Most Wanted (26 page)

“All right! Jesus Christ, I wasn’t gonna hurt her or nothing. I asked her to leave, and she wouldn’t listen. Let me go already—I won’t touch her.” After a second, Dan released him and backed away, saying nothing, breathing hard.

Flanagan brushed off his jacket angrily. “You’re lucky I didn’t go for my gun,” he said.

“
You
carry? That just shows how fucked up our system is,” Dan said.

Flanagan jerked his head toward Melanie. “What is she, your girlfriend? Nice tits, but she’s a snotty little bitch.”

Dan made a move toward Flanagan, but Melanie grabbed his arm. “It’s okay,” she told him. “It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re right. Who cares what this scumbag says? He was a disgrace to the badge until they booted him, and now he’s hanging around like some disease,” Dan said.

“A self-righteous prick just like your old man, Danny Boy,” Flanagan spat.

“Please, enough already!” Melanie said. “Let’s start over, okay? Let’s just pretend this never happened so we can get something accomplished here. Mr. Flanagan, is it? Melanie Vargas, U.S. Attorney’s Office. So now that you know who I am, I’m sure you won’t object if I speak with Miss Benson.”

“Fucking right, I object! I work for Nell Benson, and she told me nobody talks to her daughter without going through her first. That’s why I was hired.”

“Really? I thought you were hired to protect Amanda from her father’s killers, not to obstruct a federal investigation,” Melanie said.

“Show me a subpoena, lady. Then we can do business.”

That stopped Melanie cold. She hadn’t planned to come here, so she hadn’t brought a subpoena with her. There was no way she could force Flanagan to let her speak to Amanda without one. As an ex-cop, he knew that.

“I hoped we could resolve this without resorting to a subpoena,” she said coolly.

“Talk to my boss. If she says it’s okay, it’s fine by me.”

“Where is she?”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

“She left her daughter all alone here, without giving you so much as a phone number?” Melanie didn’t believe him for a minute. He could get in touch with Nell if he wanted to.

“What am I, Child Welfare? She hired me to sit here, I sit here. I don’t question how she treats her kid.”

“Amanda, how can I reach your mother?” Melanie asked, turning to the girl.

“Don’t answer that!” Flanagan shouted, flushing an even deeper shade of crimson. He turned to Melanie. “You don’t listen too good. I said nobody talks to her. Now get out, the botha youse. You got no subpoena, you got no right to be here, and I’m instructing you to leave. You don’t listen, I’m going straight to Mrs. Benson. Then, I can promise you, you won’t get within a hundred miles of this girl ever again.”

“Mr. Flanagan, please,” Melanie said, “can’t we work this out? I understand you’re trying to do your job and follow Mrs. Benson’s wishes. If we could just get in touch with Mrs. Benson and—”

“
Mrs. Benson
doesn’t want to get in touch.
Mrs. Benson
just wants you to stop harassing her daughter and get your snotty little ass out of here.”

“I’ll get a subpoena and be back here in an hour. Let’s see how happy Nell Benson is with you then.”

“Fine!” Flanagan said.

“Fine!” Melanie shot back. Then, having painted herself into a corner, she had no choice but to march defiantly out of the room, leaving Dan to follow.

“YOU’RE SOME HELLCAT!” DAN SAID, SMILING, as he caught up with her. “I’m very impressed.”

“Oh, come on, I completely screwed that up. I lost my temper when I should’ve just swallowed my pride and backed down, so we could get what we needed.”

“And let that drunken bum Bill Flanagan walk all over you? I wouldn’t stand for it.”

“You know him?”

“My dad was the lieutenant who took away his gun.”

“No kidding, your father’s a cop?”

“He was. He’s retired now. I’m from cops on both sides. My father and grandfather were on the job, a bunch of uncles on my mother’s side, some cousins. Everyone else is a rubberman.”

“Rubberman?”

“Fireman. Fire
fighter
I guess is what you say now.”

“Wow. You must have felt so solid growing up with all that behind you,” Melanie said wistfully. How cozy, to come from a nice middle-class background, and just
stay
there. Unlike Melanie, who’d come up so far in the world that she didn’t fit in her own life.

“I guess. I liked that I could walk into any precinct in the city as a kid and find somebody to buy me a Coke anyway.”

“Speaking of, I could sure use one right about now. Do you have a dollar? Because I only have a twenty,” Melanie said as they walked past the soda machine.

Dan dug into the pocket of his khaki pants, pulling out two crumpled dollar bills. He smoothed them between his fingers and handed them to her.

“Here. Get me one, too, wouldja?” he said.

“Is this all the money you have?”

He grinned sheepishly. “At the moment, but I get paid Friday.”

“It’s only Wednesday.”

“Yeah, but you’re thirsty now.”

She shook her head and gave the bills back to him. He walked right over and fed them into the soda machine. “Regular or diet?” he asked, looking over his shoulder.

“Diet.”

Two sodas plunked out. Dan came back and pressed an ice-cold can into her hand.

“You shouldn’t walk around this town with no money in your pocket, you know,” she said.

“What do I need money for? I got a gun.”

She smiled, popping the top and taking a sip, aware that he was watching her.

“I’ll never be a rich man, but whatever I have is yours, sweetheart,” he said.

“What is that, a marriage proposal?”

“Is it too soon?” he asked with an easy smile, looking down into her eyes.

“No, it’s too late.” She waved her left hand at him. She’d forgotten she wasn’t wearing her rings. The empty space on her finger was conspicuous because of the tan line.

“Huh,” she said involuntarily.

Dan stared at her hand and then back at her face. He looked like he’d just been shot through with a jolt of electricity.

“Did you…?” he began.

“Guess I was in a rush this morning,” she said quickly.

“Oh.” He nodded slowly, not even trying to hide his disappointment. He was standing close enough that she felt the heat of his skin, but he didn’t move away. She noticed that her knees were trembling. She sighed and went to sit in one of the orange plastic chairs next to the soda machine. He followed and sat down beside her.

“I’m sorry. Am I out of line?” he asked.

“No, whatever, we’re just joking around. But let’s talk about work, okay?”

“Okay.”

They both sipped their sodas for a moment.

“Where do you think Randall went?” she asked after a pause.

“Good question. He was supposed to be here, wasn’t he? I’ll beep him.” He pulled out his cell phone and dialed but got no immediate response. “Sometimes it takes him a while to answer a page.”

“I can’t believe I got us kicked out of there,” she said, shaking her head.

“It wasn’t your fault. I know that guy from way back, and he’s a total prick. Plus, it sounds like Nell Benson told him to keep us away.”

“Oh, yeah, that reminds me. You know what Amanda told me before Flanagan showed up?”

“What?”

“She thinks her mother had her father killed.”

“What, for cheating on her?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time,” Melanie said. Not like she hadn’t thought about it herself with Steve.

“Yeah, but it doesn’t add up with gangbangers whacking Benson. How many socialites you know could contract a hit with the Blades?”

“True. Good point.”

“Hey, speaking of Benson cheating, you ever watch the video you pinched from that girl’s house?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t dream of doing that without you.”

“You got the wrong guy, sweetheart. It’s Randall who likes dirty movies. The brothers trained me good. They used to smack the shit out of us with a ruler if they caught us looking out the windows at girls.”

“Oh, so Catholic school turned you off sex?”

“No, not at all. Sex is the greatest thing in life. But only when there’s true love.”

He looked at her intently, and this time she looked back, trying to figure out if he was for real. She was half falling for him and half convinced he was manipulating her.

“You’re full of shit,” she said finally.

“Am not. I’m serious.”

“You expect me to believe you never slept with a woman you weren’t in love with?”

“No, I’m not saying that. I mean, I’m human. But if I did, I felt really bad about it.”

“Can we get back to talking about work, please? I can’t even remember where we were, the way you’re distracting me.”

“You were saying Amanda says Mrs. Benson had her husband whacked.”

“Right. I’m thinking we should take a closer look at our victim,” she said.

“Yeah, in all our spare time. Look, so the guy wasn’t a saint. It’s an angle, but your other idea was better. Setting up on her room, I mean.”

“We’re still doing that. Flanagan can kick us out of a private room, but he can’t keep us out of the public hallways.”

“Okay, so I’ll go scout a nice observation post. Someplace I can see Amanda’s door without being seen.”

“And I’ll go back to my office and get a subpoena so Flanagan has to let us talk to her.”

“Sounds like a plan. Who knows, maybe our man Slice makes an appearance while you’re gone, and I wrap the whole thing up before you even make it back here.”

“That would be nice. Although I’d hate to miss the fireworks.”

RANDALL WALKER CROSSED THE STREET, HEADING for the run-down bar in the middle of the next block. Its grimy windows, covered with iron bars, gave it a blank, vacant look in the blinding afternoon light.

As he stepped up onto the curb, he hesitated. He’d been walking fast, almost as though, if he moved quick enough, he wouldn’t have time to think about what he was doing. But he
should
think. It wasn’t too late yet. He could still jump off the runaway train. Not go into the bar. Just walk on by, like he was heading somewhere else, circle around back to his car and go on with his day. Just pretend things were okay, that this mess didn’t apply to him.

His feet slowed to a stop before he even realized he was standing still. He got lost for a minute, remembering what it was like before he felt so twisted up in his gut. One mistake years ago, and it fucked up his whole life. But no way to go back and change things now. Nope, that was the problem with time—only moved in one direction.

He recollected himself and glanced around nervously, not wanting to be seen yet by the person he was here to meet. He was still thinking he might not go in. The alley between the bar and the next building was strewn with broken glass. He ducked into it for a minute. It reeked from bags of garbage piled high, fermenting in the hot sun. At the sound of his footsteps, a plump gray rat leaped out of the pile, bounded across the narrow alley, and disappeared. What the bejesus was he doing here? Randall asked himself.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed, to remind himself.

“Hello?” his wife answered.

“Calling to check on you, baby.”

“I’m doing fine. Don’t you be worrying about me.” There was a leaden, groggy quality to her voice that told him she’d taken more than her prescribed dose of antidepressants today.

“It’s nice out,” he said. “You ought to get out the house.”

“Naw, they got an ozone alert on. I’m staying in the bedroom with the air-conditioning going.”

“Go downstairs and visit with Della, then.”

“It’s too hot in her apartment. Besides, I’m tired of listening to her talk.”

“No good sitting alone in the house, Betty.”

“I’m doing just fine here, Randall. You go about your business now.”

“At least get up out of bed. Cook me something good for dinner.”

“Aw, come on. You don’t even know whether you coming home for dinner tonight.”

He laughed hollowly. “You too smart for me, girl.”

“You got that right,” she said, laughing. Her laugh sounded natural, raised his spirits a little. Only a little, though. She seemed worse to him as time went on, rather than better.

“Okay, I’ma check on you later, and you better be up out that bed, you hear?” he said.

“Mmm-hmm,” she said lethargically, and hung up.

RANDALL HUNCHED HIS SHOULDERS AS HE yanked open the door of the bar, so dark inside after the blazing sidewalk. The air-conditioning in the place was on the fritz, the stench of urine and beer nearly overpowering in the sultry interior. He kept his head down, not wanting to look around, not wanting to see where he was going and what he was about to do. Looking neither to the right nor to the left, he made a beeline for the booth in the back where his associate waited.

“You’re late,” the associate said, dragging on the last remnant of a cigarette and stubbing it out.

“Yeah, well, this isn’t exactly a convenient time for me.”

“Where’s your partner?”

“Skip the small talk, all right? Let’s get it over with.”

The associate reached under the table to get something. Randall stiffened, his hand flying to the gun at his waistband. But the associate simply pulled out a thick white envelope and tossed it on the table. It landed in front of Randall with a resounding thwack.

“What the fuck is that?” Randall asked, his voice dangerous.

“What the fuck does it look like?”

“You’re very much mistaken. I’m doing this because you’re forcing me, not for money. I’m not like you. Don’t think I am.”

The associate took back the envelope, frowning.

“This ‘honorable man’ routine is getting stale, Randall. It’s about money for you, just like it is for everybody else.”

“My pension is something I’m entitled to! Twenty-five years on this fucking job. I earned every penny.”

“Yeah, well, I know a few people who wouldn’t see it that way if they knew what I know about you.”

Randall stood up, livid. “You been holding that one mistake over my head for years. But, you know, I been thinking. You give me up, you give yourself up, too. Why should I even believe you would do it?”