they didn't even know, someone who might end up rolling a hit onto them.
Guys like Hank Fitch can deal with a La Erne.
Stan, Burl and Danny? They watched documentaries on Dateline about that sort of thing and felt claustrophobic with fear, as if watching the program might mark them as snitches and result in a shank in their granite-lined showers while their wives pressed their morning espresso.
Eddie Champagne? If he knew Dixon Woods had a problem with the Mexican Mafia, Eddie would ditch his name and his holdings and any money he thought anyone might associate with it and get out of town quickly. (Out of the country if he could, but I had Sam working on that.)
'But this new real estate business Dixon is in I find very compelling,' I said. 'I can't imagine it's on the level. Is it, Stan?'
'Mr. Fitch…,' he started.
'Hank,' I said. 'We're friends. Call me Hank.'
'Whatever you had with Mr. Woods before today, we weren't aware of that,' Stan said.
'There it goes,' Burl said. 'We're fucking dead. Do you get that, Stan? We're fucking dead. Danny, we're fucking dead.'
'You,' I said to Burl, 'quiet.' I pointed the gun at him when I spoke, which was a mistake, because he immediately pissed himself. There was now piss and blood on the floor. Fortunately, the furniture looked pretty good. I was keeping the exchange of fluids pretty well contained to the fireplace region.
'Continue,' I said to Stan.
'I want to help you close this deal,' he said, like we were sitting in the front seat of his BMW talking about a house in a subdivision. 'All I know, all my associates know, is the business end. Dixon tells us where the money is, we get it, we make it happen. All this drug stuff? That's not us.'
'Of course it isn't,' I said. I smiled, just to let Stan know I understood, let him know that this was all just a big misunderstanding. 'You just come around and fleece defenseless women-is that right, Stan? Pretend to be a tough guy? Make a woman lose her house to a guy like me? Make her a fucking shell of a human? That what you do?'
Stan looked nervously at his two friends. 'Well, it's…'
'It's what I say it is,' I said.
'Yes, sir,' Stan said.
'What about you, Burl?' I said.
'I can't feel my foot,' Burl said.
'That's because you've been shot in the leg, and no blood is making it to your foot right now,' I said. I was about to ask Danny, the guy in the striped shirt, if he agreed, too, but he still didn't look like he could be engaged in conversation.
'You were saying, Stan?'
'The problem, as I see it,' Stan said, 'is that in order for me to help you with your plans, it would be helpful if we could cut Dixon out of it. No need to have him involved, respectfully, if you're interested in getting into this market.'
I had to hand it to Stan. He was a good real estate agent.
'Go ahead,' I said.
'We have relationships in place already,' Stan said. He rattled off the names of several high-profile banks where he had contacts and where he said he ran millions of dollars in silly loans daily. What he outlined was a nice criminal enterprise of faulty loans that no one would know about unless, well, unless the banks started paying attention, which I had a feeling was about to happen. Soon enough, if you watched the news, you knew everyone working in real estate would get caught, even the legit companies. 'We could bring you into the fold. Get you started locally. Avoid all this crap with Dixon. This island? It's gold, Mr. Fitch.' He explained that over the last year they'd become very adept at getting loans on properties all over Miami for far more than the property was worth, that they'd paid the right people using Dixon's connections and reputation and that it was now a flawless clockwork operation.
'We could use a person with your… flair… Mr. Fitch, to really take this to the next level.'
'That's very generous,' I said, though I wasn't precisely certain what it meant. But I had a feeling Barry might. 'And in return?'
'You make sure Dixon doesn't kill us,' he said, 'or have his people hurt our families. You seem like the kind of person who could help with that.'
His people. The only people Eddie Champagne had were probably living in a trailer in Sarasota, hoping to get bitten by a gator on state land so they could sue.
Hank Fitch, however, was precisely that kind of guy-Still, I had to hand it to Stan. In the face of adversity, he managed to bring his A game, negotiation-wise. He almost had me believing that this was all an excellent idea. But one had to admire a guy who could negotiate a deal to save his ass and get a new, meaner, more obviously psychotic business partner. Stan wouldn't make a bad warlord.
'There'd still be the matter then of the debt Dixon owes me,' I said.
'We could cover that debt,' Stan said.
'It's sizable,' I said. I told him it was five million dollars. I figured that would cover all of my bases.
'We could cover that debt,' Stan said, though he swallowed perceptibly.
'Wired,' I said.
'Wired,' Stan said.
'By tomorrow,' I said.
'I don't know if-'
'By tomorrow,' I said.
'By tomorrow,' Stan said.
I extended my hand and Stan shook it. 'You have a deal, Stan,' I said. My cell chirped and I saw a text from Sam. Everything was working better than I could have possibly hoped for. 'There's something I want you to see.' I stepped Stan over to the window so he could see Sam drive up and park Cricket's Mercedes. Sam was behind the wheel. Cricket was in the passenger seat. And Nate was sitting in the back.
'You see those two men with Cricket?' Stan nodded. 'You don't seem like a bad guy, Stan. And neither do your friends.'
'Thank you,' he said, because I think he thought that life was just getting easier and easier.
'But I am,' I said. 'You screw me? Those men are going to kill Cricket. There's nothing you'll be able to do to stop it. And you might notice that you've touched quite a bit of stuff in this room, Stan. Fingerprints everywhere. A good amount of blood and piss too. Let's not forget motive. You watch CSI, Stan?'
'Sometimes,' he said.
'Watch it this week. See if anyone leaves that much evidence around anymore,' I said. 'Do you hear me?'
'I hear you,' he said.
I waved at Sam to let him know he could drive off.
'Today,' I said, 'you go back to Dixon and tell him Cricket was gone. Tell him everything that happened here, if you like, except for the deal you've graciously made me. Tell him his money supply is gone. Tell him I'm looking for him. Tell him I'm right here, waiting. Understand?'
Stan said he did.
'You'll make sure your friends understand?' I said. Burl had fallen silent, the pain finally overriding the adrenaline and knocking him out. Danny? He was pulling bits of blood, flesh and teeth off of his shirt.
'Yes, sir, Mr. Fitch,' Stan said.
'Do you have a business card, Stan?'
'Pardon me?'
'A business card. Something with your firm name on it? A way to contact you?'
'Oh, right,' Stan said. He motioned to his back pocket. 'I'm going to pull out my wallet, just so you know.'
'Got it,' I said. At least he was learning not to make any rash movements.
Stan rummaged through his wallet and came out with a gold-embossed card that said his name was Stanley
