Leach opened up his palms and furrowed his brow. 'Easy, dude! You're talking to somebody who's done time in
'Right on,' Carr said. He shook hands.
Carr smelled the odor of oatmeal and grease as it wafted along the cellblock, mixing with that of humans in cages of concrete. A cement nursery school?
Leach stepped to the bars and grasped them. 'My bail bondsman should be waiting in the arraignment court to bail me out,' he said.
'I should make the noon release myself. This is my last day.' Carr bit his lip, hoping Leach would take the bait.
That was the last thing Leach said for a few minutes.
Finally he spoke. 'What do you have planned?'
'Make a few bucks and head back east,' Carr said.
'I'm going to pick up some phony cashier's checks soon as I get out. A friend's got a load. They're always easy to down without ID.'
'Not as easy as funny money.'
'Maybe not, but he ain't got funny money. He's got checks.'
'Who's your friend?' He cupped his hand to his ear. 'Speak up. I didn't hear you.'
'Just testing,' said the scarred man.
Nothing more was said for at least a half-hour.
'Are you still into funny money?' Leach said at last.
Carr casually swung his feet over the side of the bunk. 'You might say that.'
EIGHT
Carr heard the sheriff's deputies walking along the tier as they called out prisoners' names. 'Bloodsaw, Tyrone. Zavala, Jesus. Leach, Virgil.'
'Here!' Leach answered. The deputy stepped to the bars, checked Leach's wrist tag. 'Courtline bus number one,' the deputy said, looking at a clipboard.
'Looks like I'll be bailed out in an hour or so. I got the first bus… By the way, what's your name?'
'Charlie.'
Leach eyed the deputy. He whispered, 'Charlie, think you'd be interested in some nice green stuff? No shit.'
'What flavor?' Carr said.
'Number twenty…with ten different serial numbers.' He held up all fingers.
'What's the price?'
'Eighteen points on the dollar. A hundred and eighty bucks for a grand.'
The hydraulic lock snapped open cells farther down the tier. Prisoners shuffled.
'I might be interested.'
'No shit. How much can you handle?'
'How much heat is on the batch?' Carr said. 'Are the Feds on to the serial numbers?'
'No way, my man. The product is cool. No shit. If you can prove otherwise, I'll give you your money back… and that is no shit.' Leach stuffed cigarettes in his pocket. He tucked in his prison shirt.
The hydraulic lock buzzed, and the cell door slid open slowly. 'You'll make the noon release, right?' Leach said.
Carr nodded.
Leach whispered from the side of his mouth. 'Meet me tonight at the Paradise Isle on Hollywood Boulevard. I'll have a sample for you. No shit.' He stepped out of the cell.
Carr waited on a barstool at the Paradise Isle. The place was dark and crowded, the jukebox deafening. Kelly sat at the opposite end of the bar, near the rear door. He wore a purple bowling shirt and needed a shave.
Carr felt uneasy. The place was all nicknames and handshakes. A fat blonde touched tongues with the black man next to her, knocking off his knit cap.
'Haven't seen ya here before,' the bartender said. 'Name's Gabe.'
Carr shook the offered wet hand.
'Waiting for somebody?'
'Pleach. You seen him around?'
'He'll be in. Stops by every night. Nuther drink?' A fish smile.
Carr nodded.
Gabe served Carr another drink. He dried glasses for a few minutes before approaching Kelly, the other stranger in the place. He asked the preliminaries.
'I'm waiting for some good-looking cunt to walk in here. That's what I'm waiting for,' Kelly said, in his normal tone of voice. The fat blonde looked up.
Gabe offered his hand to the Irishman. Kelly put his glass in it. 'Put some booze in it this time, little man.'
Gabe frowned.
Carr sipped his drink, wondering whether he and Kelly had passed the bartender's test.
Gabe picked up the phone at the end of the bar and dialed, whispered a few words, and hung up.
Fifteen minutes later Leach came in the back door and walked directly to the bar. Carr's breathing quickened.
'See? I showed up,' said Leach. 'No shit.'
'That's good. I don't like to be hung up.'
'Don't worry about Pleach. I always take care of business.' He swung himself onto a barstool.
'We gonna be able to do some business tonight?' Carr asked.
'That depends.' Leach glanced at the black wearing the knit cap. 'After I bailed out today I started thinking. I don't know you. Nothing personal, you understand. I just don't know where you're comin' from. I mean like I just met you in County last night and I really haven't had time to check you out. No shit.'
The bartender handed Leach a drink. He took a sip.
'In other words, you were just running your mouth this morning and you don't really have a connection. Is that what you're telling me?' Carr smiled.
'No, I didn't say that.' Leach smiled back.
'Because if it is, it's no problem. I just talked to another guy today who's got some paper lined up for me. Fifties, with all different serial numbers. Price isn't as good as yours, but he'll come down. What I'm saying is that I can score tonight somewhere else.' Carr took a sip and placed the glass back on the wet napkin.
'Oh,' Leach said. He picked at his face for a moment, then stopped abruptly. 'What if I said I could get you a load tonight? Do you have the four grand right now?'
'Sure. I got the four G's right here in my pocket. I'm sitting here in this toilet with my back facing the door and I've got four grand in my pocket. I'm tired of living. I
'I don't mean
Carr leaned over and spoke directly into the other's face. 'What did I tell you this morning?'
'I know what you said this morning.'
'Well, now it's tonight and I'm sitting here having a drink. I just did ten days in jail and it doesn't make a shit to me one way or the other whether you can score for me or not. I have other sources. Okay?'
Pleach turned his head, and spoke to the bar mirror. 'Don't get pissed, man. I'm just always a little paranoid
