The Cold Spot

other possibles.” His tie was loose and he had ring around the collar. He turned to Chase and pointed a finger now, which was so much more accommodating than the palm in the chest. “You. You’re trouble. I knew it first time I saw you-”

No wonder she wouldn’t give up the driver. He was her brother.

“Thanks,” Chase said and walked away.

On the other side of the squad room, he stopped off in front of Hopkins again. Since the guy was nothing but a desk jockey now, maybe he’d be bored or guilty enough to help. Chase couldn’t entirely trust him but he couldn’t trust anybody, so what the fuck.

Chase said, “My mother was murdered fifteen years ago. I want to check the case files.”

“You’ll have to send in the proper paperwork for a formal request, and you’ll have to read the file at the courthouse records office in the company of an officer.”

“Can you make copies?”

The question stumped Hopkins. Everything seemed to stump him. “I don’t know.”

“If you can’t, steal them.”

“What are you saying?” Hopkins’s face opened up, his eyes wide but not quite as wide as they would’ve been if he wasn’t drinking on the job. “I can’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“How am I supposed to steal records?”

“Slip them under your shirt, like you do with your flask of scotch.”

Hopkins’s expression buckled along its seams. “I don’t know if I can do any of that.”

He could feel Hopkins wanting to appease him. To be a friend, a buddy, a comrade. To do any damn thing to take his mind off his own misery. He wanted to throw back a few brews and talk about old times, except they didn’t have any. More than that, he wanted Chase to tell him tales of Lila. Who knew how much she’d shared with the guy, but whatever it was, Hopkins needed more.

So put him to use.

Chase said, “Then go through them, work the case like you would any other. There’s something wrong with how it was originally handled.”

“How so?”

Chase thought, Besides the fact that they never caught who did it? He said, “I don’t know, but maybe you’ll spot it.”

“My shift ends in an hour.”

“Then do it tonight.”

“I can’t.”

“You can get wasted afterward, Hopkins. Do this, and do it right. For Christ’s sake, be a cop.”

The tension rose. Chase had pushed him pretty hard today, and it looked like Hopkins might have had enough. His wife and kids were in the drawer for a reason. The corners of his mouth tightened and his eyes hardened for a moment, and then he went to pudding again. That didn’t matter, so long as he got the job done.

“Listen, about Lila-”

Same way he’d phrased it last time, but with something a little different working to the surface now. His voice firmer, a bit rougher.

Chase waited. “What about her?”

“I just wanted to let you know…nothing ever happened between us.”

Chase waited some more but that was apparently it. The guy revving himself up only to say that, like it was important. Pretending to come out with something of significance while he really held everything back.

Chase asked, “Your wife left you, didn’t she? Took the kids?”

“Yes,” Hopkins said. His breathing grew a touch more rapid, the peppermint-and-scotch aroma wafting to and fro. “How did you know that?”

“You’re guilty for all the wrong reasons. I know there was nothing between you and Lila. She was my girl. You want to swoon over her photos, go right ahead. But I think you’d be better off straightening your ass up and getting your family back. Now, are you going to go check the files for me or what?”

5

N ext step, Chase called the Deuce and gave him his credit card number again, told him to drop everything else, this was a rush.

Deucie called back three hours later. “Earl and Ellie Raymond. Live in Cleveland, play everyplace else. They’re troublemakers. They’re smart but a little too cowboy. Adrenaline junkies, they like it when they get into scrapes. They’ve put together strings with Kel Clarke, Slip Jenson, and Jason Fleischer. Those are the names I got.”

“Any have a scar on his forehead?”

“Who the fuck knows? Like I go bowling with these assholes?”

“Which is the driver?”

“No idea. I never heard of any of them before. They’re young, on a different circuit. This new breed, it’s not about the money for them, it’s just the juice of the action. With some fat, greedy bastard, you know he wants to get clear with the cash to spend it. This type? When they’re not pulling scores they probably go do that whatchacallit with the cliffs, the freebasing…no, base-jumping.”

“How about where they hole up?”

“All I heard was they use a fence in SoHo sometimes. Shonny Fishman. Has a pawnshop on West Broadway and Broome, I think. Or Spring. No, Broome. One of those. I know Shonny. Used to deal with him when I was first coming up. Little old Jew prick takes an extra two points off the top because he pays faster than the rest of the fences. The others, they won’t go into their pocket and pay at once, takes time to spread the merchandise around, especially if it’s got real heat on it. They pay out in six, twelve, maybe eighteen months. But Shonny, he’s got a bankroll could choke the fuckin’ Statue of Liberty. Takes him two or three weeks max. He’s got four brothers and something like eight cousins, all of them shysters. A couple of them work in the D.A.’s office, so he’s got good protection. If the shit ever comes down, he’ll fade to Israel and buy himself a McDonald’s franchise in Tel Aviv.”

“Is there a cage I need to be buzzed through?”

“Of course there’s a cage. Everybody’s got cages now. You know that.”

He didn’t know that. It meant he might need his tools to pull this off. “What do I say to show him I’m not there to buy a saxophone or a brooch for my grandmother?”

“How the hell should I know? I never had to hock a Rolex with him. Well, not since the Heidi Bowl, I lost my fuckin’ shirt that day. Anyway, you’ll figure it out. And try not to kill him, I always kinda liked Shonny.”

“No promises,” Chase said.

He called information and got the number for Fishman’s Loan Society and Trading Depot. Jesus Christ, pawnbrokers really went all out with naming their places, Shonny and Bookatee would’ve gotten along just groovy.

Shonny picked up and Chase asked what time he’d be closing. Shonny Fishman spoke with a rich and mannered voice. “Eight o’clock tonight, thank you for phoning.”

Chase laid it out for his grandfather and Jonah said, “They’ll be somewhere close to him. Probably in Jersey. They make a run into the city, grab their parcels of the payout, then go back and wait until the next one is due. If the crew hasn’t already broken up, they soon will. A couple will scatter with their caches and pick up the rest of their pay somewhere down the line. There’s five in the crew but maybe we’ll get lucky and a couple will have peeled off.”

They still had a few hours to kill. Angie had taken the van and gotten enough groceries to cook dinner. Chase