I said, “How’s it going, Paulie?”
“Fairly rotten,” he said, “but it’s gonna get worse for you, asshole.”
“You shouldn’t be in here,” Rowbottom said to Ross. “Not with Crang in the room.”
“Shut up,” Ross said to Rowbottom, no rancour in his voice.
Ross had on a double-breasted charcoal-grey suit and a tie with a lot of white in it. He sat on a sofa under the Harold Town and crossed his legs.
“I shoulda done what I thoughta doing when you first stuck your nose in my business,” Ross said to me.
“Which was?”
“Have you clipped.”
“Oh.”
“I still might.”
“Paulie,” Rowbottom said, “please don’t use that street talk in front of me.”
Ross looked slowly over at Rowbottom and back to me. He jerked a thumb in Rowbottom’s direction and said, “It was him that thought up the meeting at my warehouse.”
“And I didn’t buy it,” I said.
“More’s the pity for you,” Rowbottom said. He sounded weary.
I spoke to Rowbottom. “You knew it was a choice between me accepting Shumacher as the murderer and going quietly away or leaving it up to Paulie to deal with me in his inimitable style?”
“I should have known you were beyond understanding a compromise.”
“Nice try, Mr. Minister,” I said, “and thanks. But, deep down, Shumacher murder someone? Give me a break.”
“Christ, Crang, you’re a pain in the ass,” Ross said.
“I’ve heard that refrain before,” I said.
“Right now, my opinion is that I should kill you,” Ross said. He might have been talking about having a mangy dog put down.
“Paulie,” I said, “the garbage scam is what’s got you worried, and it’s something I don’t give a rat’s ass about.”
“For somebody who says that, you’ve made yourself very damned up-to-date on the deal I spent the last year working on.”
“If you were listening in from next door, you know I told your tame cabinet minister all I want is Alex’s killer,” I said. “The thing you have going with the dump, to me it’s only a tool to pry out of you clunks what you know about the murder. And I won’t quit, that’s a guarantee. I’ll keep on prying.”
“Not if you’re dead,” Ross said.
“You’re operating on a false premise, Paulie,” I said. “You think I’m the only guy who’s hip to your plan for the garbage? Come on, I couldn’t have put the details together by myself. A senior guy in a big law firm helped me on this. He knows I got myself pointed at you. His student knows. Half the firm probably knows. You intend to kill all of them?”
Ross recrossed his legs and didn’t say anything. Rowbottom sat behind his desk, very still. I sweated in my armpits and wondered how far my exaggerations would carry me.
“What’s the name of this big law firm?” Ross asked me.
“Mcintosh, Brown and Crabtree,” I answered.
Ross looked over at Rowbottom. Rowbottom nodded his head.
“The garbage dump is a fuckin’ gold mine,” Ross said to me.
“Paulie,” I said, “I couldn’t topple the financial universe you’ve constructed if I wanted to, the hotels and the parking places, the linen supply company. And I don’t want to. I don’t want to disturb you and your foray into garbage, either, but I think I could. At least I could make a godawful fuss.”
“Yeah, probably,” Ross said.
“But that’s not my purpose.”
“No shit.”
I switched to Rowbottom. “And I don’t want to blow the whistle on you.”
Rowbottom stirred himself enough to develop an indignant expression. “You’re beneath contempt, Crang,” he said. “I haven’t made any money out of the garbage dump, and I’ll never make a dime out of it in the future.”
“Not the dump,” I said. “I’m talking about your AIDS.”
Rowbottom ran a hand over his forehead. “Oh, dear God.”
“Birks Robinson let me in on that secret, too.”
“Then he must have told you I’m cured.”
“The clinic in Buffalo?” I said. “The point, Rowbottom, whether you had AIDS or still have it, it’s the club Paulie’s holding over your head, am I right?”
Rowbottom stared at me, not speaking, giving off waves of something compounded of fatigue and resignation.
“Maybe you’re cured, maybe not,” I said to him. “Either way, you’re tainted goods, and your fear is if Paulie spreads the word, the premier’ll set speed records kicking you out of the cabinet.”
“My party,” Rowbottom said slowly, “doesn’t have a reputation for turning on its own.”
“But it’s what you’re afraid of, your political career heading into the can. No more grant money to spread around, no more office with the art collection, no more power. It’s the reason you’re bending to Paulie’s blackmail.”
“Okay, Crang,” Ross said, “you’ve proved you’re a smart guy. Now what?”
“Jeez, don’t you guys listen?” I said. “All I’m looking for is Alex Corcoran’s murderer.”
“That’s it?”
I nodded.
“And you’ll quit gettin’ in my hair?”
“Cross my heart.”
Ross stood and straightened his suit jacket.
“Beat it, Crang,” he said. “I’ll be in touch.”
I waved a hand at Rowbottom. He stared straight ahead, dead-eyed, and I went out to the elevators. Downstairs in the lobby, Albert and Axe were standing beside one of the round columns. When they saw me, they moved purposefully in my direction.
“What a coincidence, guys,” I said. “I was just talking to your head honcho upstairs.”
The two stood on either side of me, not laying a hand on my person but leaving no doubt that I wasn’t going anywhere without their permission. Albert wore a guileless smile. Axe smouldered.
“Welcome back to the big leagues, Axe,” I said.
“I never left.” Axe’s voice was a rolling rumble.
“Just on temporary loan from Paulie to Bart?”
“Why don’t you save the bullshit until we know what we’re gonna do to you.”
“Joey B.’s on the phone over there,” Albert said politely.
Past Albert’s shoulder, I saw Joey B. standing at the information desk. He held a phone to his ear. He was listening and not smiling. The uniformed guy who manned the desk didn’t appear happy about having his telephone pre-empted, but he had the good sense not to challenge a guy with a face like Joey B.’s.
The phone conversation at the desk lasted another thirty seconds. Joey B. hung up and crossed the lobby.
“It’s your lucky morning, Crang,” he said to me.
Joey B. had on his deadpan expression and he was breathing through his mouth. He let a couple of long moments go by before he told me more about my lucky morning. My heart was thumping in a region close to my throat.
“Mr. Ross says to let you go,” Joey B. said.
Axe and Albert moved aside. I stepped smartly between them and walked toward the revolving doors. There might have been a shimmy in my stride.
“Hey, Crang,” Joey B. called.
I stopped and turned.
Joey B. had a small, crooked smile on his face.
“Mr. Ross says to let you go,” he said, “for now.”