‘That’s what I figured, too, but this isn’t sixty,’ I said, looking at the money in the gym bag. ‘It’s more like twenty grand or so but mainly in twenty-dollar bills.’
‘So they shortchanged him and killed him.’
‘Looks like it.’
‘What the fuck do we do?’
‘Well, we either take the money and split or we try and take these fuckers down. They just killed a cop.’
‘Bob, if they killed a cop, it’s because they can.’
‘So what do you propose we do?’
There was a tapping at Darren’s window and I looked up and it was a 9mm doing the tapping. ‘Get down,’ I said, and Darren ducked and I fired off several rounds from the nail gun and the driver-side window shattered and I wasn’t sure what had happened. ‘Start the car but keep down.’
Darren complied. Keeping down, I looked out the shattered window and saw the man I thought was Adamson drawing a bead on us. I fired off several more rounds and heard his 9mm fall to the ground. (I think I hit him, I thought.) I got out of the car and Darren followed, brandishing a baseball bat, and I ran toward the man I thought was Adamson, who was running off. I ran up to the 9mm and picked it up with my shirtsleeve, even though I doubted there was a single usable fingerprint on the gun.
‘Okay,’ I said, holding up the gun, catching my breath, ‘now we have the murder weapon and the loot. We probably have a photo or two, too, that turned out — at least of Bouvert paying off O’Meara.’
‘Who do we go to?’
‘The cops.’
‘You’re holding the weapon that murdered Detective Michael O’Meara.’
‘But we’re turning in the money,’ I said.
‘Bouvert and Adamson and whoever they work for, whether it’s the Andrewses or whoever, are powerful people. We’re not. They’ll arrest you for the murder of a police detective and then you’ll be killed before you stand trial.’
‘So what are you saying? We should take the money and run.’
‘Maybe.’
‘If we confront anyone with what we’ve got, it should be Bouvert. I’m sure he’s filling his fat face as we speak.’
26
There was no way I was letting Darren go into Diavolo Cucina, so I convinced him to wait in the car because it was integral to the plan, and in fact it was integral to the plan, I thought, namely, what little plan there was and there wasn’t much. Regardless, I wasn’t going to let him get hurt. I needed him to sit tight with the loot and the nail gun while I confronted the lawyer with the 9mm, a Browning Hi-Power (Made In Belgium/Assembled In Portugal embossed on its barrel), the gun that killed Detective Michael O’Meara, Robbery-Homicide. I didn’t want to get my fingerprints all over it so Darren found a pair of gardening gloves in the trunk of the hatchback. I put them on.
‘If I’m not out of there in ten minutes,’ I said, ‘I want you to call the cops.’
‘But the cops’ll — ’
‘Darren, man, they’re the only option.’
‘What if I hear gunfire?’
‘Don’t worry. I’m not going in there to get in a firefight. I’m just bringing the gun to show him what we’ve got. Evidence. Protection, too, but mainly evidence. If we have the gun, then he’ll know we’re not bullshitting about the money, and then we’ve got him by the balls.’
‘The question remains. What if I hear gunshots?’
‘Call the cops.’
‘And then what?’
‘We find out what the hell has been happening.’
‘And then what?’
‘I don’t know. We turn Bouvert in.’
‘It won’t work.’
‘We extort him. Listen, we have to do something. These people are murdering people. I can go above the heads of the corrupt people he knows in this goddamn city, if that’s what has to be done. I’m a detective. With a shitload of evidence. Someone will listen. I know people too.’
‘Man … ’
‘Yeah?’
‘Be safe.’
‘I’ve got a gun. I’ll be fine.’
‘I’ve been expecting you, Mr. James,’ Bouvert said to me as I approached his table. It had a cream-coloured tablecloth and candles and was at the back of the long dark restaurant. ‘Please, join me,’ he said, and I sat down across from him, Bouvert with his back to a wall and me with mine to the rest of the restaurant, which was empty save for the bartender behind me at the bar and the rest of the small staff, who were in and out of the dining room, and me and Bouvert, who leaned back in his chair, a large glass of red wine in front of him, a half-emptied bottle on the table, and bread and olive oil and a plate of calamari. ‘Would you like something to eat?’ he said and I shook my head no. ‘Some wine,’ he insisted, and he picked up the bottle and poured into the glass in front of me before I could answer. ‘I like the gloves. You can take them off. You won’t be needing them.’
I did. And stuffed them in my coat pocket, with the gun.
‘Well,’ he said, forking a piece of squid into his mouth, ‘say your piece.’
‘I saw everything.’
‘And … ’
‘I know you’re behind everything,’ I said.
He laughed. ‘Believe it or not, I’m not the Evil One, Mr. James.’
‘Bob’s fine and you’re plenty evil. I have the murder weapon in my pocket and the money stashed with an associate.’
‘Okay,’ he said.
‘And I have photos of you paying off O’Meara, before you had him whacked.’
‘Whacked …?’
‘I saw him shot dead in cold blood.’
‘O’Meara …?’
‘Don’t be cute.’
‘Mr. James.’ Bouvert pursed his lips, staring at me. ‘If you leave the weapon with me and walk out that door right now, you can leave with the money and your life, if you disappear for good.’
‘What happened with Elaine Andrews?’
‘Still hung up on Mrs. Andrews?’
‘How was she involved?’
‘Mr. James, no questions. Leave me the weapon and then walk out of this restaurant.’
‘Or …?’
‘Or you die.’
‘You’ll kill me right here?’
‘If that’s what needs to be done.’
‘With these witnesses?’
He smiled. ‘Yes.’
‘For a man with such bad teeth you smile a lot, you know.’
‘Also,’ Bouvert said, still smiling, ‘we’ll kill your friend.’
‘What friend?’
‘The kid. Your associate. The delivery driver.’ He took a sip of wine, swirling it around in his glass. ‘The kid outside the restaurant. We’ll kill him.’
I stuffed my hand in my pocket and, gloveless, grabbed the pistol and said to Bouvert, ‘If you mention the kid again, I’ll shoot you dead right now.’ I pointed the gun toward him, still stuffed into my pocket, underneath the cream tablecloth.
‘No need to get dramatic, Mr. James. I’m giving you a chance to get away, without any consequences. I’ll forget about the kid completely,’ he said. ‘He means nothing to us. And neither do you if you disappear. Take my offer. It’s the best you’ll get.’
‘Thank you, solicitor, but I’m interested in getting to the bottom of this case.’
‘Well, you have a long way to go.’
‘Then I’ll keep going,’ I said. ‘I’ll get to the truth.’
‘The truth is that if you don’t put that gun on the table right now and leave, then I’ll send someone out to see your friend, with a large kitchen knife, and he can carve the boy up. Cut him up piece by piece. I’ll get him to bring me his eyes.’
‘I told you not to mention the kid,’ I said, and stood up and flipped over the table. I pulled the Hi-Power out of my pocket and pointed it at Bouvert, who stood with his back up against the wall, covered in dark red wine and calamari.