Murder at the Foul Line (11 page)

“How long have we been doing this and how many times have we won? A lot, right? So you had a temporary slump. You’re only
a loser if you take yourself out.”

Manny stood and looked around. He lifted his Knicks cap and wiped down his hair before returning the hat to his head. “It’s
a long shot.”

Tony stood and slurped the last sip from his straw. “I gotta get back to the sports desk. What’s it gonna be?”

“Can you front me the money?”

“What do I look like, your father?”

Manny took the gold band from his wedding finger. “This is worth at least a hundred.”

Tony snorted. “That wouldn’t cover the vigorish.”

Manny pulled the bracelet from his shirt pocket. “It’s my wife’s inheritance.” He moved it in the light. “Platinum and diamonds.
The real deal.”

Tony snapped up the jewelry and fingered the pieces in his palm. “I’ll do you a favor this time, kid. I’ll check these at
Sal’s, and whatever he gives me, I’ll put that down for you.”

Manny took the bottle of mouthwash from his pocket and chugged some down. He held it out to Tony.

Tony grabbed the bottle. “Forty-five cents a pint?” Bright green liquid sloshed around the bottom. “What the hell is this?”

“Thirty percent alcohol. That’s what. A giant Yankee julep.”

Tony handed it back. “Looks like puke and backwash to me.”

“Thanks.” Manny smiled.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“And don’t forget the pawn ticket. I gotta get the jewelry back once the deal is done.”

Tony smiled. “Have I ever let you down?”

On the way back to the newspaper office, Tony stopped at Sal’s Pawnshop by the deli a few blocks uptown.

The pawnbroker buzzed him in. Flashy in a Vegas sort of way, Sal overdressed most of the time, and today the pits of Sal’s
shirt were circled in sweat despite the cool spring weather.

“What can I do you for?” Sal’s double chin jiggled as he stood up from the stool behind the counter. “How’s your pretty mama?”
He reminded Tony of a Cuban pimp he once met on a hot Miami Beach, running the numbers with a silver-plated smile. “Did you
tell her I asked about her?”

Tony crossed to the glass display case where Sal was leaning. “Yeah, I told her.” He smiled as nicely as he could with his
grotesque mouth. “She says hello.” He lied. “She’s just so busy with the charities and all. Too busy to socialize much outside
of church.” He scanned the gem-stuffed display case. “Don’t you already have a girl?”

Sal raised his brows. “If one’s good, two is better.”

Tony forced his jaw open so he wouldn’t grind his teeth. He took a deep breath and said, “I got twenty grand says UCLA wins
with the points tonight.”

“Long shot.” Sal laughed. “So what do you want me to do about it?”

Tony shrugged. “I gotta lay off the bets.”

Sal raised a brow. “Street says you can’t pay your medical bills since they diagnosed your tumor. How do I know you’re still
good for it?”

“I guess I better be, right?” Tony let out a nervous laugh before producing the bracelet and gold band that Manny had given
him. He laid them out to glisten on the black velvet cloth that lay atop the display case.

Sal ambled back to his desk to get a loupe. Then he got personal with the diamond bracelet. A minute passed, and Sal grunted.
He scratched his chin and took another look.

The canned lights buzzed in sync with Tony’s nerves. “You know me for years, Sal. You also know the house always wins.” Tony
wiped the sweat from his brow. “And you should know I got a stack of bearer bonds for you if you don’t like the produce here.”

“Good.” Sal’s gut jiggled as he chuckled. He put the loupe down and sat on his stool. “ ’Cause this is some kind of joke.”

Tony nodded. “I swear I’m good for it, Sal. Help a guy out.”

Sal examined the bad side of Tony’s face. “If I help you out, it’s only ’cause I like your mother.” He pushed the cloth away
and waved his hand at it. “Two grand would be generous.”

A bead of sweat raced down Tony’s spine. “Then we have a deal.”

Sal licked his lips. “I gotta warn you.” Spittle flew from the corner of Sal’s mouth. “My brother isn’t happy with you. You
still owe for last time, and you’re a credit risk what with the
cancer. Can’t let you slide on this one.” He tapped the loupe on the countertop. “Remember what happened to your reporter
friend who thought he was cute and tried to renege?”

Tony nodded. “Mack never came back to the sports desk.”

“Right. And don’t let it slip your memory.” Sal reached underneath a case and brought up an envelope that he pushed across
the glass to Tony.

Tony took the envelope and leafed through the bills to count them.

“We get the cash back tomorrow.” Sal buzzed the door open. “That gives you twenty-four hours.”

Tony smiled and hurried out the door. “Thanks, Sal.”

The morning after Manny won, he felt like he’d won the lottery. Tony had been right! His luck would never have changed if
he hadn’t been in the game. UCLA got killed, as everyone figured they would, but a last-minute flurry of meaningless points
from a reserve guard meant that UConn didn’t cover the spread.

Manny raced through the drizzle to the newspaper building. He bounded the stairs from the subway stop and sprinted down the
block through the revolving door to the
Breaking News
.

Inside, his footsteps echoed off the marble as he walked to the island in the middle of the lobby, where he greeted the receptionist,
who watched him closely. “Hello, sweetheart.”

Young and attentive, the Latin receptionist spoke into her mouthpiece, pushed a few buttons on the switchboard and followed
his fidgety fingers with her eyes. “May I help you?”

His grin felt so big that he was sure he looked like a mental patient. “I came to see Tony the Ear.”

“Tony Morelli.” She looked down and ran a finger down her clipboard, then shook her head and picked up a pencil. “Mr. Morelli
hasn’t come in yet. Would you like to leave a message?”

Manny moved aside for an old lady who stepped in front of him, eyed him and whispered to her poodle. “I’ll just wait,” he
said. He shifted from one foot to the other.

“You can’t stand there,” the receptionist told him. “This isn’t a waiting area.”

“Well.” Manny looked past her at the clock on the wall. “It’s eleven-thirty. What time does he come to work?”

“He usually gets in at nine o’clock.” She juggled a few calls, then said, “If you have his number, I would try him at home.”

Manny’s breath quickened. What if the Ear had taken off with all his winnings, his wedding band and his wife’s bracelet?

“I don’t have his number on me. Can you look it up?”

She answered after taking a phone message. “I’m sorry, sir, but we can’t give out any private information.”

“This is an emergency.” Fear turned to anger, and his voice was getting louder. “Just give me the number and I’ll go.”

A security guard tapped Manny on the shoulder. “I’m afraid you’ll have to leave now, sir. Would you like me to show you the
way?”

“All right. All right.” Manny stepped back. “I’m going.”

On the street in front of the
Breaking News
, taxis and limos splashed up and down the wet streets. People rushed past on the sidewalk, fumbling not to impale him or
one another with the metal ends on their umbrellas.

Manny pulled the collar of his Knicks jacket over his head
and ran into a covered stairwell by a deli. At the counter a guy who looked like a derelict sipped something steamy.

Manny sucked down the last drop of his mouthwash. He didn’t even have enough for a double espresso. He needed to get his winnings,
but where the hell was Tony?

Tony wasn’t hard up for money. He’d been banking his vigorish all those years, and he always made good on his bets. Everyone
trusted Tony.

Half an hour after standing in the chill, Manny slicked back his hair and went back to the
Breaking News
. His wet sneakers squeaked on the marble floor.

“No luck.” The receptionist looked up between calls. “Tony never came in.”

“Well, can you find out if he’s sick or something? Did he call someone? His boss or his secretary? I just need a little help
here. Tony doesn’t answer his cell phone. He’s not at our usual haunts. He just up and disappeared.”

The receptionist squinted. “It’s only been a day, you know. Call tomorrow morning.”

“Hey.” A young redheaded guy stepped up to the reception desk. “You a friend of Tony’s?”

Manny nodded. “Who are you?”

“I work with him on the sports desk.” The guy frowned. “Did you try him at home?”

Manny shrugged. “I don’t have his number in the Bronx.”

“That’s ancient history, pal.” The copyboy shook his head. “Tony moved in with his mom near Riverside Park. She was taking
care of him after they found his tumor.”

“What tumor?”

The guy backed up and lowered his palms like he was pushing down the trunk of a car. “You knew he had cancer, didn’t
you?” The guy led Manny to the revolving door. He whispered and wrote on the back of his business card. “I’ll do you a favor
if you call me when you find him. I need to collect on a debt.” He handed Manny the card. “Try this address. His mom will
be able to help.”

Manny approached Tony’s modern high-rise as the security camera watched from its perch atop the intercom.

He rang the buzzer next to Tony’s last name.

“Yes?” A woman’s voice came through the box.

“Hey. I came to see Tony. Is he okay?”

“Who are you?”

“Manny. A friend of Tony’s from way back. He has something for me.”

“Oh, I know exactly what you mean.” She said, “I’ll be right down.”

A minute later she was standing in the doorway with him. Slim and petite, she was too darn sexy, Manny decided, to be anybody’s
mother. “Pleasure to meet you.” He took her hand. “Are you Tony’s sister?”

“Oh, another charmer like my Tony.” She looked Manny up and down. “I’m his mother, of course. And I know he didn’t go to work
today. I called the office.” She frowned. “Gee, your breath smells minty. Anyway, I called his girlfriend, but she said they
broke up last week. Do you know his girl-friend Diana?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “It’s just not like Tony to take off,
especially what with the chemo appointment. This is the first one he’s missed after all this time.”

Manny’s heart thudded against his chest. “You mean you don’t know where he is?”

“The police won’t help because it hasn’t been twenty-four hours since he went missing, but he didn’t come home last night.
I have a bad feeling, Manny.” She crossed her arms. “Tony didn’t call me this morning. Whenever he sleeps out, he always calls
me in the morning.”

Manny felt his shoulders droop.

“I found this on his dresser. It’s got your name on it, see?” She held out a wooden cigar box.

Manny took the box and stepped back. “Thanks.” He wanted to rip into it, but if his winnings were in there, it was just too
much cash to flash on the street.

Her eyes glistened with urgency. “You can come upstairs if you want to open it inside.” She shifted in place. “I’m dying to
know if there’s anything in there about where he went, and my friend Sal told me I should look through everything, but I just—do
you know Sal? He has been so nice lately, but since my Tony left this with your name on the package, I couldn’t open it and
go rifling…” She stopped and smiled sweetly. “I just made coffee. Why don’t you come up?”