“O‟Brian don‟t scare,” Nesbitt said matter-of-factly.
“Pigs don‟t lie in the mud, either.”
“Look, my boss don‟t go to the party empty-handed, know what I mean? You wanna be the smartass,
don‟t wanna listen, fuck off.”
I thought about it for a moment or two—not about meeting O‟Brian, that was a gimme—but about
where and when to meet him. It could be a setup, except there was no reason to set me up. Was he
representing the family? Or was he free-lancing? What was he willing to talk about that could interest
rue? I was still guessing that O‟Brian was running scared, looking for an umbrella to hide under.
“Does he know who scratched Tagliani and the rest?” I asked.
Nesbitt shifted from one foot to the other and sighed. “Whyn‟t yuh ask him? 1 told yuh, I‟m just doin‟
a Western Union. I don‟t know shit besides that and my orders are to forget it!”
“When?” I asked finally.
“Sooner the better.”
“How‟s tomorrow morning sound?”
“Worse than now, better than later,” he said with a shrug.
“It‟s too late to do anything now,” I said. “It‟s got to be tomorrow, middle of the morning.” I make a
lot of bad decisions this late at night.
“That‟s the best you can do, that‟s the best you can do. You wanna pick the spot?”
I didn‟t know or remember the town well enough. I decided to test the water a little.
“Does O‟Brian have a place in mind?”
“Yeah, but he don‟t want you should get nervous, him pickin‟ it out, I mean.”
“Try me”
“He has this little fishing camp out on Skidaway. On the bay side, sits out over the water. It‟s private;
his old lady don‟t even go out there, Also it has good sight lines; there ain‟t a blade of grass within
twenty yards of the place.”
I thought some more about it. It would have been smarter to leave then and follow Nesbitt to the meet,
but I wanted to let somebody know where I was.
“Where is this place exactly?” I asked.
“You hang a right three blocks after you cross the bridge from Thunderhead to Oceanby. It‟s a mile or
so down the road, on the bay, like I said. You can‟t miss it, the road ends there.”
I studied him for a long minute, tugged my ear, and then nodded. “What‟s the name of the street?”
“Bayview.”
“I have a breakfast appointment,” I said. “It‟ll be about ten thirty.”
“No problem, he‟s spending the night out there. Ten thirty.” He smiled and held out his hand, palm
up. “How about the piece?” he said.
I took out the revolver, loosened the retaining pin, dropped the cylinder into my palm, and handed
him his gun.
“I‟ll give O‟Brian the rest of it when I see him,” I said.
His acne scars turned purple and pebbles of sweat began to ridge his forehead. He looked at me
quizzically. “Why the badass act?” he said. “You don‟t have to prove how tough you are. Like I told
ya, we know all about Cincy.”
“I‟m a cautious man,” I said. “Too many people are dying in town right now.”
“Did I lay any heat on you, Kilmer? No. I just come and delivered the message like I was supposed to.
Y‟know, I get caught in the middle of this thing, I‟ll end up in the bay, parley-vooin‟ with the fuckin‟
shrimps.”
“That‟s your problem.”
“So I come back with half a gun? It gets everything off on the wrong foot, know what I mean?”
I tossed him the cylinder for his .38 and he caught it without taking his yellow eyes off mine.
“You owe me one,” I said.
“You talk to O‟Brian, you‟ll be paid in spades,” he said, and was gone, darting across the lobby like a
dragonfly and out the nearest exit.
36
BREAKFAST TALK
There was a message in my box when I went down to meet Dutch the next morning, it was a
handwritten note from Babs Thomas:
“Cocktails in the penthouse tomorrow at 6. I expect you there. Love and kisses, B T.”
She wasn‟t in the breakfast room but Dutch and Charlie One Ear were. I slid the note across the table
to Dutch as I sat down. He read it and chuckled.
“You better be there,” he said. “It‟s a felony in Doomstown to turn down a command performance
from the duchess.”
“Just what I need,” I said, “a freaking cocktail party.”
“Give you a chance to see how the other half lives,” Charlie One Ear said without looking up from his
fruit cocktail.
“1 don‟t like crowds,” I said.
He looked up and smiled. “Perhaps it‟ll be just the two of you,” he suggested.
That earned him a dirty look from me and a bit of contemplation from Dutch.
“Well,” Dutch said, “you could do worse.”
“Let‟s forget cocktail parties for the moment,” I said, ending the conjecture. “Something‟s come up. It
could be our first real break.”
“Oh?” Dutch retorted.
“Johnny O‟Brian sent one of his gunmen to see me last night. He wants to have a powwow. Sounds
like he could be running scared.”
“Are you going to meet him?” Dutch asked.
“Yeah. At ten thirty. Do you have anybody on O‟Brian‟s tail?” He nodded. “Salvatore‟s doing the
honors today.”
“Has he reported in?”
“Do any of these guys ever report in?” Dutch said. “I can check the Warehouse and see, but I can tell
you what the chances are.”
“We‟ve got to raise him,” I said. “My deal is that I go alone. If O‟Brian tumbles onto Salvatore it
could blow the whole deal.”
“I‟ll see what I can do,” Dutch said, heading for the phone.
“Is that real smart?” Charlie One Ear asked.
“You mean going alone?”
He nodded. The muscles in his face had tightened up. I knew what he was thinking.
“Don‟t worry,” I said. “If this is some kind of trap they wouldn‟t warn me first. They can‟t be that
sure I won‟t have some kind of backup with me.”
“You know this bunch better than I do,” he answered, turning back to his breakfast. “But I wouldn‟t
stray too far from the range, just in case.”
“I appreciate your concern,” I said. “The thing is, if O‟Brian wants to make some kind of a deal, we
can‟t afford to lose it. I‟ve been down this road before, Charlie. I‟ll watch my step.”
He shrugged. “You‟re a big boy now,” he said. “I assume you know what you‟re doing.”
I ordered a light breakfast and doctored my coffee. Dutch was gone about five minutes. He seemed
concerned when he got back.
“Okay,” he said. “Zapata was in the Warehouse and he beeped Salvatore. Zapata‟s going to call me
back if he raises him.”
“I thought Zapata was tailing Nance,” I said.
Dutch was scowling. He lit a cigarette and blew smoke toward the ceiling.
“He lost him,” Dutch said. “Followed him out to the docks at dawn. Nance went out on a shrimp boat
and left Zapata at the altar.”
I got a sudden chill, as if a cold breeze had blown across the back of my neck. Nance being on the
loose was a wild card I hadn‟t counted on.
“An awful lot of people know about this gig,” I mused.
“Are you worried about Salvatore and Zapata?” Dutch asked stiffly.
“No. But I don‟t want anybody screwing this thing up.”
“Don‟t worry about it,” Dutch replied. “We‟ll raise Salvatore and call him off, if you‟re sure that‟s the
way you want to play it.”
“That was my deal,” I said as the waitress brought my breakfast.
“You want to tell us where you‟re going?” Charlie One Ear asked.