NINETEEN
Hector suggested Hop Ling, but she was paranoid now, didn’t want to meet anywhere they’d been before. They settled on a coffee shop on Church Street, near the World Trade Center PATH station.
She got there first, took a booth in the back, far from the windows. It was ten thirty in the morning, the breakfast crowd thinning. She was tired from the drive back, had left at first light. She was on her second cup of tea when he showed up and slid in across from her.
He ordered coffee from the waitress. When she walked away, Crissa said, “Tell it.”
“I don’t have all the details. Got a call from my cousin. She works with the state police, in the office.”
“You never told me that.”
“No reason to. She’s a good source, I use her all the time. Back when Stimmer first got in touch, I asked her to run a check on him, see if there were any warrants, if he was involved in any open cases, listed as a CI, whatever.”
“Was that smart?”
“She didn’t know why. I’m just trying to keep you safe. If there’d been an issue, or something didn’t seem right, I wouldn’t have put you in touch with him.”
The waitress brought his coffee, left. Crissa said, “What happened?”
“A crew working out in the Meadowlands, underground cables or something, found his car. He was in the trunk. One in the head. Hadn’t been there long.”
“It make the news?”
“Not yet. His wallet was in there with him, though. When my cousin saw the report, she called me. The car was under an abutment, out of sight. If that crew hadn’t been there, it might not have been found for a while.”
“Sounds like wiseguy bullshit.”
“Maybe.”
“Someone angry over Florida. Getting even.”
“She’ll call if she hears anything else.”
“Question is, who else are they angry at? And what did he tell them beforehand?”
“That’s why I called you last night. I figured you’d want to know right away. I called Chance’s man, too. He’s passing the message along.”
“All that’s been going on, he’s probably halfway to Hawaii.”
“Not a bad idea. Maybe you should think about the same. I sent Luisa and the girls to her mother’s in Philly, just in case.”
She looked around the room, scanning faces.
“I don’t like this,” she said. “Not knowing.”
“What are you thinking?”
“Jimmy Falcone still around?”
“Which one, the father or the son?”
“The father. Jimmy Peaches.”
“I think so. I haven’t heard otherwise. Last I knew, he was in one of those assisted living places, down the Shore somewhere. Jimmy Junior’s out in Marion, not coming home anytime soon. How do you know Jimmy Peaches?”
“Through Wayne. He pointed us to some work up here a few years back. I got to know him a little.”
“He’s old-school. Way before my time.”
“Do me a favor and see what you can find out.”
“I will. You know, there’s a chance what happened to Stimmer has nothing to do with any of this. Could be an old beef he had. Could be something else entirely.”
“That’s right,” she said. She finished the tea, got bills out for the check. “But do you really believe that?”
He didn’t answer.
* * *
She was walking north on Broadway, heading toward the Chambers Street subway station, when her phone buzzed. A number she didn’t recognize. She pressed SEND.
“It’s me,” Chance said.
“You got the message?”
“I did. What’s it mean?”
“Not sure yet. I’m trying to find out more.”
“It’s something to do with down south, isn’t it?”
“Maybe.”
She stopped outside the subway entrance. The grate at her feet rattled as a train went by below.
“If the circumstances were otherwise,” he said, “I’d say someone did us a favor.”
“It could be unrelated. I’m sure he had enemies.”
“You should have let me end it down there. It would have been simpler.”
“Too late for that. I’m going to shake some trees, see what I can find out. How long’s this number good for?”
“About five minutes. I think it’s best to cut some ties. Don’t take it personally.”
“I won’t. What are your plans?”
“I’m going to move around a little. Cleveland for a few days, then I’ll catch a train.”
“What direction?”
“Haven’t decided.”
Careful now, not wanting to tell her where he was going.
After a moment, he said, “You want me out there?”
“No. Do what you need to. I’m getting rid of this number, too. I’ll give your guy the new one.”
“Any shit starts to jump off about this, you need to let me know.”
“I will.”
“Might be a better idea if you just get out of there for a while.”
“I’m thinking about it.”
“I don’t want to have to answer to Wayne if something happens to you over a deal I was involved with.”
“He wouldn’t blame you.”
“I wouldn’t count on that. And he has a long memory.”
“You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
“If you need me out there, call my guy. Don’t screw around.”
“We’ll see,” she said and ended the call.
She shut the phone down, pried off the back, and took out the chip. She snapped it in two with gloved fingers, flipped the pieces into a storm drain. Then she dropped the phone in a trash bin, went down into the station.
* * *
Back in the apartment, she broke open another phone, powered it up, and called Hector.
“It’s me,” she said. “New one.”
“Got it.”
She hit END, punched in Rathka’s number, waited while Monique put her through.
When he came on the line, Crissa said, “Anything new from Texas?”
“I talked to our friend in Austin. He agreed to take half now, half later when he starts to show some results.”
“You pay him?”
“I wired it out yesterday. One twenty-five.”
“He better produce.”
“He’s aware of that, but he says it’ll be weeks before he knows anything. January at the earliest, maybe February. Still, as I said, nothing’s for certain until that board sits down in March.”
“When does he want the rest?”
“I told him he’d get it when we got some proof things were moving along. Like an early letter to the board, expressing support. A declaration of intent.”
“We give him the two fifty, and that hearing doesn’t go our way, there’ll be issues.”
“He knows that. I’ll give it a couple weeks into the new year, then rattle his cage a little if I haven’t heard from him. But I have to be careful here. I’m putting myself at risk as well.”
“I know that. I appreciate it. Listen, I may need to go away for a few days. Not sure when yet, or where. If I do, I’ll get in touch, let you know where you can reach me.”
“I hope that’s not as ominous as it sounds. You’re worrying me.”
“There’s nothing to worry about,” she lied. “Everything’s under control.”
She got the suitcase from the closet, opened it on the bed, and took out the .38 and the carton of shells that had been in the safe deposit box. She broke open the cylinder, checked the loads, then closed it again. She’d have to carry it now, and that bothered her—but she couldn’t take the chance of getting caught without it.
* * *
She was on the futon, a glass of wine in her hand, night creeping across the floor, when her cell began to trill. Hector.
“That guy you were asking about,” he said. “Peaches.”
“Yeah?”
“I made some calls. I got a number for him, or at least somebody who can reach him.”
“Good, what is it?”
She took the phone into the bedroom, shooed the cat off the desk. She found a pen and wrote the number on the back of an envelope.
“Thanks,” she said. “I’ll let you know what happens.”
“I’m headed up to my nephew’s place in Newark. He knows some people around there, maybe they’ve heard something.”
“You going tonight?”
“Might as well. I just talked to Luisa. Everything’s okay. Kids think it’s a little vacation, you know?”
“Good.”
“If I find out anything, I’ll call you.”
“Thanks.”
“But you need to be careful, all right? Just in case.”
“I always am,” she said.