“No shit,” he said. “I thought it was a toothpick.”
Ape Two led us across the hardwood floor and up into the far corner of the room to the only booth in
the place. Inside the booth was a round table and, behind it, a hand-carved chair big enough to suit the
Queen. Graves was sitting in the chair with one leg draped over an arm. He was dressed like a
Brazilian banker, in tan linen with a dark brown handkerchief draped from his jacket pocket and a
brown-and-white-striped tie. Like Zapata, he wore sunglasses in the dark.
Several of his lieutenants slipped back into the shadows. They didn?t go anywhere, they just became
part of the ambience.
Graves leaned forward and pulled his glasses down slightly, peering over them.
“Well, what do you know, it?s the dog lover.”
I smiled. The Kid didn?t do anything.
“You shouldn?t do that,” Graves said in a whispery rasp. “Come in a man?s place flashing all that shit
around.”
Mufalatta smiled. “Well, what is was, King Kong and Mighty Joe Young there didn?t think looks was
enough to get us an audience.”
Graves smiled. He was a handsome man. Whoever had done the job on his nose had done him a
favour.
“Who the flick are you?” he said quietly.
“Feds,” I told him.
He whistled softly through his teeth. “That?s bad,” he said. “Am 1 drafted?”
“Yeah, the marines can hardly wait,” Mufalatta said.
“So, say your thing, man. What?s it about?”
“Can we keep this between just a couple of us?” I asked.
Graves looked at Ape Two.
“They?s totally clean,” the black giant grunted.
Graves leaned back and waved his hands. “Okay,” he said, “give us some air. You men drink?”
“Not right now,” I said.
“You the talker, dog lover?” he asked, nodding toward me.
I said I was.
“So talk.
I didn?t know how I was going to start or exactly what I was going to say. I had to wing it. Graves was
no fool. If we were there because of the morning raid on Chevos? shrimp company, we would have
come in force with warrants. We wanted to talk and he was all ears.
