Bad Move

Finally, Greenway said, “I have a question, if you don’t mind.”

“Shoot,” I said, then regretted the choice of word as I caught my reflection in the window. I saw a man who looked remarkably like me, but holding a gun, trying to put some fear into a couple of slimeballs. I had no idea who this person was. And I could not believe that he was composing sentences in his head that contained words like “slimeballs.”

“Just who the hell are you and what business of yours is any of this?”

It was a good question, no doubt about it. And one that would take, if you were to do it properly, too long to answer. I said, “I sort of stumbled into all this, but now that I’m in it, I need to know as much about it as I can before I get out. My questions will probably be easier to answer than Mr. Benedetto’s. What’s he going to think when he gets out here and finds the two of you handcuffed, the ledger missing, the negatives gone, plus a few thousand in cash-”

“That money meant nothing,” Greenway said.

“I guess not,” I said. “Since it was fake. Is that the machine”-I pointed to the one outside Greenway’s office door-“you used to print the stuff?”

“Look,” said Greenway, “it wasn’t something we did very often. Just when our cash flow was a bit down. Stefanie, I don’t know what was up with her, sounds like she printed up a ton of the stuff before she decided to make a run for it.”

Carpington said, “Fake? You were printing fake money?”

Greenway rolled his eyes. “No, Roger. We were printing real money. We got a franchise from the Mint.”

“So you were paying me in counterfeit funds?” He was aghast. Imagine, buying a councilman’s vote with bogus cash. Was that ethical?

“Not all of it, just the odd bill here and there. Look, you got to buy stuff, people accepted it, what are you worried about?”

“Why was Stefanie making a run for it?” I asked.

Greenway almost looked sad. “I don’t know. I treated her well. Gave her one of our houses to live in.”

“She needed a place to conduct your business. She fucks Carpington on your orders, he’s happy and votes for your development. Plus, there’s the added bonus of the hidden camera, so if he blabs, you’ve got something to show his wife and kids.”

If Carpington had had his hands free, he’d have put them over his eyes and wept. I turned to him as another set of headlights swept past the window. Earl was hiding the second car.

“Isn’t that about it, Roger? A little sex, a little cash, plus the occasional romp in the trunk with Quincy, and you’d vote any way he wanted you to?”

He nodded, his eyes moistening.

“Plus, you knew about Spender, that Rick smashed his skull in down by the creek. And if Greenway could order Rick to do that, he could just as easily order him to do it to you.”

Carpington swallowed hard. “I’ve been scared out of my mind for so long. I took the money, I, I slept with Stefanie. But I swear to God, I just wanted it all to end somehow, if I could just find a way that it wouldn’t ruin me and my family, or hurt my chances of being elected mayor.”

Where was this guy from? Neptune?

“You know, Roger,” I said, “I think this is the sort of thing, that if it all came out in the open, might work against you in a mayoral campaign.”

“Listen,” said Greenway, thinking, looking for a way out. “What if we give you Rick?”

“Pardon?”

“We say it was Rick who did these things, killed Spender and Stefanie, but we didn’t know anything about it.”

“So you know he killed Stefanie, too?”

Greenway shrugged. “You’ve seen him in action. You know what a hothead he is. Who wouldn’t believe it was him? But you leave us out of it. You let us go about our business. I could make it worth your while.”

I said, “Would you fix my shower? And do something about the caulking around my bedroom window?”

“Of course. We’d make everything right. I’ll send in a team. We’ll fix your place up, give you some more upgrades you opted not to get when you purchased. What about a pool? We could put in a pool for you.”

“Well,” I said, appearing to consider his offer, “it’s awfully tempting, but I’d really rather see the whole lot of you go to jail.”

“No!” Carpington said. “Let me make a deal! I’ll tell you everything! Just don’t let them send me to jail! I wasn’t the only one either! There are other politicians, from other towns.”

“Roger!” Greenway bellowed. “Shut up!” And he rose up, a somewhat wobbly action since he didn’t have his hands available to push himself out of the chair, and started coming around the desk toward Carpington. It looked as though he was going to try to kick him. “Shut up!”

“Sit down!” I shouted. I mean, really shouted. I thought, for a moment, that maybe Earl had returned, that it was him giving the order, but then realized the two words had come from me. I raised the gun, pointed it in Greenway’s general direction, but not right at him, still not trusting myself.

Just as well, too. It went off.

My best guess is, when I shouted, every muscle in my body tensed, including the one in the finger that was on the trigger. I thought squeezing off a shot would require more pressure, more deliberation, but nope. One moment, things in the office were, relatively speaking, calm, and the next, there was a huge hole in Greenway’s desk.

“Oh shit, I’m so sorry,” I said.

Greenway jumped back, fell into the wall. Carpington screamed. The door burst open. Earl shouted, “What’s happened?”

I stood there, gun in hand but pointed now at the floor, and said, “I shot the desk.”

I felt I had not made sufficient apologies to Greenway. “Really, I’m very sorry, I’ll pay for any damages. I really didn’t mean for that to happen.”

Earl took the gun from my hand. “Looks like I got back here just in time.”

I surrendered the weapon without hesitation. Earl took the half-inch of cigarette from between his lips, exhaled, and said to Greenway and Carpington, “I think I just saved your lives.”

“Thank you,” Carpington said. “Thank you so much.”

To me, Earl said, “Their cars are around back, and I was just about to hide my truck when I heard the shot. You about done here?”

“I think so,” I said.

Outside, we heard the familiar sound of tires crunching on gravel. Earl slipped back into the main part of the office that was still in darkness and peered through the blinds.

“What kind of car does Rick drive?” he called out.

“A little sedan,” I said. “Import, four-door.”

“No, this ain’t Rick then. It’s a big Beemer. Seven series.”

Greenway said, quietly, as though resigned to some terrible fate, “That would be Mr. Benedetto.”

“The more the merrier,” said Earl, who moved into position behind the door. When the first knock came, Earl swung the door in, held the barrel of the gun to Benedetto’s nose, and said, “Won’t you come in?”

He had a larger-than-life quality about him. Tall, broad, heavyset, immaculately dressed in a dark suit and expensive overcoat. Silver hair, wire-rimmed glasses, big bushy eyebrows. His mouth was wide and turned down at the ends. He didn’t blink when Earl shoved the gun in his face, and he stepped into the Valley Forest Estates sales offices calmly.

Greenway called out from his office, “Mr. Benedetto! I can explain! We’re just having a bit of a situation here.”

I stepped out of his office. “Hi, Mr. Benedetto. I’ve heard a lot about you. And my friend and I would love to stay and chat, but we’ve pretty much finished conducting our business here.”

While Earl kept the gun on him, I went back to Greenway. “Where’s my phone?” I asked him.

For a moment, my question didn’t seem to register. Then he recalled grabbing it at the construction site. “Desk drawer,” he said. “Top right.”

I looked inside and sure enough, there it was. I slipped it into my jacket pocket. “Good night, gentlemen,” I