"No, and from what Chloe said I hope I don't."
"What, that he's a prick?"
"Her exact word."
"Everybody calls him that. But you don't suppose she did because he kept her out of Tony's will. You mentioned that last night. But if the old man wanted to leave her something, don't you think he'd find a way?"
Kelly felt exposed standing in front of him. She sat down on the edge of the sofa, a cushion between them. She took a sip of her drink, and another and said, "I thought we were talking about Montez."
"We are," Delsa said. "What it comes down to, Montez knows what Chloe was getting and he wants it."
He was waiting for her to say something. Kelly shrugged and sat back in the cushions. "You think so?"
"The other night," Delsa said, "Jackie Michaels and I followed a trail of blood, like arrows, from a murdered woman in a stairwell to the man who killed her, sitting in his hotel room. Jackie said, 'Do you thank God like I do they're stupid, or stoned or generally fucked up?' Here, the arrows were pointing to Montez even before he opened his mouth and said you were Chloe. He's a bad guy and he has a motive, the old man dies and he cashes in. He's not in the will, neither is Chloe, but he knows she's getting something. I think what happened," Delsa said, "he had to change his plan in a hurry. You said he didn't know you were coming and it upset him. He tried to make a phone call. I asked you if he spoke to anyone. Have you thought about that, how he acted? Your being there blew his plan. The two white motherfuckers show up and there's company."
"But you had to let him go," Kelly said.
"The focus is still on him, you know that. He told you what she's getting, didn't he? He must have if you're playing a part in it. He tells you his plan inspired by desperation and you look at it thinking, Hmmmm, could it work? Who's out anything? Not Chloe or the old man. But if you go along with him you'd be dumber than he is, because you know he'd have to kill you. Just like the two guys had to do Chloe, because she was there."
Kelly leaned forward to pick up her glass and have a good sip from it, Sade's voice murmuring in the quiet, and sat back again before she said, "Chloe thought it might be an insurance policy, in her name."
"There's nothing like that," Delsa said, "in the old man's files."
"I think it might be stock," Kelly said. Hung that out to see what he'd say and took another sip, her confidence in pretty good shape.
"But if it's in her name," Delsa said, "she'd know what it is, she'd get a statement every month."
"I know about statements," Kelly said, "I was wiped out holding dot-com stocks three years ago. Chloe never got statements. But if it's a stock certificate, something the old man bought a long time ago and signed over to her, she wouldn't get statements."
"And he didn't give her the certificate."
"If that's what it is. I guess what I'm saying, I don't know what else it could be." She let that hang for a moment before she said, "But I might know where it is."
She placed her glass on the bamboo table, picked up her pack of Virginia Slims and lit one.
Delsa said, "You gonna tell me about it?"
"In a bank deposit box."
"Where?"
"Chloe didn't say."
"It's in her name?"
Kelly shook her head. "Montez Taylor."
Delsa took a 120 from the pack. Kelly extended her lighter and flicked it.
"Montez gets the certificate out of the bank box," Delsa said, "and brings it to you."
She sipped her drink and poured a little more, giving herself time to come up with a reason. She said, "I think the old man wanted this to be a surprise for Chloe and told Montez to give her whatever's in the box."
Delsa said, "You just thought of that?"
Kelly said, "Somebody has to get it out of the box. I know Chloe didn't have a key. The old man's dead:"
"So is Chloe," Delsa said. "So now Montez gets the stock certificate-"
"Or whatever it is."
"And brings it to you. You cash it in or sell it, do whatever you do, acting as Chloe, signing her name, and you give him the money. Unless you think you can get away with not giving him the money. In that case he shoots you or has the two white motherfuckers do it." He paused, said, "I bet you could pick them out of a lineup," paused again and said, "and I bet these guys are deer hunters."
Kelly, listening, going along, said, "Why?"
"The way you described them. I see the two guys in the woods with rifles, red jackets and the baseball caps. The kind of guys who walk off the job during deer season. You said they looked like workingmen."
Kelly nodded.
So did Delsa saying, "That's how I see them. Tigers fans, or they just like the caps. They wear them straight, don't they, not turned around."
Kelly nodded again. This was good.
"They might not follow the Tigers, the way they've been playing, but they're definitely hockey fans and follow the Wings, 'cause the Wings know how to win. Till last year. I could go to Joe Louis tonight, Toronto's in town, and look for two guys in Tigers road caps with the orange D and pick 'em up."
"You're kidding."
"Yeah, but when I do nail those guys, the first thing I'll ask is if they were at the hockey game tonight. I'll let you know what they say."
"If you find them," Kelly said.
"The past year we've had a few homicides where a witness saw two white males, ordinary-looking, working-class guys. They're pros, but not very professional. Firearms is checking the Paradiso bullets, see if they can get a match on another homicide. A couple of white hit men? What bothers me, why you've been holding back, not telling me everything."
"Why do you think? I'm scared to death."
"Well, a little scared," Delsa said, "that's part of the bounce you're getting. I see you playing with Montez the same way you're playing with me. Take it slow and see what happens."
Kelly said, "Really, I've told you all I know."
"But you don't know Montez," Delsa said. "What do you think he's been doing the past ten years? He was making six figures as a kid, now he's running errands for an old man? Why would he put up with being a monkey in a suit all those years? He saw a payoff, a big one. He tells himself he's comfortable in the suit, ride it out. Is he in the will? No, I checked. The old man was gonna give him the house and changed his mind. Lloyd, the houseman, said Montez had a fit. But he's a hustler, and he's given the opportunity to handle Chloe's payoff, so he'll go for that one. He doesn't know he'll fuck it up. But even if he knew the odds were against him, he'd have to do it. It's his nature to hustle."
Kelly said, "But you're not sure."
"Yeah, I am, I'm sure. But the only thing you can be sure of, as long as Montez needs you, you're fairly safe."
"You mean," Kelly said, "Montez or the two motherfuckers won't try to shoot me?"
Delsa shook his head. "I didn't say that."
17
The phone rang at eleven and Kelly jumped, alone now in that cushy sofa. It was Montez downstairs in his car. He said, "You don't buzz me in, babe, I'm gonna bust all the windows in your car." His voice softened to say, "Girl, there things I need to discuss with you."
Montez walked into the loft, stopped, raised his face to the hip-hop coming out of the system and said, "Missy Elliott."
"'Get Ur Freak On,'" Kelly said.
"Shit. What else you got?"
"Da Brat, 'What Chu Like.' Lil' Kim being ultra nasty." Kelly moving now, shoulders back, hands in fists.
"Shit," Montez said.
"Gangsta Boo and some Dirty South."
"Yeah, shit, I thought you was only into collegiate riffs, doing the cheers there."
"Rah Digga," Kelly said.
"Rah Digga:?"
"Used to be with Bustah Rhymes."
"Yeah, I know her. I love those ladies, 'specially that dirty mouth Lil' Kim." He saw the two glasses on the coffee table, a little something still in the pitcher, and said, "You had company, huh?"
"Frank Delsa."
She watched Montez pretend to glance around the room.
"Not still here, is he?"