Losers Live Longer (32 page)

Elena had stopped her sobbing, suspended it long enough to strain and listen for his answer.

But his answer was wordless. Matt stuck out his other thumb.

He said, “That’s the lot. See, I told you.”

My chest heaved out a short laugh-sob, like I was gagging on ash.

“
Okay, six then,” I said. “But shit, when you’re counting off victims on your fingers and have to move to the other hand, it’s time to admit you got a problem. You may have stopped drinking, Matt, but you’ve turned into a murderaholic.”

As soon as I’d said it, I regretted it. I noticed for the first time a distinct drunken cast to Matt’s expression. Not that I thought for a moment he’d been drinking—I didn’t—but there are such things as dry drunks, who can be just as dangerous and erratic as the regular sort.

Matt said, through a ragged smile, “You may be right, pal. But I can kick it. Same as I did with drinking. Cold turkey. Except maybe…one more for the road?”

He looked down at Elena, on her knees, as he held her by the scruff of the neck, propped up against his thighs.

I said, “You’re overlooking something, Matt.”

I raised my gun and waggled it at him, just to bring it into play. I’d forgotten how heavy it was with a full clip.

He frowned and shook his head.

“
What are you going to do? Shoot me?”

“
The thought has been trapezing through my mind.”

“
You won’t. I know you, Payton.”

“
Don’t be so sure about that.”

“
Oh, wanna see how sure I am?”

He was surprisingly fast for such a big guy—or maybe just, as usual, I was too slow. I didn’t even see where it came from, but suddenly he was holding a gun.

Blue metal. It looked like the old .38 he’d always kept in his desk drawer at Metro. I’d only ever seen him crack walnuts with it. But now he cocked it, angled it down at Elena’s head.

“
Drop your weapon, Payton,” Matt said.

“
Or what, you’ll shoot her? Come on, Matt. How stupid do you think I am? If I drop my gun, you’ll shoot us both. But if you shoot her, I’ll drop you.”

“
Then do it. Shoot me now. Go ahead. I told you, that’s your only play, Payton. Anything else is just me fucking talking you into putting your gun down. And I will. Because I know you. Oh yeah. Better than you know yourself.”

“
Do you.”

“
I know your secret, Payton.”

“
I’m really the Green Lantern?”

Matt shook his head sagely.

“
You think you’re a detective in a detective story.”

His voice bounced off the dank concrete walls and echoed through the shadows of the parking garage. It sounded more ominous than he probably intended.

I said, “I…”

“
Payton, you think you live your life by this sort of code of behavior, but you’re only fucking playing at it. You and guys like Owl have outdated ideas about what’s right and wrong—but him I could forgive, he was a dinosaur, he lived it. You, you’re just aping old movies.”

I’d about had my fill of this reunion.

“
You, Matt?
You
can forgive Owl? You shoved him in front of a car! And why, to stop him from coming to see me? What did you think he wanted to talk to me about? Or tell me? What made you kill him?”

“
Actually, I didn’t mean to,” he said absently. “Kill Owl? Nothing I would’ve ever fucking dreamed of doing. He brought me up in this business. I
loved
him. But you know, shit happens.”

“
Shit,” I said.

“
After the party where Wales bought it, I picked up Cassidy’s trail. I followed her to Avenue C, waited for her outside Addison’s place, watched that fucking stoop till seven in the goddamn morning, and then who does she come out with but George Rowell? It was like something outta a fucking dream, where you think of an old friend you’ve been dying to see in forever, and there they are. And there he was. But holy fuck was he with the wrong woman.”

“
So you followed them to his hotel,” I said. “Only you must’ve been a little clumsy, because he picked up on the fact that he had a tail.”

“
I wasn’t clumsy, asswipe. Owl was good.”

“
Well, you must’ve been good, too, because he didn’t know it was you following him. That’s what he wanted my help for—flushing out who was tailing him. Nothing more.”

Matt seemed to only half-hear me. When he spoke, it was almost to himself. “He figured it out, y’know. At the end. I tried to fake it when I walked up to him, a big smile, what a surprise. But he wasn’t fooled. I saw it in his eyes. Somehow he’d put it all together, out of nothing, like pulling it out of the air. He really was the best of all of us, just a great fucking detective. But he never really got it. The way life works when the chips are down. I mean, there I am, looking for a car coming fast down the road trying to beat the yellow, and he’s explaining to me the whole time why
he
has no choice, he’s got to turn me in. Can you believe it? Never saw what was coming.”

“
Maybe he didn’t want to see.”

“
At least he went out on the job. That’s the way he always wanted to go. Always said so. So he got his wish.”

I said, “You’ve got to listen to yourself.”

“
I knew you wouldn’t fucking understand, Payton. You and that poor old fool. I could never make you see it. You don’t know what it’s like for me. Especially now. You don’t know what it’s like to be a father. It changes everything. There was no way I was going to have my family’s future threatened by someone’s principles.”

Like every asshole he’d ever collared, Matt had cooked up a rationale for all his actions, a way of convincing himself he wasn’t just doing what he wanted or what he had to but what was right. And who could argue with it? If it came down to me or his beautiful infant son, who was he supposed to choose? I mean, really, what did I expect?

Matt said, “You asked me before, how much and was it worth it. It came to just under four million dollars. Three million seven hundred eighty thousand. Cash. I’d never seen that much in my lifetime. If I hadn’t done what I’ve done, I wouldn’t have that to pass on to my family. As soon as I saw all that money in the suitcases, I knew I’d done the right thing. It was such a fucking relief, knowing it wasn’t for nothing. Knowing it was worth it. Does that satisfy you, Payton?”

“
Not really,” I said. “Like how’d you manage to buy this place, a property this size in Manhattan for less than four million? How’d you ever persuade the previous owner to take less than market value?”

He didn’t say anything, just stared at me with a combination of sheepishness and pride on his face. Then he unrolled one more finger on his freehand.

“
You got any other burning questions?” he said.

“
Yeh,” I said. “Was it you who sicced Moe Fedel on me after all?”

“
Uh-huh.”

“
Hell.”

“
Uh-huh.”

“
You had me believing you hadn’t.”

“
You
wanted
to believe, Payton. That’s you in a nutshell. You want to believe.”

“
I don’t want to believe you killed all these people.”

“
Oh fuck, Payton, throw that in my face.”

“
And what are you throwing in my face? What do you expect me to do, Matt? What choice do I have?”

“
You want a choice. Okay, okay. Here goes. A solid half million dollars in cash. Hundred dollar bills. Think about it, Payton. You will
never
see that much money if you live to be two hundred. So really think, okay? And I don’t mean think of a clever
Deal Or No Deal
comeback, jack-off. Think what’s really at stake here.”

He made a good pitch. And he was right. I lived in a world of penny rolls and crumpled one dollar bills. I literally couldn’t even conceive of that much money being mine. It defied my imagination.

Ultimately, I had to tell him I accepted his offer. His choice was no choice. The problem was keeping a straight face as I did it.

“
So what’s it going to be, Payton?”

“
I don’t know. Right now I feel like I’m in your shoes, Matt, faced with the same problem you were, whether or not to latch onto somebody I figure is going down no matter what I say or do. You gotta know it’s only a question of time. Seven bodies, man—that’s a lot for anyone to sweep under the rug.

“
But I guess they won’t get you today and probably not tomorrow, and who knows, maybe you’ll find some way to pull it off. If anyone can… So sure, what the hell, I’d love a half million bucks. It’ll keep the draft out.”

“
So, what, is that yes or a no?”

“
Yes.”

“
Fuck, then say yes! That’s all I want to hear, yes or no.”

“
Yes.”

“
Yeah, I got it now,” Matt said. “Just one thing.”

He nudged Elena, so she toppled over, landing on her side.

“
Kill her.”

“
Wha—no—what are you talking about?”

“
Seal the deal. C’mon, why you think I let you keep your gun?”

“
Let me keep…?”

“
Do this, we’re solid. I’ll have something on you as bad as what you’ve got on me.”

“
You’re nuts, Matt.”

“
Maybe. Choose.”

“
I’m not going to kill her.”

Elena was squealing. Her eyes were wide with terror, flicking from my gun to Matt’s and back. I lowered mine.

That was a mistake.

Matt swung his up to point directly at my chest.

“
Eh—Payton—eh! Not a twitch. Pray as you like, but don’t genuflect ’less you’re done.”

He lifted the barrel higher and leveled it at my face. He started walking toward me, taking slow steps like a duelist measuring off his ten paces.

You never really see a gun for what it is until you stare down the muzzle of one in someone else’s hands, watch it come closer, closer, till it fills your line of sight. You watch, knowing it’s about to spit flame, that the split-second explosion will be the last thing you ever see. You know a bullet’s coming as soon as you blink, so you don’t blink. You freeze. Grow old looking at it. If it’s a big gun, you mark how small it looks. And if it’s a small gun,
my
, how big it looks. An enormous maw about to swallow your head.

I concentrated on that black hole approaching me. I didn’t blink. It became my whole world, my past future present. Funny that something so small could magnify and become huge, big enough to blot out the sun. It seemed to be sucking at me like a puncture hole in a pressurized cabin. I waited for it, knowing the moment I let my eyes shut I was done…

How quiet it was. Except for my heartbeat and Matt’s footsteps, there was no sound at all. Which was odd, actually. There should have been another sound, there had been one before, Elena’s muffled sobs. Glancing down, I realized I no longer saw her prostrate shape in the periphery of my vision.

Matt read something in my eyes, but he didn’t waver, didn’t look behind him. Maybe he thought I was pulling some trick to distract him. He gave me too much credit.

When I saw the movement behind him, I forced my eyes to lock on his, did my damnedest to hold him, make him focus on me. Not on the sliver of Sayre Rauth I could see behind him shifting her weight and raising her right arm out in front of her.

She fired. The .22’s dainty reports, even in the echo chamber of the parking garage, were like birthday balloons popping. The barrel gave off puffs of confectioners’ sugar.

Matt fell against me and I felt the slam of one of the bullets ripping through him. Then another, and a wetness like a sea mist on my face, only hot as molten wax. I clenched my lips against the animal urge to lick it away from my mouth.