Sacrifice Fly (37 page)

“I’ll sleep out here,” he said. “You take the bed.”

“I’m not taking your bed, Edgar.”

“I insist.”

“Just get me a towel and a toothbrush. I’ll be fine.” He was about to insist again
when I put my hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “Thanks, Edgar. You came through
big-time. You’re a good friend.”

He put his arm around me and gave me a half hug. “So are you,” he said. I could swear
there was a tear in his eye as he turned away. “Towel and toothbrush are in the bathroom.”
His back was to me as he spoke. “Take your time. Good night, Ray.”

“Good night.”

Chapter 32

BILLY MORRIS WAS SEATED AT ONE
of the back booths at La Casa Diner with enough scrambled eggs, sausage, bacon, and
bagels on the table to feed a family of five. He poured himself a cup of coffee while
eyeing Edgar as the two of us slid into the booth.

“Thought this was gonna be just me and you, partner,” Billy said, picking up a plastic
bear full of honey and squeezing some into his coffee.

If Edgar’s feelings were hurt by Billy’s greeting, he hid it well. He fixed himself
a big plate from the family-style portions on the table as I poured myself a cup of
coffee. First things first.

“You look better than I thought you would,” Billy said.

“Edgar took good care of me. Slept like a baby.”

“Good to know.” That got a smile from Edgar. “Now, I know you gave me the
Reader’s Digest
version last night, but I wanna hear it all again. Slowly, and don’t worry about
boring me with the smallest of details. Go.”

I did, and when I finished, Billy nodded.

“Ya had no clue this Cruz guy was involved before last night?”

“No.”

“Or that those two bad guys worked for him?”

“Never saw them together. No.”

“Jesus.” He drank a little coffee.

Edgar took the opportunity to pick up the honey bear and pour a little into his own
coffee. He took a sip and didn’t do a very good job hiding his disgust.

Billy smirked. “Least I could do is call up the old house, see if they know anything
about this guy … Vega?”

“He said no cops.”

“Hey,” Billy said, spreading out his hands, his sign for me to take it easy. “Just
a friendly chat between old friends is all.”

“I mean it, Billy. Anything goes wrong, Frankie’s in a shitload of trouble. Me, too.”

Billy shook his head. “I don’t get it, Ray. I mean, why for fuck’s sake did you get
involved in this to begin with?”

“He’s one of mine, Billy. If I had known it was going to develop into this, I would’ve
called my uncle and stepped back. But I didn’t. Shit got real deep, real fast. I had
to find out what was going on.”

“Not like you to get caught leaning, partner.”

“I know.”

“You think maybe you shoulda seen this coming?”

“I fucked up, okay!” I said, loud enough to make the waitress step back as she brought
us another pot of coffee. She took away the old one and placed our bill under the
sugar dispenser. I gave her an apologetic smile and lowered my voice. “Now I need
to fix it. You think it’s easy coming here, asking for help? I’m putting you in a
bad position, Billy. I know that. I wouldn’t be asking if it weren’t important.”

Edgar shifted uncomfortably. He picked up his coffee cup, remembered the taste it
had left the last time, and chose a glass of water instead. We were all silent for
about a minute.

“Okay,” Billy said. “You got absolutely no idea what Cruz thinks you have?”

“No.”

“And the reason he thinks you have it…”

“… is because Frankie told him I did.”

“How long has he had the kid?”

“Good question,” I said. “Long enough to know Frankie’s not in possession of what
he told Cruz I have.”

“I see why you like this kid so much. Forget I said that.” As he thought, I grabbed
half a bagel and spread some butter on it. “Can what he’s looking for be at your school?”

“Possible,” I said. “But I doubt it. I checked my box yesterday.”

“Home?”

“I never got a chance to find out.”

“We need to do that.” He turned to Edgar. “You can swing Ray by his place, right?”

Edgar sat up straighter. “Yes, sir. I … Billy. Yeah. Absolutely.”

Billy grinned and said, “Good. I’m gonna drive by the park and check it out. See if
I can figure out why Cruz wants the meet there.”

“How about we all do that?” I said. “Cruz told me to wait at the pay phone.”

“Yeah?”

“Edgar,” I said, “tell Billy about that trick you did with the phone at The LineUp.”

“It’s not a trick, Ray. It’s a—”

“Just tell him.”

He did, and when he was finished, Billy nodded.

“And you could do that right now?”

“I don’t see why not. I got the equipment in my car.”

Billy stood. “Let’s go to the park first, boys.” He took a final sip of coffee and
slid the bill toward me. “Don’t forget to leave a good tip, Ray. Ya scared the shit
out of Carmen.”

Chapter 33

I CAN’T SWEAR TO IT, BUT I’D
bet good money that River Street Park is the smallest park in the city system. It
looks like someone noticed there was about sixty feet of unused riverfront space between
the old sugar factory and an oil storage facility and decided to put in a few picnic
tables, post a green sign with a Parks Department maple leaf on it, and call it a
park. According to the historical plaque on the restored smokestack, ferries used
to leave from this spot every five minutes before the Williamsburg Bridge was built
in 1903.

Edgar parked right behind Billy’s Jeep. Before I could get out of the car, he was
over at the pay phone, checking it out.

Billy gave me a grin. “That guy’s something else.”

“If he says he can do it,” I said, “he’ll do it.”

Edgar came back to his car, popped the trunk, and took out a toolbox.

“You guys got my back while I work my magic?” he asked.

“Anyone asks you what you’re doing,” Billy said, “tell ’em to call a fucking cop.”

Billy and I walked over to the water as Edgar made his way back to the phone. Billy
put his foot on a rock and looked across the river toward Manhattan. Two men in baseball
caps fished, and an older man made his way around the rocks picking up empty cans
and putting them into a garbage bag. A good breeze was coming off the water. With
the dark clouds sailing eastward over the city skyline, I was almost convinced it
might rain.

“I don’t like the location, Ray,” he said. “A meet like this has a higher likelihood
of going bad when there’s more than one viable exit or entrance.”

“You think a boat could get in here?” I asked, watching as the waves crashed against
the rocks and the foam retreated into the river.

“Mine could. Be a bit rough, but it’s doable. Enough to let someone off.”

“Or on.”

“That, too.” He shook his head. “Don’t like it. Means we need a man on the water.”
He stepped back and did a three-sixty, taking in the small park. He pointed up at
the three-story, gun-metal gray tower adjacent to the oil tanks. “Could just situate
my heavily armed self up there and wait for them to show up.”

“I won’t even justify that with a response,” I said. “What about Edgar?”

“For the meet? He may be good at the techie shit, but no way I’m trusting a wannabe
with this kind of job. I’d like to find someone who can handle a boat. Preferably
their own.”

“What about yours?”

“If it wasn’t up on blocks in my backyard. Suffered some structural damage last week,
courtesy of my asshole brother-in-law, who can’t read a fucking depth chart. Was gonna
fix it this weekend, but I don’t have the necessary materials, and even then it’s
a six-hour job at least, and we don’t got that kind of time.”

“Can you borrow one?”

“It ain’t a lawn mower, Ray. I can’t just call somebody and ask if I can borrow his
boat for an early-morning errand. Not without dealing with a whole lot of questions
you don’t want answered.”

My inner light bulb went off. “What if I knew someone who could fix yours?”

“This time of year? Anybody any good’ll be booked for a few weeks at least.”

“But if I did know someone?”

“Do you?”

“I might,” I said, taking out my cell phone.

It took a little while for me to remember the name of the company Lisa’s father worked
for. When it came to me, I called information and had the phone company connect me.
I wasn’t sure if Mr. King worked on Saturdays, but after three rings he picked up.
After exchanging hellos and how-you-doings, and his telling me how grateful he was
for my helping Lisa—who would definitely be back in school come Monday—I told him
what I needed.

“I can free myself up in an hour,” he told me. “What kinda job are we talking about?”

I handed the phone back to Billy to let him work out the details. I joined Edgar over
at the pay phone. He was holding the hand piece and using a small screwdriver to implant
something.

“One of the newer ones,” he informed me, with more than a touch of sarcasm. “Designed
to prevent just this kind of interference. I tell you, Raymond, when I retire, these
guys are gonna pay me big bucks to show them how to do this right.”

“You almost done?”

“Couple more turns of the screw,” he said. “And there we have it.” He put the mouthpiece
back where it belonged. “As good as when the company first installed it.”

A minute later, Billy came over. “You save this guy King’s life or something?”

“I was there when his daughter made an important life decision,” I said.

“Sounded like he’d take a bullet for you. Anyways, he’ll be at my house in less than
two hours. I called the wife and told her to expect him.” Billy looked at the phone
and then at Edgar. “You done already?”

“Call the number,” Edgar said and unclipped his cell phone from his belt. Billy looked
at the pay phone’s number on the small, white part above the keyboard, and when he
was finished dialing, the phone rang. Edgar told me to pick it up. I did, and Edgar
said, “Say hi.”

“Hello.”

Edgar handed his cell phone to Billy. “Keep talking, Ray.”

“Check. One, two, three.”

With Edgar’s cell phone up against his ear, Billy smiled and slapped Edgar on the
shoulder. “All righty, then. We’re in business. What kinda range we got?”

“Not even a consideration,” Edgar said. “For all intents and purposes, they’re the
same unit. I just can’t use mine at the same time as when we want to hear the talk
on the pay phone.”

“Excellent.” Billy looked at his watch. “I gotta make some calls. See about getting
a little help for tonight … tomorrow. Cutting it kind of close, though.”

“I know,” I said. “Edgar, can you take me home now? I’ve been wearing the same clothes
since yesterday.”

“You sure it’s safe?” Edgar asked.

“Cruz has no reason to mess with me until tomorrow morning. He’s got every reason
not to. I wouldn’t put it past him to have my place scoped out, but I don’t think
he’ll bother me.”

Billy reached into his pocket, pulled out one of his business cards, and handed it
to Edgar. “Call me in an hour, and we’ll see where we’re at.”

Edgar and I shook hands with Billy, who gave us a grin, got in his SUV, and pulled
away.

“Home?” Edgar asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “Please.”

*   *   *

“You’re not gonna find a place to park around here,” I told Edgar as he pulled in
front of my building. “Just circle the block a couple of times. I want to get a change
of clothes and maybe check my messages. I can shower at your place, right?”

“No problem,” he said.

I got out of the car, gave Edgar a wave, and unlocked the first door. I watched and
listened as it clicked shut. I emptied my mailbox—nothing but junk mail—opened the
second door, and headed up to my apartment. An oversized envelope was leaning against
my door, addressed to me in Frankie’s handwriting. I ripped it open and found a piece
of paper, another envelope, and two computer discs. I unfolded the paper and again
recognized Frankie’s handwriting.

Mr. D,

This was in my dads stuff that he gave me the day he got killed. I was gonna give
it to you on the bridge but those guys on the bike came and then the cop and well
you know. Its got something to do with why they did that to him. Right? I didnt have
a computer where I was and thought maybe you could do better then me anyway. Thanks
again for taken care of Milagros. I hope I didnt cause you to much trouble.

Frankie

I ripped open the smaller envelope; a whole lot of fifties and hundreds held together
by a rubber band. I’d count it later. Right now, I couldn’t wait to pack my stuff,
get over to Edgar’s, and see what was on the discs.

*   *   *

I don’t have a lot of things in my apartment, but most of what I do own had been thrown
around the place. Clothes, books, and papers were all over the living room and bedroom
floors. The closet had been ransacked. Every cabinet and drawer in the kitchen had
been emptied, the contents tossed. In the bathroom, the medicine cabinet was open,
and the back of the toilet had been removed. It seemed as if Ape and Suit had left
no stone unturned in their search for what they thought I had.

I looked around the apartment again.
My home
. The place where I convinced myself I was safe from the outside world. The one place
I felt was mine and mine alone. Few people had come here, and they came only when
I invited them. That’s the way I liked it, the way I
needed
it. Now, my home had been violated. I wanted so much to pick up some clothes and
throw them against the wall, kick some books, maybe break a few dishes. I wanted to
throw a fucking temper tantrum, like a kid who’d had enough of being picked on.

Instead, I found my overnight bag in the closet and packed it with enough to get me
through the weekend. I left my apartment—careful to lock up behind me—and went downstairs
to find Edgar. I needed his computer.