Mr. Hooligan (24 page)

Riley’s eyebrows lifted. “You’re asking me to contribute?”

Israel nodded.

Carlo said, “That a problem?”

Riley looked away, like he was searching for an excuse. “You’re asking me, who got shot in the belly and I could’ve died out there on that water, you’re asking me to contribute?”

“Yes,” Carlo said.

“Then let me put it like this. A hole in my belly and a couple pints of my blood—that’s my contribution.”

Silence followed.

Israel said, “Never known you to be such a cold son of a bitch, Riley.”

“And I’ve never known you to hire such malicious motherfuckers like those two.”

“Speaking ill of the dead,” Carlo said, “shame on you.”

Israel leaned forward on his cane. “I acknowledge the situation got out of hand.”

Riley raised his voice, “Out of hand? That’s how you’re describing it?”

“Calm down, now.”

Carlo sat back and folded his arms, beginning to enjoy this.

“We need to clarify something first and foremost before we go any further,” Israel said. “I want to understand, I want to believe that you, Riley James, the boy I’ve known for eons, is with me completely. Look here, we helped clean up a mess for you. Don’t want to rub your face in this, son, but we cleaned up after you. A full explanation of what happened out there, you owe us that.”

Carlo stood up and walked over to Riley’s bed. He stared down at him. “You ask me, that whole deal don’t pass the smell test. Top to bottom.”

Riley, as he always liked to do, ignored him, saying to Israel, “What do you want to know?”

“I’m having a hard time picturing it. Let’s see if I got this straight. You’re on the back pier. You, Temio, and Chino. Then this person just appears out of the dark and comes down the pier shooting?”

“I was in the boat, I told you that. Temio and Chino were on the pier. They were just about to load the buckets. A guy comes running down the pier. I’m thinking he must’ve followed us from the bar. Next thing I know, gunshots. One of them, I think it was Temio, fired back. I felt something hit me and I went down, hid in the boat ’cause I didn’t have a weapon. Shooting stops, I look up. Temio and Chino are down and the guy, he probably got plugged ’cause he’s getting up holding his arm and he runs off. And that’s it. I help them in the boat, and we speed off.”

“How did this guy look?”

“Young, kinda slim. Spanish. That’s about all I remember.”

“What kind of gun did he have?”

“A pistol. Don’t ask me what type, or how big. It was raining, and it was dark.”

“So you just needed to put Temio and Chino in the boat and then you’re off.”

“Some buckets were still on the pier.”

“So you loaded them in the boat yourself. Shot and bleeding you did that by yourself?”

“Those guys weren’t in any shape to help.”

Israel said, “Hmm,” fingers squeezing and releasing the hook of his cane. “Because when we talked the other night you said the buckets, all of the buckets, were in the boat, and Temio and Chino were untying the lines and you were about to push off when the shooting started.”

Riley took a second to adjust a pillow behind him. “Then it must have gone that way. Obviously I’d be fucking confused over the moment-by-moment occurrences on a night that was dark and rainy when I almost got myself killed, all right, Israel?”

“Slow down, chief,” Carlo said and touched Riley’s shoulder. “Don’t get all upset, you might hurt yourself.”

Israel said, “So you think Chino hurt this guy when he fired back?”

Riley stared at Israel. “What are you doing?” He looked up at Carlo. “Get your hands off me.” Back to Israel, “You know I told you it was Temio who fired back, so what game are we playing?”

In the long silence, Carlo walked away past the sleeping Alzheimer’s patient. He stood at the window and parted the blinds with two fingers and looked out at the wet hospital square. “That’s the question we want to ask you, buddy.”

When he turned around, Riley was standing up, taking off his robe. He had a wide bandage tight around his torso. He fished a shirt out of a plastic bag on the floor by the bed and slipped it on. Buttoning the shirt, he looked squarely at Israel. “You’re accusing me of something, lay it out.”

Israel scooted forward with the help of his cane. “Yes, the six-million-dollar question. You don’t hear me accusing you of working a little deal under my nose with the assistance of a few friends. Like Harvey Longsworth and Miss Rose Robinson. You haven’t heard that from my lips yet but you tell me how this sounds: Harvey gets wind that a shipment is coming in—” He stopped, looked at the other bed.

Carlo glanced in that direction. “Sleeping.”

Israel said, “A shipment is coming in, he gets wind maybe because you let it slip accidentally on purpose. Or maybe it could’ve been you and Harvey set things up. Who will help? Easy. Julius Robinson. Where to hide the stuff? Robinson Caye, of course. An ambush is staged, and you and your friend Harvey, the masterminds, then stand to make significant money. What do you think about that?”

Riley was climbing into a pair of jeans. He paused, then tugged them on and zipped up. “You already answered that question.”

“How so?”

“When you sent me to go retrieve the stuff. You don’t send the man that stole your goods to retrieve your goods.”

Israel cocked his head and started to smile.

Riley stepped toward Israel and said, steely, “But you sent me on a trip to take out Harvey Longsworth and Julius and Miss Rose.” He leaned over, pushed his face closer, almost nose to nose with Israel.

Carlo tensed up. The gall, Riley had better watch it—Carlo wouldn’t hesitate to intervene, hit him in the stomach quick, watch him drop. Go ahead, Riley, test the size of your balls.

Riley was saying, “You put me out there with two killers to off my friends and expect me to be down with that, and you come here today and look me in the eye and say you want me to help compensate grieving families? You obviously have no respect for me, so I’m thinking now it’s perfect we’re parting ways.”

Israel and Carlo watched Riley walk away and fold his robe, lay it on the bed. “This isn’t finished,” Israel said. “We have four buckets missing.”

“I’ll get them.”

“We have a transaction to complete. People are waiting. After we get everything, we’ll need a courier. Are you in?”

Riley faced him. “First, I’d like you to tell me that after I get your stuff, you do not touch Harvey Longsworth. You leave him to me.”

Carlo snorted. “What are you gonna do? Fuck him up? Gimme a break.”

“Leave him to me,” Riley said, voice rising.

“We’ll think about it,” Israel said.

“I don’t want to hear ‘think about it,’ I need to hear you’ll do it.”

“So now you’re giving me orders, Riley?”

Riley stepped close again and said through his teeth, “You sent me to assist in knocking off my friends, Israel. Why? What did I ever do to you?”

Carlo had had enough, rushed over and got in Riley’s face. “Fuck that.
We
are your friends. We are the ones that pay you. We are the ones got you where you are today, pretending to be respectable, Mr. Big Deal business owner, so do not imply that we owe you a goddamn thing. If not for me and my brother, your ass would be
under
the jail, motherfucker, and you know what I’m talking about.” He jabbed the air with a finger and said, “So watch your step and come with more respect when you talk to us.”

Riley wiped flecks of saliva off his face and rubbed it on his jeans. He said, “So I take it that’s a no.” He turned away and slouched over to the window. He said, softly, looking out the blinds, “I’ll get your stuff. Don’t worry.” He looked over a shoulder. “And then that’ll be it between us.”

Israel breathed hard through his nose and lowered his head, a tired man. He said, “That loan I gave you, that’s also financial aid to your business partner. You’re asking me, in effect, to help someone who’s trying to screw me over. You’re asking for plenty, son. You must’ve mistaken me for a Christian.” He shook his head and pointed his cane at Riley. “But you know something? I’m gonna go along with it. Only this one time, and only because it’s you, Riley. Because you won’t last long without me. You’re going to come back to me one day after your business fails and you need some fast cash, you’re going to come back and beg for a job. Because this work we do, that’s what you do best, so don’t fool yourself. And if I hire you again, I want you to know: It’ll be on my terms. You’ll take whatever I give you and you’ll kiss my ass and thank me. I promise you that day will come, it will. So I’m not worried. Have your little freedom, but I want you to do something. Tell that piece of shit, Harvey Longsworth, we know. We
know.
And we will have our eyes on him, and he better not fuck with us again. Now, as for our friend in Mexico, I can’t vouch for him, but I’ll talk to him.”

Riley chewed the inside of his cheek. “It’s you who is running things here, Israel.”

“It was the Mexican’s goods, and he considers this partly his channel. But he takes my counsel, so you may be in luck.”

Carlo said, “When can we expect the stuff?”

“As soon as I get discharged.”

“That doctor, Gonzalez?” Carlo swirled a finger by his head. “Off with the fairies. I asked him what kind of bullet it was went through you, you know? Hear what he said? ‘A big one.’ ”

“I’m expecting you’ll have the stuff in less than forty-eight hours,” Riley said.

“Then we’re back on,” Israel said and pushed himself up to his feet with his cane. “Happy to hear this. Let me leave you now. Call me as soon as you come through. We don’t have much time and we need to make arrangements.”

Riley said all right, he’d call, and sat on the edge of his bed as they made their way out the door.

Carlo stopped and popped his head back in. “If you don’t find the stuff, then it’s me who’ll be visiting Harvey, and you know what that means, right? Talk to you soon, Riley.”

The long hallway was crowded with nurses and plastic bags of linen outside room doors and a couple of patients hobbling along, pushing IV walkers. Carlo had to help Israel navigate the traffic, a hand occasionally on his elbow.

Carlo said, “You know he was lying his ass off.”

“I don’t know that at all. He might have been, but I don’t know it.”

They started down the stairs. Carlo said, “I know you see what I’m seeing, only I don’t know why you can’t admit it.”

Israel didn’t say anything, clacking down the stairs.

Carlo said, “Jesus Christ, I hate the smell of hospitals. Smells like medicine. Like dead people.” He hurried ahead of Israel, through the lobby and out the door. Once outside, he sucked in some fresh air and stuck his hands in his pockets and waited for Israel.

The last time he’d been in a hospital it was because Israel insisted. They’d come to visit a guy Carlo hadn’t meant to stab, but his temper had taken over, a guy who’d been skimming bagfuls of marijuana from shipments, back when the weed pulled crazy profits. Carlo had told Israel this morning how much of a coincidence it was, one of their guys in the hospital and them paying a visit under strained circumstances. He asked Israel if he thought this was a similar story, someone skimming shipment—Carlo wanting to hear Israel admit to doubts about Riley, his blue-eyed boy. But no, all Israel said was, “We shall see.”

Well, what did they see now?

Israel came out and they walked together to the car, Carlo opening the door for him. Behind the wheel, before he started the car, Carlo said, “Know what? You don’t want to say it, I’ll say it.”

Israel breathed through his nose and stared out the window.

Carlo said, “It was Riley shot those guys. That’s the only story, the only one that makes sense. It was fucking Riley.”

Carlo waited for his brother’s reply. Israel’s silence said a lot, but it gave him hardly any satisfaction.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

Roger Hunter rolled into the room without knocking and stopped to look at Riley lying on the bed, one foot on the floor. He had a hand over his eyes and was breathing evenly. Roger cleared his throat.

Riley didn’t move. He knew the man was there but he needed a moment to get over the last visit. Eventually, his hand slid away from his eyes and his head turned on the pillow. “Hey, Roger.”

Roger wheeled closer and pulled up next to the bed. “How’re you feeling this morning?”

“Not too bad. Eighty percent. And you?”

“So-so. You look good, like you’re recovering. Slower than you want, faster than you expect.”

“Indeed,” Riley said, sitting up carefully. “No sudden moves, nobody gets hurt.” Roger was wearing the kind of smile Sister Pat would call beatific, a priest’s smile, all patience and kindliness. Riley said, “Let me ask you something. Last night I didn’t tell you I was shot. How’d you know?”

Roger shrugged. “Maybe a nurse told me?”

“Did a nurse tell you?”

Roger just smiled. “News gets around.”

Riley thought about that, then something became clear to him, something that had been hovering in the background found words. “I have a good friend, an older lady I’ve known for years. She has a friend she’s been visiting in a hospital who’s very sick. Sick with cancer. This lady used to be a nun, and years ago there was a rumor that she was having a romance. With a certain Jesuit priest. Only a rumor, far as I know. But here you are—former Jesuit, in a hospital. Hmm, makes me wonder…”