Hard Case Crime: Fake I.D. (11 page)

Trying to smile, I said, “Don’t you work hard enough in the kitchen?”

Rodrigo looked up like he was seeing me in the room for the first time.

“Frank tells me to clean the bar tonight,” Rodrigo said with his Mexican accent.

“Yeah, well Frank should pay you double your salary for doing that,” I said. I could tell Rodrigo couldn’t understand what I was saying so I rubbed my fingers together and said,
“Mas dinero.”

“Yes,
mas dinero
,” Rodrigo said smiling.

“Well, I’m gonna drop this garbage out on the street and go home. Take it easy.
Adios
.”

“Adios,”
Rodrigo said.

At home, I dumped the stacks of bills onto the kitchen table and started counting the money. I counted the bills at least three times and got the same total—fourteen thousand dollars even.

I was too pumped up to fall asleep so I sat on my bed in the dark watching
Perry Mason
and some old John Wayne movie. Finally, I conked out.

When I woke up, around noon, I went right to the bag of money and counted the bills. I counted them again, then I put the bag away in the closet.

It was another nasty day—a mix of rain, sleet and snow—and I didn’t feel like going anywhere. My muscles were still sore from working out and playing basketball and I figured I’d just hang out at home and watch the football games on TV. I ordered two sausage heros with extra onions from a pizza place on First Avenue, then I called the Korean deli and ordered two six-packs of Sam Adams, two containers of barbecue-flavored Pringles, and three of the little carrot cakes I liked.

There’s nothing better than sitting on your couch on a nasty day, stuffing your face with great food and watching football. During halftime of the twelve-thirty game I got hungry again so I ordered some chicken wings—abusive-style—and a side order of cheese fries.

At five o’clock, I showered, then I got dressed and left for work. The rain and snow had stopped. It was dark, but it wasn’t as cold as it had been the past few nights. I walked down First Avenue with my leather coat wide open. I was thinking about tomorrow morning. I’d call Alan Schwartz at about nine o’clock—set up a time to meet the guys. Or maybe I’d throw Pete a call from the bar tonight, just to make sure everything was still cool.

A block away I spotted two police cars double-parked in front of O’Reilley’s. I wasn’t surprised. I knew that Frank would call the cops as soon as he noticed the money was missing. I just hoped that Rodrigo wouldn’t rat on me. I didn’t see why he would—he was a good guy, an
amigo
—but I was still worried about it.

Looking in the window, I saw that the bar was crowded—a lot more crowded than it usually was on a Sunday at six o’clock. O’Reilley’s didn’t have big-screen TVs so we usually didn’t get a big football crowd on Sundays like the sports bars did. I took a deep breath and went inside.

I was expecting the cops to come over to talk to me right away, but this didn’t happen. Instead, people hardly noticed me. Frank was in the middle of the crowd and people were shouting at him and the police —two male cops, one female cop, and one older guy in a jacket and tie—were trying to calm everybody down.

Frank saw me behind the crowd and I made a face to him that said, “What the hell’s going on?” Frank pushed his way through the crowd and came up to me.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Somebody robbed the safe.”

“The safe? You’re fuckin’ kiddin’ me. How the fuck did—holy shit, you mean the Super Bowl money—?”

“Fourteen grand,” Frank said. “I’m such an idiot for leaving money like that lying around. I was gonna go to the bank on Friday, but I figured it could wait till Monday.”

“Jesus, I can’t fuckin’ believe this,” I said, shaking my head. “When the hell did this happen?”

“We don’t know. Last night...this morning. I just found out an hour ago.”

“So what’d they do, bust the safe open?”

“Nah, they went in and out—used the combination. And I have a good idea who did it.”

“Who?” I asked.

“Gary,” Frank said. “Who else? He’s the only one who knows the combination besides me and he was pretty upset last night when I told him I was gonna let you manage the bar. I wasn’t gonna call the cops on him, but I figured I had to, with all this money gone. The thing is I just can’t believe he’d do something like this—steal from his own father.”

One of the male police officers came over and said something to Frank and then Frank introduced me to the officer. I was trying to look as pissed off as Frank.

The officer said he wanted to have the detective ask me a few questions and I said that was fine with me. While he went to get the detective I was looking over at the female cop. She was about thirty with short blond hair and blue eyes. She was very good looking.

“Tommy Russo.”

Still looking at the blond cop, it took me an extra second or two to realize that the detective was talking to me. He was standing next to me—a guy about my height, but he was built like a rail and he was about fifty years old. He had a shiny bald head.

“Detective Edwards,” he said as we shook hands. “I take it you’re Tommy Russo.”

“That’s right,” I said.

“And you’re the bouncer here, is that correct?”

I nodded.

“Can you tell me what time you left the bar last night?”

“Around three o’clock,” I said. “I know because I was home in bed by three-fifteen.”

“Was Gary O’Reilley still here when you left?”

“Nah, he left about a half hour before me.”

“So was there anybody here when you left the bar last night?”

“Just the guys from the kitchen, I guess,” I said. “I thought I was coming down with something and I wanted to get to bed.”

“Did you lock up the bar?”

“Nah, like I said, there were still guys around in the kitchen. I figured they’d lock up.”

Frank had come over toward me and the detective during my last answer and now he was listening to us.

“When you were leaving,” the detective said to me, “did you see anybody suspicious outside the bar?”

I shook my head. Then, just as the detective was about to ask me another question, I said, “Come to think of it, I
did
see Gary hanging out near the bar.”

Now Frank and the detective were listening with wide-open eyes.

“And what time was this?” the detective asked.

“Right when I was leaving,” I said. “I didn’t think anything of it at the time—figured he was waiting to meet somebody—but now, come to think of it, it was kind of weird. I mean what the hell was he doing standing out there in the cold? He was like about ten yards up the block and he was just standing there with his hands in his pockets, looking down. I guess I figured he was waiting to meet one of his friends. Anyway, I said, ‘What’s up?’ or something like that, but he didn’t say anything to me so I just kept walking and went home.”

When I finished talking, the detective stared at me for an extra second or two, but I didn’t flinch.

“Thanks a lot,” he said. “You’re gonna be around here for a while, right?”

“I’m just starting my shift,” I said smiling.

“Good,” he said. “I might have to talk to you again in a little bit.”

The detective walked away. I was proud of myself. I could’ve started making up stories—said Gary was still in the bar last night when I left, or that I saw him going into the safe. But what if Rodrigo or somebody else from the kitchen saw Gary leave? It would’ve made me look like I was lying, like I was trying to hide something. This way I looked even more innocent because why would I admit leaving the bar after Gary if I robbed the safe?

Then I noticed Frank, standing there, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” I said, putting a hand on his back. “There’s nothing you can do about it now anyway.”

“How could a son do something like this to his father?” he said. “Huh? How could he?”

I’d never seen Frank looking so beat up. Even when Debbie was cursing him out to his face, humiliating him, he never looked like he was about to start crying.

I really felt bad for putting him through all this.

“Where’s Gary now?” I asked.

“Home, I thought,” Frank said. “The cops are out now, trying to find him.”

“They better find our fuckin’ money too,” a guy who was listening in shouted. He was a big muscle-head Irish guy with red hair and a mustache. I’d seen him before. He was a regular of O’Reilley’s day crowd.

“Don’t worry about it,” Frank told the guy and other people who were standing around. “Like I told you all before—if the money isn’t recovered, I’ll reimburse the pool out of my own pocket. The pool is one-hundred percent guaranteed.”

“So who do you think did it?” the guy asked. “Your fuckin’ kid?”

“It doesn’t matter who took the money,” Frank said, “all right? I said I’ll back the pool, so what difference does it make to anybody? Just forget about it—it’s over with.”

The group of guys walked away, shouting about the robbery. When they were out of earshot Frank whispered to me, “I better talk to Gary—tell him no matter what happened last night to forget coming down here for a few days. One of these goons’ll kick the living crap out of him if he took that money or not.”

Frank went to his office to try to call Gary and I went behind the bar and poured myself a pint of Sam Adams. I saw Kathy talking to the detective. She looked in my direction for a second, then turned away quickly. She was probably still upset at me for backing out of that showcase.

The blond cop was standing near the door, talking to the other cops. We made eye contact and I thought I saw her smile. She wasn’t wearing makeup, but she didn’t need to. She had smooth pale skin and blond hair cut short around her ears.

She looked over at me again. This time we both smiled. She headed in my direction.

“Excuse me.” She had a heavy Bronx accent, which kind of surprised me. I looked at her name tag—Officer Cheryl Lewis. “Sorry to bother you, but can you do me a favor?”

“Sure thing,” I said smiling.

“Please don’t touch anything back there, especially not the safe,” Cheryl said. “We’re gonna be dusting for prints in a minute.”

I watched her walk back to the detective.

One of the male cops came over and started dusting the safe and all around it with a little brush and white powder. I took my beer around to the other end of the bar, trying to act like I didn’t care what was going on. Meanwhile, my heart was racing out of control. Finally, the cop who was dusting told the detective he couldn’t find a good print. Then, looking past the detective, I saw Rodrigo standing there. I didn’t know if he just came in or if he’d been there the whole time. Rodrigo was short and there were a lot of big people in the bar so I could’ve missed him. The way he was staring at me I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Finally, he walked away into the kitchen.

I finished my beer and poured another. With Frank still back in his office trying to get in touch with Gary, there was nobody to man the bar so I took over and filled a couple of orders.

The detective came over to me at the bar and gave me his business card. He told me that if, by any chance, Gary showed up before the police found him, that it would be “in his interest” to give the detective a call. Then the detective and the cops left the bar.

I finished my beer and took a few more orders, making a few more bucks in tips. Frank came out from the back and said that he just got a call from Gary. The police found him in the Village and they were going to bring him in for questioning. Frank told me he was going to meet Gary at the precinct and he asked me if I’d work the bar while he was gone. I said this was no problem. Then, after Frank left, I asked Pedro, a Dominican busboy, to watch the bar for a few minutes because I had to go to the john. Instead, I went to the kitchen and saw Rodrigo there, making hamburgers. I made sure the door was closed and that no one was hanging around outside. Then I went over to Rodrigo and said, “Thanks a lot for that, buddy. I really owe you one.”

“No problem,” Rodrigo said. “You’re my friend. I always give help for my friend.”

“Just like the Beatles,” I said.

Rodrigo looked confused.

“It was a joke—forget about it,” I said.

I hugged Rodrigo, slapping him on the back.

“For this,” I said, “I’m gonna give you a lifetime of free English lessons. Anything you want, just ask me.”

I let Rodrigo go and started to walk away.

Then he said, “Tommy.”

I stopped and turned around. Suddenly, I had a bad feeling in my stomach.

“Yeah,” I said.

“You know I am very poor,” he said. “I have very big family and we are very poor.”

“I know that,” I said. “You told me all about how bad your life was in Mexico.”

“Yes, life in Mexico is very bad,” he said. “So if we have more money, that is very nice. Because we are very poor family.”

“What are you trying to say?”

“I no say anything. I just saying to you my family is very poor. We have nothing—no money. Maybe you give me some money because I don’t talk to the
policia
. Because we are friends.”

“Are you trying to blackmail me, Rodrigo?”

He looked at me, confused again. Maybe he didn’t know what “blackmail” meant, but he knew how to do it.

“You know in America blackmail is against the law,” I said. “It’s not a very nice thing to do to your friends either.”

“No blackmail,” Rodrigo said. “I just want some more money—for my family.”

I waited a few seconds, then I said, “All right. I’ll give you five hundred bucks tomorrow night. But that’s all you get,
entiende
?”

“One thousand dollars,” he said in suddenly clear English.

“A
thousand
?” I said. I looked over my shoulder to make sure nobody was coming, then I said, “You got some pair of balls on you, you know that?”

Rodrigo looked confused again.

“Balls,” I said, grabbing my crotch.
“Cojones.”

“You have some
cojones
too,” he said.