

I listened to the small sounds my house made. The muted sounds outside on the street. Cars driving by. Every sound registered while I sat and worked on the beginnings of a plan. I stayed up until I had walked through every possibility I could think of happening, and then I stayed up longer, trying to think of new possibilities.
 

When I was finally satisfied that my idea was the best shot, I dumped the remaining whiskey from my glass into the kitchen sink and limped into the bedroom. I slid between the covers and let the warmth of Helen’s body envelop me.
 

I woke to an empty bed. When I wandered out to the kitchen, I found a full pot of coffee brewing and a note.
 

Went to the store. H.
 

I poured a cup and woke up. When my brain felt keen enough, I flipped open my phone and dialed Matt.
 

He answered in a groggy voice after five rings. “H’lo.”
 

“It’s me. We need to talk.”
 

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “Okay. Uh, now?”
 

“You’ve got something better to do?”
 

“Not something,” he said. Then he lowered his voice. “Some
one
.”
 

“Put your cock away, Lothario. Meet me at the Zip’s on Monroe.”
 

 “In an hour?” he asked hopefully.
 

“Twenty minutes.”
 

He sighed. “Okay. You got it. But who’s Lotholio? One of those elves from that hobbit movie?”
 

“Make it fifteen minutes,” I said, and hung up before he could object any further. “Jesus,” I muttered to an empty kitchen. “Maybe he’s too stupid to be working for the cops.”
 

I knew that wasn’t true, though. Matt was little more than a big kid where fun was concerned, whether that meant toys or girls. But he was dialed in when it came to our work.
 

When I’d finished off my coffee, I dressed and headed over to Zip’s. The fast food burger joint smelled strongly of grease, French fries, and Pine Sol.  I bought a coffee, took a corner booth, and waited.
 

Matt was ten minutes late.
 

“Your watch break?” I asked him.
 

He gave me a sheepish look. “Sorry, Boss. This girl…she’s pretty demanding, you know? I tried to make it quick.”
 

“Spare me the details.”
 

Matt sat across from me. “Jeez. You look terrible.”
 

“I feel worse, but thanks for noticing.”
 

“You’re kinda grumpy, too,” Matt said matter-of-factly.
 

I stared at him incredulously. “Do you know what I’ve been through in the past two days? I mean, do you have any concept?”
 

“I think so,” he said.
 

“No, you don’t. You don’t have a clue.” I shook my head. “I’ve been carrying all the weight for this crew lately. It’s time for you to step up and do your part.”
 

Matt looked hurt. “I offered, before. But you said—”
 

“Forget what I said. Are you ready to work, or are you too busy chasing tail? Because if you haven’t noticed, our little business is falling apart around us. I’d like to put an end to that.”
 

“Me, too.”
 

“Fine, then. Here’s what I need you to do.” I leaned forward and stared at him intently. “I think someone in this crew is talking to the police.”
 

I watched his eyes. They flared slightly when I spoke, but I couldn’t tell if it was because he was worried I’d figured out it was him or if he was worried about someone talking to the police.
 

“No way,” he breathed quietly. “Why do you think that?”
 

“Falkner hit my house with a search warrant last night.”
 

His eyes became even wider. “What?”
 

“You heard me. He and his SWAT boys took down my door and searched the place.”
 

“Did they find anything?”
 

“You think I’m stupid enough to keep stuff at my house?”
 

“No, I’m not saying that. But sometimes cops plant stuff.”
 

I shook my head. “Only the dirtiest ones do that. I never saw it happen the whole time I was on the job.”
 

“Well, I’ve heard of it before.”
 

“From who?”
 

“Lots of people.”
 

“Like who?”
 

“Like…I don’t know. People.”
 

I waved away the conversation. “It doesn’t matter. The point isn’t whether they found anything or not. The point is, they found the secret compartment that I have in my bedroom closet
in case
I ever
did
have something at my house.”
 

“So you’re good, then. No evidence.”
 

“You’re missing my point. How did they find the compartment?”
 

He shrugged. “Searching, I guess.”
 

I shook my head. “No. I’ve been on plenty of search warrants with cops before. They search okay, but there’s no way that detective would have found the compartment unless he was looking for it. It’s too well hidden. He knew where it was, and he found it.”
 

“I don’t know, Boss…”
 

“I do. He already knew where it was. The question is,
how
did he know?”
 

“Maybe it was a good guess.”
 

“Will you fucking listen to me for a second?” I snapped. “It wasn’t a guess. He
knew
. And he knew because someone told him. Now, who knew about that compartment?”
 

“I don’t know.”
 

“I do. Three people. Me, you, and Brent.” I let that sink in for a moment, then continued. “I sure as fuck know that I didn’t tell him. And I don’t think it was you, or I wouldn’t be sitting here talking to you.”
 

A moment later, he took my meaning. “Brent?” he asked, disbelieving. “No way!”
 

“Hey, I didn’t want to believe it, either. But it’s the only logical answer. If it wasn’t me and it wasn’t you, it has to be Brent.”
 

He looked down at the table. I could almost hear the machinery in his head clunking and scraping through the thought process. I watched him carefully.
 

He looked up after a little while and asked, “How do you know it wasn’t me?”
 

“You already got tested,” I said. “Falkner worked on you after you got picked up on that assault warrant but you stood tall. What more proof do I need than that?”
 

He nodded his head slowly as if that made sense. “So what are we supposed to do? I mean, it’s not like we can take the guy out and whack him or something.”
 

I looked at him meaningfully and said nothing.
 

Matt shook his head. “No way, Boss. That’s too much. I mean, if it’s self-defense or something, I get hurting people. But not for something like this. We’re not mobsters.”
 

“You’re right,” I said. “We’re not bad guys. But that limits our options, too. I’ll be honest with you. I don’t have a plan. I’m not sure what to do. That’s what I need from you.”
 

“A plan?”
 

“An idea. I need you to spend some time thinking about this. Tell little miss hot-in-the-sack to get lost for a while and put your mind to work. Because we’ve got to figure out something.”
 

“Are you sure,” Matt asked. “I mean, you’re kind of the idea guy, Boss. I basically drive truck, you know? Maybe you should—”
 

“What did I just say?” I growled at him. “I’ve been doing everything lately. It’s time for you to step up. Besides, I don’t have time to figure this out right now. I’ve got to meet with Ozzy in less than three hours.”
 

His eyes widened, then narrowed. “You sure you don’t need help with that?”
 

I shook my head. “We reached an agreement. He’s going to let us have the merchandise, minus what he calls a ten percent aggravation fee.”
 

“I thought you didn’t want to do that.”
 

“I don’t see that we have any choice. Like you said, we’re not bad guys. We don’t go around killing people, even people like Ozzy. So at the end of the day, this is about the only option available to us.”
 

He nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess that makes sense.”
 

“I’m meeting him at Marconi’s restaurant at one o’clock,” I said. “He’s coming alone and bringing the stuff.”
 

Matt’s expression grew worried. “And you’re sure you don’t want me there?”
 

“No. It’s a public place. And I’ll be sitting in the back corner, so I’ll see him coming the whole way.”
 

“Ain’t that how they killed the guy in
The Godfather
? In an Italian restaurant full of people?”
 

“You watch too many movies. This isn’t New York, and Marconi’s is as safe as it’s going to get.”
 

“Okay,” Matt said, his voice doubtful. “I’d just feel better if someone was with you.”
 

“I’ll be fine. At one o’clock, there’ll still be a heavy lunch crowd. Anyway, Ozzy’s not going to be a problem anymore. Brent and the cops are the bigger problem. And I need you working on that.”
 

“You want me to talk to Brent? Kinda feel him out?”
 

“Absolutely not. Don’t talk to him. Don’t even answer your phone if he calls.”
 

“What if he texts me?”
 

I just stared at him.
 

“Seriously,” Matt said. “He knows I keep my phone with me all the time. He’ll understand if I don’t answer a call but if I don’t answer a text, he’ll know something’s up. He might get worried and come over to my house to check on me.”
 

“Do you answer your texts when you’re knocking boots?”
 

“Knocking what?”
 

“When you’re with a girl,” I said. “Do you answer your texts then?”
 

“Of course not. Not unless she’s really lame.”
 

“Well, there you go. As far as Brent knows, you’re in the middle of a sexual marathon. Unless he wants to stop by to drop off some Gatorade, he should leave you alone.”
 

Matt thought about it, then nodded. “Yeah, that’ll work.”
 

“I know it will.”
 

He smiled at me then, the first smile since he’d arrived. “That’s why you’re the boss. You figure this stuff out. You’re smart.”
 

“We’ll see how smart I am after I leave Marconi’s. The whole meeting shouldn’t last more than a few minutes, so I’ll touch base with you after.”
 

“Okay.”
 

“Try to have an idea what we’re going to do about the rat in our house by then,” I said.
 

Matt nodded exuberantly. “I’m all over it.”
 

Less than an hour later, I was sitting in a small diner in Browne’s Addition across from Brent.
 

“No way,” he said. “Not Matt.”
 

“Why not Matt?”
 

“He’s loyal,” Brent said. “He’d never roll on us.”
 

I leaned back in my chair and crossed my arms. “Let’s compare your narrow criminal experience to my extensive police experience for just a second. What do you think is more likely? Your world view that Matt is a stand-up guy or my experiential knowledge that when faced with the reality of prison, almost everyone will flip?”
 

Brent lowered his gaze and stared down at his hands. “I just have a hard time believing it, that’s all.”
 

“How do you think I felt?” I said. “But there’s too many coincidences here. And he’s the only one who we know has been in contact with the cops.”
 

“Shit,” Brent muttered.
 

“Yeah, shit is right. The question is, what are we going to do about it?”
 

“Confront him. Get it out in the open.”
 

“No. Absolutely not. Don’t even take his calls.”
 

“Why not?”
 

“Because as soon as the cops know that we know he’s a snitch, his value to them is zero. That means they move on us right away. Which leaves us no time to plan or to counter their actions. And we need that time to figure out what to do.”
 

“Which is what?”
 

“I don’t know yet,” I admitted. “And I’m too busy right now to figure it out. You’re going to have to think of something.”