‘No,’ Kelson said. ‘No way.’
The lawyer said her name was Jane Richardson. She’d worked for Stanley Javinsky’s family since Javinsky was fourteen and got picked up for shoplifting a plastic bag of bite-sized Kit Kats. Javinsky went downhill from there, landing in jail for auto theft at nineteen. Before that case went to trial, his cellmate tried to kill him. ‘The man almost choked Stanley to death,’ Jane Richardson said. ‘The attack damaged his vocal chords. It put him in the hospital for three months, and, after that, he couldn’t talk right. When he got out of jail, he taught himself that one trick – how to choke a man the way he got choked, the way that changed his life.’
‘He perfected it,’ Kelson said. ‘When we met, he almost turned me into a whisperer. Is that what he used on Ramsey Garner before throwing him out on the highway?’
She sat across from Kelson, nervous, holding her back away from the chair. ‘Stanley says Garner threatened to kill him. Something about him falling down on the job when you had them at your friend’s apartment.’
‘DeMarcus Rodman’s.’
‘Whatever. Stanley says you’re the first man who’s gotten the better of him in the past ten years.’
‘That was DeMarcus’s girlfriend Cindi. DeMarcus and I just swept up the pieces.’
‘Stanley knows you must be angry at him.’
‘Angry? That’s what he said? He almost killed me. He threatened Cindi – my best friend’s girlfriend. He threatened Genevieve Bower – my client. Maybe I’m a little irritated.’
‘I bailed him out seven hours ago. The Cranes already sent a man to try to put him down.’
‘How’d that work out?’ Kelson said.
‘Stanley says he “did” him.’
‘“Did” him?’
‘That’s what he says. When his cellmate choked him, he suffered minor brain damage. It affects his ability to control violent impulses. He says something like that happened to you. He says you’ll understand.’
‘He wants me to sympathize with him? He wants to be pals?’
‘He wants you to look out for him until he can cut a deal with the prosecutors – or can figure out a place far away from here to hide.’
‘No,’ Kelson said. ‘That’s stupid. Why would he come to me?’
‘I told you—’
‘Yeah, we both got conked on the head. Big deal. Still stupid.’
‘Where else does he go? When he got out after stealing the car, he had nothing. Who’d want to be friends with a guy likely to choke them over an argument? Who’d hire an ex-con they couldn’t even put on a phone to do telemarketing? Turns out Harold and Sylvia Crane had a place for him. Now, the Cranes want him dead. You’re all he’s got left.’
‘He’s got you,’ Kelson said. ‘Why worry so much about him?’
She looked embarrassed. ‘I married his brother. My husband’s eleven years older than Stanley. It was one of those second-father situations – until Stanley tried to kill him too. But yeah, he’s got me. I bailed him out, though I can’t keep him safe.’
‘You really feel bad for him?’
‘Bad? Sure. Am I also afraid of him? Absolutely. Do I hate him for making my life harder than it needs to be? Yes. He’s done a lot of terrible things, and he’ll do more in the future. But right now he needs help.’
‘No,’ Kelson said again. ‘No, no, no.’
She stared at him.
‘No,’ he said.
‘I’m sorry you feel this way,’ she said, and she stood up.
‘Would he even talk to the cops if they would listen?’ Kelson said.
She narrowed her eyes. ‘Honestly, I don’t know. He trusts no one.’
‘What would keep him from turning against me if I helped?’
‘Just don’t make him mad,’ she said. ‘He’s loyal to people who treat him well.’
‘Like a pit bull?’
‘Pit bulls are gentler – but less loyal.’
Kelson thought about pit bulls. He thought about Payday and Painter’s Lane in a room with pit bulls. He said, ‘I can’t do it.’
‘I understand,’ she said, though she looked like she didn’t.
‘You’re one of those good people, aren’t you?’ he said.
‘I don’t know what I am. Sometimes I think I’m a fool.’ She went to the door.
Kelson asked, ‘Does he have somewhere to hide for now?’
‘He’s in the men’s room.’
‘The—’
‘Down the hall.’
Kelson shouted at her. ‘You brought him with you?’
‘Where else would I put him?’
‘Anywhere. The sewer. A hole in the ground. You could buy him a bus ticket. Jesus, get him in here before he kills one of the computer school students.’
She gave him a long, uncertain look. ‘Yeah, the two of you should get along.’ She left the office.
A minute later, she tapped on the door and came in again with Stanley Javinsky, who wore jeans and a fresh black T-shirt.
Kelson’s KelTec lay on his lap under the desktop. As Javinsky came to the desk, Kelson said, ‘Keep your hands to yourself. My neck still hurts.’
‘Sorry.’ Javinsky’s voice – the little there was of it – sounded like someone had raked a metal comb down the inside of his throat.
Kelson pointed at a client chair. ‘Sit.’
Javinsky did. Jane Richardson sat in the chair next to his.
‘Why me?’ Kelson asked him.
‘Who else?’ Javinsky said.
‘Sandpaper,’ Kelson said. ‘You sound like you swallowed sandpaper.’
Javinsky’s right hand worked the denim on his right pant leg, and his left biceps twitched.
‘I say too much,’ Kelson said. ‘If you can’t handle that without strangling me, get out now.’
‘I’ll try.’
‘And I’ll try to call you Stanley or, if you prefer, Mr Javinsky, but I’ll probably end up calling you Squirt.’
Javinsky’s left biceps twitched.
‘Cut that out,’ Kelson said.
‘Sorry.’ Grittier than a rasp. ‘I can’t help it.’
‘Me either,’ Kelson said. ‘To tell the truth – and I always tell the truth – I don’t know what I can do for you.’
‘You hid Marty LeCoeur.’ Speaking seemed to cause him pain. ‘And Genevieve Bower. Why not me too? Put me where you put them.’
‘You want me to hide you with them?’
‘If that works.’
Kelson laughed at him. ‘Listen, Squirt, you can sneak from bathroom to bathroom and fool your sister-in-law – if that’s who she really is – but don’t treat me like an idiot. Yesterday you were gunning for Genevieve Bower and Marty LeCoeur, and today you want me to put you with them? Maybe you want me to tie them up for you first and stick an apple in their mouths. Why would I ever believe you? For all I know, you’re still pals with the rest of the G&G security guys.’
Anger fell over Javinsky’s face, and he stood.
Kelson snatched his pistol off his lap and showed it. ‘Easy, Squirt.’
Javinsky pulled up his T-shirt. He’d taped a bandage over the right side of his ribcage. A bloody spot the size of a half dollar had soaked through the gauze. ‘They tried to kill me this morning.’ He had other scars, old and new, and a tattoo of a tiny tiger above his belly.
‘OK, Tiger, sit down,’ Kelson said.
Javinsky eased his shirt over his stomach and sat.
‘Tell me everything,’ Kelson said, ‘and if I like what you tell me, I’ll think about helping. No promises.’
Javinsky told him very little. Maybe the Cranes kept their family secrets tight. Maybe they considered Javinsky too deranged and undependable to trust with inner-circle information. Maybe he knew more than he let on. He admitted he knew about Genevieve Bower’s thumb drive – the Cranes said he could do what he wanted to her as long as he got the computer files. But he denied knowing what those files were. When Kelson, unable to stop himself, told him what Genevieve had said – that the drive held videos of Harold Crane abusing her – Javinsky dug at his pant leg and his biceps twitched again. He admitted that G&G worked with dirty money. He’d made two previous accountants disappear – he’d bought a plane ticket to Costa Rica for one and shipped the other back to his family in Latvia. His voice sounded sandier and sandier as he went on, every word ripping at the damaged tissue in his throat. Harold Crane called most of the important shots, he said, though the orders often passed through Sylvia or Chip Voudreaux.
When Javinsky finished, Jane Richardson looked at Kelson hopefully.
‘What?’ he said to her.
‘Can you?’ she said. ‘For a few days? Until we work something out?’
Kelson had one more question for Javinsky. ‘Tell me about the little tiger tattoo on your belly.’
‘I got it after they let me out of jail that first time,’ Javinsky said. ‘It’s a tiger kitten.’
‘Damn,’ Kelson said. ‘It had to be a kitten.’
With his KelTec in his lap, he dialed Marty at his hideaway and said, ‘I’ve got an idea, and I want you to tell me it’s insane.’