“I got to think on it,” said Foreman. “Come down to the basement while I take care of him. You and your girl can kick back and shoot some pool, or just watch some TV, while I’m working things out with the fat man.”
The young man grinned sheepishly. “Can I get one of them
“THAT didn’t take long,” said Strange.
“I followed your scent,” said Quinn. “Fill me in.”
“Nothin’ for a while now.” Strange looked at the house. “Dude with muscles, between your age and mine, lives there. He met McKinley and his boy out front. That’s their Benz, the one followed me the other day. The Toyota with the chrome on it belongs to a young man, has a nice-looking girl with him.”
“And?”
“Muscled-up dude gave the young man some cash and they all went into the house. I moved around some and saw McKinley on the back deck. Came back here to meet you so you wouldn’t get lost. You remember the path you took?”
“I dropped some bread crumbs on the ground on my way in, just in case.” Quinn reached for Strange’s binoculars, took them, and looked at the house through the glasses. “You get what you needed from Stokes?”
“Yeah. Right after I talked to her I went to the post office and mailed the tape to Ives. Then I drove over to Yuma, the six hundred block, and watched this shit-hole-lookin’ house where McKinley hangs.”
“Stokes gonna be okay?”
“Long as we keep an eye on McKinley.” Strange gave Quinn the details of McKinley’s assault on Devra Stokes.
“Guy’s a real gentleman.”
“Man does that to a woman is a coward. I’d like to get him alone and see how he holds up.”
“Maybe you’ll get your chance.”
Strange looked Quinn over. “Nice work finding that boy Donut.”
“Like your boy Stefanos said, just hang out and listen.” He handed the binoculars back to Strange. “What do you think’s up with all this?”
“They got me all curious now,” said Strange. “Let me get closer and take the plate numbers off that Caddy and the Avalon. You got a pen on you, something to write on?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ll read the numbers out to you, unless you want to read ’em off to me.”
“Your eyes are better than mine.”
“I know that, man. Just didn’t want you feeling like my lackey, is all.”
When Strange had gotten the numbers off the plates closer in, they moved back to their spot in the woods.
“Now let’s move around to that place I found before,” said Strange. “Get a better look at that deck.”
WHILE the young man shot some pool, smoked a cigar, and tried to impress his girl, Foreman put some red felt over one of those trays he used to rest his food on while he watched TV. Then he laid the rest of his inventory, the Sig Sauer.45, the Heckler amp; Koch.9, and the Calico M-110, atop the tray. He placed bricks of corresponding ammunition above the guns, a couple of beers with pilsner glasses on the side, and two cigars laid out just so. Presentation was everything in this business. It was his trademark, setting him apart from the other arms dealers in town.
“Don’t be drinkin’ none of my beer while I’m gone,” said Foreman to the young man. “I want you together when you go down to that store.”
“I don’t drink no beer nohow,” said the young man, winking at the girl. “My drink is Cris.”
Foreman could have guessed. These young studio gangsters were all the same. “I won’t be too long, hear?”
Foreman carried the tray up the stairs and out through the sliding doors to the back deck. McKinley had made himself comfortable on one of the deck chairs, came with two others and a lounger, recently purchased at one of those outdoor-furniture stores. Looked like McKinley was testing the weight limit on it, the way the cushion was riding low. Montgomery stood with his back against the wooden rail.
“Here we go,” said Foreman, placing the tray on a circular glass table Ashley had insisted they buy with the set.
McKinley managed to get himself out of the chair. Foreman handed him a cigar and lit it for him, holding the flame so that McKinley could get a good draw. He offered a cigar to Montgomery, who declined. Foreman almost double taked checking out Montgomery’s arms. Boy was a knuckle-draggin’ motherfucker. Wasn’t no mystery why they called him Monkey Mike.
“Let’s see what you got,” said McKinley.
Foreman lifted the Heckler amp; Koch off the tray and handed it butt out to McKinley.
“H and K nine,” said Foreman. “Ten-shot magazine, stainless, got a roughed-up stock so it don’t slip out your hand. German engineering.”
“Like my car.”
“High quality. You know how they do.”
“How much?”
“Seven fifty.”
McKinley returned the gun to Foreman. “Let me see that other one right there.”
Foreman picked up the Sig Sauer. He turned it so it caught the sunlight. He admired it before handing it over, stroking the checkered black grip, making a show of its beauty. He knew McKinley liked the gun and had deliberately waited before giving it to him.
“That’s the deluxe Sig right there,” said Foreman. “Forty-five with the eight-shot magazine. Double action, slide stays open after the last shot so you know to reload. Trigger guard’s squared off, like them combat guns. I got it tricked out with all the options. Nickel slide, and those Siglite sights for the nighttime.”
“Nice,” said McKinley. “What you want for it?”
“Nine hundred, for you.”
“For me? Shit.”
“I could sell you a Davis for a lot cheaper, I guess. I figured, you driving a Mercedes, you don’t want to be carrying the kind of gun be in the glove box of a Neon.”
“True. But that don’t mean I’m gonna take my money and burn it in the street.”
“Nine hundred is damn near close to my cost. And I’m gonna throw in another brick of bullets for you, like I always do.”
“What about another magazine?”
“I got one. But you’re gonna have to purchase that.”
“Just the bullets, then, man.”
McKinley sighted down the barrel, then inspected the piece. The truth was, he knew as little about guns as he knew about cars. But he always ordered the most expensive item on the menu. Man had to show off the rewards of his hard work, otherwise none of it meant shit.
McKinley placed the gun back on the tray. He poured some beer into a pilsner glass and had a long swig. “That young boy downstairs, he makin’ a buy for you today?”
“Yeah, he’s leaving soon.”
“I’m lookin’ for somethin’ on the low-end side. A revolver, maybe, for one of my