“Can I pull over?”
“Be my guest.”
Sunrise Hospital and Medical Center was another Turnberry neighbor. He parked in the lot and called Morris’s cell phone. Morris picked up on the first ring.
“Hey Billy, what’s up?”
“I need you to tell me where you ditched the piece,” Billy said.
Morris made a gagging sound into the phone. “What are you talking about?”
“Where’s the gun? Just tell me, and then hang up the phone.”
The line went still. Billy shut his eyes, praying that Morris wasn’t one of those small percentage of shooters who’d buried his gun in some exotic place.
“There’s an empty lot down the street from our house,” Morris said, breaking the silence. “Cory and I buried the gun there and filled the hole with empty beer cans. That was Cory’s idea, in case somebody with a metal detector found the spot and decided to dig.”
“Any landmarks?”
“Not that I can think of. We covered the spot with garbage to hide it.”
“Where in the lot?”
“Dead center. You going to tell me what’s going on?”
“Later. Keep the faith.”
He had no trouble finding the empty lot where Morris and Cory had buried the murder weapon. Parking at the curb, he popped the trunk and got out with Grimes. He grabbed the tire iron from beneath the spare tire and tossed it to the special agent. Grimes tossed it right back.
“You want me to dig it up?”
“Yeah. I want to see you sweat,” Grimes said.
He found a collection of trash in the center of the yard and took a picture on his cell phone, which he texted to Morris with a note. Is this the spot? Morris texted him right back and said it was. He kicked away the trash, then used the tire iron to break away the dirt, which was packed down hard. As it became soft, he switched to using his hands and pawed away like a dog.
“This had better be the right spot,” Grimes said.
The sun was brutal and perspiration poured off his brow. It occurred to him that if this wasn’t where the gun was buried, they had a serious problem that he couldn’t fix.
“Does the judge know that Broken Tooth tried to fix the Super Bowl?” he asked.
“Not yet,” Grimes said, working his gum.
“Why don’t you tell him and get the ball rolling?”
“Can’t. We have our orders, and I’m not going to break them. Do you know how much money the Super Bowl generates for this town? More than a hundred million bucks is wagered at the sports books alone. Nothing is going to be said about the fix until the game’s over. Can’t you work any faster? I’m getting hot.”
He was soon drenched. The hole was three feet deep, so where the hell was the gun?
“Looks like we’ve got company. Stay here.”
Pinning a silver badge to his lapel, Grimes marched over to a white-haired man walking his dog who was coming toward them. They engaged in conversation, and Billy caught enough to realize that the man was part of a citizen’s watch group assigned to keep the neighborhood safe. A pesky bastard, exactly the kind of guy Grimes didn’t want snooping around.
His fingers touched the curved handle of a firearm. He cleaned away the dirt and watched the gun’s barrel take shape at the bottom of the hole. He stole a furtive glance at the man with the dog before pulling the buried weapon from its hiding place. The gun tucked safely beneath his shirt, he hustled over to his car and hopped in. The weight of the world had lifted from his shoulders. Grimes took the passenger seat, and Billy cleaned his fingerprints off the gun, then passed him the weapon.
“Beautiful,” Grimes said.
Forty-Six
Returning home, Billy killed the engine and waited for Grimes to speak. He knew of cheats in town who had unique relationships with the gaming board, but he’d never expected to join their ranks. He disliked people who enforced the law for the simple reason that many of them would have become criminals had they possessed the smarts and the cunning. Not able to make the mark, they’d lowered themselves to catching the very people they aspired to be.
“This is a nice place you live in,” Grimes said. “What’s the security like?”
“First-rate. Why?”
“I want you to stay here until the conspiracy charges against Broken Tooth are filed. Don’t go out unless it’s absolutely necessary.”
“You think Broken Tooth will go after me?”
“I wouldn’t put it past him. If you sense trouble, call me right away.”
They exchanged cell numbers. Billy would have to get the number changed when this was over, otherwise Grimes would use it to track him inside the casinos later on. Even though they were now joined at the hip, they were not, and never would be, friends.
“This doesn’t change things between us,” Grimes said, as if reading his thoughts. “The next time I catch you and your crew scamming a casino, I’ll bust you.”
“I wouldn’t expect anything less,” Billy said.
“Did it ever occur to you that if you went legit, how successful you’d be? Your file says you went to MIT on a scholarship. Take those brains and apply yourself to running a real business. You might surprise yourself.”
Billy couldn’t help but laugh.
“You think I’m being funny?” Grimes said, growing angry. “You’re going to end up rotting in prison. You’ll regret not listening to me.”
Grimes was steaming. But he didn’t get out of the car and storm off. It made Billy wonder if the special agent was telling Billy a hidden truth about himself. Grimes was a smart son of a bitch, and Billy wondered if Grimes secretly regretted not venturing out on his own, instead of seeking the safety of law enforcement work and the benefits that came with it.
“When I was growing up, I read a book called Little Man. You know it?”
Grimes stared at him out of the corner of his eye. “No.”
“It was about the life of the gangster Meyer Lansky. Lansky was the moneyman for the mob, had to be one of the smartest guys who ever lived. He could sit in the stands watching a baseball game and calculate the different players’ batting averages each time they came up to the plate. He was carrying all that information around in his head, along with the figures for all the rackets the mob ran. He was a genius.”
“That’s impressive. What’s your point?”
“When Lansky got older he tried to go legit. He moved to Florida and ran a restaurant and a string of dry cleaners and other businesses with his brother Jake. They all failed, and Lansky lost his shirt. Success has nothing to do with how smart you are. It’s about luck.”
“Is that why you keep stealing?” Grimes asked. “Because you’re afraid of failing in the real world? The fact is, Billy, you never tried the real world, so there’s no way you’d know.”
Billy turned to face his adversary. “You want to know why I steal? I steal because it’s a blast. Every time I rip off a casino, it feels better than having sex. I’m also damn good at it. The day it turns into a job, I’ll quit.”
“You’ve got it all figured out, haven’t you?”
“I know what makes me happy. Do you?”
Grimes snorted contemptuously. That was enough of an answer in itself. Billy said, “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help your investigation.”
“Fuck you.”
“Let’s part friends, shall we?”
Grimes got out, rifled the valet stand for his keys, then entered the parking garage in search of his car. He was like an active volcano, the bad stuff bubbling just below the surface. Billy hoped like hell Grimes got his promotion; it might keep the special agent out of his hair.
His cell phone vibrated. It was Casey, calling him back.