The Devil and the Detective (12 page)

‘Okay,' I said, holding up the gun, catching my breath, ‘now we have the murder weapon and the loot. We probably have a photo or two, too, that turned out – at least of Bouvert paying off O'Meara.'

‘Who do we go to?'

‘The cops.'

‘You're holding the weapon that murdered Detective Michael O'Meara.'

‘But we're turning in the money,' I said.

‘Bouvert and Adamson and whoever they work for, whether it's the Andrewses or whoever, are powerful people. We're not. They'll arrest you for the murder of a police detective and then you'll be killed before you stand trial.'

‘So what are you saying? We should take the money and run.'

‘Maybe.'

‘If we confront anyone with what we've got, it should be Bouvert. I'm sure he's filling his fat face as we speak.'

26

T
here was no way I was letting Darren go into Diavolo Cucina, so I convinced him to wait in the car because it was integral to the plan, and in fact it was integral to the plan, I thought, namely, what little plan there was and there wasn't much. Regardless, I wasn't going to let him get hurt. I needed him to sit tight with the loot and the nail gun while I confronted the lawyer with the 9mm, a Browning Hi-Power (
Made In Belgium/Assembled In Portugal
embossed on its barrel), the gun that killed Detective Michael O'Meara, Robbery-Homicide. I didn't want to get my fingerprints all over it so Darren found a pair of gardening gloves in the trunk of the hatchback. I put them on.

‘If I'm not out of there in ten minutes,' I said, ‘I want you to call the cops.'

‘But the cops'll – '

‘Darren, man, they're the only option.'

‘What if I hear gunfire?'

‘Don't worry. I'm not going in there to get in a firefight. I'm just bringing the gun to show him what we've got. Evidence. Protection, too, but mainly evidence. If we have the gun, then he'll know we're not bullshitting about the money, and then we've got him by the balls.'

‘The question remains. What if I hear gunshots?'

‘Call the cops.'

‘And then what?'

‘We find out what the hell has been happening.'

‘And then what?'

‘I don't know. We turn Bouvert in.'

‘It won't work.'

‘We extort him. Listen, we have to do something. These people are murdering people. I can go above the heads of the corrupt people he knows in this goddamn city, if that's what has to be done. I'm a detective. With a shitload of evidence. Someone will listen. I know people too.'

‘Man … '

‘Yeah?'

‘Be safe.'

‘I've got a gun. I'll be fine.'

‘I've been expecting you, Mr. James,' Bouvert said to me as I approached his table. It had a cream-coloured tablecloth and candles and was at the back of the long dark restaurant. ‘Please, join me,' he said, and I sat down across from him, Bouvert with his back to a wall and me with mine to the rest of the restaurant, which was empty save for the bartender behind me at the bar and the rest of the small staff, who were in and out of the dining room, and me and Bouvert, who leaned back in his chair, a large glass of red wine in front of him, a half-emptied bottle on the table, and bread and olive oil and a plate of calamari. ‘Would you like something to eat?' he said and I shook my head no. ‘Some wine,' he insisted, and he picked up the bottle and poured into the glass in front of me before I could answer. ‘I like the gloves. You can take them off. You won't be needing them.'

I did. And stuffed them in my coat pocket, with the gun.

‘Well,' he said, forking a piece of squid into his mouth, ‘say your piece.'

‘I saw everything.'

‘And … '

‘I know you're behind everything,' I said.

He laughed. ‘Believe it or not, I'm not the Evil One, Mr. James.'

‘Bob's fine and you're plenty evil. I have the murder weapon in my pocket and the money stashed with an associate.'

‘Okay,' he said.

‘And I have photos of you paying off O'Meara, before you had him whacked.'

‘
Whacked
… ?'

‘I saw him shot dead in cold blood.'

‘
O'Meara
… ?'

‘Don't be cute.'

‘Mr. James.' Bouvert pursed his lips, staring at me. ‘If you leave the weapon with me and walk out that door right now, you can leave with the money and your life, if you disappear for good.'

‘What happened with Elaine Andrews?'

‘Still hung up on Mrs. Andrews?'

‘How was she involved?'

‘Mr. James, no questions. Leave me the weapon and then walk out of this restaurant.'

‘Or … ?'

‘Or you die.'

‘You'll kill me right here?'

‘If that's what needs to be done.'

‘With these witnesses?'

He smiled. ‘Yes.'

‘For a man with such bad teeth you smile a lot, you know.'

‘Also,' Bouvert said, still smiling, ‘we'll kill your friend.'

‘What friend?'

‘The kid. Your
associate
. The delivery driver.' He took a sip of wine, swirling it around in his glass. ‘The kid outside the restaurant. We'll kill him.'

I stuffed my hand in my pocket and, gloveless, grabbed the pistol and said to Bouvert, ‘If you mention the kid again, I'll shoot you dead right now.' I pointed the gun toward him, still stuffed into my pocket, underneath the cream tablecloth.

‘No need to get dramatic, Mr. James. I'm giving you a chance to get away, without any consequences. I'll forget about the kid completely,' he said. ‘He means nothing to us. And neither do you if you disappear. Take my offer. It's the best you'll get.'

‘Thank you, solicitor, but I'm interested in getting to the bottom of this case.'

‘Well, you have a long way to go.'

‘Then I'll keep going,' I said. ‘I'll get to the truth.'

‘The truth is that if you don't put that gun on the table right now and leave, then I'll send someone out to see your friend, with a large kitchen knife, and he can carve the boy up. Cut him up piece by piece. I'll get him to bring me his eyes.'

‘I told you not to mention the kid,' I said, and stood up and flipped over the table. I pulled the Hi-Power out of my pocket and pointed it at Bouvert, who stood with his back up against the wall, covered in dark red wine and calamari.

The bartender behind me bent down behind the bar and popped back up with a pump-action shotgun, which he cycled as he stood. ‘Drop the gun,' he said.

I could feel him pointing the gun at my back. I could feel the hole the shotgun would blast through me.

‘I'll kill him,' I said. ‘You drop that shotgun, barkeep.' I kept my gun levelled on Bouvert, looking straight into his truculent eyes. I think I saw beads of sweat form on his forehead.

‘Protect the kid, Mr. James. Don't be an imbecile. Look at all the bodies that are piling up. I know you don't give a shit about your own life, but think of the delivery driver. You can shoot me and then you get shot and then my friend here,' he said, motioning toward the bar, ‘will go outside and kill the delivery driver.'

‘Who killed Gerald Andrews?'

‘Does it really matter to you?'

‘Yes. Who killed Gerald Andrews?'

‘For argument's sake, let's say it's your friend Elaine. But in reality there were several forces that wanted Gerald Andrews dead. Is that a satisfactory answer?'

‘Not at all. Why did you kill O'Meara?'

‘I did no such thing,' said Bouvert.

‘Let me shoot this fucking guy,' said the barkeep.

‘Let's not be too hasty,' said Bouvert. ‘I'm confident Mr. James will come to his senses.'

‘You made a deal with the Devil, Bouvert, and one thing about the Devil – '

‘Mr. James.
Ich sagte ja, dass die ganze Geschichte zum Teufel gehen wird
.'

‘What does that mean?'

‘I know what you're about to say,
He always comes to collect
…

‘Right. You've heard that before.'

‘At some point, we all make our deals. Now we find ourselves
vis à vis
. This is your turn, Mr. James. Save yourself and the boy and move on. All the people who were hurt were hurting others, et cetera, et cetera, ad nauseam. I don't think innocent people should be hurt. Save the boy. Besides, you'll walk away with twenty-five thousand dollars.'

‘You'll leave the kid alone … '

‘We'll forget he exists.'

‘How can I trust you?'

‘Do you have a choice?' Bouvert motioned for me with his hands to lower the gun. His face was now shiny with sweat. ‘You have photos of me paying O'Meara. Keep them. An insurance policy, so to speak. I know I could explain them away, easily, though nevertheless they'd put you in a position where you'd be slightly more difficult to get rid of. So keep them. I'll let you be. Just disappear.'

‘You'll forget about the kid.'

‘What kid?' He smiled.

I lowered the gun.

‘There. Good decision. Now put it on the table and be on your way,' said Bouvert.

‘I'm taking the gun with me. I'll leave it outside the restaurant. I'm not walking out of here naked.'

‘Fair enough.'

‘And get your friend to stop pointing that shotgun at my back.'

‘Put down the gun, Giancarlo.'

I walked toward the door.

‘Mr. James … '

I turned around.

‘You were used, but you are leaving with your life.'

‘Right.'

‘It's a lot more than a lot of people involved in this imbroglio can say,' said Bouvert.

27

B
efore returning to Chez Marine, Darren stopped at a store and picked up a six-pack. We cleaned out the glass from the car. We sat in the parking lot and drank one beer each on the hood of the car.

‘What next?' said Darren.

‘I'm not sure yet. But I'll leave town. Go somewhere no one knows me for a little while. But I'm leaving half the money with you.'

‘Do you think it's okay, that we're taking the money?'

‘I don't know what else to do with it. And I'll need something to live off while in exile. I can't go back to my place.'

‘Well, you should keep all of it.'

‘Man, I'd feel a lot better if I knew that some of this blood money was paying for your school. And use some of it to replace the window and fix whatever other injuries this car's sustained,' I said, smacking the hood for emphasis.

Darren took a swig of beer. ‘So, we're not turning Bouvert and Adamson in?'

‘No, not yet,' I said. ‘I don't think we can make anything stick. Something's taking its course and we can't interfere any more than we already have or we'll be killed. At least right now. We'll keep the photos. You were right – if they can kill O'Meara with impunity, a police detective, they can kill us. Things need to cool down.'

We drove to the flower shop. Julie had waited up for us. She sat at a table, drinking red wine, and messing around with tarot cards. And I'm pretty sure Schubert's Piano Trio No. 2 in E Flat Major was playing softly in the background, though it was hard to say for certain. Darren passed me a beer and offered one to Julie, but she just held up her glass of
vin rouge
. I'd ask her to give me a reading, though I knew she'd just pull up cards
XV
and
O
, I thought, the Devil and the Fool, respectively.

‘Are you two okay?' she asked.

‘We're okay,' said Darren. ‘No injuries sustained.'

‘What happened?'

‘They sh – '

‘Nothing,' I said, stopping Darren. ‘It was a bust.'

Julie looked at Darren and me and smiled delicately, I thought. I drank back some beer.

‘I should be going home soon,' I said and yawned. ‘Long night.'

‘I'll give you a lift,' said Darren.

‘Thanks, man.'

‘I can drop you off first, Julie.'

‘Thanks.'

‘Okay,' said Darren to Julie. ‘
Allons-y, allons-o
.'

Julie didn't live too far from the shop, and of course I wasn't going home. For all intents and purposes, I thought, I didn't have a home. I'd decided I'd go east. I'd go to the coast and lie low for a while. I'd work on my case notes. I'd get some badly needed rest. I'd escape suffocating, soul-sucking people, I thought, for a while at least. We pulled up to Julie's walkup, with its black iron spiral staircase and small garden out front.

‘Nice to meet you, Bob,' said Julie, and I turned around and looked in the back seat and she was smiling. ‘See you soon.'

‘
À bientôt
,' I said (I hope, I thought).

‘
À bientôt
, Bob,' she said and leaned in and kissed both my cheeks lightly. ‘Bye.'

‘Bye,' we said.

‘Do you want another drink for the road?' said Darren.

‘What are you thinking?'

‘Chez Carlos … '

‘I really should be hittin' the trail.'

‘What about the bar in the train station?'

‘Naw. That place is dead trousers. Just drop me at the metro up here. It's dangerous for you to be seen with me right now.'

‘Am I gonna hear from you?'

‘Yes. Soon. I'll write, or call. I've got your card.'

‘Bob, man, thanks for everything,' said Darren.

We pulled up to the metro stop. ‘There's a little over twelve grand in the glovebox. Don't forget to pay for any damages to the car. Be well, comrade, and thank you for all your help. You're a good detective, Darren.'

‘Thank you. But no one's getting punished and you have to skip town. I mean, as far as the case goes, we failed.'

‘Well, yes, probably,' I said. ‘But we know more about it than we did in the beginning, I think.'

‘Maybe.'

‘I'll be in touch and make sure everything's jake.'

‘Good. Farewell, Bob.'

‘Talk soon.'

‘
Leb wohl
.'