We got to the Hideaway five minutes before Cancerno showed. Draper wasn’t working the bar, and he came out to sit with us. He had a bottle in his hand and three glasses stacked atop one another. He dropped the glasses on the table and poured about three fingers of Scotch into each one. He slid a glass over to me.
“Glenlivet,” he said. “Still the favorite?”
“It’s a good one,” I said. “And so is your memory.”
“You work in this business, you better remember drinking tendencies.” He pushed the second glass over to Joe, who shook his head.
“Too early for Scotch?” Draper asked.
“He doesn’t drink anything but water,” I said.
Draper, who had probably been nursed on light beer, regarded Joe with astonishment. “Nothing but water?”
“He exaggerates,” Joe said. “I also drink milk.”
Draper handled the dilemma by dumping the contents of Joe’s glass into his own and draining a good portion of it in one swallow. Draper drank Scotch the way most men drank beer.
“So, tell me what’s up,” he said. “Why you need to see Jimmy?”
“You ever heard of the Neighborhood Alliance?” I asked.
He frowned and scratched his shaved head. “Ed did some work for them, I believe. They’re buying up houses all over the neighborhood.”
“Right. And it looks like Cancerno’s guys are fixing most of them.”
“Could be.”
“The woman who died in the fire,” I said, “was the director of the Neighborhood Alliance. I want to ask Cancerno what he knows about her, and how Ed might have come across her.”
“Huh.” Draper sipped some more of the Scotch. If I’d hoped he was going to offer an opinion on the matter, I was wrong.
Cancerno arrived then, again in jeans and a silk shirt, and again looking decidedly unpleasant. He nodded curtly at Draper and glowered at Joe and me.
“All right,” he said, pushing into the booth beside Draper. “What the hell is this about?”
“Mr. Cancerno, this is my partner, Joe Pritchard.” I pointed at Joe.
“Terrific. Now let me repeat—what the hell is this about? I got shit to do this afternoon.”
“Remember the woman who died in the fire?”
“The one Gradduk killed?”
“The one who died in the fire,” I said again.
“What about her?”
“She was the director of something called the Neighborhood Alliance.” Suddenly I wanted to test Cancerno, curious as to whether he’d be honest at all or just lie to avoid continuing the conversation. “You ever heard of that group?”
His lip curled at one side. “Of course I’ve heard of the group. My guys are fixing all their shit-hole houses.”
Okay, he had no problem with blunt honesty.
“What can you tell me about the organization?” I said.
“Not much. I don’t mind their business, you know, just my own. They want me to get the houses fixed up so they can sell them again, and that’s what I do. It’s some sort of a government project, city or county. They buy up houses that are all beat to shit, rundown and empty, neighborhood eyesores. Then they fix them up so they’re decent again, livable, and they put poor people in them. Got the Feds to insure the mortgages and finance it and all that crap. Supposed to make the neighborhood downright charming.”
“If you’re doing a fair amount of work for them,” Joe said, “you must have known Anita Sentalar.”
Cancerno shot him a glare that would have rattled anyone except Joe, who received it with a blank expression.
“I must have known her?” Cancerno said. “Afraid not, buddy. You don’t know as much as you think. This is the first time I’d heard that the dead chick had anything to do with the Neighborhood Alliance. Guy who handled the contract with me was a consultant, you know, someone who actually knows a little something about construction. They aren’t going to let some little girl with a law degree contract out house repairs.”
“What was the consultant’s name?” Joe said.
“Ward Barry. He does a lot of work with HUD on those types of projects. Used to be a city engineer. You want to know about this woman, you talk to him. I never said word one to her.”
“What about Ed Gradduk?” I said, “Would he have had an opportunity to meet her?”
Cancerno scowled. “I don’t know how, unless she came by the work site to see what was going on. I suppose that’s possible. I sure as shit never introduced him to nobody. Glad of that, too. I’m dealing with enough grief just for hiring the son of a bitch.”
I took a deep breath and sipped a little of the Glenlivet, felt the smooth burn work.
“Okay,” I said. “That makes sense, Mr. Cancerno. How many houses are you working on for the Neighborhood Alliance?”
“We got the whole contract. So however many they buy up for the first two years of this, that’ll be how many we work on. Probably got ten done already, another half dozen in the work stages.”
“There was one on Clark Avenue,” I said. “It burned down about a week ago. You know anything about that house?”
For once, Jimmy Cancerno looked interested, but before he could speak, Draper put himself into the conversation for the first time.
“One burned on Clark?”
I turned to him and nodded while Cancerno gave him a surprised look, as if he’d forgotten Draper was at the table. “Yeah, it did. A few blocks east of here.”
“I heard about it,” Draper said. “Didn’t know it belonged to that Neighborhood Alliance deal, though.” He picked his glass up again to take another drink, but it was empty. He set it back down and poured it half-full again.
“Were you working on the house on Clark?” I asked Cancerno.
“Nah, we haven’t worked any on Clark.”
“It was a Neighborhood Alliance property,” I said. “I’m sure of that.”
He shrugged. “Like I said, we work on them in the order those people tell us to. I can believe they owned the place, but we hadn’t started on it yet.”
“Don’t you think it’s a bit odd,” Joe said, “that two of the group’s houses would burn in a week’s time?”
Cancerno coughed. “Would be odd if I couldn’t blame it on Gradduk.” He paused, then said, “Shit, I just realized what that means. If the little bastard did burn the other house, I’m going to have to deal with that, too.”
“You have any idea,” I said, “who might have had a problem with this Neighborhood Alliance group? Anyone else bid on the project and lose, anything like that?”
“No. Like I said, I just worry about my end of things.”
I nodded. “Must be a nice chunk of cash in it. You said you’re getting all the work for two years?”
Cancerno snorted. “A nice chunk of cash? Gimme a break, pal. I wish I’d never made the bid. I’ll be lucky to break even on this.”
“Really?” I said, surprised.
His scowl darkened. “Yeah, really. You don’t believe it, I’ll be happy to show you my books.”
“No need for that.”
For a moment it was quiet, and then Cancerno said, “Well, is that it?”
“I guess so,” I said. “We appreciate your time, though. And we’ll be talking to this Warren Barry.”
“Ward Barry. And don’t tell him I gave you his name. Last thing I need on my hands now is somebody else that’s pissed off at me over Gradduk.”
He stood, then turned back to the table. “You have any luck finding Corbett?”
“Not yet,” I said.
“But you tried?”
“Yes.”
He nodded. “Well, you find him, you can tell him I tore up his paycheck today. He ever wants to go back to work, it’ll be for somebody else.”