“I suppose I can understand that. After what happened with Kimmy. And Collie. Talk about a one-two punch. Still, I wish you’d stuck around. I could’ve used a good man like you.”
“I never would’ve fit in as a member of a crew.”
“What member? You could’ve been my lieutenant.”
It was empty talk, but I smiled graciously. “Still not my thing. You know that.”
“I suppose I do. But anyway that’s in the past. Something else isn’t. Listen, Terry, we have a problem.”
It didn’t surprise me. It was only blind luck that I’d gotten up for an early run. Wes must’ve been on the street in front of our house this morning and shadowed me to the lake. I was angry with myself that I hadn’t spotted the Mercedes behind me. I had too much on my mind.
Danny tried to nail me down with a glare that was equal parts indignation and disappointment. It was another trick he’d stolen from his father.
I was committed to playing dumb. “How’s that even possible? I’ve been home one day and you’ve already got a problem with me?”
“Not with you. Your uncle. He owes me money.”
“Which one?”
“Malamute.”
“You mean he beat the bank at one of your private big-gun card games.”
“Yeah.”
“And you let him play for what reason?”
“Someone thought it would be accommodating to extend a professional courtesy.”
“Who would that someone be?”
He pulled his chin in. “Me. So you see the problem.”
“Not yet. Was he dealing?”
“What difference does that make?”
“Was he?”
“Of course not.”
“Then he wasn’t cheating.”
I was talking out my ass. There were a hundred ways to cheat at cards without ever laying a hand on the deck. Mal could have wicould havloaded his jacket, palmed high cards out of dead hands and hidden them until they were needed. He could have marked the deck with his thumbnail in ways nobody else ever would have spotted.
“He doesn’t cheat if he’s not dealing?”
“Not if he’s alone,” I said.
“Explain that.”
“He and my uncle Grey can pull all kinds of grift if they’re partnered. Their cross chatter alone can keep the marks distracted enough that they can slip a full house in. But they need each other. Either one of them alone, without the deck in his hands, isn’t cheating.”
“I’m out almost forty g’s.”
“That’s why they call it gambling, Danny.”
He studied me and I made sure he saw exactly what I wanted him to see. A liar who could lie and never be found out but who,
“I’m not sure if I believe you.”
“I really don’t give a shit.”
“Don’t talk to me that way, Terry.”
You had to play Danny Thompson with a soft touch but not too soft. I could sense his insecurities still running wild inside him. He owned the shop and had men who would cave if he so much as cast an irate glance in their direction. But for all the old-friend bullshit he’d been tossing around I knew he also had to hate me, at least a little. I remembered when his father used to slap the hell out of him with his ham-hock hands. Senior had worn a diamond pinky ring that would sometimes catch Danny across the cheek and open him up like a razor slash. If I didn’t go hard, Danny would run me to ground.
“I might have to come by and talk to Mal,” he said.
“Is that how you run the show now, Danny? You invite old men to play in the game, then you muscle them if they beat you?”
“If they’re cheating.”
“You’d better be sure if you come after my family.”
“If I was sure, we wouldn’t be having this discussion. You’d be at the cemetery saying your goodbyes to Mal.”
Big Dan never would’ve made such a threat. He might’ve popped somebody in the back but he never showed his hand.
Danny at least had the good sense to appear sorry for his strong-arm tactics. “Times are tougher than when my old man was chief of this crew.”
“I doubt that, but you play the game however you like. I’m out.”
“You’re not out. You’ll never be out. You Rands stick together, don’t you?”
“Not always.”
“Seems like it. You even went to visit your brother.”
News traveled fast on the circuit. I figured JFK’s reputation hadn’t been the only thing holding his men back from bracing Mal this morning. Danny wanted to get a look at me too, see if I might roll over or become a problem.
“He asked me to visit,” I said.
“Why do you care what a child-killing prick asks you tohe asks you do?”
“Because he’s my brother.”
“Is that supposed to be an answer?”
“As much of one as you’re going to get out of me.”
I stood. From the lounge, Danny’s men kept their attention focused on me until JFK lumbered to his feet. Then they watched the dog. They tried not to appear worried.
Wes stepped out of the kitchen carrying a plate with six or seven cooked burgers on it. I said, “Come on, Wes. We’re leaving now.”
With that thin smile still hanging in place, Danny Thompson openly appraised me. He thumbed his widow’s peak. His eyes were hard but bright, his skin ashen as he sweated out last night’s liquor. If nothing else I wanted him to know that I really was sad that Big Dan was gone, but I didn’t know how to make him believe it. A part of me felt sorry for him. I could imagine how shaken I was going to be the day my father died and what kind of lasting effect it would have on me.
But all I said was, “Don’t hang around at my curb anymore, Danny. You might get picked up for loitering.”
“See you soon, Terry.”
“Sure.”
I turned my back on him. Wes had fed the burgers to JFK and JFK’s nub of a tail was twitching, his muzzle pink from the juice. It was a good enough image to leave behind. I marched out with the dog heeling and Wes trailing behind us, his hands covered in grease.
I opened the back door of the Mercedes and JFK hopped in. His knees were still holding up but he looked run- down and overfed. He circled once and with a contented snort fit his chin between his paws and fell asleep.
Wes put on his wraparound shades, got behind the wheel, and asked, “You want me to take you back to the lake?”
“No.”
“You want to go to Kimmy’s place?”
“Just take me home, all right?”
“Okay, Terry.”
We said nothing the rest of the ride. When we pulled up in front of the house, I asked, “Chub still got a garage?”
“Yeah. A different one from before. This one’s bigger and on the other side of town.”
