The grin was apparently lost on him.
“You don’t drop it, you ain’t gonna be living.”
“Look,” I told him, “how about if I keep on investigating the thing that I’m investigating, which has nothing to do with you, anyway, and if anyone mentions your name, I’ll just stick my fingers in my ears and shake my head. Whaddya say, Manny, does that work for you?”
His face suddenly contorted and got very red. He reached into his suit coat and pulled out a large pistol and pointed it directly at my head, his hand shaking slightly.
And then I saw it. Manny was a psychopath. I’d seen the look before. I knew he’d kill me in a second, nice leather seats or not. I took a deep breath and said, “Maybe I didn’t phrase that correctly. What I meant to say was that I need to reassess my current employment situation.”
If he heard me, he gave no notice. And the other occupants of the car didn’t move or speak. They just sat there. After a minute, Manny slowly lowered the gun, then put it away. His face lost some of the redness.
“You’re just a dickface private eye,” he said. “Get out. You been warned.”
I got out, and the limo pulled away. I checked the license number, but it probably wasn’t necessary. I was pretty sure Denny would be able to identify Manny for me, anyway. Manny seemed to be one of a kind.
Chapter 21
“Manny the Maniac. Oh, yeah, I know about Manny.”
Denny and I were in the Starbucks near my place. I’d called him after I’d done my five miles following the conversation with Manny. At first, I wasn’t going to do the run, but then I figured, what the heck, I was dressed for it, and I could certainly use the stress-reduction benefits. Now I was sitting across from Denny, at a little table by the window, watching the world go by while we discussed a madman.
“Manny Poston,” Denny said. “Been hanging around this city’s underbelly for most of his thirty-five or so years.”
“Does he work for someone?” I asked.
“Used to work for Timmy O’Rourke.”
“Didn’t O’Rourke used to be sort of the head of organized crime around here?”
“Well,” said Denny, “first off, you gotta remember that, in Pittsburgh, the term organized crime is pretty much of an oxymoron. For a while, Timmy was as much in charge of things as anyone else was, I guess. Mostly the usual stuff, prostitution, loan-sharking, protection payoffs, etc. But he went away a little over a year ago on a federal racketeering charge. That left a vacuum at the top.”
“And in stepped Manny?” I asked.
“Manny didn’t exactly step in,” said Denny. “When Timmy left on his all-expenses-paid federal vacation, there were three guys trying to position themselves for the top job. Manny, Larry Ricardo, and Dicky Willis. Everybody in the anti-crime unit downtown was trying to figure out who would forge which alliances with whom, and how long it would take before someone seemed to have the upper hand, and so forth, and within two days, Larry and Dicky disappeared.”
“Disappeared?”
“Yep, just like that. No sign of them since.”
“Did we cast a suspicious eye on our boy Manny?”
“Oh, there’s no doubt he was responsible, but we couldn’t link him to the disappearances in any way. My guess is that, before anyone had a chance to make any plans or even think about protecting themselves, Manny just found each one of those guys and whacked him, probably dumped the bodies in one of the rivers.”
“Think he did it himself, huh?”
“Probably,” said Denny. “Manny’ll occasionally send some of the troops to do a job, but more often than not, he does it himself, partly because he’s trying to show what happens to anybody who crosses him, but mostly because he just flat out enjoys hurting people. Manny’s dumb as shit, JB, but he’s mean as hell, too. We haven’t been able to get him on anything yet, but we will. He’s too stupid not to get caught. I’ve told my people, anytime they’re investigating a crime and they see signs of residual stupidity, think Manny.”
“So how’d he end up on my doorstep?” I asked.
“Hard to tell,” said Denny. “Obviously, somebody, or something, brought you to his attention. You got any ideas?”
“Not off the top of my head. I mean, the list of people who know about me and this case is pretty short, and I can’t imagine what anyone has to gain by siccing Manny on me. Of course, it’s early in the game. Lots of stuff going on that I’m not aware of yet, I’m sure. Plus, it could be just what Manny said. Maybe I inadvertently stumbled close to some business he’s involved in, and that’s how I came to his attention.”
“Perhaps,” said Denny. “What if you had to name one person, someone who just hasn’t seemed right to you?”
Denny was playing cop now. It was something he was good at, and I didn’t mind playing along.
“Okay,” I said, “Elias Chaney. There’s definitely something there that I’m not getting yet. On the surface, he appears to be cooperating with me, but then when I actually try to do my job, he manages to express his disapproval. Nothing overt, mind you, and never actually put into words, but I can tell that he’s not happy having me around.”
“All right,” said Denny, “I’ll see if I can find out anything about the firm for you. Meanwhile, I know you’re not going to drop the case, but at least be extra careful, and maybe start carrying your gun.”
“Not a bad idea,” I agreed.
After Denny left, I sat in the coffee shop a bit longer, trying to get some sort of handle on this thing. What had started out as a simple mugging had evolved into a possible murder of a philandering husband whose employer seemed to be lying to me, at least about some aspects of the case.
