“Who gives a shit? Is your time worth more than fifty grand? And we don’t have local law enforcement to deal with.”
“Okay by me.”
“Me too,” Vinny said.
“Speaking of local law enforcement,” Ryan said, “are we gonna be hearing from them?”
“Probably not, but we should always be ready. If they ask, you both know me, but you don’t know each other. No need to hide the trip to Florida.”
“Okay,” Vinny said, pointing at the money. “Sixty grand each, now we gotta get outta here before my mom gets home.”
“You already dispose of the costumes?” Al asked.
“On the way here,” Vinny said. “They’re burned.”
Dino was almost his old self, and Stone had postponed his dinner with Pepe Perado, so that evening, Stone hosted a dinner at the Post House, a steak place in Dino’s block and next to Pepe’s hotel. Stone took Pat Frank, and Pepe said he was bringing somebody. Somebody turned out to be the lovely Caroline Woodhouse, from the ad agency, who Stone, as an act of self-preservation, had hooked up with Major Ian Rattle, his former houseguest. He had forgotten that Pepe had met Caroline at the same time he had.
“You’re looking very well, Dino,” Pepe said, shaking his hand. “Considering.”
Dino laughed. “Yeah, considering. I’ve got a hard head, as Stone keeps pointing out to me. How’s the brewery business?”
“Distribution business, for the moment. It’s going very well, and we’re starting to plan for the brewery. We’re going to have a big bash in a couple of weeks to introduce ourselves to the New York market. You’re all invited — invitations to follow.”
“Hello, Stone,” Caroline said, holding on to his hand for a moment. “You’re looking well.”
“And you’re looking better than that, Caroline. This is Pat Frank. Pat, Caroline Woodhouse.”
They dined well, and Stone walked Dino and Viv home, down the block, just to make sure he was okay.
“He’s fine,” Viv whispered to him when they kissed good night. “That’s for helping me keep him in hand.”
That same Friday night, Sean Finn drove Danny, his Vegas card shark, to the airport.
“What’s the matter?” Danny asked. “No more poker?”
“No more poker,” Sean said. “It got too expensive. My liquor stores got hit for a week’s take this afternoon, and I think it’s connected to the poker game.”
“What are you going to do about it? You want some out-of-town help?”
“This one is going to the cops, but they’re not going to crack it. Looks like I’m just going to have to let my insurance company eat the loss.”
“That’s what they’re good at.”
“I’m not going to let it go, though. Danny, do you know competent people who do contract work?”
“What kind of contract?”
“You know what kind.”
“Yeah, I know people can do that.”
“I’ll pay you ten grand to set something up, keeping me out of it.”
“Who’s the mark?”
“Al Parisi, the little guinea we were going to take in the poker game. I underestimated him, but he underestimated me, too.”
“Yeah, I can handle that. It’s going to cost you fifty large, plus my ten.”
“Look in the glove compartment.”
Danny opened it and found a thick envelope. “How much is this?” he asked, hefting it.
“Fifty — ten is yours, use the rest to get the job done, including expenses. His address and license plate number are in there, too. If it all goes smoothly, you get another ten a month later.”
“Okay, I can handle it. When?”
“Sooner the better.”
“I’ll make a call when we get to the airport.”
48
At the airport, Danny didn’t make any calls, and he didn’t get on his flight, either. Instead, he checked into an airport hotel and rebooked his flight for early the following morning. Then he got Al Parisi’s address out of the package containing the money and spread out the local map Sean had given him when he arrived. He located the address, then looked at his watch: just past seven PM.
Danny got the snub-nosed .38 from his bag and into its holster. He had planned to dump it at the airport, but now he needed it. He went downstairs and took a cab to Al’s neighborhood and got dropped a block from the house, taking a card with the cab company’s number. He was walking up the darkened street when he saw a couple come out of a house and start to get into a car in the driveway. He heard a woman laughing. “Broadway, here we come!” she shouted. Sounded like she’d had a couple of drinks already. They backed out of the drive and drove away.
Danny checked the house they had left; it was the right one. There was a porch that wrapped around the house with one end next to the driveway. Danny walked up the driveway to the garage and cased the backyard: he found a low fence that separated the property from the one behind it, giving easy access to the next street. He went back to the porch, sat down in a rocking chair, and made a few calls on his cell phone, then he played some games for a while. Finally, he checked his map again with a penlight and made note of a street corner a couple of blocks away. It was well after midnight when a car appeared from down the street and turned into the driveway.
Danny flattened himself against the side of the house, pulled out the snub-nosed .38, and waited. The car stopped at the top of the driveway, and Al and a woman got out. They were weaving slightly as they passed the nook where Danny was waiting in the shadows. He waited until they were a couple of steps past him, then he stepped behind them and fired a shot into the back of Al’s head. Then, as the girl turned toward him, he took a step forward and put one right through her forehead, leaving her no time to react or scream.
He took a moment to be sure they were both dead, then got Al’s wallet from his pocket, emptied it of a thick stack of bills, and dropped it on the walkway. He walked to the backyard, hopped the fence, and got out his cell phone.
“Capitol Cab.”
“Can you send a cab to the corner of Hollaway and Oak, please?”
“Destination?”
“Fairlawn Hotel.” That was where he had been staying, and there were always cabs there. Five minutes later, the cab showed up and drove him to the hotel. He got out of the cab and into another, asking to be taken to his hotel at the airport. The following morning he put the .38 into a brown bag, tossed it into the back of a garbage truck, took the first flight to Las Vegas, and had a good breakfast in first class.
On Sunday afternoon, Gene Ryan took a cab to Newark Airport and made his plane to Fort Lauderdale. At the airport he rented a car and drove to the Sea Castle Motel on the beach. He checked in, got into his bathing suit, and walked down to the beach, where a beachboy made a chaise ready for him.
Two hours later he was joined by Vinny, who relaxed on the next chaise. “Seen anything of Al?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Ryan replied. “He must have taken a later flight.”
Late in the afternoon Ryan showered and shaved and got into a sports jacket. He met Vinny in the bar.
“Did you hear from Al?” he asked.
Vinny shook his head. “I checked the front desk — he’s not here yet.”
Then Ryan saw Charlie walk into the bar and head for them. They shook hands. “How you doin’, Charlie?”
“I’m good, Gene.”
“This is Vinny, Al’s cousin.”
“Where’s Al?”
“He hasn’t shown. We all took different flights down. Want a drink while we wait?”
An hour later, Charlie called Al’s throwaway cell number.
“Yeah?”
“Al?”
“Yeah.”
“Where the hell are you?”