“As a matter of fact, Stewie, I do. Veronica’s your only important client. Without her, you’d be washed up.”
“That’s true. But she’s also my friend, and I care about her.”
This was very bizarre. Stewie was showing a side of himself Jack didn’t think existed. Could it be possible that Stewie was something more than a self-centered art pimp? Beneath the new-wave clothes and hairdo, and the decadent pretenses, was there really a decent human being?
“You still care about her too, Jackie.”
Jack stared at him. Yeah, I do, he thought. And I can’t do shit about it, can I?
“All I mean is that Veronica could be in a bad situation, and goddamn Ginny isn’t going to be any help at all. Veronica’s not a decisive person, and as far as this retreat thing goes, Ginny’ll be right there to help her make all the wrong decisions.”
“Which makes Veronica even more vulnerable.”
“You got it. This Khoronos guy, he’s slick, he’s a smooth operator. He knew all the right things to say to impress Vern, and all the right ways to say them. It took him all of five fucking minutes to make her completely oblivious to common sense, and it was almost like he had the whole retreat thing planned in advance. The fact is he’s a perfect stranger. Khoronos and his two pretty boys? They could be nuts, for all we know.”
Jack began to foment. Stewie was right. Who knew who these guys were, and what their game was?
“I saw them off, Vern and Ginny. Vern promised to keep in touch on what was going on with the gallery bids. I haven’t heard one word from her.” Stewie drained another gin. “You’ve got to take care of this, Jack.”
“I don’t know where she is,” Jack countered. “I don’t know anything about any of it.”
“Don’t you give a shit at all, man?”
“Of course I do, you asshole.”
“Then do something about it, shithead.”
“What?”
“Come on, Jackie. You’re a cop. You can get a line on this Khoronos clown. Just do whatever it is you cops do when you want to know something.”
“I could run his last name if he’s got a criminal record, but that would take a while. I could try MVA too. If I had his date of birth or his S.S. number, it’d be a lot faster, but we don’t have any that shit. You say he bought a painting with cash? Were they big bills, small bills?”
“Big bills, man. C-notes.”
“You still have the money?”
“Fuck no, I deposited it the same day.”
“Shit,” Jack muttered. Banks kept serial number records of large withdrawals. “He give it to you in anything. An envelope?”
“No, he gave it to me in a fucking toolbox. Of course there was an envelope. But there was nothing on it.”
“You still have the envelope?”
“I threw it out.”
Jack frowned. “All right. You said these two guys picked up the painting Khoronos bought. What kind of vehicle?”
“A step van. White.”
“Make, model, year?”
“I don’t know, man. Do I look like a car dealer?”
“You see the tag number?”
“No, I had no reason to look.”
“Did you notice the state, even the color of the plates?”
“No,” Stewie said.
Jack tapped the bar. What else was there? “These two guys? You must’ve given them a receipt for the painting.”
“Yeah, a standard exchange receipt. I have our copy. The smaller guy signed it, but I can’t make out shit for the signature.”
“I’ll need to see it anyway,” Jack said. “I’ll also need the day you made the deposit, and what bank you use. The bank’ll log a cash deposit that big and the serial numbers of the bills if they’re consecutive. If they’re not consecutive, they’ll record sample numbers.”
“What good would that do?”
“I might be able to link your deposit to Khoronos’ withdrawal. If I can locate his bank, I can locate him. The only problem is bank records are protected information. Unless I have probable cause to convince a magistrate that Khoronos has committed a crime, which I don’t, then they won’t show me the transaction records.”
“Talk to me, Jackie. You guys have ways around that shit.”
“I might be able to go under the table, but I doubt it. I’ll give it a shot. After that, there’s nothing.”
Stewie got up, a little stumbly. “There are other things you can do, Jackie, and you know what I’m talking about. Excuse me.”
Yeah, there are a few other things, Jack agreed. He was already thinking about them.
While Stewie utilized the men’s room, Jack began to feel edgy. Just seeing people drink goaded him, just seeing the bottles lined up on the wall. Craig was shaking up some shooters for a pair of local cuties. A goateed guy and an area writer were drinking a toast: “To darker days and evil women,” the goateed guy proposed. Everybody was drinking, having a good time. Just one, Jack considered, but he knew it was a lie. For men like Jack there was no such thing as one drink. He’d made a promise tonight, and he resolved to keep it. He might break it tomorrow. But… Not tonight, he thought.
“Another soda water, Jack?” Craig asked. He flipped a lit cigarette and caught it in his mouth. The two cuties applauded.
“I, uh—” Jack groaned. Fiddich, rocks, he wanted to say. “I made a promise that I wouldn’t drink tonight.”
Craig ejected a shaker of ice behind his back into the sink. “My view on promises is thus: A man can only be as good as his promise. When we break our promises, we break ourselves.”
“Another soda water, Craig,” Jack validated. The wisdom of barkeeps, again, amazed. When we break our promises, we break ourselves. He should have it tattooed on his wrist, a constant reminder. “With lime and lemon this time,” he added.
“Where were we?” Stewie retook his stool and ordered another Sapphire. His eyes looked bloodshot.
“Hey, Stewie,” Jack began. “How come you’re getting tanked?”
“You’re lecturing me? That’s balls, Jackie. You’re the A.A. candidate, not me.”
“I’m not lecturing you, I just—”
“I told you, I’m worried about her, I’m concerned.”
“I used to be in love with her, remember? I’m concerned about her too. More than you.”
“Bullshit, Jackie.” Stewie swigged, wincing. “You’ve never been concerned about anyone in your life.”
Jack gaped at the insult.
“And if anything bad happens to her,” Stewie ranted on, “it’ll be your fault.”
Jack gaped at that one too. “Since you’re drunk, I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that.”
“No, Jackie, since I’m drunk, I’ll tell you what I really think. You wanna hear it?”
“Sure, I listen to crap every day. Yours is no different from anyone else’s.”
“Here’s what I think, Jackie boy. I think you were the best thing to ever happen to Veronica.”
Jack’s mouth fell open. Of all the things he might expect Stewie to say, this was the least imaginable.
“Before she got involved with you, she didn’t have anything but her work. She was confused, disillusioned, and unhappy. But you gave her direction—”
Jack was confused too, thoroughly. “Stewie, how come all of a sudden you’re saying good things about me?”
“—and then you failed,” Stewie, ran on. “You gave her the promise of something good, and then you let her down.”
Jack roused. “How the fuck did I let her down! She dumped me, remember? She ended the relationship, not me!”