21
RANDY DIDN'T SEE A PROBLEM withthe priest. He gives it to his brother to bring suit, then months of depositions, court dates set and postponed for one reason or another, by then, or long before then, the guy's back in Africa. Debbie, he knew he could handle. If he got sixty-seven grand out of her once he'd forgotten it was that much he could give her a few grand to calm her down and then play with her, massage her ego, laugh at her jokes, even get her back if he felt like it.
Ideally, the Mutt would get to Vincent this week, before Saturday, and that would be the end of the eight- grand payoffs, at least till Tony realized it wasn't coming in and by then he could be in some federal lockup doing twenty years. That was the hope. Randy believed the Mutt would make good and whack Vincent out because he was motivated, he hated Vincent; but the Mutt, being stupid, would probably fuck up and get caught, by either the mob or the cops, more likely by the mob, unless he made the hit and took off, no time for goodbyes, or to get paid. Randy did not believe the Mutt would try to implicate him. If he did, Randy was ready to act astonished and simply deny it.
He sat at his desk in soft light reading the latest review of the restaurant in Hour Detroit. Ambience, excellent. Service, very good.
Food… and the Mutt walked in.
'You want to see me?'
'Hey, come on in and sit down. How's it going?'
'Okay.'
The Mutt closed the door, came over to the desk and took a seat.
'Anything you want to tell me?'
'About what?'
'You're getting ready to do the deed, aren't you?'
'Oh. Yeah, you bet. What I'm doing is working on a plan, decide where's the best place to do it. I was thinking go to his house, only his wife'd be there, and I don't want to have to do her, too. If you know what I mean.'
'I know exactly what you mean,' Randy said, maintaining a soft approach now that he and this redneck retard were pals.
'I'd like to catch him like someplace having his supper.'
'You don't mean here.'
'No, some Italian restaurant, he's sitting there, has his napkin stuck in his collar-'
'A mom-and-pop place,' Randy said, 'that's been in the neighborhood for generations. Known for good basic pasta dishes, checkered tablecloths. Like in the movies.'
'Yeah, like that.'
'There aren't any,' Randy said. 'Detroit, for some reason, is not big on good Italian restaurants. There're a few… No, I was thinking the best way to do it, you follow him. You see him get in and out of his car. The right moment comes, you pop him and drive away.
You do have a car?'
'I got the pickup I drove here. She needs a new batt'ry, I'm always having to jump her. What I been thinking of doing, go to Sears and get a new one.'
'Or you could steal a car, just for the job. I understand,' Randy said, 'that's often the way it's done. You know, in case someone gets the license number.'
'That's a good idea.'
'Have you ever stolen a car?'
'When I was a kid they called it joyriding. Yeah, we'd get us a car and go on up to Indianapolis and drive around in it. But what I was thinking,' the Mutt said, 'I could get me a driver. It would, you know, free me up. I wouldn't have to find a place to park when I go to do it.'
'Ask one of your buddies?'
'I don't have none here. But I know a fella's done some time'd go for it.'
Randy didn't like the sound of that one bit. He said, 'Mutt, I can't see you needing help, like it's your first time and all,' Randy getting a hint of down-home drawl going. 'Hell, you get a pistol and shoot the guy. Do a drive-by, you don't need an assistant for that.'
'I could.'
'You did get hold of a pistol?'
'Not yet, but I will. I'm told there's nothing to getting a gun in this town. '
Randy said, 'Mutt? Let's do it before this Saturday. Okay?'
'Yeah, well, I'll get on it.' The Mutt stood up and was about to go; he turned to Randy again. 'You never said when you're gonna pay me.'
Randy looked a little surprised, to show innocence. 'I thought when the job's done. Isn't that the way?'
The Mutt said, 'Well, most times'
Randy stopped him. 'Mutt, hold it.'
The door opened and Vincent Moraco walked in. Mutt stepped aside as the capo approached the desk and Randy said, 'Hey, Vincent, we were just talking about you.'
Debbie was in the kitchen making grilled cheese sandwiches when the phone rang. Not hers, the one on the wall, so she let Terry get it, Terry in the library with the paper open looking up movies. A few minutes passed before he came in the kitchen.
'That was Fran. They're staying another day, be home tomorrow at four.'
Debbie said, 'What about the bed?'
'That's right, we sleep in it we'll have to do the sheets again.'
Debbie said, 'What if that's all we do, sleep in it, and in the morning we make the bed, good as new.'
'Not do the sheets.'
'Who's gonna know?'
'Just sleep in it.'
'Sweetheart, we can fuck anywhere.'
Now Vincent was in the chair at the desk facing Randy and the Mutt was over sitting under Soupy Sales. Randy thought Vincent might ask what they were saying about him, and then thought, No, not Vincent, he would never show he cared. No, he started right in.
'Tony wants you to give him two hundred fifty as a loan.' He held up the papers. 'You sign these, so Tony can turn around and give the check to the girl you fucked over. Tony says let that be a lesson to you.'
Randy narrowed his eyes, but it didn't change anything. 'How did she get to him?'
'With the priest. They got a religious shakedown going. She made the pitch.'
'She tried the same game on me, I threw them out. She sold Tony Amilia?'
'He likes little broads like that.'
'Come on he's seventy-five years old.'
'Hey. Tony wants it, he gets it.'
'Okay. He makes out a check to this fund for the little orphans in Africa, writes it off… When does Tony repay the loan?'
'It's in here.' Vincent dropped the papers on the desk. 'You sign all three copies.'
Randy looked at the papers, a promissory note, without picking them up. 'Twenty-five years 'at a rate agreed upon-' I'm giving it to him.'
'With a check,' Vincent said, 'out of one of your personal accounts.'
'I don't have that much in one place.'
'Write the check.'
