'Yeah?'
'Can you do that?' I said.
'Maybe.'
'Why don't you look into it and find out,' I said.
'How you going to get Deegan to turn?' Maguire said.
'That's my problem,' I said. 'You work on what he'll get if I do.'
'Hey,' Maguire said, 'I gotta know you'll turn him. I'm not going to be walking around down here saying he's turned, and find out he hasn't, and end up looking like an asshole.'
'Would anyone see the change?' I said.
'I mean it,' Maguire said. 'I'm not sticking my neck out on the word of some guy I never even met. I mean I talked to you twice on the phone, and you got me making deals with the federal attorney.'
'Magic,' I said, 'isn't it.'
'It's bullshit,' Maguire said. 'You gonna turn him or not?'
'I'll turn him,' I said.
'You do and we'll talk,' Maguire said. 'We can work something out.'
'Might get your picture in the Daily News,' I said.
Maguire hung up without comment.
I swiveled around and looked at the rain washing down my window. Now I could discuss these things with Deegan. If I could find him. If he didn't shoot me when I did. If Dwayne would testify.
'I need a drink,' I said out loud.
No one said no. So I sat in my chair, got out a bottle of Glenfiddich and a glass and poured some neat and sipped it and watched the rain as night settled in behind it.
33
I didn't have to find Bobby Deegan. He found me. I'd been sitting maybe an hour and a half watching it rain when he walked into my office without knocking. The only light in the room was my desk lamp with the Tiffany glass lamp shade that Susan had insisted would dress up the whole office. When I heard the door open, I swung around and opened the right hand drawer of the desk. I kept a spare gun in there and it was always nice to have it handy. Deegan stood in the doorway with the light from the corridor behind him. He wore an oversized, lightweight trench coat with the collar up, and a gray tweed cap.
'I'm not here for trouble,' Deegan said. I waited.
'We need to talk,' he said.
I nodded at the chair in front of my desk. He unbuttoned his coat and sat down and stuck his legs out straight in front of him. I took a second glass out of the left hand drawer and put it on the desk and poured some Glenfiddich into it. Deegan leaned forward and took the glass and sniffed it and took a sip. He swallowed, and nodded his head.
'Single malt,' he said.
We were quiet, the rain blurring down outside the window behind me.
'You're trouble,' Deegan said.
'Nice of you to notice.'
'Can't seem to get you out of the fucking way,' Deegan said.
I nodded. We both sipped some scotch. Sipped thoughtfully, an ounce and a quarter of Glenfiddich will last half an evening.
'So what are we going to do about this mess?' Deegan said.
'I been giving that some thought,' I said.
'Those were good people went after Dwayne,' Deegan said. 'Brooklyn guys. Guy Dwayne's size, you want the best.'
I waited. Deegan would get to where he was going.
'You do them?' he said. I shook my head. 'Black guy?'
I nodded.
'Gerry said he was good,' Deegan said.
He was holding the glass of scotch in both hands in front of his chin, elbows resting on the arms of the chair. He rubbed his chin absently on the rim. I could hear the faint scratch of his beard against it. Deegan looked like a guy who would have to shave twice a day.
'Guys Gerry sent me for you didn't work out too good either,' he said.
'Boston guys,' I said.
Deegan nodded. He drank a little scotch. I pushed the bottle across the desk and he leaned forward and poured himself another inch, and pushed the bottle back across the desk to me. He leaned back in his chair again.
