The Lake Forest police arrested everyone still alive at Sylvia Crane’s house, including Kelson, Rodman, Marty, and a cook and a maid who’d holed up in the garage when the shooting started. The cops put them in handcuffs, all except Harold Crane, who marched out of the house cradling his broken wrist with his other hand, looking indignant and righteous.
But eighteen hours later, when Ed Davies led Kelson, Rodman, and Marty out of the station into the warming air of the first June morning, no charges filed against them, Harold Crane sat alone in a jail cell, accused of multiple murders, embezzlement, and money laundering. That afternoon, the police arrested Susan Centlivre. The evening news showed the FBI raiding the G&G office.
Two days later, White Dove Cremations incinerated Neto’s remains, and afterward, as Neto’s little circle of friends drank to his memory at Fuller’s Pub, Kelson asked Marty where he would scatter the ashes. Marty looked hurt. ‘Now on, that boy stays with me. Get a nice fucking jar and put him on a shelf where I can keep an eye on him.’
Janet, whose mascara streaked her big cheeks from all the tears, squeezed him hard.
‘Careful with the goods,’ he said.
They sat at three tables they’d pushed together near a stage where rock ’n’ roll bands played live on Fridays and Saturdays.
‘You’ve got money now, Marty,’ Rodman said.
‘Yeah,’ the little man said, staring into his beer, ‘a fuckload.’
‘What’re you going to do with it?’ Rodman asked.
‘That’s what I’ve been thinking about,’ Marty said. ‘You know how much I got? Almost thirty-two mil. Seems like after one or two million, it’s cheating. I worked for it. I risked my life. But a little prick like me, who am I kidding? I’m discount basement. But you guys, you’re the best. Gold fucking standard. So, what I’m saying is, we share it. We did this together, right?’ When no one said anything, he looked from face to face. ‘Right?’
Kelson turned down the money. ‘I worked a job,’ he said. ‘Anyway, if you gave me the money and anyone asked, I couldn’t help telling them where I got it.’
Rodman and Cindi turned it down too. ‘I’ve got what I need,’ Rodman said. ‘The hustle’s good. With money in the bank, I’d get fat and lazy.’
‘No you wouldn’t,’ Cindi said, ‘because if you took a penny of it, I’d kick your ass so hard you’d never sit down.’
Janet said she’d take a piece – but no more than a million or two, or at most three.
‘Three for you, two for me,’ Marty said. ‘That’s twenty-seven for a place.’
‘For a place?’ Rodman said.
‘That’s what I’m thinking,’ Marty said. ‘A place to help kids like Neto. Smart kids who get in trouble and need a way out. Teach them good fucking manners. Teach them skills.’
‘Wasn’t Neto’s problem that he had too many skills?’ Kelson said.
‘Teach them the right skills,’ Marty said.
‘Aww,’ Janet and Cindi said together.
‘Neto would be proud,’ Rodman said.
The little man blushed and puffed up, and Janet squeezed him again.
‘Careful with the goods,’ he said again, and squeezed her too.
Doreen didn’t join them at the gathering. The previous afternoon, a judge had revoked her bond after the news included her name in reports on the bloody collapse of G&G Private Equity and the wealthy family who ran it.
‘But she did nothing wrong,’ Kelson said to Ed Davies.
Davies sighed and said, ‘Getting close to you is wrong enough.’
‘They can jail a woman for that?’
‘Apparently.’
Late in the evening at Fuller’s, when Kelson found himself alone with Rodman by the bar, he dug a folded envelope from a pocket. He opened it and took out the red thumb drive.
‘What are you going to do with it?’ Rodman asked.
Kelson held it in front of his eyes the way he might a large pill he was thinking about swallowing. ‘Some things shouldn’t be,’ he said.
‘Does the DA have enough on Harold Crane without it?’ Rodman signaled the bartender for a shot of Wild Turkey.
‘Venus Johnson says Crane’s talking. He thinks he’ll cut a deal. She thinks he’s already talked himself into life in max.’
Rodman watched the bartender pour the shot. Then he raised the glass to his lips and drank it like medicine. ‘Some things shouldn’t be,’ he said to Kelson.
‘What good would it do?’ Kelson said.
‘Genevieve Bower hired you to take it out of circulation. She didn’t want anyone to see it.’
‘But if anyone asks, I’ll tell them what I did with it. I won’t be able to stop myself.’
‘True. It would be destruction of evidence,’ Rodman said.
‘Yeah, that’s what it would be.’ He dropped the thumb drive on the floor.
It was just a little thing.
He stomped on it.
‘Obstruction of justice,’ Rodman said.
‘Some things’ – Kelson stomped again – ‘shouldn’t be.’