CHAPTER SIXTY-FOUR

“When you worked in New York, this was still the Queensboro,” Benny said, looking up at the early–twentieth-century bridge above them. “Can’t get used to calling it the Ed Koch. I got nothin’ against the guy—he was mayor forever when I was comin’ up—but can’t we just leave the bridges named for the places they connect? The Cuomo? Seriously? Still the Tappan Zee to me.”

Laslo just nodded. “I thought it was the 59th Street Bridge, back in the day.”

“It was. That and Queensboro at the same time. Both names of places, not dead dudes.”

“Got it,” Laslo said, gesturing with his head. “Speaking of places, here it is.”

They were approaching the front of a nondescript black metal door in the wall of a gray stone building directly under the bridge. A formally dressed, enormous man with a shaved head and a sour expression stood in front of the door. Suddenly a huge smile cracked his face. “Benny Dugan? Minchia, as I live and breathe.”

Benny threw his arms wide. “Anthony! What’s good, my man?”

With that, the two giants merged in a full-on hug. Not some kind of dap-with-a-fist-to-the-back half hug, but a complete embrace. When they separated, Benny turned. “Anthony, this is Laslo. Laslo, Anthony. We did some stuff together, back in the day.”

“I was picking up that you’d met,” Laslo said dryly.

“So what can I do you for?” Anthony asked.

“Not here on the G dime,” Benny said. “Private gig, but trying to understand somethin’ about a dude who frequents the establishment.”

“Place is tight as a tick,” Anthony said, “but for you, anything.” He pivoted and pulled the wide door open, shouting inside. “Gloria! Some close friends here. Be smart to give them what they need.”

Laslo witnessed a second gigantic hug on the way out.

“Get what you need?” Anthony asked.

“Yup. Appreciate you. How’s your mom?”

“Hanging in there. Still grouchy as hell but it keeps her going. Never gonna get her out of Canarsie.”

“Worse places to be,” Benny said with a smile. “You be good.”

“You too. And thanks for everything.”

“Back at you, big man.”

“What the hell?” Laslo asked when the car door was closed.

Benny laughed loudly. “Locked him up some years back. He was a low-level wannabe Brooklyn gangster. I convinced my office to give him a break and he straightened out—in the sense that he’s now a sex-club bouncer and not a more serious organized criminal. It’s all about how you define success. But basically a good kid.”

“Some freaky shit going on behind that door though.”

“No doubt, no doubt. Is it weird for me to admit I’m disappointed Chip isn’t a murderer but just a sex addict with some very strange tastes?”

“Yeah, that’s weird to admit,” Laslo said with a straight face. “We now know he comes here all the time, spends a ton of dough to have people do stuff that’s gonna haunt my dreams, and they can prove he was here the night Helen got whacked because he charges the nasty to his Amex.”

“And to be clear,” Benny said, “I’m mostly disappointed that we haven’t solved Helen’s murder. Only a tiny piece of the disappointment is the fact that Chip’s a piece of crap and I wish he was getting locked up.”

“Helpful clarification,” Laslo replied.

“Whatever,” Benny said. “Bottom line, seems he’s only hiding from us because he’s shady as shit, not because he’s a killer.”

“And more likely, he’s hiding from his father, because Chip had to know we have him coming and going that night and he was gonna have to say where.”

Benny put the car in gear. “Home to bed for us, my man. We’re in New Haven Dhabi in the middle of the night.”