From the directions The Boss had given me, I knew where I’d find him. I was curious as to how the fuck he’d gotten Davies to this part of town without him becoming suspicious, but now wasn’t the time to ask.
There didn’t seem to be anyone around as I approached, but I wasn’t taking any chances. I killed the lights, threw the Dodge into reverse, and backed it up, positioning it so what was in that alley was concealed.
Rayne and I got out and approached The Boss.
He stood in the shadows, but I could still see his shoulders hunched against the chill of the night. A few feet away, Davies was sprawled on his back, a neat hole between his eyes.
“Did you use a silencer?” I asked The Boss.
He frowned. “You have to ask?”
Yeah. “Sorry. Did you get splatter on you?”
“No. I don’t know.”
“We can’t take any chances.” The fact that he was uncertain shook me. “Take off your overcoat and give it to Rayne.”
“Rayne? Why did you bring her with you?”
“She has to get her feet wet sometime.”
He growled under his breath.
“Are you all right, D-sir?” Rayne asked.
“I’m fine.” He didn’t sound it. As a matter of fact, he struck me as pissed. He slid a glance my way. “I liked that coat.”
Well, that was what he got for not leaving the job to me. However, I didn’t say that.
“And I know, I deserve nothing less for not letting you do the job.”
Jesus, how’d he…. I cleared my throat. “Do you have a knife, Rayne?”
She actually patted herself down. “No, I’m sorry. I must have left it in my suit.”
“Next time remember to empty your pockets.” I tossed her my pocketknife. “Don’t cut yourself on it.”
“What do you want me to do?”
“Cut out the lining.” I opened the Dodge’s trunk, took out the body bag, and laid it out next to Davies. “Any idea what you want to do with him?” I asked The Boss as I went through Davies’s pockets. A gun with the safety still on, his wallet with ID, insurance card, and driver’s license, a money clip holding a thousand dollars, mostly in fifties and hundreds—I held it up. “Do you want this buried with him?”
“No. You know what fund we’ll donate it to.”
“Yes, sir.” I tossed it to him, not surprised when he caught it easily, and went through the rest of Davies’s pockets, removing a handkerchief, ballpoint pen, car and house keys, and a recording device... Shit. “Are you aware he was recording your conversation, sir?”
“I had the feeling. He kept asking very leading questions.”
I unbuttoned Davies’s shirt, but we’d lucked out. “He wasn’t smart enough to ask the CIA to wire him. Rayne, I keep some plastic bags in the console for garbage.” I unhooked the house key from the ring and tucked it into my pocket. “As soon as you’re done, get one and put this junk in it.”
“Yes, sir.”
The Boss cleared his throat. “I thought we would use our burial site at Prospect Hill Cemetery.”
“That’s as good a place as any, I guess.” I unzipped the bag and manhandled Davies into it.
Rayne caught a glimpse of the back of his head and gulped heavily at the sight of it—blood, brains, and shattered bone. The entry wound might have been small, but the exit wound had taken a huge chunk of skull. Well, she’d have to get used to it.
“You’re not going to object to burying him with our honored dead?” The Boss asked, wrapping his arms around himself. He had to be feeling the chill without his overcoat.
“I always figured once you’re dead, you’re dead, and you don’t care a rat’s ass who’s buried in the plot next to you.” I removed my coat and handed it to him.
“Thanks.”
“Don’t mention it.” I’d have had to take it off anyway when we got to the cemetery. “Get in the car, sir.”
“We have to deal with Anson’s car.”
Dammit. “Where is it?”
“In the restaurant’s parking lot.”
“Your car?”
“No. My driver dropped me off.”
And The Boss knew I’d be a phone call away when he needed me.
“Mr. Vincent, what do you want me to do with Mr. Wallace’s coat and the… er… junk?”
“Let me have the coat. Take the car keys and put the junk in the car.” I followed my own instructions to her and made sure the coat pockets were empty, then rolled it up, stuffed it into the body bag, and zipped the bag closed. “Now get his feet,” I told Rayne when she rejoined me. “We’re going to put him in the trunk.”
In spite of the traffic passing by, the night was so quiet I could hear her swallow. “Yes, sir.” She had the lighter end, but she still almost dropped him. Fencers developed strong arms. Could it be this was the first time she’d handled a dead body?
Welcome to the WBIS, Ms. Rayne.
Once I was sure Davies was tucked away, I lowered the trunk lid and leaned on it, getting the latch to catch as quietly as I could. The last thing we needed was an inquisitive cop paying us a visit.
“Mr. Vincent, you said something about not leaving DNA in this alley.”
“Yeah.” There was blood and brain matter where Davies had fallen. “We’ll have a little help.” I pointed toward the back of the alley, where the glow of half a dozen sets of eyes could be seen at various heights. “Did you know cats were opportunistic feeders? Wish I’d thought to bring some canned food to encourage them to investigate, but sometimes you cover the bases you can.”
The Boss chuckled. “Now you see why Mark does what he does, Grey.”
“Yes, sir. Um... what should I do with the lining, Mr. Vincent?”
“Give me the knife, and then you and the lining get in the car.”
She did as I told her, and I looked around. Except for the cats, who were showing a bit of curiosity, no one was there, not even any of the local winos. I just hoped it stayed that way until we got the Dodge the hell out of Dodge.
I got behind the wheel and switched on the ignition. There were soft “snicks” as we all buckled up.
In spite of wearing my overcoat, The Boss seemed to be shivering. “Trevor?”
“Sorry. It’s been a number of years since I did this,” he said.
“Not a problem.” I was glad he didn’t add that Davies had been a friend. Between Davies and Lynx, I’d have started questioning The Boss’s judgment in friends. I turned on the heater and let it blast. “Do you want me to take you home?”
“No. This is my mess. I’ll stay to help clean it up.”
“Okay. Which restaurant?”
“The Rib Shack. It’s about four blocks over.”
“Hmm.”
“You’re familiar with it?”
“Yeah.” Not that I’d eaten there. Quinn had mentioned he’d had dinner at the Rib Shack with DB Cooper, the spook he worked with, on the evening Sperling had blown himself to little bitty director bits and wound up in the morgue.
“Why am I not surprised? Drop us there, Mark. Grey, you’ll drive Davies’s car, and I’ll ride with you. For the time being, it will be safest parking it at headquarters.”
“D-Mr. Wallace, if I might offer a suggestion? I know someone who’d have no trouble getting rid of it. I can give her a call, and it will be gone before morning.”
“Excellent thinking, Grey.” The Boss looked proud of her. “Mark?”
I grunted. I’d go along with it because it was what The Boss wanted. “Okay, then.” I put the Dodge in drive, eased away from the alley, and headed toward the Rib Shack, while in the backseat, Rayne made a phone call.
Rayne and The Boss dropped off Davies’s car at the chop shop. I followed and watched as a figure in black heaved open a garage door. A single light bulb illuminated the interior of the garage, and Rayne waited for The Boss to get out of the car before she drove into it.
“Thanks, G. I owe you.” Rayne held out her hand, and the figure took it.
“No thanks necessary, Cloudy,” a warm alto said.
How the fuck—as soon as I had some spare time, I was definitely doing some investigating.
I put the car into park, got out, and walked to the passenger side, opening the door for The Boss.
“Thank you, Mark.”
“You’re welcome, Trevor. Rayne, move it, will you?”
“Yes, sir. Take care, G. I’ll be in touch.”
“Rayne.”
“Yes, sir.” She strode to the car and got into the backseat.
With everyone buckled up once again, I headed for the cemetery. “You’ll have to help me dig up the grave,” I told Rayne over my shoulder. “We want this done soonest.”
“That’s why you brought two shovels and two pairs of gloves?”
“Yeah.” I turned into the North Capitol Street entrance, drove to the section that belonged to the WBIS, and switched off the engine. All ashore who are going ashore. I got out and opened the trunk. “Here.” I handed Rayne a shovel and strode past headstones. “Okay. This is the grave.”
“Sperling’s?” The Boss gave a sour chuckle.
“I thought it was fitting. He and Davies can spend eternity coming up with ways to screw up other people’s lives.”
I removed the sod as carefully as I could—we’d need to replace it, and I didn’t want it too obvious that it had been disturbed—and then we got to work.
“W-who’s Sperling?” Rayne asked, out of breath. There was a streak of dirt across her forehead.
“You don’t want to know,” I said as I toed Davies’s body into the grave. It landed on the casket below with a thud.
“She does, if only to learn how to avoid someone like him.”
So while I shoveled dirt back into the grave, The Boss went into detail about the man whose department I’d taken over.
Rayne and I put the sod back in place, and then we tossed the shovels and gloves into the trunk. “Where to, sir? Home? Rayne, do you want me to drive you home or back to the WBIS for your car?”
“No, I think I owe the two of you dinner. There’s a Portuguese restaurant on Wisconsin Avenue. O Pescador Alegre. I understand you enjoy Portuguese food, Mark.”
“Yes, I do.” I handed Rayne some hand wipes. “Don’t miss that spot on your forehead. We want to look presentable.”
“What about you, Rayne?”
“Uh... sure. That will be fine. Sir.”
He frowned at her before turning to me. “Do you need directions?”
“No, sir. I’ve been there.” I held out my hand for the soiled wipes and threw them into a plastic bag. Then we got in the car.
Rayne took the rear seat again, and The Boss rode shotgun.
Well, at least this time I didn’t have to worry about a waiter recognizing me and being pissed because I wasn’t with Quinn. They only knew me at the Portuguese restaurant because mostly I did takeout.