“No, Mr. Falk. Just trying to help here.”
Cody looked at the clock on the wall above my head. He looked out at his backyard. He looked at me. Then he slammed his palm on the floor several times and screamed, “Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me!”
He dropped to his knees and kicked out the cabinet door below the butcher block.
He reared forward like an animal, the tendons stretched on his neck, and screwed his face up into mine until the tips of our noses touched.
“You,” he said, “are going to die. You understand, prick?”
I didn’t say anything.
Cody butted his forehead into mine. “I asked if you understood.”
I gave him a flat and bloodless glare.
He butted his forehead into mine a second time.
I bit down against the sharp stabs of pain filling the front of my skull and still said nothing.
Cody slapped my face and then scrambled to his feet. “What if we kill him right here? Right now?”
Leonard held out his huge hands. “Evidence, Mr. Falk. Evidence. Let’s say one person knew or even suspects he was coming here and then he turns up dead. A forensics team, right? They’ll find pieces of him in places you never thought they’d go. Cracks in the running boards you didn’t even know existed will have chunks of his skull in it.”
Cody leaned against the butcher block. He ran his palm over his mouth several times and breathed heavily through his nostrils.
Eventually, he said, “So we keep him here till dark. That’s your advice.”
Leonard nodded. “Yeah, sir.”
“And then take him where?”
Leonard shrugged. “I know a dump in Medford will do the trick.”
“A dump?” Cody said. “Like someone’s shitty apartment? Or an honest-to-God dump?”
“An honest-to-God dump.”
Cody gave it a lot of thought. He circled the butcher block a few times. He ran some water in the sink, but instead of running his hand through it and wiping his face, he just leaned over and sniffed it for a while. He stretched until the muscles in his lower back cracked. He looked at me several times and chewed his inner cheek.
“All right,” he said eventually. “I can live with this.” He smiled at Leonard. “But it’s cool, isn’t it?”
“What’s that, sir?”
He clapped his hands together hard, then clenched them into fists and raised them over his head. “This! Leonard, we have a chance to do something monumental. Monu-fucking-mental!”
“Yes, sir. In the meantime?” Leonard leaned into the butcher-block counter and looked as if a semi had settled across his shoulder blades.
Cody waved his hand. “In the meantime, I don’t fucking care. He can watch pornos with us in the living room. I’ll cook eggs and spoon-feed him. Fatten the calf and all that.”
Leonard looked like he didn’t have a clue what Cody was babbling about, but he nodded and said, “Yes, sir. Good idea.”
Cody dropped to his knees in front of me. “You like eggs, Pat?”
I met his smiling eyes. “Did you rape her?”
He cocked his head to the left, stared off into space for a bit. “Who?”
“You know who, Cody.”
“What do you think?”
“I think you’re the most logical suspect or I wouldn’t be here.”
“She wrote me letters,” he said.
“What?”
He nodded. “You didn’t know that part. She’d write me letters asking me why I wasn’t getting her signals. Wasn’t I man enough?”
“Bullshit.”
He giggled and slapped his thigh. “No, no. That’s the great part.”
“Letters,” I said. “Why would Karen Nichols write letters to you, Cody?”
“Because she wanted it, Pat. She was dying for it. She was as cock hungry as they all are.”
I shook my head.
“Don’t believe me? Ha! Hang on, I’ll get them.”
He stood up and handed the gun to Leonard.
Leonard said, “What am I supposed to-?”
“Shoot him if he moves.”
“He’s tied up.”
“I pay your freight, Leonard. Don’t fucking back-talk me.”
Cody walked out of the kitchen and then his footsteps charged up the stairs.
Leonard placed the gun on the counter and sighed.
“Leonard,” I said.
“Don’t talk to me, bitch.”
“He’s warming to this idea. He’s not going to-”
“I said-”
“-chill out by noon, if that’s what you’re hoping.”
“-shut your fucking hole.”
“Killing someone, he’s thinking, how ballsy. A new
“Shut
“And when he does, Leonard, I mean come on, you think he’s smart enough not to get caught?”
“Lotta people don’t.”
“Sure,” I said, “but this is strictly A ball around here. He’ll fuck up. Take a kill trophy home with him, tell a friend or a stranger in a bar. And then what, Leonard? You think he’s going to stand tall when the DA shows up?”
“I’m telling you to shut the-”
“He’ll roll like a bowling ball on a ski slope, Leonard. Give you up like he’s buttering toast.”
Leonard picked up the gun, pointed it at me. “Shut up or I’ll do you myself. Right now.”
“Okay,” I said. “Just one thing, Leonard. Just-”
“Stop saying my name!” He lowered the gun, put his hands to his eyes again.
“-one more thing, and I’m not shitting around here. I got some ugly, ugly friends. I mean, pray the cops get to you first.”
He raised his head, pulled his hands from his eyes. “You think I’m scared of your friends?”
“I think you’re starting to be. And that’s smart, Leonard. You ever done time?”
He shook his head.
“Bullshit. My guess is you’ve even run with a crew or two. Strictly North Shore, I’m guessing.”
He said, “Fuck off. You think your shit talk can scare me? I got a black belt, motherfucker. I’m a seventh degree-”
“You could be the bastard love child of Bruce Lee and Jackie Chan, Leonard, and Bubba Rogowski and his crew will eat you up like rats on a bag of ground beef.”
Leonard picked up the gun again when he heard Bubba’s name. He didn’t point it. He just gripped it.
Upstairs, Cody’s footsteps hammered the floor as he ran back and forth in the bedroom.
Leonard blew air out his rubbery lips. “Bubba Rogowski,” he whispered, then cleared his throat. “Nope. Never heard of him.”
“Sure, Leonard,” I said. “Sure.”
Leonard looked at the gun in his hand. Then looked into my face.
“Really, I-”
“’Member the Billyclub Morton hit, Leonard? Come on. He was a North Shore guy.”
Leonard nodded, and his left cheekbone developed a small tic.
