“Look,” Frankie said, “look, I …”
“I haven’t got to look,” Cogan said. “Look, I know what’s going on. I know what I got to do. I need a right guy.”
Frankie’s mouth worked. He did not say anything.
“If I get a right guy,” Cogan said, “I told them this, by the way, I said: ‘There’s two ways this thing can go. The hard way is, I do them both. The other way, I only gotta do one guy.’ I took a lot of shit for that. You know how I got them to go along with this? China. China says you’re all right. So, I always like China, I can do something for China, I’m gonna. China don’t want, you hit. Very loud on that point. Says you’re a good guy, kind of guy it’s good to have around. Okay. But you know where China is. All he can do is come up here and talk. He can’t actually do nothing for a guy.”
“No,” Frankie said.
“I can do something for a guy,” Cogan said. “I don’t have to, but I can. Now make the pick, kid, and make it right now. I’m gonna do China a favor, I’m not gonna do China a favor. Don’t matter to me.”
“Lemme think,” Frankie said.
“Nope,” Cogan said, “no thinking. Go or no go, right now. I got to get going.”
Frankie exhaled heavily. “I don’t know,” he said. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
“Can you do the other thing?” Cogan said.
Frankie hesitated. “No,” he said.
“Well,” Cogan said, “that’s the selection. So, I guess you know, then.”
What’ve I gotta do?” Frankie said.
“You gotta find out where he’s gonna be,” Cogan said.
“I already know that,” Frankie said. “We’re, he asked me what I was gonna be doing, he’s gonna be some place and he wants to call me or something. I know where he’s gonna be. He’s got a girl. He told me that, before. I told him I was gonna be home, I’d be home.”
“You’re not gonna be,” Cogan said.
“I’m not?” Frankie said.
“No,” Cogan said.
“Where …” Frankie said.
“You’re gonna be with me,” Cogan said, “and we’re gonna be where he’s gonna be.”
“Jesus,” Frankie said, “I can’t do that. He sees me, it’s all over. He’ll know, something’s wrong. I can’t do that. I’ll tell you, I’ll tell you where he’s gonna be. I’ll do that. But, he’s a friend of mine. I can’t do that.”
“Okay,” Cogan said, “okay. That’s, you made the other choice then, I guess.”
Frankie stared at Cogan. Cogan did not move. Frankie said: “Have I really got to do that?”
Cogan nodded.
“All of it?” Frankie said.
Cogan nodded.
“I got to be there and everything?”
Cogan nodded.
“It’s not,” Frankie said, “it’s not like, there was anything I could do, anybody else inna world couldn’t do. It’s not that. You, there must be hundreds of guys, you can get. You don’t need me.”
“Wrong,” Cogan said. He put his hand on Frankie’s shoulder. “Frank,” he said, “it’s not like I don’t understand what’s on your mind, right? But this thing’s a problem. And part of it, it’s partly your fault. You made a mistake. Now you gotta, you got to do the right thing. You gotta show, you understand, you made a mistake, and you gotta make things right. Otherwise, guys know you made a mistake, right? And that’s when they’re gonna want somebody to do something, like with Trattman. He never did the right thing.”
Frankie nodded.
18
Frankie drove the Gold Duster quickly through the arch with the orange lanterns into the curving drives of Stuart Manor. The apartment complexes were two-story, the first of vertical redwood planks, the second stucco, half-timbered. The parking areas were filled with Volkswagens, Camaros, Mustangs and Barracudas. There were coach lights with orange bulbs above each door.
“Jee-zuss,” Cogan said, “I finally made it. I’m in ghinny heaven.”
The small tires on the Duster howled as Frankie took it through the curves to the back of the third complex. “It’s a singles place,” he said. “You’re supposed to live here if you wanna get laid.”
“I’d have to get awful horny to drive to New Hampshire to get laid,” Cogan said.
“It’s not that far,” Frankie said. “I thought the same thing, but Johnny got tied up one night and I hadda bring her back up here. It’s not that far.”
“Seems far to me,” Cogan said. “This, this just proves it to me. The guy’s a shit.”
“He don’t have no control, where the girls live,” Frankie said. He pulled into an empty space and shut off the engine and the lights.
“He don’t have no control,” Cogan said. “Period.”
“Jackie,” Frankie said, “he’s really not a bad guy, you know? He’s not a bad guy at all.”
Cogan slouched down in the seat. The suede coat piled up around him at the neck. He shut his eyes. “None of ’em are,” he said. “They’re all nice guys. They just get to thinking, you know?”
“He was always all right to me,” Frankie said.
“Sure,” Cogan said. “Got you almost six years inna fuckin’ slammer.”
“That wasn’t his fault,” Frankie said.
“Kid,” Cogan said, “when somebody does something, and somebody, he gets somebody else, and they go to fuckin’ jail for it, it’s his fault. That’s the rule.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Frankie said.
“Then this isn’t your fault,” Cogan said. “If that wasn’t his fault, this isn’t your fault.”
“He didn’t mean it,” Frankie said.
“Hasn’t got nothing to do with it,” Cogan said, “nothing at all.”
A blue Rallye Nova passed behind the Duster.
“That them?” Cogan said.
“Nah,” Frankie said. “John, John’s got a Riviera.”
“I know what he’s got,” Cogan said. “What I want to know is, that them?”
“Nope,” Frankie said. “I’d’ve said if it was. You got him wrong, you know. That jail thing, he had it worse’n I did, his family and all.”
“He’s not gonna have to do it again,” Cogan said.
“He stood up,” Frankie said. “He could’ve blamed it all on us.”
“In a way,” Cogan said, “he did.”
“He did not,” Frankie said. “He never said shit.”
“He didn’t say shit about you, maybe,” Cogan said. “He still called somebody up.”
“About what?” Frankie said. “What’d he call up?”
“He knows how you do things,” Cogan said. “He knows how you’re supposed to, anyway. He knows.”
“What’s he know?” Frankie said.
“Ever hear of the Doctor?” Cogan said.
“Yeah, yeah,” Frankie said. “Dillon says he’s dead. I know.”
“When’re you talking to Dillon?” Cogan said.
“I didn’t talk to him,” Frankie said. “Johnny told me that, said Dillon said the Doctor’s dead.”
“He is dead,” Cogan said.
“Okay,” Frankie said, “you and Johnny and Dillon, the whole bunch of you say the Doctor’s dead. Big deal.”
“The Squirrel says he’s dead,” Cogan said.
“Johnny said Dillon told him, the Doctor’s dead,” Frankie said.
“That shit,” Cogan said. “That fuckin’ shit.”
A brown Maverick Grabber passed behind the Duster.
“Still not them,” Frankie said. “Why?”
“Because he knows it himself,” Cogan said. “He knows very fuckin’ well, the Doctor’s dead.”
“How’s he know?” Frankie said.
“He paid a man,” Cogan said, “he paid a man, five thousand dollars, get the Doctor dead.”
“Bullshit,” Frankie said.
“What’s his wife’s name,” Cogan said, “you want me to tell you, tell you what she looks like and everything, used to wear them big gold-hoop earrings? Connie.”
“So what?” Frankie said.
“That’s the broad that delivered the money,” Cogan said. “For the Doctor’s ass. Think he’d pay that if he didn’t know it was done?”
Frankie did not answer.
“You know why, Frank, he got the Doctor?” Cogan said.
“Yeah,” Frankie said, “I know.”
“Sure,” Cogan said. “Doctor made a mistake, did something he wasn’t supposed to. That’s why.”
“Well,” Frankie said, “he did.”
“Sure he did,” Cogan said. “So’d he.”
“It’s not the same thing,” Frankie said. “It’s not the same thing at all.”