I went in, and the heat from cooking in that confined boxcar of a little room was overwhelming. One of the Orientals behind the counter greeted me, but I had no idea what he was trying to say. I greeted him, and he seemed to have no idea what I was trying to say.
It was well after lunch hour, and there were only a few people in the place, which at peak could hold maybe twenty-five. Ash was sitting in his back booth, face buried in the menu. He had taken off the coat of his expensive suit, and his shirt was long-sleeved and pastel yellow and his tie was a stylish brown and blue pattern. Every hair on his head was in place, a sandy red tapestry woven to conceal his bald spot.
He hadn’t seen me yet.
I sat down across from him and said, “Still go for that Chink shit, do you?”
He looked up and blinked and said, “Hello Quarry,” and went back to his menu.
“That’s some car you’re driving,” I said.
He put the menu down, smiled. He seemed a little worn out, probably a combination of fucking up last night, and just having had to go through some sort of song and dance for the lawyer. “It gulps the gas, though,” he said. “Otherwise, you’re right. Some car. You like it, Quarry?”
“The car? LTD’s not my style. I like a sportier number.”
“Like that little fuckin’ Opel of yours, you mean.”
“Like that. Only I traded it in.”
“What you driving, now?”
“That Buick, parked behind you.” I pointed a thumb at the greasy window next to us, through which the two cars could be made out, barely.
“That’s the kind of car you’re partial to driving on a job, Quarry. You on a job?”
“Not exactly.”
“Hey, let me order for you. You don’t know Chinese food like I do. This little dump’s supposed to be the best Chinese joint in town. I checked around. So leave it to me.”
And about then an Oriental woman, who managed to look attractive despite her greasy white outfit and sweating brow, and who was somewhere between twenty and forty in age, asked us what we wanted, and Ash told her.
“So,” Ash said, when she was gone, “you’re not dead, Quarry.’’
“Not that you’d notice.”
“Ha! Well, I want you to know I had nothing to do with that.”
“With what?”
“Those two guys who came around to try and whack you out.”
“That gives me a warm feeling inside, knowing that.”
“Come on. What was I supposed to do? Warn you?”
“That would have been nice.”
“Fuck. Who you tryin’ to kid? In this business, anybody’s a potential victim. You. Me. Those gooks over there, cookin’ their butts off. Anybody. And people like you and me, we do what the guy with the money says to do. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
“But you knew in advance, they’d be coming around? Explain that.”
“I was the one who set it up.”
“You’re sure as hell hard to get information out of.”
“What, do you think I’d fuck around lying to you? I set it up. Somebody hired me to set it up, I mean.”
“Who?”
“That, I can’t tell you. You know that, Quarry.”
“I guess I do.”
“But, like I said, I had nothing to do with it. You know, nothing personal.”
“I know.”
“I knew you weren’t dead, when Lynch and Beatty didn’t call in, afterwards. I figured they were at the bottom of some lake up there. That was no surprise. But I sure didn’t expect you to come around here.”
“What did you expect?”
“I expected you’d take it on the lam, what else? Just get the fuck out, go bury your head in Canada or Mexico or something, take your money, and make a new life or something.”
“What money?”
“The money you saved from all your jobs.”
“I spent most of that.”
“Well, then, the money you made off of killing the Broker.”
“I didn’t kill the Broker.”
“Okay, you didn’t kill him. Whatever you say.”
“Somebody figures I did, though.”
“Right. And if you didn’t kill him, who did?”
“A punk kid named Carl.”
“The Broker’s bodyguard?”
“Yeah. He was trying to shoot me, and I put the Broker between me and him.”
“Well, you did kill the Broker, then, in a way.”
“In a way.”
“Why was the Broker’s bodyguard shooting at you?”
“I told the Broker I was quitting. He thought I was pulling something, and was going to have me put away. It didn’t work out the way he had in mind.”
“Hey, that’s a good story. Maybe the guy that put the contract on you would even buy it. I don’t think so, though.”
“Would it be worth a try?”
“Why the fuck ask me? I’m just another employee.”
“I heard you took over for Broker.”
“You heard wrong.”
Our food came. Sweet and sour shrimp.
“What’d I tell you?” Ash said, his mouth full.
“It’s good food,” I said.
“Look. I’ll do this much for you. I’ll pretend I didn’t run into you. I’ll just look the other way, while you leave.”
“Can I finish my food first?”
“Fuck, yes.”
“And then I just take all that money I made off killing the Broker, and go to Canada or Mexico.”
“Wherever you want. It’s your money.”
“There isn’t any money. But suppose there was. Suppose I killed Broker, and got money for it. Why should anybody care?”
“How the fuck should I know?”
“I want to talk to the man you’re working for. “
“Why?”
“I want to find out exactly why he wants me dead. I want to explain what really happened with the Broker.”
“Then what?”
“Who knows? If he’s taking over, maybe I’ll want my old job back.”
“I don’t know, Quarry.”
“Ask him.”
“I don’t know.”
“It’d be a good idea to ask him.”
“What the fuck… you threatening me, Quarry? What kind of shit is that?”
“You didn’t ask me yet when I got in town.”
“When’d you get in town?”
“Couple days ago.”
“Couple days ago. What you been doin’, since you got in town?”
“Nothing. Looking at dirty pictures and playing with myself.”
“You’ll go blind.”
“I’ll cover one eye.”
“What the fuck you tryin’ to say, Quarry? What you been up to, around here?”
“Nothing. Vacationing. You know. Sightseeing.”
“Sightseeing? In the Quad fucking Cities?”
“Sure. I got this camera. I take pictures of the sights.”
“What sort of sights?”
“Oh, like the river. Important buildings. Classic old homes. Like that brown brick number, up on the hill. You know. That place that looks like some sort of castle or something.”
“When do you want to talk to him?”
“Give me a number I can call.”
He got out a pen and wrote a number on a napkin. “Call this afternoon. Before four.”
“I’ll call sometime before midnight.”
“Whatever.”
“I want to thank you for your help, old buddy.”
“It’s okay. After all, you saved my life once.”
“It was nothing. Believe me.”
“You think I should’ve warned you, huh? Fuck, Quarry, you better than anybody ought to know it’s not that kind of business.”
“How much does it cost you, to get your hair puffed up like that, Ash? Covers up that shiny spot terrific.”
“Fuck you, man. I like my car, and my clothes…”
“And your hair.”
“And my fuckin’ hair, too. I’m doing okay, Quarry, and you shouldn’t begrudge me.”
The Oriental woman came with the check.
“Look,” he said, “I realize I owe you, for that time out west. Maybe I can find some way to pay you back for that, in spite of everything.”
I pushed the check over to him. “Just pay for lunch. That’ll make us even.”
I had him leave before I did, and didn’t follow him.
I had somewhere more important to go.