“Huh?”
“One of your transactions,” said Moe. “Keep your mouth shut for the opportunity to keep pimping to rich folk.”
Stolid silence, but no denial.
Moe went on, “You might've cleared your own head but the law doesn't see it that way, Ramone. You're in the middle of it. It won't be any big stretch making this a three-strikes deal, Ramone. But even without that, we're talking…” To Petra: “Like forever?”
She said, “I'd guess forever plus a hundred years or so.” She edged closer to Wohr. “Poor little Gabriel. Talk about a tiny skeleton, like a toy, at first you don't even think it's real.”
“You found him?” Wohr blurted.
“Any reason we shouldn't?”
“No, no, no. I just…”
Moe hardened his voice. Crowded Wohr. Got closer to Petra, in the process. Her girl-scent helped take the edge off Wohr's stench. “You just what, Ramone?”
“I never heard he got found.”
“But you heard he got killed.”
Silence.
“Here's the deal, Ramone: Some people don't like surprises, but we do. Helps relieve the boredom. We've got all sorts of surprises about things you can't even imagine.”
Wohr's eyes passed from Moe to Petra, back to Moe. The guy's body was slumped and shaky and pathetic, but the eyes belonged to a stronger, shrewder man.
All the dope he'd pumped, all the booze he'd soaked up, his IQ could be down to double digits and he'd still retain a certain type of cunning.
He said, “You know what you know, but I don't know nothing.”
Moe sensed it: The danger point, any minute the mope could clam, ask for a lawyer.
Time to take another plunge. “Well, then, Ramone, we'll share-so everyone will know everything. You got paid off to keep quiet about the murders, but it was only a small-time payment. You never cashed in like you could've.”
Wohr's eyes froze but he couldn't plug up the sweat glands slicking his face and neck.
Petra's perfume no longer masking the stink.
Wohr's mustache trembled.
Moe said, “Maybe you didn't cash in because you were scared. Maybe you're basically a small-time guy, happy with small-time compensation-happy to keep peddling skin to rich folk. Maybe making nice to rich folk lets you pretend your own life is expensive, not cheap like Adella and Gabriel and Caitlin.”
Wohr shook his head.
“Thing is, Ramone, that flesh you kept peddling was Alicia's and she had enough, wanted you to cash in big. She was tired of partying in shitty motels like the Eagle because you were too scared to make demands. She got frustrated. Downright pissed-off frustrated. To the point where she bitch-slapped you on the street, front of the whole neighborhood.”
“No one saw nothing,” Wohr snapped.
Moe smiled. “You think?”
Realizing his error, Wohr shook his head hard enough to fling sweat. Droplets landed on Moe's khakis. Petra's black pants, too. Neither cop moved to wipe it off.
Wohr said, “What I'm sayin’, Alicia wouldn't do that, she never hit me.”
“Then how do you think we know about it, Ramone? I was there.” Letting that sink in. Describing Eiger's and Wohr's clothes made Wohr shake like he'd detoxed too fast.
Moe said, “She called you stupid, disrespected you, then hauled off and bitch-slapped you.” Moe rattled off the address on Taft. “I saw it, Ramone. Not a love pat, a real hard smack, you could hear it up the block. And what do you do? You just slink off like some beat-down dog, go get juiced up at Bob's, then you buy some dope from another mope over near Cherokee, then you wander around Hollywood all day and into the night, walking and drinking and smoking, like some useless, abused mutt. And then, because you still can't get rid of the anger at being disrespected but you can't stand up to Alicia, you go looking for someone you can control. Because Delishus looks ten and reminds you of all those little girls you peep when they don't know you're lurking outside their bedroom windows.”
“I don't do that-”
“Your niece Sarah says you do.”
Ramone's mouth dropped open.
Moe smiled. “It's your day for surprises, my friend. Just like you were surprised to find Officer Kennedy right there when Delishus's head was where it shouldn't.”
“Aw… no.” Moan of despair, not denial.
Placing both hands on Wohr's shoulders, Moe exerted pressure. “We know everything. And you still don't have the smarts to stop playing with us in order to better your situation.”
Wohr lowered his chin to his chest. Sniffled.
Moe gave an eye-signal to Petra.
She said, “I, for one, am feeling sorry for you, Ramone, because you're not a violent person. But who I'm really feeling sorry for is Alicia. Poor girl was getting smart, all she wanted to do was stop selling her body. How long has she been on you to make some serious dough from those murdering bastards?”
Head shake.
“How long, Ramone?” she said, gently. “Probably right from the beginning, right? Because Alicia saw an easy big payoff-I mean, we're talking multiple murder, rich folk, kind of a no-brainer.”
“Too scary,” muttered Wohr.
“To pressure the rich folk?”
Nod.
“Unfortunately, Alicia didn't see it that way,” said Petra. “Maybe because you were still selling her to the people who did those murders.”
“Alicia doesn't get it,” said Wohr.
Present tense dictated the next move.
Moe released Wohr's shoulders from his grip, drew two Polaroids out of a blazer pocket.
Alicia Eiger's multi-stabbed back, and a full-frontal close-up of her gray, lifeless face.
“Ramone, Alicia is never going to get anything anymore.”
Wohr stared. Began shaking violently. “Oh, Jesus God.” Lurching forward, he retched. Both detectives scooted back. Nothing but stink emerged from his gaping mouth. “Oh, Jesus, oh Jesus God Jesus.”
Feeling masterfully cruel-enjoying the feeling-Moe said, “Oh, yeah, four murders. Add a dead girlfriend to the scorecard. And you set her up.”
Wohr's legs shot back, hit the legs of his chair. “No way, no, no, no-”
Moe and Petra moved back in. Inches away, totally in the mope's face. Moe held the Polaroids in one hand, used the other to take hold of Wohr's jaw and rotate Wohr back toward the images.
Expecting Wohr to shut his eyes. But Wohr punished himself and looked.
Some capacity for guilt?
Moe said, “Hitting her back wouldn't have been nice, but it sure would've beat making that call, Ramone.”
Wohr murmured unintelligibly. Moe released the pressure on the guy's jaws. Wohr rubbed his mandible. “You didn't have to hurt me.”
“You don't need me to get hurt, Ramone. You're hurting yourself just fine. Maybe, like Detective Connor said, you're not a bad person, but you sure are a weak person. Always taking the easy way out. But funny thing, that always seems to put you in a hard place, doesn't it?”
Slow nod.
“We've got your throwaway cell, Ramone. We know about the call you made to set up Alicia.”
Hoping hoping hoping.
Wohr licked his lips. Blinked hard.
Victory!
“That's accessory to Murder One, Ramone. Now we're giving you the chance to help yourself, friend. But you've just got to stop lying-to yourself. We already know the truth.”
Wohr groaned. Knuckled an eye.
“Maybe you never intended to get Alicia killed, maybe you just thought they'd scare her. But that's not how a jury's going to think.”
“She hit me,” said Wohr. “Again. I got tired of it.”
“There you go,” said Petra. “Mitigating circumstances.” More like motive and evidence of premeditation. “If we had a history of domestic violence calls to your crib, that might help you. Without that, who's going to believe a big strong man was afraid of a small woman?”
Wohr said, “You don't know Alicia. She's fierce.”