LITMIR.BIZ

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fortune cookie.”

      “Thought so. Seriously don’t try to candle my head tonight. I’m not in the mood.”

      “Fine, no problem. I just thought I’d try to help you with your demons.”

      “Actually, there is one thing you can help me with that’s been bothering me.”

      “What?”

      “I’m just curious, what the hell was Tony talking about back at the station house about ‘the chief turning his picture to the wall’?”

      “It’s an old Irish expression, it means being out of favor.”

      “Hmm, I’ve never heard that one before. You think Tony’s still pissed off?”

      “Mooney, you’ve got everybody pissed off, including me. That make you happy?” he asked as he shook his head and avoided my gaze by looking out the window.

CHAPTER SIX

      A good half hour had passed since we last spoke, Miles was still locked in on the other side of the road, keeping an ever-watchful eye for anything that may be amiss. I had observed Miles like this on many occasions, it was like he was in a trance. Miles as a stakeout partner gave me extreme choices, the ever talking chatterbox or the total silence of a Zen master.

      The boredom of the night forced me to call out the chatterbox. I needed some conversation. Any conversation. “Miles, have you given anymore thought to your vacation?”

      “Not really. Although what you said before makes a lot of sense. Abbe and I really enjoyed ourselves the last time we stayed at your lake house. It’s really quite peaceful there. How’d your Mom and Dad come across that place?”

      “That’s a good story. My mom wanted a place on the lake, a place where the whole family could get away for long weekends and the holidays. She had picked out a place on the north shore that was going for around fifty grand. Back in the early seventies that was a lot of money and the old man wouldn’t go for it. About that time my father picked up a client by the name of Danny LaCroix. From what I’ve heard, Danny was a real snake oil salesman. You know the type: had a big smile, all the lines, slick as they come.

      Anyway he was also a card player. He won this fifty acres of swamp land on the southern shore and started building. He had a big billboard sign posted out on the main road, ‘Buy Now and Profit Tomorrow.’ The sign worked, people were intrigued. They’d come in ask about the sign and he’d tell them how much money they were going to make. Like I said, he was one hell of a salesman. The first year he sold all ten houses for his twenty grand asking price and guaranteed the people they’d make a profit. He told them he’d buy them back himself anytime they wanted after the first year. Year two, he built ten more houses and jacked the price up to thirty thousand. Year three he had the price up to around forty-five grand and everyone was happy. Danny was good at making the money, but he was a hell of a lot better at spending it.

      One other thing he wasn’t good at was paying his taxes. The IRS came down on him hard, he was all but ruined. That’s when he went to my father and they worked out a barter deal. The old man kept him out of bankruptcy and worked out a compromise settlement with the IRS and Danny gave him one of the houses for a discounted price. Everybody won, or so my father thought. Remember I told you, the houses were built on an old swamp.”

      Miles was interested now; he was hanging on every word as he answered, “Yeah?”

      “By the fourth year, the houses started to sink back into the swamp. It was almost laughable.

      Needless to say, you couldn’t give them away. No amount of sweet talking was going to get Danny out of this one. The owners were going to go after him in court, but by then he didn’t have a dime.”

      I paused just to tantalize Miles for the ending. He was hooked, fully engrossed in the tale. “What happened,” Miles asked.

      I continued, “Then old Danny boy turned up dead, some said it was suicide, some said murder. Who knows? No one from the local sheriff’s office ever really worked the case. No one really cared.”

      “But what about your house? It looks perfect.”

      “Miles, that’s my favorite part of the story. Our house was the last one built. It hadn’t started to sink yet, but the old man knew what was coming. He wasn’t the type of man to go down without a fight, no sir, he never gave up easily. He had the house jacked up and had truck after truck of concrete poured down for a solid base. When he got done the whole back yard was one solid piece of concrete. He spent a small fortune. In the end it would have been cheaper if he’d bought the house Mama originally wanted from the beginning. Of course my father would never admit that to my mother let alone anyone else. He had his reputation to protect.”

      ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

      On the north side of town by the Wingo Towers Projects, a musty brown unmarked car pulled up along the curb. Two cops in uniform were waiting in the rain. Tony jumped out of the driver’s side door and quickly circled the car to join them. Max showed no such enthusiasm as he exited the unmarked at his own pace.

      “Where’s he now?” Tony asked in a low voice.

      “Second floor, room 221,” the first uniform answered.

      “Anyone with him?”

      “A hooker, one of Nuff Said’s girls, goes by the name of the Black Dahlia. She went up about twenty minutes ago.”

      Tony looked over at Max, “You know her?”

      “Yeah, I know all of Nuff’s girls,” Max responded in a less than interested voice.

      Regarding the two uniforms, Tony said, “Okay here’s how we’re going to play it. Max and I will go in the front and up to the stairs to his crib. You two, go around back, in case he tries to go out the window and down the fire escape. Stay there till we call you. If he makes a break for it, empty your gun in the son of a bitch. There’s a good chance he’s whacked out of his mind on crack. Don’t take any chances. You got that?”

      “What if he ain’t armed?”

      “We’ll throw one down. We’re all going to go home tonight. You guys straight?”

      Both men looked over at Tony and nodded. “Then get going,” Tony barked.

      After the two boys in blue were out of earshot, Tony turned to Max, “This one’s going south Max.”

      “What are you talking about?”

      “Jew wants T-Bone dead, wants to send a message to the street that you don’t jump bail when the Jew is holding the paper. There’s an extra five large in it for us.”

      “That’s a lot. Why so much for a shit bag like him?”

      “A lot of street scum look up to T-Bone. We punch his ticket and his fans stay in line.”

      “You handle it then, I’m too old for this shit. How do you want to play it?”

      “I figure old T-Bone is in there right now black topping the whore. We’ll go up, kick the door in and catch him by surprise. If everything comes off clean, you take the whore into the back room and tell her what nice guys we are. Tell her we’re going to let her slide as long as she keeps her mouth shut. Then send her on her way. We’ll turn T-Bone’s lights out after she leaves.”

      “Fine. Just as long as I don’t have to do the shooting.”

      “One more thing Max. When you take that whore into the back room, no partying. Don’t even think of sampling the merchandise. I want her out of there fast. You understand?”

      “Yeah.”

      Tony and Max slipped through the front door and then crept up the stairways to the second floor.

      Tony led the way. When he got to the door, he checked the hall, making sure no one

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