he said. “In a nutshell: we’re talking about a knockover, this Friday. Two liquor stores, on opposite ends of Northwest.”
“What’s the payoff?” Polk said.
“Total take? I put it at three hundred Gs.”
“How many men?”
“Six, not counting Weiner.”
“The split?”
“The usual,” Grimes said. “A hundred to me, inclusive of my bankroll-guns, automobiles, anything else. Twenty to Weiner, for logistics. The rest to the six who pull the job. That’s thirty each, for you and your friend.” Grimes grinned. “And something else.”
“Keep talking.”
“The extra twenty. It’s yours when you complete the job.”
“Why so generous?”
“I need you, Polk. I’ve looked at this closely, and it’s as near to a sure thing as you can get. But it’s never all cake.” Grimes pointed over the desk. “You’re good. I want to hedge my bet.”
Polk let it settle. “What if I pass, just take the original twenty?”
Grimes said, “That’s not an option.”
Polk chewed on that for a while. He said, “If I decide to come on board-and I haven’t decided-there’s one more thing.”
“Go ahead.”
“If something goes down-if I don’t make it-Constantine here gets my share. My thirty, and his, and the extra twenty. Agreed?”
“Yes,” Grimes said, against the tightness in the room.
There was a knock on the door, and an entrance. A woman carrying a cup and saucer walked through the room and stopped at the desk.
Constantine took her in: a thirtyish blonde, natural from the looks of her-pale, unblemished complexion and blue, blue eyes. She wore riding jeans and low-heeled calfskin boots, with a chambray shirt tucked into the jeans and a red scarf tucked into the neck of the shirt. The scarf hid most of the neck, but not the best of it, the long swannish curve mat ended at the chiseled chin. There was a freshness in her like newly printed money. Constantine could smell it from his chair, as if a window had been opened in the room.
The woman placed the setup in front of Grimes and ran one slender finger along the edge of the blotter. “Is that all?” she said. “Because I’m about ready for my ride.”
“Yes, sweetheart,” Grimes said, looking suddenly small and boyish behind the desk. “I’m about done here.” He moved his eyes to his guests. “You remember Mr. Polk, don’t you, Delia?”
The woman named Delia gave Polk a polite but disinterested smile. “Of course. Nice to see you again.”
Polk nodded, his eyes fixed on the woman.
Constantine spoke for the first time. “My name’s Constantine,” he said, no longer wishing to remain invisible.
He stood and walked to the desk, where he stretched out his hand. Delia shook it, held on a second longer than necessary, looking him over before she released her grip. Constantine thought he saw something familiar in her eyes, but the sensation passed. The only thing familiar, he decided, was his own desire.
Delia turned and walked from the room. Jackson chuckled under his breath, stroking his sparsely goateed chin as he eyeballed Constantine. The door shut behind the woman, and Constantine returned to his seat.
Grimes had a sip of coffee. He placed the cup back on the saucer, staring once meaningfully at Constantine before he spoke to Polk. “Well,” he said. “What do you think?”
Constantine thought of the money. He pictured it in tightly banded stacks. In the picture, next to the stacks of money, stood the woman. He looked at Polk, and he nodded.
Polk said, “We’ll come to the meeting this afternoon. See what this thing’s all about. I’ll give you my answer then.”
Grimes took a pen from a leather cup and wrote some words down on a green pad. He tore the top sheet off the pad and held it out to Polk. Polk got out of the chair, limped to the desk, and took the paper from Grimes’s hand.
“I’d like you to take care of this,” Grimes said, “before the meeting. Okay?”
Polk read the note, said, “Right,” folded the paper, and put it into his windbreaker. “Let’s go, Connie.”
Constantine joined Polk and the two of them walked from the room. When the door was shut, Valdez pushed off from the wall.
“Mr. Grimes-”
“Save it,” Grimes said, his palm up. “Just save it. I know what I’m doing, understand? You and Gorman, take a walk. And be back for the meeting.”
Valdez and Gorman split. Jackson watched them walk-raggedy-ass motherfuckers, out of the old school-until the door closed behind them. He looked at Grimes.
“You want me gone too, Mr. Grimes?”
“No.” Grimes pulled a white envelope heavy with hundreds from his top drawer and pushed the envelope to the edge of the desk. “Come on over here and have a seat, Jackson,” he said. “I’ve got a little extra something I want done on this one.”
Jackson crossed the room, picked up the envelope. “This have somethin’ to do with the old man?”
“Yes,” Grimes said. “I’ll let you handle it, any way you see fit.”
“So, just get it done, right?”
“That’s right.” Grimes nodded, lowered his eyes to the blotter on the desk. “I think you’ll like it.”
Jackson ran his fingers through the deck of green. He smiled and said, “I think so too.”
Chapter 6
Polk and Constantine took the marble stairs to the foyer, Polk holding the banister for support. Valdez and Gorman had come out behind them. Valdez stood on the landing, his eyes following Constantine, his mouth moving gutturally, his face contorted. Gorman stared over the balcony, his hands dug rigidly into his pockets.
At the bottom of the stairs, by the open doors that led into a library, Polk pulled Constantine aside. Delia sat in an armchair on the opposite end of the foyer, one leg crossed over the other. She looked anxiously at Polk, as if she wanted to speak. Polk caught it, but first turned to Constantine.
“What do you think?” Polk said, keeping his voice low.
“About the woman?”
He frowned and shook his head. “I know what you think about the woman. I’m talking about the job.”
Constantine shrugged. “I’ll listen to what they’ve got to say.”
“All right.” Polk watched Delia get out of the chair and cross the room. “Good.”
Constantine studied Delia’s walk, admired it as she came to a stop in front of them.
“Mr. Polk,” she said, “if you’re on the way out, I’d like you to drop me at the stable. If it’s not an inconvenience.”
Polk smiled. “I’d love to, sweetheart. But I think I’m going to stick around, catch up with the boys upstairs.” He pulled the notepaper and car keys from his windbreaker and handed them both to Constantine. “You don’t mind taking Delia down to the stables, do you Connie? After that, take care of this errand. And meet me back here, two- thirty.”
Constantine pocketed the note and palmed the keys. “I’ll see you then.”
He began to walk for the front door, and Delia followed. Valdez looked down from above and ran his tongue across thick lips. His eyes trailed them to the door.
Out in the yard, Constantine stepped quickly across the driveway toward Polk’s car. Delia trotted a few steps to catch up.
“You in a hurry?” she said.
