Well, too late now. The gig was either blown or it wasn’t. Nothing to do but go ahead as if it wasn’t. Play the part and hope for the best.
Damn it, Donnie was right. Yvette hated it when Donnie was right. Which, she conceded, was more often than not.
He was right, but he was reckless. He could blow the gig on his own and still be right, just chalk it up to bad luck. But if she blew it, there’d be hell to pay. He’d give new meaning to the words revenge sex. She’d be lucky if she was able to walk.
Yvette steeled herself, slapped a smile on her face, picked up the martinis, and headed back to the bedroom.
30
Taperelli picked up the phone. “Yeah?”
Mookie wasn’t happy. “There’s no James Glick in any goddamned hospital in the whole goddamned city.”
“Are you sure?”
“I called every fucking one,” Mookie said, “and believe me, it wasn’t easy. A lot of them got switchboard systems, you know, ‘If you’re a doctor trying to reach another doctor and you think you’re mighty fucking important, press one. If this is an emergency, hang up and call nine-one-one, because by the time you get through to us you’ll be dead.’”
“Yeah, yeah,” Taperelli cut in. “But you got through?”
“Sure. I pretended to be a doctor until I got a human being, then I asked for admitting. Worked every time. And James Glick isn’t there. He isn’t in any hospital in the suburbs, either, and why should he be, we have his address and he lives in Manhattan, but I checked ’em anyway because I knew you’d ask. James Glick is playing a game with us.”
“Go to his apartment. If he doesn’t answer, break in. If he’s there, bring him here. If he’s gone, find out where.”
“That’s a relief.”
“What?”
“To get off the damn phone.”
James Glick lived in a four-story brownstone that had been divided up into apartments. His apartment was 2B. Mookie rang the downstairs bell, but no one buzzed the door. He started ringing doorbells at random until someone buzzed him in. A woman in a first-floor apartment pushed her door open, saw Mookie heading for the stairs. “You buzz me?”
“Hell, no.”
Mookie went up the stairs to apartments 2A and 2B. He’d been careful not to buzz 2A. He didn’t want that door opening while he was letting himself into James Glick’s apartment.
Mookie’s methods were not subtle. He took a crowbar out from under his coat, inserted it into the doorjamb, and pried back. Wood splintered and metal flew as the door popped open.
It didn’t take Mookie long to determine that James Glick was gone. His toothbrush and razor were missing from the bathroom, and one of his dresser drawers was left open.
Mookie looked around for something that would give him a clue where Glick had gone. The guy had a computer on his desk. Mookie clicked the mouse, found that it had been left on. Mookie checked his e-mail. The last e-mail was a confirmation of an Amtrak ticket. James Glick had taken the Acela to Washington, D.C.
Mookie jerked the cell phone out of his pocket. “Bad news, boss.”
“What’s that?”
“James Glick skipped town.”
31
Dino called Stone. “Are you up for dinner?”
“Sure. I gather Viv is on a job and unfree to entertain you?”
“Viv’s always working, but in this case I have news,” Dino said. “Patroon at seven?”
“Have they repaired the damage?”
“Does it matter? It’s just a couple of bullet holes.”
Stone arrived first and took the seat with his back to the wall, facing the door.
Dino walked in and chuckled. “Hello, gunslinger. Did you order yet?”
“Just got here.”
Dino pulled up a chair and sat down.
“You’re sitting with your back to the door,” Stone said.
Dino shrugged. “Sure. My buddy’s watching the entrance for me.”
The waitress came over and took their orders. Dino had the rib eye. Stone ordered the osso buco.
“Something on your mind?” Stone said.
“More bad news.”
“Seems to be the only kind you get. What’s up?”
“James Glick isn’t getting out of the hospital.”
“He died?”
“He was never there. James Glick skipped town. I don’t know what kind of pressure he was under, but he’s taken to flight.”
“How do you know?”
“I’m the commissioner of police, I had the hospitals checked. He’s not there and never was. He took the Amtrak to Washington, D.C., a couple of days ago. He bought a train ticket to Miami at Union Station, but it’s a good bet he never used it because he bought another train ticket from Washington to St. Louis a good two hours after his train to Miami would have left.”
“Did he go to St. Louis?”
“If he didn’t, someone else stayed over at the Hyatt on his credit card. So James Glick is either on the run, or someone has his wallet. If he’s on the run, he’s not doing a very good job of it because if I can trace him that easily, others can, too.”
“Will you tell Herbie?”
Dino grimaced. “I don’t want this to become a bad habit, but what good will telling Herbie do? He knows the guy’s not coming back. There’s nothing he’d be doing any differently now if he had the information.”
“So what are you going to do about Glick?”
“I’ll track him, and if there seems any point, I’ll pull him in.”
“You can do that?”
“With a phone call. We’re not the only police department in the country, you know. Though right now, it would only muddy the waters. And they’re murky enough as it is.”
32
Jules Kenworth had a busy day. A photo op with the mayor, lunch with his trophy wife, a business meeting with an entrepreneur who was lucky to get it. And then some goddamned group he was supposed to be nice to because they were naming a statue after him, as if that really mattered; if they wanted to use his name they should be nice to him.
Kenworth was pissed off and didn’t know why. It was just on general principles. What was the use of having billions of dollars if you couldn’t arrange everything to your liking?
The phone rang.
It was Taperelli. If he had bad news, Kenworth was going to tear him a new one.
“Skipped town?” Kenworth thundered. “When the hell did that happen?”
“The day he sent the other lawyer.”
“And you’re just finding out now?”
“He said he was in the hospital. There was no reason to doubt it until he didn’t come out of the hospital.”
“So this asshole handling the case is it? You’re telling me we’re stuck with him?”
“It appears so.”
“Then he has to learn, doesn’t he?”
“He certainly does.”
“Think you can handle that?” Kenworth said.
“Consider it done.”
33
Alonzo’s meat cleaver froze in mid-chop. He blinked at the man coming in the door and wished he were somewhere else.
“It’s Payday!” Mario announced, and Alonzo trembled.
“Take care of your customers, Alonzo, take care of your customers. Do not let me disturb you.”