41

Everette Halsey walked out of his house and stopped short. Jimmy O’Leary and Gordon Winter stood in his drive, leaning against Halsey’s silver Mercedes. “What’s the meaning of this?” Halsey demanded.

“Shut up, Everette. We got some business to do,” O’Leary said. He motioned for Halsey to precede him to the black SUV parked at the curb. “We thought we’d give you a ride to work.”

O’Leary took Halsey by the arm and guided him into the back seat. He stood beside the door, waited for Winter to get in with Halsey, and then walked around and got behind the wheel. He saw the fear in Halsey’s face when Winter placed his arm around the lawyer’s shoulders and grinned.

The lawyer tried to open the door. O’Leary said, “Ain’t those childproof locks wonderful, Ev?” He lit a cigarette and exhaled smoke in his face.

“Jimmy, you know I don’t like smoking,” Halsey complained. He tried to sound as if he were in control, but a nervous quiver gave him away.

“Would it surprise you to know that about now, I could give a fuck less what you do or don’t like? I got some questions for you, and how you answer will determine whether or not I turn Gordon loose on your sorry ass.”

Winter took his right hand off the lawyer’s shoulder, placed it on his thigh, and began to squeeze. He smiled when Halsey began to squirm.

“What’s this about, Jimmy?”

“A kid named Inca.”

Halsey started, caught himself, and then tried to bluff his way out of what was obviously a bad situation. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”

“Bullshit,” O’Leary said.

Winter increased the pressure of his grip until Halsey cried out in pain and leered at him as O’Leary pulled out of the driveway and drove down the street.

“Now, Everette, you’ve always been a no-nonsense type of guy, so I’m going to give it to you straight. You’re a very, very well-paid pimp, Ev. Last night we took down your little amusement park on the Cape. I took the women—all but your fancy fucking madam. She was a dedicated employee, Ev—right to the end. Broad had infinitely more balls than you, I might add.”

O’Leary blew another cloud of smoke into the confined area. “Seems that there was an item missing from the inventory though . . .”

Halsey said nothing.

O’Leary studied the lawyer through the rearview mirror. There was fear in the attorney’s gaze, and O’Leary smiled. “I want that girl, Everette.”

“Jimmy, you got no idea what you’ve done.”

“That I do, bucko. I got all the accounting files, complete with names, addresses, and amounts. Ariana missed her calling; she’d have been one hell of a CPA.”

“These people will crush you.”

“That’s been tried before. I’m still here—those that tried ain’t.” O’Leary stopped the SUV, turned around, and slapped Halsey on the side of his head. “Now are you going to take us to the girl or do I have to let Gordon take over this little interview? I got to warn you, his methods are a shitload more direct than mine.”

Halsey was afraid to look at Winter directly, but from the corner of his eye, he tried to read his face. Winter was stoic, as emotional as an eighty-year-old nun.

“Where we going, boss?” Winter asked.

“To the warehouse in Chelsea . . . it’s private there—and quiet. You could set off a bomb in there, and nobody would hear a thing.”

“Jimmy,” Halsey said, “I’ll level with you. I don’t have her.”

“Oh? That ain’t what Ariana said. I doubt that a dying woman would lie. Ain’t that right, Gordon?”

“Yup, no reason I can think of for someone with a slug in her chest to lie.”

“I did hear her right, didn’t I, Gordon? Did she not say that she gave the girl to ol’ Everette here?”

“That’s the way I heard it, boss.” Winter turned to Halsey. “If I was you, Ev ol’ boy, I’d start telling the truth. The boss has been known to become unstable when he gets lied to.”

“Alright,” Halsey said, “I did have her.”

O’Leary stared at the lawyer through the rearview mirror.

“It’s not what you think, Jimmy. Jesus, I’m no pedophile.”

“That remains to be seen,” O’Leary said. “If you don’t have her now, where is she?”

“I sold her—”

“You sold her?” Halsey flinched when O’Leary shouted in the confined space.

Halsey’s shoulders slumped, and he bent his head forward. “Yes, I sold her.”

O’Leary ground out his cigarette in the ashtray and hissed. “Before this is all over, Everette, I may sell your ass to a tribe of fudge-packing U-Bangies. You’re lower than whale shit, you know that? Running around in your fucking thousand-dollar suits acting like a big shot. I’ve always wondered how cocksuckers like you last as long as you do. Killing you is going to be a public service.”

Halsey began to sob softly.