'A bowie knife,' I said.
'I am a Cree Indian,' he said. 'The blood of Cree warriors runs in my veins.'
'I'd forgotten that,' I said. 'You planning to scalp Stephano?'
'Get a chance and I'll cut his throat,' Z said. 'I'm good with a knife.'
I nodded.
'Time to plow,' I said.
'Plow?' Z said.
'Just an expression, I heard.'
We finished our coffee. I paid the bill for breakfast and we left. There was no sign of Stephano and friends on Newbury Street. I looked at Z; he looked happy.
I lowered my voice on the assumption that all warriors had deep voices.
'It is a good day to die,' I said.
He glanced at me.
'For who?' he said.
'Old Indian saying.'
'Paleface see-um too many movies,' Z said.
57
I HAD a small idea.
It was late afternoon and raining hard when Z and I got in my car in the Public Alley behind my building, and pulled out onto Arlington Street. We circled the block and went down Berkeley Street to Storrow, into the tunnel under the city, southbound, and exited in time to cross Atlantic Ave and drive into South Boston. Stephano and his colleagues picked us up on Arlington Street and stayed close behind us, even bumping the rear of my car a little at the Boylston Street stoplight. I ignored them.
Jumbo's movie was shooting in the big alley between the Design Center and the Black Falcon Terminal in Southie. And when we parked near the set, Stephano and friends parked near us, and made a show of walking behind us onto the set.
So far, so good.
Jumbo was in his trailer, having lunch. Z and I went in without knocking. Don came to his feet, and put his hand inside his coat.
'Hey,' he said. 'You can't come in here.'
'Can, too,' I said.
I hit Don with a left hook and a right cross and knocked him over backward. It stunned him, and while he was recovering, Z bent over and took the gun from inside Don's coat and put it in the side pocket of his own raincoat.
'What the fuck is this,' Jumbo said.
He was eating a sub sandwich and drinking champagne.
'Want to tell you some stuff, ask you some questions, and point something out,' I said.
'What's that fucking Indian want?' Jumbo said.
He was trying to talk and eat his sub at the same time, and was making a mess of it. Don was sitting on the floor, recovering.
'Here's what I know,' I said to Jumbo. 'I know that Dawn Lopata was strangled to death on your bed, naked, with a scarf tied around her neck.'
Jumbo looked at Z.
'The fucking Indian tell you that?' Jumbo said. 'He's a lying sack of shit. Always has been.'
'And that you had him dress her, and get rid of the scarf, before anyone called for help,' I said.
'Fucking snitch,' Jumbo said. 'You think you can trust a fucking loser like Z?'
'Had you called for help right away,' I said, 'maybe she wouldn't have died.'
'Bullshit,' Jumbo said.
'And maybe you should go to jail for that,' I said.
'Fuck you,' Jumbo said, and drank some champagne.
'Good point,' I said.
I walked to the window of the trailer. And leaned against the wall beside it.
I said, 'How'd she die, Jumbo?'
'How the fuck do I know,' he said, and stuffed more of his sandwich into his mouth. 'I already told everybody