from O'Clair and started washing the driver's side of the car O'Clair now recognized as a Volkswagen Jetta. 'You know there's a reward for information…'
The kid stopped washing the car now and turned toward O'Clair. 'How much?'
'Five thousand dollars,' O'Clair said, giving the little sissy something to think about.
The kid said, 'When do you get the money?'
'First, you've got to tell me what you saw,' O'Clair said.
The kid dropped his sponge in the brown plastic bucket.
'There was a girl in the minivan parked in front. She said she was with Neighborhood Watch, whatever that is.'
O'Clair said, 'What'd she look like?'
'She had red hair.'
O'Clair took off heading for his car, moving as fast as he could without running. His leg hurt, but he didn't care.
The kid yelled, 'Aren't you going to take my name? Hey…'
When the sissy said the girl in the van had red hair, Karen's face appeared in his head. Karen, who else? When she was hanging out with Samir, she was Karen Delaney. He never did find out what happened, but one day Karen was gone and Minde, the Automotion dancer, had taken her place. O'Clair'd heard Karen was living with a Greek who owned a chain of restaurants, guy named Lou Starr.
On the way to Karen's, O'Clair stopped by the warehouse in Clawson. He parked and walked in the reception room and waited for the guy behind the counter to get off the phone. The guy wore a decorative western shirt with pearl buttons and piping around the pockets, and a lot of turquoise jewelry: a ring, bracelet and a necklace. The guy's nametag said: 'Randy.' He was talking and enjoying himself. It sounded like a personal call and he didn't seem to be in any hurry to get off. On the wall behind him was a sign advertising additional services. Ask about special pricing on packaging, assembly and trucking.
O'Clair moved to the end of the counter where there was a hinged section and lifted it and went behind where Randy was.
He stopped talking now and said, 'Whoa, what do think you're doing? This is for authorized personnel only.'
O'Clair grabbed the phone out of his hand and hung it up. 'First rule of business, never keep a customer waiting.'
'Chief,' Randy said, 'you're not allowed back here, period in a sentence.'
O'Clair handed him the receipt he found at Robert Gal's apartment. 'See if it's still being rented.'
'It is,' Randy said. 'There's a three-month minimum. See here? Date's June 10.'
O'Clair said, 'Remember who rented it?'
'Was two of them as I recall,' Randy said.
O'Clair took a photograph out of his pocket and held it up.
'Oh yeah, he was definitely one of them.'
O'Clair said, 'What about the second guy?'
'Stocky fella with a goatee,' Randy said.
O'Clair said, 'I'm going to need you to open the warehouse.'
'I can't do that, chief. See, that would be against the law.'
'Randy, you seem like a bright guy,' O'Clair said, 'so let me tell you what your options are so there's no mistake, okay? You can give me the key, stay here mind your business and everything'll be fine. Or you can continue to fuck with me and take your chances. Tell me how you want to do it.'
O'Clair hit the light switch on the wall. Above him the huge mercury vapor lights hissed and came on, warming up, taking a few minutes to get bright then casting the huge room in yellow-green light. The walls were white, the floor was industrial gray with a clear epoxy that gave it a shine. There were muddy tire tracks just inside the entrance, the marks heavier where a vehicle was parked for some period of time, the outline of the tread visible on the concrete floor.
O'Clair studied the scene. Samir's safe was in the middle of the warehouse floor, it was black with ornate gold accents, and said 'Abou A1 Fakir,' Samir's family name in gold Arabic characters. Samir told O'Clair how his grandfather had bought the safe at the Mosler factory and had it shipped to Beirut. He brought it back when he moved to Dearborn in the fifties. O'Clair remembered Samir telling it like it was an important event in American history.
The top of the safe had been cut open. There was a contractor- grade circular saw on the floor along with an extension chord, a crowbar, three chewed-up blades, and a pair of dust-covered safety glasses. They knew what they were doing. All around the safe and floor was red dust. He could see footprints-some clearly visible, others obscured. There was a lot of blood too, a few feet from the safe. Somebody had gone down and was dragged to a car or van. He followed the footprints and streaks of blood back to where the car had been parked. Okay, Bobby and his crew stole the safe that much seemed clear. What he didn't get, what didn't make a lot of sense was the connection between Bobby and Karen. How'd they know each other?
Chapter Fifteen
Karen closed the door. She could hear the shower on in the bathroom. That's what she wanted to do, take a shower and sleep for a couple days. On a table between the two queen-size beds was a brown plastic ice bucket with a bottle of champagne in it. The bottle had an orange Day-Glo sticker on it. All that money, he was drinking ten-dollar champagne.
One bed was made and the other one was a mess like somebody had been sleeping in it for a week. She heard the shower turn off and a couple minutes later Johnny appeared, coming out of the bathroom with a small white towel around his waist and another one over his shoulder, hair slicked back and wet. He had a gut. She hadn't really noticed before. He saw her looking at him and sucked it in.
'Jesus, when'd you get here?' Johnny said. 'You don't come in, say hello? I was starting to wonder.'
Karen didn't say anything. She was tired, exhausted, completely out of it.
'Maybe something happened. Ricky's been calling me nonstop. Jesus, I've been going out of my mind,' Johnny said.
Karen said, 'Did you talk to him?'
'No, I didn't. And now I won't have to-ever again.' He stepped over and put his arms around her.
Karen pushed him away. 'You're all wet.'
'Everything go okay?' Johnny said. 'You look a little tense.'
'Do you know why? Because I am.' She pictured Wade's loony face and said, 'Spend fourteen hours in a hot warehouse with an armed psycho and you would be too.' She could feel herself getting angry, thinking about Johnny lying around, watching TV, drinking champagne while she was getting the job done. And he thought she looked tense.
'Let's celebrate.' Johnny poured champagne into two plastic flutes and handed one to Karen. 'This'll take the edge off.'
She took a sip and wiped the bubbles off her upper lip. 'They've got a lot of nerve calling this champagne,' Karen said. 'Where's the vodka? I want a real drink.'
'Don't you want to know how much we got?' He moved to the closet, slid the door open and rolled a big black suitcase out and put it on the bed next to her. She watched him unzip it and turn it over, dumping banded packs of money out on the brown comforter. It was strange after all she'd been through, seeing the money didn't excite her. She didn't feel anything; she was numb.
'Guess how much?' Johnny said.
'Five million,' Karen said.
Johnny grinned. 'Come on. We've got a million six hundred and fifty-four thousand dollars. I counted it three
