seconds, until Eddie popped open his mouth to breathe and Fiona shoved a straw in. 'Now be a good boy, Eddie. Drink.'
Eddie did as he was told, downing two cups of coffee in record time. I made him a couple pieces of toast and made him eat those, too. When he started to show signs of actually being able to comprehend reality, I let Sam take a look at the gash on the back of his head, which was still leaking blood, but not quite the torrent Nate had mentioned.
'He'll need stitches,' Sam said.
'How many?' Eddie said.
'I'd say about fifty,' Sam said.
'That's about two hundred less than you would have required if it had been me here,' I said. 'About a thousand less than you'll need if you don't tell me what I want to know now.'
'First thing you need to know,' Eddie said, 'I am not the guy you're mad at. Dixon Woods? That's just a name I picked at random. This is a big misunderstanding.'
'I know who you are,' I said. 'And I know you just lied to me. I'm not the police, Eddie. You're not on tape. We're just two guys having a conversation. Granted, one of us is cuffed and one of us isn't, but I'd like you to feel like you can tell me the truth, Eddie. I gave you coffee. I made you some toast. So I'm going to give you a chance to correct that last statement. If I like what you have to say, I won't spray salt water into your head wound.'
Eddie Champagne's eyes darted around the room. He didn't look scared. He didn't even look worried, exactly. He sort of seemed to be enjoying this.
'You know,' he said, 'we redid this kitchen.'
'I didn't know that,' I said.
'Yeah,' he said. 'I moved in, it was stainless steel. Real cold, uninviting. It was my idea to put in those glass- faced cabinets. I picked out the granite for the island, made Cricket get one we could put chairs around. She wanted to have a sink in the island, but I told her she wouldn't need it since she wouldn't be doing that much cooking. She liked that idea. Let me tell you. What lady wants to cook?'
He looked at Fiona then and gave her a crooked smile, which probably gave other women a warm feeling, but which only caused Fiona to glare at him. That had a silencing effect on Eddie.
'When did you decide to bleed her?' I said.
'You don't just decide that sort of thing,' Eddie said.
'More of a life choice?' Sam said.
Eddie cleared his throat. 'I've got a few abilities,' Eddie said, 'none of which make for a good living. But after I met Cricket, I really thought she was the kind of lady I could get used to loving. But then, once I got in it, all these lies I'd already told, what was I supposed to do?'
'Telling the truth would have been an angle,' I said.
'Not gutting her life,' Fiona said.
'Not stealing money from wounded soldiers,' Sam said.
'So there are three choices,' I said. 'You want more?'
Eddie pointed to his coffee cup, indicated he'd like some more. In a show of good faith, I clipped off Eddie's cuffs, told him that if he did anything outwardly stupid with his hands he'd lose the use of them, permanently. I poured him another cup and watched him take a few sips. He held his pinky out at an angle, like he was of the royal class. He had all the moves.
'Guys like you and me, Hank, we can't always deal in truth. Look at you and your crew here,' he said. 'I don't presume to know what your game is, but I'm going to say you've never met Dixon Woods, either, or else you wouldn't be trying to play that psycho. That pussy Rosencrantz just swallowed your whole bait. Teach me to work with educated people. Am I right?'
Smart. Trying to make a connection with me. Attempting to get an empathetic response. Probably thinking, like Stanley Rosencrantz before him, Here's a guy I could make a deal with.
'Eddie,' I said, 'we're nothing alike.'
'Don't be so sure,' he said. 'I mean, here you are with Cricket, too. Similar tastes, right? And anyway, I came back today. I was ready to take you out. See? End of the day, I felt bad. Contrite. Ready to make amends.'
'Yeah,' I said. 'Listen. I hate to tell you this, but I do know Dixon Woods. And I'm afraid, Eddie, that you're going to need to deal with him yourself.'
Eddie finally seemed to leave his comfort zone. 'That guy is a monster. You can't let him have his way with me.' Eddie detailed his last meeting with Dixon, which involved a tire iron, a broken wrist and a lingering jaw problem. 'I want it noted for the record,' he said, leaning into his coffee cup, like it was microphone, 'that I really did love his mother. You know, she passed on and that bastard didn't even have the kindness to come back for her funeral. No problem busting me up, but he won't do the honor of burying his mother? You look up the records, see who paid for her funeral expenses. Tell your people that.'
'Noted,' Fiona said.
Eddie started to say something, but then stopped, looked hard at Fiona. 'Do you do any modeling?'
'No,' Fiona said, though I could see where this was headed.
'You look familiar. Your lips, for some reason. And no disrespect, but your right breast, too.'
'I have very uncommon breasts,' she said.
'You ever do any calendar work?' Eddie asked. 'Maybe I saw you online somewhere?'
'I'm in a coed naked volleyball league,' she said.
Eddie again tried to say something, but it didn't seem like his mouth was working, which was good, because I was done talking to him, his very voice making me sick. 'Sam,' I said, 'cuff and gag him.'
'What?' Eddie said. 'I thought we were getting along.'
'Yeah,' I said, 'you thought wrong.'
After we got Eddie subdued again, we sat him in the living room, which frankly smelled awful and would require an industrial cleaning very soon, and I snapped a few photos of him. When we had one that looked sufficiently morbid, I put in a call to Brenda Holcomb at Longstreet. Sam told me to make it a point not to call her Bolts. 'She finds it disrespectful,' he said.
'Brenda,' I said when she answered 'this is Hank Fitch. The man who didn't kill you.'
'You've caused a lot of problems, Hank.'
'I know,' I said. 'I'm sorry about that. But I'm calling you now to do you a favor, show I'm good on my word.'
'I already called Dixon,' she said. 'What he does, he does.'
'Right,' I said, 'I get that. But listen. I have a guy here whose been impersonating Dixon for the last two years. He's made Dixon a lot of enemies. But he's also made Dixon a lot of money.'
Silence. Money always causes silence.
'You still there?' I asked.
'Go on,' she said.
'I have a picture of him I'd like to send to you, that if you could forward it on to Dixon, I think we could end all of our mutual problems.' Hopefully by around six, I thought. 'Do you have a number I can use?'
Brenda sighed. 'I lose my job, I come after you.'
'You wouldn't want to do that,' I said.
'Who are you, exactly? Because you're not Hank Fitch.'
'I am today.'
'The only Hank Fitch I could find in all of America is married to a woman named Linda and lives in Utah with his eight kids. You don't sound like the marrying kind. Or the Mormon kind.'
'You'd be surprised.' Brenda gave me a number and I sent the photo to her. 'One other thing. My friend's car. Good faith.'
'You two run a clean operation. I couldn't find a thing of use in that car,' she said.
'Why don't you park it across the street, and we'll call it all even?'
'You have a strange idea of even, Mr. Fitch,' she said, but then agreed, though she sounded more resigned than anything.
'Did the pictures come through?' I asked.
Silence.
