High Five

I eased into traffic and pointed Big Blue's nose west. Ten minutes and seven lights later, I rolled down Water Street, squinting at the somber brick buildings, looking for numbers. The road was cracked and pocked with potholes. Parking lots associated with businesses were ringed by chain-link fences. Sidewalks were empty. Windows were dark and lifeless. I didn't need to see the numbers, RGC was easy to spot. Large sign. Lots of garbage trucks parked in the lot. There were five visitor slots next to the building. They were all empty. No surprise there. It didn't exactly smell like roses outside.

I parked in one of the slots and scurried inside. The office was small. Linoleum floor, death-pallor-green walls, and a counter cut the room in half. There were two desks and file cabinets in the back half of the room.

A woman got up from one of the desks and stood at the counter. A plaque on the counter read MARTHA DEETER, RECEPTIONIST, and I assumed this was Martha.

'Can I help you?' Martha asked.

I introduced myself as Fred's niece and told her I was looking for Fred.

'I remember speaking to him,' she said. 'He went home to get his canceled check and never returned. It never occurred to me that something might have happened to him. I just assumed he'd given up. We get a lot of people in here trying to get something for nothing.'

'Go figure.'

'Exactly. That's why I sent him home for the check. The old ones are the worst. They're all on fixed incomes. They'll say anything to hang on to a dollar.'

There was a man sitting at the second desk. He got up and moved next to Martha. 'Perhaps I can be of assistance here. I'm the bookkeeper, and I'm afraid this is my problem. Truth is, this has happened before. It's the computer. We just can't get it to recognize certain customers.'

Martha tapped a finger on the counter. 'It's not the computer. There are people out there who'll take advantage. People think it's okay to gyp big business.'

The man gave me a tight smile and extended his hand. 'Larry Lipinski. I'll make sure the account is set straight.'

Martha didn't look happy. 'We really should see the canceled check.'

'For goodness' sakes,' Lipinski said to Martha, 'the man disappeared in the middle of his errands. He probably had the check on him. How do you expect them to show you the check?'

'Supposedly the Shutzes have been customers for years. They must have canceled checks from previous quarters,' she said.

'I don't believe this,' Lipinski said. 'Give it a rest. It's the computer. Remember last month? We had the same problem.'

'It isn't the computer.'

'It is.'

'Isn't.'

'Is.'

I backed out of the office and slipped out the door. I didn't want to be around for the bitch-slapping and hair- pulling. If Fred was going to 'make out in spades,' it seemed unlikely he'd make his killing with these two.

Half an hour later I was back at Vinnie's. His door was shut and there were no bond seekers at Connie's desk. Lula and Connie were discussing meatloaf.

'That's disgusting,' Lula said, eyeballing Connie's sandwich. 'Whoever heard of mayonnaise on meatloaf ? Everybody knows you gotta put ketchup on meatloaf. You can't put no dumb-ass mayonnaise on it. What is that, some Italian thing?'

Connie gave Lula a stiff middle finger. 'This is an Italian thing,' she said.

I snitched a corn chip from the bag on Connie's desk. 'So what happened?' I asked Lula. 'You and Bunchy going steady now?'

'He's not such a bad kisser,' Lula said. 'He had a hard time giving it his full attention at first, but after a while I think he was into it.'

'I'm going after Briggs,' I said. 'You want to ride shotgun?'

'Sure,' Lula said, pulling a sweatshirt over her head. 'Better than sitting around here. It's damn boring in here today.' She had keys in her hand. 'And I'm driving. You have a pipsqueak sound system in that Buick, and I need Dolby. I need mood music. I gotta get myself ready to kick some butt.'

'We're not kicking butt. We're finessing.'

'I could do that, too,' Lula said.

I followed Lula out the door to her car. We buckled ourselves in, the CD player clicked on, and the bass almost lifted us off the ground.

'So what's the plan?' Lula asked, pulling into Briggs' parking lot. 'We need a plan.'

'The plan is that we knock on his door and lie.'

'I could get into that,' Lula said. 'I like to lie. I could lie your ass off.'

We crossed the lot and took the stairs. The hall was empty, and there was no noise coming from Briggs' apartment.

I flattened against the wall, out of sight, and Lula knocked twice on Briggs' door.

'How's this?' she asked. 'I look okay? This here's my nonthreatening look. This look says, Come on, motherfucker, open your door.'