description the vic gave, so we grabbed him. We found the vic’s wallet on him but not the gun.”
“He stashed it,” LaGrange said, “in case he got caught.”
“That’s what we figured. We did a show-up, and the victim ID’d the guy, but with no gun the most we could charge him with was simple robbery.”
“He get convicted?”
Ray shook his head. “D.A. dismissed it when the victim-he was from somewhere up north, Chicago, Detroit, something like that-didn’t show up for court.”
“Tourists never show up.”
Ray nodded, acknowledging something that had made working French Quarter robberies so frustrating.
“You think it’s him?” LaGrange asked.
“I know it’s him.”
“If they were wearing masks, how can you be so sure?”
“Because I don’t believe in coincidences.”
“What are you talking about?”
Ray laid Dylan Sylvester’s and Michael Salazaar’s rap sheets side by side, then flipped through them until he found what he was looking for. He laid a finger down on one arrest from each sheet. “They were together two years ago on a crack and gun arrest.” He turned the pages of each record, looking for something else. “And when Dylan was doing his D.O.C. time for armed robbery…”
“Yeah?” LaGrange said, sounding almost interested enough to be a detective.
Ray ran his finger down Salazaar’s rap sheet until he found the right entry. “Scooby was also doing state time.”
“What for?”
“Possession with intent to distribute cocaine.” He tapped the page with his finger. “How much do you want to bet they did their time together?”
“That doesn’t mean they got together and robbed you the other night.”
LaGrange had never been too bright. It was kind of scary thinking he was in the Crime Analysis Section. “There’s more.”
“What?” LaGrange asked.
“All you’ve got to do is complete the circle.” Ray raised one hand and flicked up his index finger. “The other night at the House, an asshole with a spiderweb tattoo on his hand tried to shoot me in the head with a Smith amp; Wesson forty-caliber pistol.” He held up his second finger. “Winky sold that same gun to a guy named Scooby.” Third finger, “Scooby was butt-buddies with Dylan Sylvester.” Fourth finger, “Dylan Sylvester is an armed robber.” The thumb, “Dylan has a spiderweb tattoo on his right hand.”
“It’s all circumstantial, you got no direct-”
“I’m not going to court,” Ray said. “This is between me and them.”
LaGrange raised his eyebrows. “You sure about that?”
“What do you mean?”
“You said you don’t believe in coincidences.”
“Yeah, so?”
“You’re pretty sure you’ve identified two members of the crew, right?”
Ray nodded.
“Are you going to tell the Guidos you know them?”
Ray shook his head. “I arrested these guys years ago. It’s not like we were drinking buddies.”
“You don’t think there’s a connection?”
Something unseen had been tugging at the back of Ray’s mind. Now it was starting to come into focus, but he didn’t want it to. “What connection?”
“Four guys hit the place and you knew two of them.”
“I told you-”
LaGrange held up his hand. “Okay, you don’t know them but you’ve got a past with them. Then right after the robbery, one of them gets whacked standing in his front yard. You see anything funny about that?”
Ray shrugged. “I don’t know.” But that out-of-focus thing that had been tugging at him was getting clearer by the second.
“Then it’s just a coincidence,” LaGrange said.
“Maybe.”
“Then why don’t you tell the Eye-talians about it?”
“I doubt they believe in coincidences either,” Ray said. “I’d end up hanging from a meat hook.”
“You were a good cop, Ray, so think about it. What do you figure the odds are that two guys you arrested several years ago would get together with two other assholes and pull a job at the place where you work, just when you happen to be standing at the front door, which is somewhere you normally can’t even be found?”
Suddenly Ray had a headache. He pressed his fingers against his temples, feeling the need for a cigarette. “I don’t know.”
“What do you think? ” LaGrange insisted.
Head throbbing, Ray turned the possibilities over in his mind but couldn’t come up with an answer that made sense. There was only one thing he was sure about. “I still don’t believe in coincidences.”
Tony barged into Vinnie’s office.
Vinnie sat behind his desk, the telephone stuck in his ear. He glared at Tony. “You ever hear of knocking?”
Tony stopped halfway between the door and Vinnie’s desk, feeling like a kid caught with a girlie magazine. “You want me to go back outside and knock?”
Vinnie gave him a look, one that was supposed to be intimidating, but it looked more stupid than scary, kind of like he had just bitten into a lemon. After a couple seconds of the lemon look, Vinnie waved to a chair. “Much use as you are, I should put you back out on the street collecting the vig.”
Vinnie spent the next fifteen minutes on the phone. Tony knew his boss was dragging it out to make him wait, the last five minutes talking about where’s the best place to get authentic southern Italian food. Finally, Vinnie hung up. He squeezed his forehead like he was fighting a migraine.
Tony said, “What’s going on?”
“Shit, that’s what’s going on, nothing but shit.” He pointed to the phone. “Motherfucker right there. That guy uptown. The one who’s got some of our video poker machines in his place… what’s his fucking name?”
“You talking about George?”
“George, that’s it. I’m talking to him for an hour, I can’t remember his name. Anyway, George’s brother got arrested last night for banging a sixteen-year-old.”
“How old is his brother?”
“How do I know how old his brother is? I don’t even know how old George is.”
“I mean, is his brother a kid?”
Vinnie shook his head. “No, he’s a grown man. George said his brother has got a teenage kid himself.” Vinnie leaned back in his chair. “What a fucking pervert.”
“Boy or a girl?”
“What?”
“Was George’s brother screwing a teenage girl, or was he screwing a boy?”
Vinnie shook his head. “What difference does it make?”
“Some of these girls,” Tony said, “they can doll themselves up to look a lot older than they are. I could see how the guy might have got himself into a situation.”
“Are you some kind of perv, too?”
“I’m just saying… What does he want anyway?”
“What do you think? For me to get his brother out of jail.”
“Why does he think you can get his brother out on a sex beef? That shit hits the newspaper, forget about it.”
“These guys, they seen too many movies. They think we got more power than we actually do. I had the power everybody thinks I got, I’d get shit done just like that.” Vinnie snapped his fingers.
