He paused before saying, "All right, how much?"
"As of the closing bell today, fifty-three cents a share."
"Hey, come on-I don't believe you."
"Down from eighty-one forty a year ago."
"You're playing with me, aren't you?"
"It comes to ten thousand six hundred. Not worth your time, Chops. You want the stock certificate? I'll mail it to you."
Montez said, "Now wait a minute, hold on. I want to talk to you."
"Go ahead."
"Come on, babe, buzz the door for me."
"I would," Kelly said, "but there's nothing you can say that I want to hear."
Now a pause before Montez said, "Turning on me, huh? The money ain't what you expected."
"I told you from the start I wouldn't help you," Kelly said. "Why can't you understand that?" She said, "Listen, Frank Delsa's on his way over. You want the certificate or should I give it to him?"
"How you explain you have it?"
"I tell him you gave it to me. I've told him everything else. What's the difference?"
Montez said, "You're fuckin with me, aren't you?"
"You don't believe me, look it up. Or I can e-mail you the story, if you want-why Del Rio Power, already in the toilet, is about to go down the drain."
Montez said, "You gonna hear glass breaking out here, you don't open the door."
Kelly reached in her bag for her cell and said to Montez, "And you'll hear the nine-eleven operator on my cell ask what's going on." She said, "I forgot to mention, Delsa has the two white guys staked out. If I were you, Chops, I'd get out of town."
Kelly heard him say, "You think you done with me?"
She hung up the phone, got Delsa's card out of her bag and called his cell number and heard his voice say, "Frank Delsa," in that quiet way of his.
Kelly said, "I'm home and Montez is downstairs."
Delsa stepped inside the loft and turned to Kelly, her back to the door. He said, "He wasn't outside," and hesitated, barely, before she was in his arms and they were kissing in that dark hallway like they would never get enough of each other, her hands slipping inside his jacket, sliding over his ribs. They kissed and held each other and he told her, "I've been wanting to do this since the other night."
She said, "Love at first sight?"
He said, "Almost. It was when you came out of the bathroom with your face washed."
"It's working out," Kelly said. "I planned to jump you if you came over tonight. I'm not a witness anymore, I'm out of it," and told him about getting the stock certificate while a homicide cop's son was rapping-Delsa saying, "Hush"-and about looking up the stock and telling Montez the million six was now ten six and going fast. "You want the certificate?" She said, "I have it," leading him to the counter in front of the kitchen where the papers were lying.
She asked him what he wanted to drink. He said anything and she poured them each a scotch. They touched glasses eye to eye, put the glasses on the counter and took hold of each other and got into more of that first-time kissing, neither of them getting enough of the other until he whispered to her, "You're no longer a suspect. But you're still a witness."
She stood in her wool socks looking up at him.
"But you don't care."
"This is bigger."
She was nodding. "You're sure I'm not a suspect?"
"I think you were tempted, so you played it out."
Still looking up at him she said, "'If you want me to, I'll love you. I know you better now.'"
He remembered the key word but not the line he'd have to make positive. He said, "And I'll be glad to reciprocate," and had to smile. "Who wrote that?"
"John O'Hara."
"I thought he was supposed to be good."
"He was. I love his short stories, especially the ones set in Hollywood. O'Hara drank a lot and was near the end when he wrote this one. It's called The Instrument. But he also wrote Appointment in Samarra, about not being able to escape your fate."
"Like Montez," Delsa said. "No matter what he does to slip out of this one, he's going down."
She said, "I was thinking more of us."
"I know what you mean. There's a lot we haven't said."
"We've barely said anything."
"See, but Montez still might want the ten six. Try to get you to sign the paper."
"I'm giving it to you," Kelly said, "and the driver's license. There won't be any way I can help him. But you're probably right. The last thing he said to me, on the phone, 'You think you're done with me?'"
"That's all?"
"I hung up on him."
"That's why you're still a witness, I don't have him yet. Or the two guys. We've got the prints of one of them on the same vodka bottle with Montez'. It could put them together at the house-if you'll testify that's what the old man was drinking, the Christiania. And I'd like you to look at the two guys in a lineup. If you can put them at the scene that night, they're done. We'll pick 'em up if they ever come home. Carl's wife Connie says he stays with Art a lot of the time. Art lives in Hamtramck with Virginia Novak. We checked, they're not married, but have a statue of the Virgin Mary in the front yard holding a birdbath. I'm hoping it was Art's idea. I didn't tell you their names, did I? Art Krupa and Carl Fontana. They could've met at Jackson, they were both there at the same time. They come out and for the past year and a half they've been shooting drug dealers, and then Paradiso."
"And Chloe," Kelly said.
"And Chloe. Montez hired them to do the old man. But how did he find out about them? Look at it another way. How did they get the contracts to take out the drug dealers? These two guys wouldn't ordinarily have much to do with African-Americans. It's like they have someone who arranges the hits. Like a manager."
"Or an agent," Kelly said. "Have you ever heard of that?"
Delsa shook his head. "No."
"You want to spend the night?"
"Yeah, if I can take a shower first."
She said, "We can do that."
24
The counter girl told Delsa it happened during the break time, going on eleven, between the Egg McMuffins and the Big Macs, "The three dudes come in-I look at the one and think I know him. Yeah, it's Big Baby, still with the puffy cheeks. He lived down the street from us on Edison. I'm about to call to him, Hey, Big Baby, and surprise him 'cause he won't remember me from living on Edison. But then I see all three dudes pulling guns, Big Baby taking a sawed-off shotgun from outta his clothes, the two dudes with nines they hold sideways-know what I'm saying?-like they can shoot these guns any way they want. The one dude goes to the back, the other dude has his gun on Mr. Crowley by the french fry station, telling him he wants the money he knows is put somewhere. Big Baby tells us in front-they's three of us-get down on the floor and don't move. Right then the one yelling at Mr. Crowley, the manager, shoots him and Big Baby says, 'What you shoot him for?' like he can't believe it. But see, he only shot him in the leg, up here, and the dude shot him is still yelling for the money. See, then Big Baby gets me up from the floor account he's swearing, he can't open the fuckin register. I open it and he say to me open the other two while he's cleaning out the first one. Right then they's two shots and I see Mr. Crowley fall by the carry-out window and I see the dude aim his nine at Mr. Crowley lying on the floor and shoot him two more times. Now the three dudes are yelling at each other, 'What you shoot him for?' 'You didn't have to shoot him.' The dude that killed him saying he wouldn't give him the fuckin money, and saying they got to get out of here. Big Baby and the other dude follow the first dude out and get in a '96 Grand Marquis that's a dark color, but I didn't see the license good."
Delsa was listening but thinking of last night, looking through scenes in his head, stepping into the shower and Kelly turning to him, water streaming over her naked body, her perfect breasts, her navel, Kelly smiling at him and laughing out loud as he said, "Heil Hitler," and to the counter girl, "Do you know Big Baby's real name?"