What the hell’s going on?” I ask.
“One…!”
“Are you nuts!?”
“Two…!”
“I didn’t kill her!” I cry as he pulls back the hammer on the gun. “I swear, I didn’t kill her! Why would you-”
“Three!” he shouts. “Sorry about this, Michael.”
His finger tightens and I clench my eyes shut.
“Itwasn’tme! Itwasn’tme! Iswearitwasn’tme!” I shout.
He pulls the trigger, but there’s no shot. Just a hollow click. I open my eyes. The gun’s empty.
Vaughn stands over me, studying my reaction.
“Are you insane?” I shout. My chest’s heaving and the sweat’s pouring down my face.
“Had to see for myself,” he says, stuffing his gun in the back of his pants.
“See what for yourself?”
He doesn’t answer, but whatever the test was, I passed. I think.
Unlike his mug shot, Vaughn no longer has the tiny mustache and the slicked-back hair. Today, he’s all style. Sharp haircut, Gucci loafers, and a slightly creased but otherwise beautiful silk shirt. His pants also look expensive but way too wrinkled. Like they’ve been worn too long. Or slept in.
“Sorry ’bout the mess,” he says like nothing happened. He points to his clothes and flashes a toothy grin. “Things’re a little tense since I’m… on the go.”
“Don’t you mean, on the run?” I ask.
“You got that right,” he agrees. “Now what kept you so late?”
“Talk to your popcorn clients-those kids had me waiting for a half hour.”
“No, no, no,” he says in full Boston accent. “I don’t sell to kids. Ever.”
“Oh, so you’re one of those dealers who cares?”
“Listen, shortie, if some rich little college girl wants to shove daddy’s money up her nose, I don’t sweat it for a second. After all their years of shoving the peace pipe into my neighborhood, I figure that makes us even.”
“You’re a real humanitarian.”
“Shit, man, you work in the White House. Who you think’s putting more poison out there, me or you?”
I refuse to answer.
“No fun bein’ judged, now, is it?” Vaughn asks. “’Sides, if you’re countin’ brownie points, you’re the one should be thankin’ me.”
“Thank you?” I ask. “Why should I thank you? For setting me up? For sneaking in under my name? For killing Caroline Penzler and acting like I’m the one who-”
“Stop where you are, pretty boy. Don’t blame that shit on me.”
“You telling me you weren’t in the building?”
“No, I was there. I was walkin’ halls for an hour. But I never put a finger near that woman.”
“What’re you talking about?”
“Now you deaf? Listen up, here: I don’t know dick about that lady. Never met her in my life.”
“What about Simon? You ever met him?”
“Simon who?”
“C’mon, Vaughn, you know who he is.”
“You callin’ me a liar?”
I pause a moment. “All I’m saying-”
“All you’re sayin’ is I’m bullshitting; I can hear it in the back of your throat. You better readjust your glasses, though, boy-I’m just tryin’ to give you some conversation.”
“Oh, so first you point a gun at my head, and now you’re gonna sweep me up and play Oprah?”
“I don’t like that tone.”
“I don’t have a tone. All I know is you’ve been running me around for the past two weeks. Holocaust Museum, paperboys, squeegee men-I’m sick of the Spy vs. Spy mind games. So drop the tough guy act and tell me what the hell is going on wi-”
He grabs me by the front of my shirt and slams me against the concrete wall. “What’d I tell you ’bout raising your voice? Huh, boy? What’d I tell you!?”
“You said you don’t like it.”
“Damn right I don’t like it!” he screams in my face. “You think this is only ’bout you!? Shit, kid, at least you’re still sleeping in your own apartment-I’m on the D.C. shelter tour.”
“You make your bed; you lie in it.”
“I didn’t make the damn bed! They threw me in it!” He lets go of my shirt and takes a step back. “Just like they threw you.”
I study his eyes, looking for a lie. He knows I don’t see it. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?”
“Would I be sneaking ’round if I weren’t? Son of a bitch FBI trashed my life, ruined my business… I never met this guy Simon in my life.”
Unsure of how to respond, I look away.
“What?” he asks. “You think I’m bluffing ’bout that too?”
I can’t help but hesitate. “To be honest, I don’t know what to think.”
“Well, Wonder Bread, that makes two of us.”
I take another look at his creased shirt and wrinkled pants. There’re some things you can’t hide. “So you weren’t trying to frame me?”
He shakes his head and puts his hands on his hips. “I look like Jack Ruby to you? The only reason I came to that building was because my man Morty was busy. He had something cookin’ in Southeast, so he asked me to do him a favor.”
“And Morty works for you?”
“Nah, he’s a-how can I say it?-a fellow independent contractor.”
“He’s a drug dealer.”
“He’s into pharmaceuticals. Anyway, he asked me to make a drop for him-I had nothing doing-so I told him I’m in. ’Course, when I found out where it was, I almost had myself an infarction, know what I’m saying? I mean, that’s just plain stupid-next door to the White House?”
“But you still did it?”
“Morty put up three Bennys in cash. For that kind of money, I’ll kick Hartson in his big white ass. Besides, Morty said you were one of his cash cows.”
“I never met the guy in my-”
“I’m just telling you what he said. He told me you were some presidential whiz kid with a taste for the white stuff-and that you went DEFCON One if you didn’t get your weekly visit. According to Morty, all I had to do was go to the front desk and give ’em your name. When you cleared me in, I was supposed to head up to the second floor and walk the halls till you found me-he said your schedule was so busy, you couldn’t do exact times-presidential crap and all that. Soon as I heard it, I shoulda known that shit was trouble.”
“What about the person who cleared you in? Who was that?”
“I thought it was you.”
“It wasn’t me!” I insist. “They just used my name on the ph-”
“Relax, little man-I’m just relaying how it happened. I told the guard we had a meeting; the guest pass was waitin’ for me. Looking back, it obviously wasn’t my finest hour.”
I nod and suddenly think of my dad. “So all you did was spend an hour taking laps around the hallway?”
“That’s what I got paid to do. When you didn’t show, I left. Next thing I know, that woman Caroline’s dead and the FBI’s sniffing ’round my place and hasslin’ my neighbors. My cousin across the hall says they mentioned two names to her-the woman who just died and some fool named Michael Garrick. Soon as I heard that, I was gone-smelled that setup a mile away.”
Shading my eyes with my hand, I rub my temples and let it all sink in. If it wasn’t Vaughn I saw in the bar with Simon, it must’ve been this guy Morty. That’s who Simon was working with.
“You really thought I killed her, didn’t ya?” Vaughn asks.
I keep quiet.
“It’s okay,” he says. “I don’t take offense. I thought the same ’bout you.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I figured you and Morty set it up. I walk in; you kill Caroline; I eat the blame.”
I almost want to laugh. “I already told you, I didn’t kill anyone. You’ve got it all mixed up.”
“Then why don’t you alphabetize it for me?”
I think about it for a sec, but decide not to answer.
“Oh, you best not be yankin’ my rope,” Vaughn says. “Is that how you play it? You can hear my side, but I can’t hear yours?”
Again, I stay silent.
“Listen, Garrick, my boys took major risk to get to you-the least you can do is tell me how ya got sucked in.”
“Why, so you can use it against me? No offense, but I’ve had enough stupidity for one week.”