pallor.”
“Well,” I said, smiling at everybody, “thanks for not judging me on first appearances.”
“Yeah, you‟re welcome,” said Salvatore.
“Y‟see what it is, Kilmer, we decided to throw iii with you,” Zapata said. “On a temporary basis, see
what happens.”
“Gee whiz, I don‟t know what to say,” 1 replied sarcastically.
“Thank you‟ will be fine,” said Charlie One Ear.
“Thanks again.”
“Our pleasure,” Charlie One Ear replied. “Now, just what specifically is it we‟re looking for?”
“What I need,” I said, “is connections.”
“Like such as?” Chino Zapata asked.
“Like maybe a hooker who‟s been bending her heels in Louisville, suddenly shows up here. Chances
are, she‟s on the circuit. The mob moves them around like that.”
“How about pimps?” Charlie One Ear queried.
“Sure, the same thing. Maybe I can tie a pimp to some outfit in Cincy or Chicago. Next step is, who‟s
he working for? How did he get here? Pimps don‟t move from town to town. What I mean is, they
don‟t free-lance. They move when the heat‟s on. They usually work for the man. He tells them where
to go.”
“So what‟s different about Dunetown?” Salvatore said. “That‟s pretty common, isn‟t it?”
“What‟s different is that the Tagliani family is here,” Stick threw in.
“Right,” I said. “If I can make a connection between here and someplace else, that‟s the start of an
interstate case. If I can tie it to Tagliani‟s mob, that‟s part two. If I can prove it, then I can take it to
the Justice Department. That‟s three, and then it‟s their problem. Anything else I lay off on you guys.
I‟m not here to make collars, okay?”
“All that is by way of telling us you‟re looking for out-of-town talent, correct?” Charlie One Ear said.
“Right. I‟d also like to know the names of companies owned by the Triad. Where they bank. Who
they do business with. What kind of straight businesses they‟re into.”
“That‟s a little outta our line,” Zapata said.
“The key man is the accountant, Cohen,” I said. “He‟s the bagman. Unless he‟s changed his MO, he
makes three or four pickups a day, never at the same spots. He carries a little black satchel, like one of
those old-fashioned doctor‟s bags, and it‟s probably full of cash. That‟s the skim, the money they need
to wash.”
“The TGG,” offered Charlie One Ear.
“Correct.”
“This is street money, right?” Stick said, playing along with me. “Gambling, prostitution, dope, that
kind of thing.”
I nodded.
“So why don‟t we just grab the bag away from the little shit and take a look?” Zapata suggested.
“For one thing, he‟s probably got four r five cannons escorting him,” I said.
“Yes,” Charlie One Ear said snidely. “It‟s also against the law. It‟s called robbery. One to five for first
offense, which might not be applicable in your case.”
Zapata looked at him and laughed.
“They don‟t usually put their swag in the bank,” Salvatore offered.
“I agree,” I said. “But Cohen‟s a crafty son of a bitch. He may have something worked out at the
hank.
“They‟re in cahoots?” Zapata asked.
“Not necessarily,” I said. “He may be depositing in several different accounts or putting it in a safe
deposit box. The bank doesn‟t have to be involved.”
I was trying to be honest about it, but I couldn‟t help wondering whether Charles Seaborn, president
of the bank, and a member of the Committee, knew Cohen personally. And if so, whether Sam
Donleavy knew that Seaborn knew Cohen. And whether Raines knew that Donleavy knew that
Seaborn knew Cohen. It was time I faced up to the facts. I wanted Raines and Donleavy to be up to
their necks in it, because if things had gone differently and Teddy were still alive, I would have been
in Donleavy‟s boots. I didn‟t want to feel that way, but coming back to Dunetown had stirred old
emotions that I thought were tong dead, and the lies, the hurt, the resentments, were as visceral as
fresh wounds. I could taste the blood. So there it was. What can a man do?
“We should maybe talk to Cowboy,” said Salvatore, breaking up my train of thought. “He shagged the
little weed for a couple days.”
“Good,” I said. “If we can put together enough evidence to show cause, we might find a judge who‟ll
let us look into their bank accounts or let us have some wiretaps.”
“Kite Lange can handle that,” said Zapata.
“He means legal wiretaps, el retardo,” said Salvatore.
“In the meantime, I can throw a few crumbs your way,” I offered.
“How‟s that?” said Zapata, slurping his coffee.
I decided to try Charlie One Ear out, to see if he was as good as everybody said he was.
“1 spotted Spanish Eddie Fuereco on the way in,” I said.
“At the airport, no doubt,” Charlie One Ear piped up immediately.
Zapata stared over at him, obviously impressed.
“Right,” I said.
“How‟d you know that, Charlie?” asked Zapata, who appeared to be genuinely in awe of the oneeared detective.
“And in the bar,” Charlie One Ear added.
“Right again,” I said.
“Geez,” Zapata said.
“The old coin trick,” Charlie One Ear said. “Was he spinning heads and tails?”
“You got it,” I said.
“What‟s the coin trick?” Zapata asked.
“He marks the top of a quarter, say on the heads side but along the ridges so you can‟t see it unless
you‟re looking for it,” said Charlie One Ear. “He lets the mark spin the coin. Spanish Eddie never
touches it. The mark doesn‟t suspect anything, y‟see, because he‟s controlling the spin and Eddie‟s
calling whether it‟ll fall heads or tails. He can tell by the mark on the coin. He‟s also a sleight-of-hand
artist. If the mark wants to switch coins, he always has another one ready.”
“Geez,” Zapata said again, his wonder still growing.
“He‟s very good,” Charlie One Ear said. “On a real good night he can score enough to buy a new car.”
“So how come you knew he was at the airport?”
“If the mark starts getting pushy,” Charlie One Ear said, “Fuereco switches to a regular coin, plays on
the mark‟s money for a few rounds, then has to catch a plane. That‟s why he does airports. Gives him
an excuse to end the game.”
“I‟ll be damned,” Zapata said. He looked over at me. “Charlie knows every scumbag in the business,”
he said with great pride.
“Only the cream of the crop,” Charlie One Ear threw in. “And Spanish Eddie Fuereco only by
reputation. I‟d love to go a few rounds with him, before I put the arm on him.”
“He‟ll beatcha,” Zapata said. “He can read the coin.”
“I‟m not too bad at sleight of hand myself” Charlie One Ear said proudly. “I‟ll mark two coins and
switch them back and forth so he keeps reading them wrong. What a coup, beating Fuereco at his own
game!”
“He‟s all yours,” I said.
“1 love con games,” Zapata said. “Did you ever wonder who dreams them up?”
Charlie One Ear stared at Zapata for a moment or two, then said, “No, I never really thought about it
before.”
“I also saw Digit Dan out there,” I said.
“Ah, now there‟s a man with talent,” said Charlie One Ear. “Fastest hands I‟ve ever seen. Nobody
works the shoulder bump like Dan.”
“The shoulder bump?” Zapata said, his sense of wonderment continuing to grow as Charlie One Ear