“Tell me about it.”
“Listen up,” I said to Sal. “You said you met Victor. Where?”
“You know I can’t—whatcha call—divulge my sources.”
“Cut the crap, will ya?”
“He needed some heavy shit. I gave him a name.”
“What kind of heavy shit?”
“Guns, drugs, explosives—shit like that.”
“And your contact required you to be there?”
“Right. Look, what about that blond of yours, the one on TV driving the van—the real one, not the bullshit picture the FBI showed. You talk to her about me yet?”
“Don’t even,” I said.
“What, I can’t dream? What, I’m not good enough for her? How about you put in a good word for me, ah? I’ll consider it a favor.”
“Do you guys go to school somewhere to learn how to talk like that?”
“Yeah, wise ass. It’s called the friggin’ school of bustin’ heads, and I’m the—whatcha call—headmaster. So, you want my help or what?”
I sighed again and realized I’d been doing a lot of sighing lately. “I’ll mention your interest to the little lady.”
“All I’m askin’.”
“Next chance I get.”
“Ask her nicely.”
“Fine.”
“’Cause you never know.”
“Right.”
“Tell her I’m a man of mystery.”
“For the love of God!” I shouted. A few feet away from me, in the cabin, Quinn did that thing where he sort of smiled. I decided to come at Sal from a different angle.
“Did you happen to catch the hotel bombing in LA?”
“What am I, blind? Everywhere I look that’s all I see on the friggin’ tube. Was that you?”
I sighed again. I should be blowing balloons for a living.
“Sal,” I said, “the hotel bombing, it was DeMeo.”
“What? Joe DeMeo? That’s nuts!”
“I had a meeting with DeMeo this morning. Afterward, I met a hooker. That bomb you saw on TV? She planted it in my room. I found out later she was one of DeMeo’s girls.”
“You sayin’ they blew up that whole goddamn hotel just to kill
“That’s a happy thought,” I said.
“Hey, nothin’ personal.”
“Right,” I said. I got us back on track. “Do you think Victor and DeMeo are working together some way?”
“Why?”
“Victor gave me the hit on Monica Childers. Suddenly the pictures are all over the TV. Turns out Victor hijacked a spy satellite and downloaded the photos. Then Monica’s body goes missing. The government pins it on Russians, supposedly working with terrorists. Next thing you know, DeMeo tries to kill me and makes it look like a terrorist attack on a hotel. That sound like a coincidence to you?”
“What do I look like, Perry Mason? Whaddya think, I got a friggin’ crystal ball in my pocket? What, I’m gonna check the horoscope for—whatcha call—worlds colliding?”
I took that as a no. “Can you give me anything at all on Victor?”
“You tryin’ to find Childers’ wife? Make sure she’s gonna stay dead this time?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Might cause a—whatcha call—rift between you and the midget.”
“I’ll try to solve the one without losing the other.”
“Well, nuthin’ from nuthin’, but things go bad between you, I don’t give refunds. Anyway I already donated my share to charity.”
“Spare me.”
“The Mothers of Sicily. You should look into it. They do great work here in the neighborhood.”
I said nothing.
