“I’m glad you see that. So would you like to hear me out, or should I leave?”
“Please continue.”
“Fitch is spending his last days on his private island fifteen miles south of Key West. Most of his property has been lost to forfeiture to pay back the victims. However, I have a man in Fitch’s security detail. He tells me there’s something of great value at Fitch’s residence in the Keys.”
The waitress stopped at the booth and freshened up Letty’s coffee.
When she was gone, Letty stared across the table at Javier.
“Well, do I have to guess?” she asked.
He glanced around the restaurant as he reached into his leather jacket. The sheet of paper he pulled out had been folded. Javier slid it across the table. Letty pushed her plate aside and opened it.
She stared down at a painting printed in full color from a Wikipedia page—a skull with a burning cigarette in its mouth.
“What’s this?” Letty asked.
“Skull with a Burning Cigarette. You familiar with your post-Impressionists?”
“Not so much.”
“You don’t recognize the style?”
“I’m a thief, not an art collector.”
“But you have heard of Vincent Van Gogh...”
“Of course.”
“He painted this one in the mid-eighteen-eighties.”
“Good for him.”
“The original is hanging in Fitch’s office in the Keys.”
“Get to the good part.”
Letty managed to smile through her driving headache.
“When we discuss the value,” Javier said, “we’re talking about two numbers. First, what could we sell it for at auction? In nineteen-ninety, Van Gogh’s Portrait of Dr. Gachet sold for eighty million. In adjusted dollars, that’s a hundred and forty.”
Letty felt something catch inside her chest. It was a strange sensation, like being dealt four aces. She fought to maintain her poker face.
“You said there were two numbers?” she asked.
“Obviously, we can’t just steal this painting and put it up for a public auction through Sotheby’s.”
“Black market?”
“I already have a buyer.”
“How much?”
“Fifteen million.”
“What did Fitch pay for it?”
“Doesn’t matter. We’re selling it for fifteen. You’re rolling your eyes over fifteen mil? Really?”
“I just think we can—”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. Look at me.” She looked at him. “You don’t know me well. But from what you do know, do you honestly believe I would broker a deal for anything less than the most favorable payout to me? To my crew?”
When she didn’t respond right away, he continued, “The answer you’re looking for is ‘no.’ That should leave you with one question.”
“What’s my cut?”
“Two.”
It was more money than Letty had ever imagined acquiring in a lifetime of theft, but she forced herself to shake her head. Strictly on principle of not accepting a first offer, if nothing else.
“No?” Javier seemed amused. “Two isn’t a fair cut for a tweaker?”
“That’s not even fifteen percent of the take, Jav.”
“You think it’s just you and me on this deal? That there aren’t some other people I have to pay off? You wouldn’t even have this opportunity without me. Sounds like you’d be living in a box somewhere.”
“Why do you need me? Why not have your guy on the inside handle this?”
“That was the initial plan, but he was let go last week.”
“Why?”
“Nothing related to this.”
“So you had a man on the inside.”
“This can still work, Letty. I can get you on that island with all the tools, all the intel you’ll need.”
She sighed.
“What?” he asked. “What are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking you might have put this together, but I’ll be taking on most of the risk.”
Javier cocked his head as if he might disagree.
Instead, he held up four fingers and then waved her off before she could respond. “I know it’s hard for you, but just accept graciously, Letty. It’ll buy you enough crystal to kill yourself a thousand times over.”
“Go to hell.”
Javier reached into his jacket again and tossed a blank white envelope on the table.
Letty opened the flap, peered inside.
A bunch of fifties and an airline ticket.
“You fly down to Miami a week from today,” Javier said. “I’ll be there to pick you up. There’s a thousand in there. I assume that’ll cover you until then?”
“Yeah.”
She didn’t even see his arm move. Suddenly, Javier had a grip on the envelope. She instinctively pulled back, but he wouldn’t let go.
“Just so we’re clear,” he said, “this is for your room and board. And to get yourself a world-class makeover. Keep receipts for every purchase. If you use this money to buy meth... If you look anything like the car crash that’s sitting across the table from me when you get off the plane in Miami... You know how this will end.”
3
Letty walked back to her motel through the falling sleet. It made a dry, steady hiss drumming against the sidewalk. It was bitter cold. The streets were empty.
The thousand in her pocket kept whispering to her. Take a detour down Parker Street. Score a teener. You’ll still have time to get straight before Florida. You’ve got to celebrate. This could be the best thing that’s ever happened to you. To Jacob.
As she crossed Parker, she glanced down the street. Caught a glimpse of Big Tim standing on his corner, unmistakable in a giant down parka, designer jeans, fresh kicks.
She ached to score, but instead focused her gaze back on the road ahead.
Kept walking.
# # #
By the time she unlocked the door to her dingy motel room, Letty was freezing. She punched on the television and headed toward the bathroom. The local news was in hysterical storm coverage mode.
She drew a hot bath. The tub filled slowly, steam peeling off the surface of the water. Letty stripped out of her clothes. She stood naked in front of the mirror hanging from a nail on the back of the door. A crack ran down through the glass. It somehow seemed fitting.
She’d never looked so thin. So haggard. In health, she was a beautiful woman with clear eyes the color of amber. Short, auburn hair. Curves in all the right places.
Now, the shape of her skeleton was emerging.
For a split second, Letty had the strong sense of her old self, her real self, her best self, trapped inside the emaciated monster staring back at her.
It took her breath away.
4
One week later, Javier picked Letty up in a black Escalade curbside at Miami International. They headed south into the Keys on the Overseas Highway that crossed the 110-mile island chain. The stereo system blasted Bach’s Four Lute Suites on classical guitar. Letty leaned her head against the tinted glass and watched the world go by.
Land and sea. Land and sea.
On the far side of Key Largo, Javier glanced across the center console.
He said, “You don’t even look like the same woman.”
“Amazing what a little mud rinse and a padlock can do.”
“Your eyes are clear. Your color’s good.”
“I put on ten pounds since you saw me last. Got my hair and nails done. I did a whole spa thing yesterday. I wasn’t sure what to wear for tomorrow...”
“I brought your dress. I brought everything you’ll need.”