Tempted by Trouble (19 page)

I played foreign language CDs until I stopped in Meridian, Mississippi, mostly Italian and French. I needed something to keep my mind occupied and away from the pain. I needed to close my eyes, so I grabbed the blanket out of the backseat and rested in a hotel parking lot for almost two hours.

When I fell asleep, it felt like someone was inside my car with me.

It was Sammy.

I could smell him; his Old Spice scent was inside my car, deep inside the leather.

I had seen Sammy in the back of that car in Phoenix. He had been as clear as day.

The local radio station said schools, colleges, and many businesses were closed. Up ahead, one car had flipped over and another had become good friends with the center divider. I eased around the traffic jam and came up on exit 7. Exit 7 was Cascade Road. The bottom of the ramp was stacked up with traffic, another accident there, and it took another ten minutes before I was able to negotiate a right turn. Going right was easier than going left. Traffic wasn’t moving in that direction. I headed west and went outside of the city’s perimeter, like the instructions said, and drove toward the strip mall that held the Starbucks.

Another wave of pain and fatigue hit me. Eyes burned. Legs cramped.

I was exhausted. My body hadn’t had real food in over two thousand miles and I was famished. Eyes on the road, I reached over to the passenger seat and pulled my suit coat over to my lap, then fished inside the pocket and pulled out the bottle of Vicodin. I shook the bottle and the pills rattled like a poisonous snake. It was dangerous to do in never-ending traffic, but I opened the bottle and popped another pill, then washed the drugs down with cold coffee. I held the bottle in my right hand as I drove, then glanced at the name on the front of the prescribed medication from time to time.

My gas level was in the red so I pulled into the BP gas station on Cascade Road.

Businesses and banks stood sentry on the four-lane boulevard. The area looked like it was populated with the middle class and the new rich. The streets were filled with Benz and BMW owners. This was where doctors, lawyers, and dentists made and kept their money in banks.

When I stopped, first I started the pump, then I pulled on my hat and a wool coat, took cautious steps, and went to the side of BP and used a pay phone to call Eddie Coyle. While the cellular rang, I listened to his hillbilly-rock music. It was a song by Kid Rock, one of his idols, the vulgar lyrics exclaiming that no one had ever met anyone who was as bad as the Kid from Detroit. Across the street was a giant billboard for one of the local newscasters.
The Jewell of the South.
I’d seen at least three billboards with her face on it since I hit the Georgia state line.

Eddie Coyle answered. “Who’s calling my private line at seven in the morning?”

“It’s the Feds. Come out with your hands up.”

“Dmytryk?”

“Good morning. I guess I woke you up.”

He paused. “Where are you?”

“Just made it to Atlanta.”

“You’re joking. You made it here in this weather?”

“I guess I got lucky and cruised in with no problem. I just left 285 at exit seven.”

“Jackie’s here. She said you and she split up in Texas.”

“I’d had enough of her.”

“She can be a little intense.”

I took a deep breath and smelled her on my skin. I asked, “She’s with you and your crew?”

“No, but she called when she landed at Hartsfield yesterday. She barely made it in. Airport is shut down now and so are a lot of the roads and most of the big businesses downtown.”

“Well, let’s get the ball rolling. I’m at the BP on Cascade Road filling up.”

“You’re across the street from KFC and the driving range.”

“I guess.” I looked around. “Yeah, I see a sign for Cascade Driving Range from here.”

“I need to handle my morning constitution, then shower.”

I took out my pocket watch, flipped it open, checked the time, and asked, “How long?”

“Give me a couple of hours.”

“Where the hell are you?”

“Rome.”

I took a deep breath and my exhaustion doubled. “Well, you knew I’d be here for the job.”

“I didn’t expect you this soon, not in this weather. I thought you’d be here much later.”

“Well, I’m here. I said I’d be here and I’m here.”

“Man of your word.”

I nodded. “If nothing else.”

“Let me get cleaned up.”

“Okay, Eddie Coyle. See you in two hours. More or less.”

“Dmytryk, before I get there . . . I need to put something on the table.”

“Something changed since L.A.?”

“You could say that.” He paused. “Sammy and Rick were in on this job.”

“I know. Rick, Sammy, and Jackie. But that’s changed. I’m the seat filler.”

“I’m two men short. That disaster in L.A. left me in a bad spot.”

“It left me in a tight spot as well.”

He paused again. “When is the last time you heard from Cora?”

“Cora?” Taken aback, I paused. “Why are you asking about Cora?”

“How long has it been since you heard from her?”

“Well, the story hasn’t changed. She left Detroit when I was working in Pasadena, Texas. Rick, Sammy, you, and me did that job. I got back and she was gone. That’s the best I can tell you. But she’s not a snitch, if that’s what you’re asking. She’s a New Yorker.”

He paused. “She came down south.”

“How do you know?”

“We ran into her.”

“We?”

“Bishop and I.”

“You and your brother ran into her?”

“A few times.”

“Where exactly?”

“She told me that she was living in an apartment out in Oklahoma City after she left Detroit.”

“Oklahoma City? She’s in Oklahoma?”

“Was. She was working out that way. She got in the business and stayed in the business.”

I took a deep breath and shook my head. “Is she incarcerated?”

“No.”

“Where is she?”

“We’ve been in contact. She needed my expertise. She was in on a job at a Bank of America in Utica Square, then she was in on another job, another Bank of America in downtown Tulsa. A few months ago I’d sent Jackie over to help her out. Together they did a Chase Bank on South Lewis.”

“So, you’ve been working with my wife?”

“She called me and asked for assistance and I sent Jackie Brown to help her out.”

“So Jackie and Cora are friends?”

“They know each other, but I wouldn’t call them friends.”

“She did three jobs in Oklahoma?”

“The newspaper had called them the Freeway Bandits because all of the banks were near the interstates. When men rob a bank, it’s a blip. When women rob a bank, it’s news.”

“What else did Cora say when you ran into her?”

“She said that you took her out on a job once. She told me, not in detail, but she mentioned that you did.”

“Yeah. In Guthrie. Small bank. Farmers and Merchants. It was sixteen hours from Detroit. We left late one Thursday night, did the job, made it to Detroit in time for church on Sunday morning.”

“Decent score?”

“That’s not the point.”

“In this business, that is always the point. The penalty is too high to take small risks.”

“The score was nothing life changing, but the practice was good and the getaway was easy. It helped keep the lights on and food on the table.”

“Maybe that was why she went back to that area. After Jackie left, Cora stayed and things went bad in Oklahoma and she needed some help, so she contacted me to help fix her problems.”

I waited for him to run out of words before I asked, “What went bad?”

“It’s not important. It’s been resolved. The bodies are buried. Let’s move on.”

“You have a number so I can call her?”

“I have her number. But you won’t be needing it.” Eddie Coyle paused. “Cora is with me.”

“What do you mean
with
you?”

“I mean what I said, Dmytryk. She’s
with
me.”

An instant headache attacked me; a new level of anger made me want to scream, made me want to attack the world, but I kept it all suppressed.

I had learned that from Henrick. A calm man could make more ground than an angry fool.

He said, “I just wanted you to know she’s in on this with us.”

“My wife is with you.”

“I didn’t hesitate nor did I stutter.”

“For how long?”

“We’ll talk. We’ll sit down and talk face-to-face, like men, not over the phone.”

“She left Detroit and came down here to be with you.”

“That’s not what happened. She left Detroit and went wherever she went, ended up back in Oklahoma, and now she’s here for a while. She’s in on this job.”

“But she’s back here and she’s with you.”

“We’ll talk.”

I swallowed, gritted my teeth, felt my heartbeat pounding like drums inside my ears.

Eddie Coyle said, “Cora is riding down to Atlanta with me.”

“Hold up. She’s in Rome with you now?”

“She is.”

“Jackie knew about this?”

“Keep Jackie out of this.”

“She’s been with me since L.A. She rode in my car from L.A. to Fort Worth.”

“I know.”

“This is interesting, Eddie Coyle. This is really interesting.”

“You want to pass on this job? If you do, I respect that and understand.”

“Respect.”

“It’s your call. I could use you. We don’t have enough people, not with Sammy and Rick out of the picture. This is an important job and, our differences aside, it could make a big difference in your life.”

I hesitated. “Let’s talk. Come down from your throne in Rome and let’s have a sit-down.”

“We’ll be down as soon as we get cleaned up.”

It sounded like he was smiling. On the streets behind me, winds blew and traffic crawled. It felt like I was trapped in Atlanta. My insides were cursing and screaming, the exhaustion making this seem like a bad dream, but I tightened my lips and refused to let Eddie Coyle get the best of me.

Eddie Coyle added, “By the way, Rick didn’t make it. He expired a few hours ago.”

I said, “Does his wife know?”

“She knows and she knows to keep her mouth closed. If we have to visit her, it won’t be to bring flowers. So all she has to do is tell them she knew nothing.”

“I’m real sorry to hear Rick didn’t make it.”

“No you’re not. None of us are. And he wouldn’t be sorry if you had died.”

“He was a good guy.”

“Depending on the situation and with whom he was dealing, he could be conceived of as such.”

“Well, he was a good guy to me. And that was all that mattered.”

“Rick’s dying is the good news.”

“What’s the bad news?”

“The bad news is that the security guard died too.”

“If we’re caught, it’s a capital case.”

“If you’re caught.”

“Me and Jackie.”

“There would be no way anyone would know Jackie was in on the job, right?”

I gritted my teeth. “You’re right. It’s all on me.”

“Exactly. If that ship sinks, leave her on the life raft.”

Another chill hit me before I asked, “Did Rick come out of his coma before he died?”

“No idea. I just know he didn’t recover from his lead poisoning.”

Again I paused.

In that space of time I saw Rick’s face, heard him telling me that he had things to tell me after the job, things that he wasn’t at liberty to say in the presence of Sammy and Jackie.

I said, “So, you’re serious. Cora is really there with you in Rome.”

“I’m not one for jokes, not at this hour of the day.”

“Me. You. Cora. And Jackie.”

“And Bishop.”

I licked my wounded lips. “So it’s the five of us.”

“If you’re still in, and I want you to be, it’s the five of us plus one.”

I asked, “Who is the felon hiding behind curtain number six?”

“At the moment, that’s not relevant.”

“The inside man.”

“Of course. The inside man is number six.”

Coldness embraced my heart. I cleared my throat and asked, “Where am I going?”

“Thumbs Up in East Point.”

“Back by the airport.”

“You can take I-285 back toward Hartsfield and get off at Camp Creek.”

“Afraid not. The interstate is a parking lot and everything is at a standstill.”

“You can take the streets. You know where Delowe Drive is?”

“Let me get a pen and paper out of my coat pocket.”

Eddie Coyle told me where to go and I scribbled down the directions.

He said, “Dmytryk, this is an important job. I want everything to be civilized.”

“As civilized as it can be.”

Back inside my car, I took Jackie’s gun, made sure it was loaded, and put it in my pocket.

Delowe Drive was a
narrow street that a man could miss if he blinked. Eddie Coyle just happened to leave that out, so I drove about two miles too far and ended up down by the West End Mall before I back-tracked. Every mile or a so there was an accident or a car that had slid off the road into a building or a pole. In this weather, that added another forty-five minutes to my trip in the bowels of hell.

Once I exited the prestigious Cascade, I saw how the less fortunate lived. It was like being in Detroit. Or North Carolina. It was like being in New Orleans. The poor were scattered all over the country and the rich lived in pocket communities with walls high enough to keep the poor away. Foreclosures were behind those walls too. A lot of Jacks and Jills had fallen hard.

I passed a man standing at a bus stop, a man who looked like Rick, but when I looked in my rearview mirror he was gone. I rubbed my eyes and kept moving forward.