Tony nodded.
“What the hell was Hector doing out there?” Ray said.
“Looks to me like he was hiding, probably laying low until the heat-”
“Wait a minute,” Ray said. “How did you know he was there?”
Tony glared at Ray. “Don’t interrupt me.”
Ray didn’t say anything.
“You mind if I finish?” Tony said, sounding like the asshole he was.
“Go ahead,” Ray said, biting his tongue on what he really wanted to say, which was Go fuck yourself.
“I told you before, Shane, the street never lies. Everything you need to know is out there. You just got to know where to look. I heard that little fuck Hector was holed up out in the east, so I went looking for him. And guess what? I found him.”
“Too bad you didn’t question him before you killed him.”
“I told you, I didn’t kill him on purpose. I went there to talk to him. But as soon as me and Rocco stepped inside that rat hole he was in, the little piece of shit bolted for the back door. I popped one at him, just trying to wing him, but I guess I missed.”
“Missed?”
“I don’t mean I missed him, missed him. I mean I missed winging him. Must have hit an artery or something, maybe his heart.”
“You went there to talk to him and you accidentally shot him in the heart?”
Tony shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Did he say anything?”
“He didn’t have time.”
Ray shook his head. “We’re supposed to be working toward the same goal here, Tony. I’ve been looking for Hector for two days. But you found him first, and you killed him before he could say anything. Someone with a suspicious mind might think that was a bit too convenient.”
Tony stepped toward Ray and jabbed a finger in his face. “Watch your mouth, Shane, or I’ll close it for you. Just like I did to your little friend Hector.”
“He was the only lead we had.” Ray decided not to tell Tony about Winky or Scooby.
Tony stuck a cigarette in his mouth and lit it with his “Z” lighter. He took a long drag and blew the smoke in Ray’s face. “You must have been a real hotshot detective.”
“We tried not to kill our witnesses.”
“Carlos called me,” Tony said. “He wants to know what you’ve been doing. Looks like I’ll have to tell him you haven’t been doing shit.”
“How did you find Hector?”
“What’s it matter? You couldn’t find him, so I did. Maybe I should have been the detective.”
“You’re a regular Sherlock-fucking-Holmes.”
“You know what your problem is, Shane?”
“No, tell me.”
“The reason all you can do is sit on your ass at the end of the bar for that little chump change we throw at you is because you ain’t go no respect for anybody, and that includes yourself. You’re pathetic.”
“Coming from you, that doesn’t mean a whole lot.”
Tony ignored the gibe. “You remember that song that fat black chick used to sing. R-E-S… P…” Tony waved his hand, dismissing his failed attempt at spelling. “That song that spells out respect.”
“You mean Aretha Franklin, R-E-S-P-E-C-T?”
Tony nodded. “Yeah, whatever. Point is-”
“Otis Redding wrote that song.”
“I don’t give a fuck what jiggaboo wrote it.” Tony’s face started to turn red. “Point I’m making is you don’t know nothing about respect.”
Ray flicked his cigarette butt into an ashtray. “At least I know how to spell it.”
Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Vinnie feels like he owes you, but I don’t. When I’m running this place, you’re going to get what’s coming to you. You can count on that.”
Ray squinted at Tony in mock confusion. “Are you getting promoted?”
“Somebody fucked up. Somebody didn’t want to get his hands dirty running this place, used too much of a laid-back management style. Turns out Vinnie might have to pay back that three hundred large out of his own pocket.”
Ray shrugged. The news surprised him, but he really didn’t care if Old Man Carlos thought his brother had screwed up or not. So long as no one was demanding that he kick in to replace the stolen cash. “Vinnie can afford it.”
Tony snorted. “Vinnie couldn’t afford to buy a grilled cheese sandwich.”
“What are you talking about?” Ray nodded toward the casino floor. “This place is a cash cow. He lives in a penthouse apartment. His brother practically owns New Orleans, the underside of it anyway. Vinnie can afford it.”
“I’m telling you, Vinnie doesn’t have a pot to piss in.”
Ray’s cop instincts told him this was something that might be important. “Why not?”
Tony glanced around the room, making sure no one was close to them. He looked at Ray. When he spoke, his voice was hushed. “That school his boy went to was expensive, big-time expensive. Whatever was left over after that, his wife ran through it like Vinnie had his own printing press.”
Ray nodded toward the money cage and the closed door to the counting room. “Why was there so much cash?”
Tony shrugged, but his expression said he knew more.
“Did you skip a pickup?” Ray asked.
Tony held up a pair of fingers. “We skipped two of them that night.”
“Why?”
“That wasn’t my call.”
Ray stared at Tony. “Whose call was it?”
Tony aimed a finger at the ceiling, toward Vinnie’s penthouse.
“Why?” Ray asked.
Tony shrugged. “I don’t know. Ask him yourself.”
“I will.”
The clock above the stove showed 8:00 PM. Jenny Porter realized she was going to be late for work. She slipped on her slut suit, got it zipped in the back, and was starting to look for her keys when someone knocked on her apartment door.
Looking through the peephole, she saw the top half of a grossly obese man dressed in a suit. She didn’t recognize him, so she shouted through the door, “Who is it?”
Though his voice was muffled, she heard him say, “Ms. Porter, my name is Hiram Gordo.” He was holding a business card up near the peephole. “I represent a group of medical providers. I need to speak with you. It’s quite urgent.”
Now she understood. It was about the money. It was always about the money. “I can’t talk right now. I’m getting ready for work.”
“It’s very important, Ms. Porter,” the fat man said. “It’ll only take a few minutes.”
As Jenny opened the door, Hiram Gordo waddled inside and handed her his card. She took it but didn’t look at it. Gordo gave her a long look, his eyes lingering on her legs. He extended a pudgy hand. “It’s very nice to meet you.”
His hand was cold and clammy, like grabbing hold of a fish. Instead of meeting her eyes, he stared down the front of her blouse. He wouldn’t let go of her hand. Finally, she pulled away from his grasp. Jenny suddenly felt very uncomfortable. “You didn’t buzz, how’d you get in the building?”
He looked at her face for the first time. “I met one of your neighbors who was coming out. After I introduced myself, he let me in.”
She wondered what the point was of having a secured building if anyone off the street could walk in
