Buy Back (23 page)

“Tommy?” Carol was looking at me, and I was staring at my hands.

Doh had done a pretty good job of trying to tear me down, I’ll grant him that. It was my turn.

“Detective, I respect the fact that you’re anxious to find this killer, but whatever you believe about me being a material witness, the only information I’ve had that would help you is that this guy has four cats held captive. They’re hostages. I had no idea the killer and the catnapper were one and the same.”

Doh started the car and began driving. I continued.

“I doubt seriously that the love letters would lead you to where he is now, but now that I know they are important to you, we can go to my place and I’ll give them to you. I had tried to reach Yvette through connections in Vegas to let her know about the cats. If she hadn’t been arrested in Miami, maybe she would have called him. That was out of my hands, and I had no idea he was the killer. I don’t have Gustav’s gun, but if he dropped it and it was picked up on the street by local hoodlums, I suggest you check your sources nearby to see if they have it for sale. I’ll pass on the babysitting, and that’s a vote of confidence on my part that the PD will quickly find some guy with a major slash across his face. Jocko slit him from here all the way like this. Look for someone who has recently bought ten boxes of Band-Aids.”

I almost added something else, but once again decided to keep something to myself. At that particular moment, I was feeling hostile toward Doh, and with only my own life in the balance, I didn’t feel much like helping Doh solve the case. I might as well try to find Gustav myself.

Doh had brought the car around to my building. “The letters?”

I retrieved them and stood next to Carol at the curb. She handed them to Doh through the open window. “If Mr. Davin can help, tell us how. You have my number.”

Doh grinned. “Believe me, Davin will be real helpful, whether he likes it or not. Gustav isn’t going to give up. We know now that all we have to do is stick with Tommy and the jealous lover Gustav will show up. Only this time he’s not after anybody but Tommy. So we’re not real worried. Tommy is a big boy and can take care of himself. Aren’t you, Tommy?”

Doh zoomed off.

Carol and I hailed an actual yellow cab on Smith, the kind you get in Manhattan. A few moments later we were rolling down Henry Street, back toward Carol’s office.

“Tommy, I think you need to get out of town. I’ll lend you the money, you just fly out of here. Only promise me you won’t go to Vegas.”

I kept staring out at the brownstones and sycamores blurring past the window.

“I hear what you’re saying, Carol, and there’s a logic to it. It’s like Doh said, though, I have to raise that money to get this woman out of my life. If I have to tangle with this Gustav character, too, well, bring it on. I don’t bend much, and I don’t break. I’ll get through this my way.”

“But Tommy, really…”

“I made this situation in my own way. I brought Yvette and the four cats into my life. The only way for me to have any self-respect is to get them out of it.”

“Well, you can’t go home. Come stay with me.”

“I already have alternate accommodations.”

“Not the bump-and-thump?”

“No. A friend’s.”

“You realize you could be putting this friend in jeopardy, don’t you?”

“This friend is in jeopardy already, Carol, which is why she asked me to stay with her.”

“Ah … that kind of friend.”

I took my eyes off the scenery and met Carol’s. “No, not that kind of friend. It’s complicated. A friend friend.”

“Tommy, darling, lovers and friends can be interchangeable.”

“Not this one.”

“Famous last words?”

I shook my head at the blur of October Brooklyn. “Not this one. Can I ask you a question, Carol?”

“Shoot.”

“You think good things happen to good people?”

Carol felt my forehead. “No fever. So what’s that question supposed to mean?”

“I know you’re a lawyer and all and see a lot of people who do bad stuff get off, and a lot of good people get left holding the bag. I guess what I’m asking is if you think it’s worth being the good guy. Is it a low percentage play?”

“You talking about yourself?”

“I’m not that good. Better than most, I suppose. I just got to thinking about this because I saw myself in the mirror the other day, without the beard, and I looked like my dad. Then being shot at, knowing I might die. It scared me a little.”

“Look at me, Tommy. The only thing that matters is whether it’s worth it to you. If you want to know whether I think there’s some sort of outside force where good things happen to good people, that there’s karma … for me, all of that is perception of patterns, wish fulfillment. Nothing wrong with that. It’s a matter of faith.”

“Patterns like Blue Diamond?”

“Blue diamond?”

“Blue Diamond Car Service. The bomber, then the dentist, remember? They had a car parked out in front of Donut House when Jo-Ball got his head blown off. I mean, what are the chances that one car service would keep having these gory episodes? Maybe there’s a reason for it.”

Carol laughed softly. “Could just be the roll of the dice, like in Vegas. It sometimes comes up sixes three times in a row. Is that karma at work?”

“Thanks for your perspective, Carol.”

“Sweetie.” She patted me on the cheek. “Keep being the good guy, Tommy. We like you that way.”

I looked away, out the window.

Like Pop once said,
Expectations are holes in gratification’s hull
.

IT WASN’T EVEN NOON YET
and I’d gotten an alcoholic drunk and a barber killed. TGIF. There was still a lot to do before the weekend, when it would be difficult to locate people because they don’t go to work. You have to chase them down at their kid’s soccer game or interrupt them carving pumpkins.

I had Carol drop me at Atlantic Avenue. Time to go to visit Pet Food Pete.

My phone buzzed when I was a block away. It was Skip.

“What do you have for me?”

“Dude. Like, do you ever say ‘hello’ or ‘how are you’?”

Part of me wanted to reach through the phone and crush his skull between my thumb and forefinger. Another part of me wanted the information more.

“What do you have for me?”

“Did you even hear what I said, Uncle Tommy?”

“I heard what you said, but I don’t care. If you’re calling me it must be because you have the information I paid you for. What do you have for me?”

“Excuse
me
for bothering to—”

“Believe it or not, Skip, life is too short for all this bullshit. Tell me about Molly Lee.”

“This chick Molly Lee is quite the, how shall I say, character. Real shady lady. Before the art export scheme and forgery—”

“Forgery?”

“Didn’t you read all the stuff I e-mailed?”

“Not all. Humor me.”

“Well, Dunwoody Exports was backed by Jimmy Robay, the mobster.”

“Got that part.”

“So while they were ripping off galleries and shipping bulk paintings overseas, some to copy, it seems a few masterpieces, like, got in the mix, and some forgeries were hitting the market here, at the auction houses. Nobody could connect them directly with Dunwoody, but because of the materials? Like, they were positive the forgeries were done in China, but, dude, nobody ever made the case against Dunwoody. Molly Lee pretty much vanishes.”

“You were saying before, about Molly Lee?”

“She ran a chain of massage parlors, only they didn’t do a lot of massage. You see what I’m saying.”

I wanted to laugh at that. I didn’t. “I get it, Skip. This woman Molly Lee ran a string of whorehouses.”

“In a bunch of little cities, too, under the radar, so she thought. Baltimore, Richmond, Scranton, Staten Island, like that. The operation folded like a deck of cards when a newspaper got wind of it. Molly Lee pretended she didn’t know what some of the girls were up to, and there was no proving it, either. Pretty slick. Gets out of a sex scam and then slides right out of a forgery scam. Awesome.”

“There any pictures of Molly Lee?” I stopped in front of a storefront with a large brown sign reading
FIDO FEED
, where for the last couple months I’d been getting cat food deliveries from the owner, Pete.

“Sure. You know, like, that big, in newsprint. Sunglasses, scarf, coming out of court. Could be my mom. Ha! My mom, yeah, right. Ha! She never did anything cool like this in her life.”

Poor Katie. Did she really deserve this?

“So any clue where Molly Lee got to?”

“Dropped out of the news. I’m just guessing, Uncle Tommy, but her name? You don’t suppose that’s an alias, do you? Get real. Like, what kind of name is that? Actually, it’s kind of a cool name for a band, I must admit.”

Kid was right, of course. “Molly” probably felt she’d squeezed all the traction she could out of that name after those two run-ins. These types of entrepreneurs usually went back and forth between a couple enterprises. Maybe into porn, always money there. Or bootleg movies or handbags. When they made themselves lost they stayed lost.

Only this time I had to guess she’d resurfaced as Ms. French and was muscling in on my business. Not too much of a stretch. She met with Jo-Ball, then went to Billy Bank, where Dunwoody’s offices are, which is where Huey went to get the money. And you have to bet my limo ride with Jimmy Robay was somehow still connected to Molly Lee aka Ms. French.

It simplified things knowing that the killings were being done by lovesick Gustav. It meant Ms. French wasn’t directing the elimination of people involved with the theft. Which was probably why they thought I was killing people who double-crossed me. Which was probably why Jimmy Robay jumped in to make me an offer to get me to stop before I found Molly. Robay probably knew what was going on, but I wasn’t about to embrace a kamikaze mission and try to press him for details.

Still didn’t answer the question of how Molly Lee knew my guys were going to lift the paintings for me in the first place. How could she have known? I had to press Frank and Kootie. One at a time for a change. Frank first; he was the more nervous.

On the back end was the museum. Assuming there was actually a buy back in play, there was more to squeeze out of the Whitbread about all this. McCracken was a tough customer, and her staff wouldn’t be much better. The guards were still the soft spot. Freddy. Atkins, too. Like Frank, Atkins was the nervous type, and according to Freddy, Atkins was actually at the museum when the Hoffman, Ramirez, and Le Marr were boosted. Funny he didn’t mention that.

“Uncle Tommy, you there?”

“I’m here.”

“You want me to look into anything else? I could use more cash. The new iPhone just came out.”

“Maybe. I’ll let you know. Kid?”

“Yeah?”

“Good work. You’re a smart-ass, but I like you anyway, and you’ve been a big help.”

There was a pause on the other end. I waited for the smart remark. He hung up instead. Well, I guess that was some progress.

I turned and pushed through the glass door into Fido Feed.

“Pete?”

A narrow head with a big jaw and close-cropped yellow hair peered at me from behind some shelves. Pete looked over his round glasses, which were on the end of his beak.

“Mr. Davin! How is you?”

Pete dropped his clipboard on top of a case of cat food. The store was crammed with shelves crammed with every conceivable cat and dog food, wet and dry, all the way to the ceiling. At my size, I really couldn’t go more than a few steps inside. The place had the meaty, yeasty smell of kibble.

“I’m fine, Pete, what’s what?”

He emerged from where he was doing inventory. He always wore a plaid shirt and vest. Thin white guy, a little too pleasant.

“I can hardly keep all the whatsis in stock. Have to have every conceivable brand of food on hand, don’tcha know. Look at it all.” He waved a hand. “Yet not a day goes by that someone doesn’t ask me to stock something new. Makes you think. Is it time for your mixed case of Pristine Pet? Or are you out of the Lab 1 Adult Diet Dry? I always keep some on hand for you. Those kitties of yours are stuck on a pretty obscure food, yessiree Bob.”

“No, I’m not in the market for food today. I wanted to ask a favor. Anybody else been buying that food?”

Pete cocked his head, tapping a pen on his chin. “You should be out of food. You always buy every other Tuesday, and it’s Friday.”

“Someone is taking care of the cats for me. I wanted to make sure he’s feeding them the right food. I told him to buy it here because he can’t get it nowheres else, that I know of.”

Pete shook his head. “Nope. I haven’t sold any since the last time you were in, Mr. Davin.”

“Can you do me a favor? Remember once your shipment of Pristine Pet didn’t come in, and you called around to the other pet food places looking for some?”

He nodded deeply.

“Could you call around and find out? I’d really appreciate it. You know how I worry about the cats. I’ve been out of town a lot and so figured it was best they spend time with my friend Gustav and not be alone too much. I just want to check up on him, you know how it is.”

He looked over his glasses at the shelf stocked with Pristine Pet and Lab 1. “Seems dopey since I have all this here.”

“You’d be doing me a big favor. I’ll even preorder the next batch of food. Just put it on my card as usual, OK?”

He smiled. “Certainly, Mr. Davin. Let me just finish my stock check and—”

“Can I call you later, like in two hours?”

“Swell.”

“Thanks a boatload, Pete. Talk to you later.”

I stepped outside into the sunshine.

Time to make someone tip.

STATEN ISLAND. NEW YORK’S FIFTH
and southernmost borough. It is separated from Manhattan and Brooklyn by New York Harbor and a passage to the ocean, both loaded with petroleum tankers. I don’t know what you’ve heard about Staten Island, but it is probably true. This is a place that is both as bad as they say and not as bad as they say. It all depends on what you expect of your town. I think Staten Islanders would agree that they have the most individualistic of the boroughs. I hadn’t ever heard of any of the other boroughs threatening to break off from New York City. Then again, I’m not sure any of the other boroughs is the target of so much derision by their neighbors. I avoid derision when I can help it. Bad energy.