“The F.B.I. was onto the Wyandotte affair almost a year,” Gazzo said. “They never told the Wyandotte officials or the New Jersey police. They let it go on.”
“To make their own case. Kezar wouldn’t talk until he’d taken his cut, and disposed of it,” I said. “Now I know who took that gun from me-the F.B.I. To protect Kezar. They’ll let him go free on the murder charge, because without Kezar they have no case.”
“You’re not sure of that, Dan.”
“I’m sure,” I said. “That gun was what killed Meyer, and it’s got Kezar’s prints on it.”
“Jenny could have done it,” Gazzo said.
“Yeh,” I said. “Who’s worse, Captain? Charley Albano for being ready to corrupt, or Dunlap for being ready to be corrupted? Or Kincaid, the clean businesssman who’s ready to pay anyone to get the job done fast and smooth? Kezar, screwing everyone for his cut of anything he can get his hands on? Or maybe the F.B.I., paying a man to inform on everyone he works his dirty deals with-after he’s got his share-and then protecting him so they can make a case in court?”
“I’ll think about it,” Gazzo said.
I went out to find my usual haven. I had a double Irish. In a way, the Wyandotte deal had killed them all-the need for a few dirty bucks on the side. If Dunlap hadn’t wanted his share of the action, Diana Wood might never have met Andy Pappas. Hal Wood might never have had to kill anyone.
I said it at the start-we all tend to dream of perfection, and our reality falls a lot short of coming close. We have to live in the pit between. The dark pit where the Pappases and Kezars profit, where most of us try to survive in peace and a little honor, and where a Hal Wood breaks apart and kills for his dreams.