Matty’s head had been back in Omaha, working through all the things the money might mean to the situation he’d created for himself. He hadn’t seen Vince make the switch.
Vince listened to Rita in the kitchen. Pretty soon the teapot began to whistle, slowly building until it rattled and shrieked on the stove.
Worth added it up.
Even with the lowball offer they’d already accepted, he and Sondra would turn a decent profit on the house. If he took his share of the gain, cashed in his savings and investments, withdrew the limit on his Visa card, and sold the Ranger off, he could probably scrape together a little less than half the amount he and Vince had found in the GTO.
If he raided the escrow account that paid for Dad’s care, he could probably almost get there. Close.
He’d rattled off something he’d seen in some movie. Told Briggs and Salcedo he’d stashed the money in a storage unit. Six hours away.
Then go get it, Tony Briggs had said. We’ll give you a day.
In the meantime, Briggs and Salcedo would check in at random using a cell phone Briggs had shaken off a dope slinger in North O. If Gwen missed a call at the safe unit, they’d arrest the slinger, log his phone as evidence, and call a lab unit to the apartment Russell and Gwen had shared.
Worth could see where they were going. The slinger’s phone records would show a clog of calls to the safe house, where Gwen was supposed to be hiding. That would give Briggs and Salcedo enough probable cause to search the apartment where Russell James had been killed. Worth had done the best he could to neutralize the crime scene, but appearances were one thing. Apart from any evidence Briggs and Salcedo decided to plant there themselves, a lab workup would produce red flags.
It wouldn’t take much before somebody began adding up all the connections just beneath the surface.
In the meantime, Briggs and Salcedo held all the cards. They were in position to shape the facts however they wanted.
You’ll hear where to make the drop.
Worth walked over to the television, retrieving his service weapon from where Salcedo had placed it on the way out. He took it back and holstered it.
Gwen stood a few steps away, eyes gone distant, her arms drawn in around her waist. She still hadn’t looked at him.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
She flinched at his voice.
Worth couldn’t remember feeling lower than this. Not when Sondra had told him she was leaving. Not when the guy she’d left him for had punched his lights out in front of half of CIB. Maybe not even bearing Kelly’s casket toward a hole in the ground.
This was different. Dirty.
He looked at his watch; he’d been away from his post for thirty-five minutes.
Gwen said, “How much money is it?”
“Enough.”
“How much?”
“It’s not important, Gwen.”
Now she looked up, eyes flaring. “Don’t tell me that.”
Worth didn’t know what else to say. He didn’t know how to tell her that there was no money. Not anymore. He’d watched Vince fire up the incinerator and toss in the sack.
Twenty-four hours.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said.
“How?”
An excellent question.
“I’ll take care of it,” he heard himself say.
23
By Tuesday morning, the temperature had risen above freezing, even with a foot and a half of snow on the ground. By afternoon, the streets coursed with runoff, and the storm drains babbled like happy brooks.
Don’t like the weather? Just wait five minutes. People around here loved saying corny bullshit like that. Eddie Tice couldn’t get a break.
“Don’t worry,” Darla told him. “It’ll pick up tonight.”
But it didn’t. Business was slow for any Tuesday, let alone a one-day-only Spooktacular.
Eddie sent Troy Mather and Derek Price to Rod Kush’s Furniture on a reconnaissance run. When they returned, Troy said, “Don’t worry, boss. It’s even deader’n this over there.” But Eddie could tell by looking at Derek that it was a flat-out goddamned lie.
Around nine o’clock, a bunch of high school kids came in and sat in the recliners, fiddled with stereo knobs, and ate about a hundred pounds of candy. Eventually, Eddie ran them all out. Half the little shitbags weren’t even dressed up as anything.
By then it was official. Halloween night was a royal bust at Tice Is Nice Quality Used and Discount Furniture.
What else was new? At ten-thirty, Eddie closed the store early and sent all the employees home. When nobody was looking, Darla rubbed his back through the stupid Dracula cape he’d worn and said, “It’s okay. This just leaves more time.”
Eddie couldn’t help but grin a little, despite his black mood. Looking at her did it to him. “Snow White, huh?”
Darla took a step back and curtseyed. She’d chosen the costume because her daughters were into the DVD. “Not for much longer.”
Eddie didn’t deserve the woman. That was all there was to it. She’d worked all morning to get the place decorated: black and orange crepe paper, jack-o’-lanterns sitting around in beds of loose straw, ghosts and bats hanging from the ceiling tiles. It seemed like a shame.
After everybody was gone, he locked the doors and shut down the lights. He used the cape to wipe the stage blood from the corners of his mouth, then wadded the whole thing into a ball and tossed it in the trash.
In the office, he pulled the bourbon from the middle drawer of his desk and filled a glass all the way to the rim.
Eddie had half a buzz working by the time he realized he wasn’t alone.
“Holy Christ,” he said. He sat up too quickly in the chair, sloshing fine Kentucky whiskey over the back of his hand. He reached out to the lamp on the desk and pulled the chain.
The man from Chicago rose from the Queen Anne replica chair in the corner. He came out of the shadows, into the dim yellow light.
Eddie said, “When did you get here?”
“Earlier,” the man said.
“You’re staying downtown? I told Plaski I’d send somebody.”
“That’s not a concern.”
“Jesus.” Eddie offered a welcoming smile. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”
“Apologies,” the man from Chicago said.
Worth must have counted two dozen Spider-Men.
You couldn’t look in any direction without seeing a Harry Potter or an Incredible. Ballerinas appeared to be making a comeback, while angels and pirates seemed thin on the ground. Up and down the street, light-sabers bobbed along like disembodied stalks of neon in the silvery dark.
He sat at the curb and watched the parade of trick-ortreaters until long after dusk. They moved in chattering coveys, bundled up under their costumes, paced by adults on foot or in creeping SUVs. He saw firemen and surgeons, carpenters and ball players, even a cowgirl. So far, he hadn’t seen a single kid dressed up like a police officer.
By seven-thirty, the temperature had dipped enough to scatter the festivities to the indoor shopping malls at Westroads and Oak View. Soon homeowners began to emerge, huddle down their walks, and douse the paper-sack luminaries that glowed orange around the neighborhood.
You can’t just sit here. It was a wonder some vigilant soul hadn’t already called him in. Worth knew he was being foolish, but he couldn’t seem to get off the dime.
With everything else that had been happening, he’d actually forgotten that tonight was Halloween. Somehow he found himself transfixed by the innocent clockwork of it all.
Later, bored teenagers would show up in gore-splattered packs to festoon what was left of the trees with toilet paper. In other parts of town, buildings would get tagged. Shots would be fired, tires slashed. Property would end up listed on insurance claims.