Big Trouble (20 page)

From the ground, Leonard said, “I'm never gonna leave New Jersey again.”

EDDIE, wrapping the phone cord around Matt's wrists, had tied one knot—he thought it was a square, but it was actually a granny—when the intercom unit in the foyer buzzed.

Everybody looked at Snake. The intercom buzzed again, longer this time.

“OK,” said Snake, grabbing Anna by the arm and yanking her roughly to her feet. “You go tell whoever that is to go away. You don't say nothin' stupid or you get shot.” He followed Anna partway into the foyer, standing where he could see her and the living room. The intercom buzzed again. Anna pushed the talk button.

“Who is it?” she asked.

“Miami Police,” said a male voice.

“Shit
,
”
whispered Snake.

The intercom voice said, “This is Officer Kramitz and Officer Ramirez. Can we come in, please?”

Anna looked at Snake, who was pointing the gun at her. “Ask 'em what they want,” he whispered.

“What do you want?” Anna said.

“We need to talk to Jenny Herk,” said the voice.

Snake whispered, “Tell 'em she ain't here.”

“She's not here,” said Anna.

There was a pause, then the voice said, “Well, can we come in and speak to you for a moment, ma'am?”

Anna looked at Snake, who again whispered,
“Shit
,
”
and then, “OK, open the gate and let 'em come to the front door.”

“I'm opening the gate,” said Anna, punching in the code.

“SOUNDED to me like somebody was telling her what to say,” said Walter, as the gate slid open.

“Yeah, I heard that, too,” said Monica. “I'm wondering if it was the husband.”

“He's the asshole, right?” said Walter.

“That's him,” said Monica. “I'm wondering if Jenny told them what happened at the five-and-dime, and they're just telling us she's not here to keep her out of it.”

“They don't wanna get involved,” said Walter.

“Right,” said Monica.

“Well,” said Walter, stopping the cruiser in the Herk driveway, “they're
gonna
get involved.”

He and Monica got out of the car and went to the front door. Walter knocked and said, “It's the police.”

The door opened just wide enough for Anna to show her face.

“Yes, officers?” she said. “Can I help you?”

Her jaw was clenched; her eyes were too wide. Even Walter could tell there was something wrong. Both he and Monica assumed that the asshole husband had told her what to say, and was listening to her.

“Mrs. Herk,” said Monica, “we want to talk to Jenny about a . . . about something that happened in the Grove. We think she and her friend Matt were witnesses. Your daughter's not in trouble, but it's important that we talk to her.”

“I told you Jenny's not here,” Anna said.

“Mrs. Herk,” said Monica, “Do you mind if we come in for a minute?”

“I . . . I . . . No,” Anna said. “I mean
yes,
I mind. Please don't come in.”

“Mrs. Herk, is something wrong?” asked Monica.

“No,” said Anna, her voice tight. “No.”

Monica and Walter looked at each other. They both knew that, without a warrant, they could not legally enter this house by force.

“OK, then, Mrs. Herk,” said Monica. “I'm gonna give you a card, and when Jenny gets here, I'd appreciate it if you'd give us a call, OK?”

“Yes,” said Anna, taking the card, her hand shaking, and Monica saw something in her eyes, and before she could talk herself out of it, she put her shoulder to the door, pushed it open, and stepped inside.

“DO you think you could go a little faster?” Eliot asked the cab driver. The driver looked up into the rearview and studied Eliot for a few seconds, which was not really a dangerous maneuver, because he was going only about eight miles per hour. Over the years, Eliot had noticed that in Miami, in contrast to other cities, where cab drivers tended to go faster than everybody else, they generally traveled at the speed of diseased livestock. Eliot suspected that this driver was stoned on something.

“What's the big hurry?” the driver asked, still looking at Eliot, as opposed to the road.

“This is an emergency,” said Eliot.

“Huh,” said the driver, not going any faster. In fact, he appeared to actually slow down, while he thought about it.

After a few seconds, he said, “Which one is Caramba Street?”

“It's not Caramba Street,” said Eliot. “It's
Garbanzo
Street.
Garbanzo
.”

This new information caused the cab driver to slow still more.

“I thought you tole me Caramba Street,” he said.

“No,” said Eliot, starting to lose it,
“Garbanzo
.
”

The cab driver thought about that. They were now going slower than Eliot normally walked.

“Tell you the truth,” said the cab driver, “I never even heard of no Caramba Street.”

“Look,” said Eliot, “could you just . . .”

“I ain't sayin' there ain't no Caramba Street,” said the driver. “I'm just sayin' I never
heard
of it.”

“Could you please go to Garbanzo as fast as possible?” said Eliot.

“What's the big hurry?” asked the driver.

“THIS IS A FUCKING EMERGENCY,” said Eliot.

“OK, OK, OK,” said the driver, taking both hands off the wheel and holding them in front of him, palms out, to indicate that, sheesh, enough already. “You don't gotta yell.”

WHEN Monica shoved her way through the front door of the Herk home, Anna staggered back a step. Monica quickly brushed past her, not sure what she was looking for. Suddenly, she stopped.

Two steps behind, Walter, surprised by Monica's decision to force her way in, was saying, “Jesus, Monica, what're you . . .” Then he stopped, too, because he saw what Monica was seeing: Snake, standing just beyond Anna, at the entrance to the living room, aiming a gun at them. It looked to Walter like a .45.

“I'll kill you both,” Snake said. “Swear to God, you gimme one excuse, I'll fuckin' kill you both right now.”

Monica said, “We're not gonna . . .”

“Shut up!” said Snake. “Just shut up an' put up them hands. Eddie! Get in here.”

Eddie came around the corner and saw the two police officers, with their hands up.

“Oh Jesus, Snake,” he said.

“Shut up, goddammit,” said Snake. “Just do like I say. Close the door and get their guns and bring 'em here.”

Eddie closed the door, then went to Monica, unsnapped her belt holster, and took the Glock 40. It felt heavy in his hand. Next he got Walter's gun. Walter, his arms in the air, tensed his biceps and gave Eddie a hard-ass stare, but Eddie didn't meet his eyes.

Eddie, carrying the cops' Glocks as though they were rabid weasels, brought them over to Snake, who stuck one in each of his pockets. He was feeling very confident now; he had
three
magic wands. The cops had been a surprise, but he'd handled it, hadn't he? He had a new plan now, and he was feeling good about it, seeing in his mind the moves he would make.

Snake waved Anna and the two police officers toward the living room. “Everybody in here,” he said.

“You're making a mistake,” said Monica.

“Only mistake will be if you open your fuckin' mouth again, lady cop,” said Snake. “Lady cops bleed just as good as man cops.” He liked the way that came out. It sounded like something a kingpin would say.

When everybody was in the living room, Snake said, “Lady cop, I want you to take muscle boy's handcuffs and cuff him to . . . to that thing there.”

He gestured toward a massive entertainment unit, eight feet high and eight feet wide, made of steel tubes. Its shelves held a stereo system, some decorative vases, and a framed picture of Anna and Jenny.

Monica took Walter's handcuffs from the case on his belt. She snapped one end around Walter's left wrist and the other to one of the vertical steel tubes on the entertainment unit.

“Make it tighter on his wrist,” said Snake.

Monica, giving Walter a look that said
sorry,
made it tighter.

“Now toss me the keys,” said Snake.

Monica got Walter's keys and tossed them to Snake.

“Now, lady cop,” said Snake, “I want you take your cuffs and cuff this asshole here”—he gestured at Arthur—“to the other end of that thing, nice and tight.” Snake had decided that the kingpin and the muscle cop were the biggest threats in the room; the rest were just punks and women.

Monica handcuffed Arthur to the other end of the entertainment unit.

“Now gimme the keys,” said Snake. He liked telling the lady cop what to do.

Monica tossed the keys.

“Now,” said Snake, pointing the gun straight at Monica's face, “take off your cop shirt and show me your titties.”

Monica looked at the gun.

“C'mon, lady cop,” Snake said. “Looks like you got a nice pair under there.”

Monica forced her eyes to leave the gun and look at Snake.

“Fuck you,” she said.

Snake stared at her down the gun barrel for a long moment. Finally, he said, “Maybe later.” Then, to Eddie, he said, “Finish tyin' up the punk”—he pointed at Matt—“and then tie up the lady cop and this lady.” He pointed at Anna.

“What about them two?” asked Eddie, pointing to Puggy and Jenny.

“I got plans for them two,” said Snake, looking at Jenny.

Eddie got the telephone cords and went to work. He really wanted some guidance on the knots, but he decided this was not the time to ask, seeing as how Snake now had three guns and had gone, as far as Eddie could tell, completely batshit. So he did the best he could, wrapping the prisoners' wrists in tangled, semi-random snarls.