Authors: George V. Higgins
“Showed up at his place just like he said, and he had it, just like he said,” Cistaro said. “Half. Forty-nine five in American money. Had the boyfriend with him again too.”
“And he’s still not some undercover cop, a wire taped to his chest, just pretendin’ he sucks Crawfie’s cock?” McKeach said. “You’re still satisfied with that?”
“Arthur,” Cistaro said, “take it from me—Blair’s not a cop. He’s the maitre d’, Yellow Brick Road. Think he might own a piece of it too. Me and Rico swung by there fag night, last Sunday. We didn’t stay, just went in for a drink, take a look around. Stay very long, I’m afraid Rico here’d see something he liked, fall in love and get lucky—I’d hafta drive myself home.” He smirked.
Rico chuckled and shook his head once. “Don’t understand those guys,” he said.
“I dunno if Blair saw us,” Cistaro said. “But we saw him, right where he’s supposed to be. And he
belonged
there, too—tellin’ people their tables weren’t ready yet; would they like to relax in the lounge.
Livin’ large
, in his
element
—smooth as silk panties. If he did see us, maybe he’s bein’ polite—now thinks we’re also queer, but waitin’ for
us
to tell
him.
” He smiled. “I don’t think
the question’ll come up. That’s a place that I decided I’m not goin’ there for dinner.”
“Probably have a long wait for a table,” McKeach said.
“Yeah,” Cistaro said. “No, it’s just, somehow I don’t think I’d fit in. I don’t think he thinks I would either.”
“And he’s
right
about that, I hope,” McKeach said.
“Oh, yeah,” Cistaro said. He laughed but his eyes were not involved. “He’s got that right.” He paused three beats and stared at McKeach. McKeach held his gaze. Rico and Rascob tried to find other objects to look at on the table and over each other’s shoulders.
Cistaro shook his head and said: “Anyway, one thing
is
sure—he’s deeply in love with his Crawfie. He’s the husband; Crawfie’s the wife. Should see them together—cute as
bunny
slippers. He’s an older guy, very protective, got ten or twelve years on Crawfie, this wavy-gravy dark grey hair—which he’s lost quite a lot of, the front. Crawfie can give him a toupee for Christmas, he’s got any dough left. Dash of boogie blood, I think, Creole or somethin’—he’s about the same color as regular coffee. Not that he isn’t a good-lookin’ guy; just looks kind of oily to me. I was queer I wouldn’t go for him.”
“You’d want someone more along the lines of Liberace, probably,” McKeach said.
“Rich, right,” Cistaro said. “If I’m gonna be takin’ it up the ass all the time, I’d want a shitload of money.”
“Yeah,” McKeach said. “Well, then, you’d better hope that you’re right about Blair not bein’ a cop—they don’t give you big money in prison.”
“You’d know about that, too, wouldn’t you,” Cistaro said.
“All I need to,” McKeach said. “Never wanted to try it, myself. Two or three old guys still out there inna world chew their food with federal bridgework they had put in in Leavenworth. Fell down very hard, several times, inna shower. May not remember
these days where they put their car keys, glasses, who they are or where they been, but every meal they remember that McKeach’s nay meant
fuckin’ nay.
Not fuckin’
interested.
”
“Me either,” Cistaro. “I can’t figure those guys. Crawfie
adores
Blair, and he worships his little blond Crawfie. No secret that they’re together, you know? Winkin’ an’ noddin’—pattin’ each other onnie ass.
Disgusting.
” He laughed uncertainly, then frowned. “I don’t even like to see it. Makes me uncomfortable.”
“Yeah,” McKeach said, “well, then, don’t fuckin’ look at ’em. As long as he’s not a
cop.
He is and he’ll put us both somewhere we don’t wanna be. Then you’ll find out what uncomfortable is. Point is, you got the money.”
“Yeah,” Cistaro said. “I counted it in front of them. Crawfie looked very sad. Blair was furious—at him as much as me, I think. But then he looked on the bright side and he pulled himself together. Now it’s almost over with, they’re almost out of it. Tonight, and then if everything goes right, the buyer likes the rarities, next week Crawfie gives me the rest. So getting the money today and then meeting me with it, that was an unpleasant thing, but after next week it’ll be just them again, so him an’ Blair’re making an evening of it.
“ ‘We’re on our way to the client’s place for dinner. The two doctors Reynolds? Ken and Christine? From Physicians and Surgeons Clinic in Sudbury? See how she’s lighted their treasures, probably just ruined my whole arrangement. But first, here we are with the
money.
’ Blair was like a Little League dad, still annoyed that he got into this mess, but still,
very
proud of his Crawfie.”
“So on ninety this faggot’s now paid us ninety-nine five, is that right?” McKeach said.
“Right,” Cistaro said. “He comes through with the rest of it next Wednesday night, it’ll then be one forty-nine. Blair said
again, he thinks we’re being ‘
very unfair.
No
wonder
there’s laws against this.’ Then he sniffed at me.
“Don’t
like
bein’ sniffed at,” Cistaro said, laughing. “But I behave, I keep calm. I said, ‘Sweetie, I don’t give a rat’s ass what the law’s against, or what you may think. Meet me with the rest of the money next week. And the vig of course, too—twenty-seven fifty.’ ”
McKeach nodded and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table, his eyes narrow. “Okay,” he said. “Then I think maybe, all the grief and the abuse those two’ve given us, doing this service for them, they should maybe get some trouble back. Rich people they deal with, very selfish, and mean. Disturbing dead men’s
bones
, desecrating holy ground, and for
what
? To make their
living
rooms look nice? I think they should be ashamed of themselves. No wonder there’s all kinds of laws against it. Federal especially.” He paused, staring at Cistaro. “We ought to think about that.”
Cistaro stared back, saying nothing, and nodded.
“Now,” McKeach said, “two more things to deal with, and then I think we can go home.
“Item one. Max, a big pickup tomorrow, the Box’s house over in Canton.”
“This’s right,” Rascob said. “Talked to the Box’s wife right after lunch. She says everything’s moonlight and roses. They already had calls from eleven their people, so there’re then only five more to report. Said they’re all telling her things’ve been goin’ great, no problems with more prescriptions—‘just hadda go visit a lotta new stores, but everything went like a charm.’ So, took him a month to expand like we wanted, like Jackie said, ‘Get me the volume.’ But give the Box credit, he’s good. He knows what he’s doing, and no one can rush him, and result is he gets the job done.”
McKeach pursed the left side of his mouth. “Well, so far, anyway. We don’t have the stuff in hand yet. How much’re we payin’ him this load?”
“A buck anna quarter a pop,” Rascob said.
“Regardless of what the pop is,” McKeach said, “a buck anna quarter a pop.”
“Regardless of what kinda stuff,” Rascob said. “Me and Timmy agreed we’d go that way. The benzos Jackie says’re what they ask for, the guys buy off his trucks. But if they’re not available, anything else, and the price’s what the driver says it is. So, figure we simplify the whole thing—we pay the Box a buck anna quarter, instead the buck that we used to, because of the extra effort and risk that him and his people’ve taken on increasing the volume for us. Our end goin’ in’s twenny grand. Jackie, same reason, now pays one seven five. Comin’ out we now take in thirty-five, one eighty profit a year, same number Jackie projects. Like he says—‘I was doin’ all right sellin’ food, coffee and smokes. For gravy, this’s good money.’ Said his drivers’ll love it. They’re the ones been beggin’ for more stuff, see the market every day, know they’ll do even better. He sells to them now at two twenny-five, and they get whatever they can—sky’s the limit for them.”
“Yeah, but that’s all right, they take the big risk,” McKeach said. “One stray cop, his eyes open, buttin’ in onna line to get coffee? Sees a sale goin’ down? Guys drivin’ the trucks and sellin’ the stuff—those guys could have their lives ruined. They
should
get as much as they can.” He displayed the small smile. “As long’s they dunno
who
we are, of course, where Jackie is gettin’ the goodies.”
“They don’t,” Rascob said, imitating the smile. “And Jackie dunno where we’re gettin’ ’em, either. I think we got this one airtight.”
McKeach nodded. He looked at Cistaro. “This’s good, I think, Nick, way it’s gone so far. But anything involvin’ drugs, got to be supercareful. Not just the cops got a hard-on for drugs—every tailgater in town. I think with this shipment—Maxie taking twenty out to pay the Box, the pills; he then hasta transport them Jackie; he makes the delivery; on his way back here he’s got thirty-five large?
“That’s four chances for someone to hit him. And this’s not like our usual thing, where only the people he sees know how much’s involved, an’ they’re people we known a long time. Like on Tuesdays, example, he picks up the bags–everyone he sees knows what he’s doin’, there’s lotsa cash in his trunk. So some wise guy tailgates him, we’ll know who it is and the bastard is dead by nightfall. Our protection there is that knowledge. Everyone knows who we are, what we’re doin’, sure, but
we
know who everyone is.
“This new operation—makes me uneasy. Too many people—we dunno who they all are. Well, we know their names—names they’re usin’, at least—but that’s not like who they
are
, where they
live.
Whether they’re
dependable.
“Like the Box and his wife—so far they’re all right, but we dunno how long that lasts. From what Maxie tells me, they sound kind of
strange
, some kinky shit goin’ on there—this crippled kid’s pimpin’ his wife. I’m like you with the fairies on that kind of shit—I don’t care what they do as long as I’m left out of it—but now I know they do this kind of shit, can I be sure what they’ll do next? So there’s that, then, ’n’ the new-people mix.”
He cleared his throat and looked back at Cistaro. “So anyway, what I am thinkin’ is this—if we’re expandin’ now, goin’ big time, gettin’ into distributin’ here, maybe we oughta step up our security. You got any thoughts on that for me?”
“I dunno,” Cistaro said. “The downside of it is, the more guys you show doin’ somethin’, the more dough you make people think you’ve got involved. How long we been doin’ this with Jackie, two or three years? Jackie asked us if we could supply him the junk along with the gambling and loans?”
McKeach nodded.
“Okay,” Cistaro said, “two or three years and everything’s gone along good. People’re now used to it, Max comes around. ‘Oh, he’s just this guy comes to see Jackie on Tuesdays, stays a while, goes away and then comes back. Can’t be much—nothin’ get excited about there.’
“But now all of a sudden he changes the day. Used to be Tuesdays, now he comes on Thursday, and he’s got someone else
ridin’
with him. This hasta mean there’s more money involved. You’re talkin’ precautions—the one thing while you’re takin’ ’em you don’t wanna do is get
other
people’s attention.
“Because once you start them thinkin’, ‘Must be lotsa dough there,’ then the next thing they think is, ‘This might be worth knockin’ off.’ Like you say, this would not be connected people, people we know, pull some of
that
shit—not on us. Not unless they had terminal cancer, not long to live anyway. This’d be
assholes
, young guys fulla beans, think they’ve got the weight, and any time they want they can come
in
an’ take
over
from us.
“Now, any guys did try that, sure, we’d find out who it was. And we’d clip them and put them to sleep. But things wouldn’t then go back to normal. Doing that would take
time
, and it’d make
noise
, and therefore stir up the cops. Which’s always a pain in the ass. So, sure, there’s no question, we can protect ourselves, but do we really want all this shit?
“Myself, what I think is the answer is No, but I dunno how sure I am of that. So, little compromise here—how about we do something like this? Rico rides shotgun for Max tomorrow, but
in my Expedition, not
with
him. Soon’s Max turns in here, Rico drops him. Sort of an armed escort, right?”
McKeach nodded. “I like it,” he said. He looked first to Rico, then Rascob. “You two guys work it out. Walkie-talkies or something, some code that sounds harmless so you can keep in touch but means nothin’, someone with a scanner.”
He considered. “What bothers me here, I think what it is, it’s the whole damn operation itself. We know the product but not sellin’ it. Always before, when drugs’re involved, mostly always we’ve just been financin’. Like this kid Charlie Ford—got that
major
thing, him, the big million six that’s a big chunk of what we get outta Jinksie’s last Arabian car deal? Well, I see Ford today, and I’m glad to say, and you’ll be glad to hear, that thing’s lookin’
very
damned good. More and more I like the way this kid’s looking. He’s now got his base, bought this house south of here, and it’s funny, don’t wanna say where? And he’s kind of worried he’s tellin’ me
that.
‘It’s not like I don’t trust you, I just don’t wanna say.’
“I say, ‘Course you don’t trust me. Don’t trust anybody. Fewer people that know stuff the better. You doan needah worry ’bout that. You
did
wanna tell me, then
I
would worry. So you, you don’t worry, it’s fine.’ Next month or so, I think, that investment pays off—he’s now projectin’ a three-five return for us, maybe a little bit more.
“So anyway, back to the first of the year, I’d say we are lookin’ quite good. Back then we take the nine hundred grand we’d built up the Coke cooler, doin’ our regular business, since the last time, in August, we bought real estate, the three brown-stones on Marlborough Street, and we put it out there with Jinksie. There we double it plus—one million nine.