That night, as the sun settled on the Adirondack Park, we sat around a corner dining room table at Fangs, the remains of several different Chinese dishes taking up space beside two bottles of red wine. One of them empty, the second nearly drained.
“Well, we finally get to have dinner with two fine-looking ladies,” Blood said.
“That your way of making a toast, Blood?” I said, shooting a wink at both Betty and Bridgette, both of whom looked ravishing in their flowing skirts and loose summer-weight tops. Betty sat beside Blood, so close her shoulder was rubbing up against his thick bicep which protruded from his tight black T-shirt like a mountain with a high, round peak.
My date sat close to me too, but not that close. She was, however, resting her hand on my thigh. Something I not only enjoyed but that filled me with warmth and happiness. It was the way it used to be with Fran whenever she would touch me.
I raised my glass. “To the two best dates in Dannemora,” I said.
Bridgette shot Betty a look, then laughed. “I think we’ll take that as a compliment,” she said.
We clinked glasses, making sure everyone looked everyone in the eye or else break the spell of the toast.
“You see,” Blood said, drinking a swallow of wine, “Keeper means well. But he don’t know how to talk to women. Why he’s always lonely.”
I drank some wine. It was beginning to make me feel slightly tipsy. Something I usually avoided these days. But it was an evening for celebrating. We’d managed to free a bunch of kids and pay for some of their college tuitions while we were at it. Maybe we had a chance to score some real cash for ourselves, but Blood and I played by the rules. Rather, we liked to think that the rules we played by were above the law.
The door opened behind us, redirecting our attention, and two people walked in. They were dressed in black suits and sunglasses, even though the summer sun had all but set on the horizon.
Agents Doyle and Muscolino.
They approached our table, not like they were pleasantly surprised to see us, but more like they knew we were here the entire time.
“Don’t look now,” Blood said. “But we got some spooks on our tail.”
“I love it when you say spook,” I said.
The two agents stood over our table.
“Evening, Mr. Marconi, Mr. Blood,” Muscolino said. Then, eyeing our dates, “Good evening, ladies.”
Everyone mumbled a polite good evening back.
“You’re still wearing sunglasses,” I said.
“Excuse me?” he said.
“I said you’re still wearing your sunglasses. It’s dark out now, and you’re indoors. You know what they call people who wear sunglasses indoors?”
“No, what do they call them?”
“Jerks,” I said.
Maintaining his stone-face, Muscolino slowly removed his Ray-Bans. Agent Doyle, taking his cue, did the same.
“There,” he said, “now we’re not jerks.”
“So, to what do we owe the pleasure?” Blood said.
“We apologize for the intrusion, but we need to talk. I’ve got a team of agents on their way, and we’re going to require some extensive interviews with you and the major players in the basement operation at Dannemora. The, what do they call it, the Crypt?”
“Sounds serious,” Bridgette said.
“Federal investigations are always a serious matter, ma’am,” Doyle said.
“I just love shows ’bout Federal Agents,” Betty said while brushing back her thick red hair with her open hand. “I just love X-Files reruns.” She laughed. “That’s what you two look like. Like Agent Scully and Agent Mulder.”
“We get that a lot, ma’am,” Muscolino said.
I looked at my watch. “Well, agents, it’s going on nine o’clock. We’re already a little drunk, and you’re not going to get very far with us tonight. So, why not take a seat and have a drink.”
Muscolino turned to Doyle.
“Sounds like a plan to me,” she said. “My feet are killing me from walking around all day.”
“Okay, agreed,” Muscolino said as he pulled out a chair and sat down. “Maybe we’ll find something interesting to talk about. Governor Valente’s arrest for one, or haven’t you guys seen the TV?”
“Read about it on my smartphone,” I said. “Still can’t get over his trying to run away like that. Where the hell did he think he was going to go? Mexico?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, Keeper.” He nodded at Blood. “The State of New York owes you two quite a debt for what you did. You put your lives on the line and exposed a multi-billion-dollar crime syndicate that extends way beyond state borders.”
“You saying someone should offer me a raise, Agent Muscolino?” I quipped.
“If I were your boss, I would most definitely reevaluate your stock value. But then, you’re your own boss.”
Blood raised his hands to get the waitress’s attention. “Two more glasses,” he said, “and another bottle.”
She brought both right away, opening the bottle at the table. Blood poured the agents some wine, and we all made another toast to closing the Crypt. Then, Agent Muscolino pulled out his notebook.
“Mind if I just ask a few simple questions while we’re sitting here?”
“I don’t see why not,” I said. “We’re heroes, after all.”
“Down inside the Crypt vault, we found several stacks worth upward of five million US dollars apiece. Quite an extraordinary sum for an operation of its size down in the prison basement. One of the stacks was missing some bundles from it. Not a whole lot, in relative terms, but enough for us to take notice. Do you have any idea where the money could have disappeared to?”
I looked at Blood. He looked at me, shrugged his shoulders.
“Beats me,” I said. “Beats him, too.”
Muscolino looked down at his lap, then looked up again. He sighed.
“That’s all you have to say on the subject?” he said.
I might have done the right thing, told him that after we delivered the children to the emergency room at the Champlain Valley Physicians Hospital Medical Center, Blood and I stuffed the cash bags into five separate lockers at the old Greyhound bus station. But sometimes, you had to do the wrong thing to preserve the greater good.
“Yup,” I said. “That’s all I have to say.”
“Will you come to my office tomorrow and swear under oath that you, in fact, do not know what happened to the money?”
“Yup.”
“Even if it means a federal offense, should I find out you are lying?”
“Yup.”
“Even if one or more of those kids spills the beans when the hospital staff at Champlain Valley gives us the green light to interview them?”
“Yup.”
“You gonna keep saying yup to every question I ask?”
“Yup, and maybe nope.”
Muscolino smiled. He had a nice smile, it turned out. Life was serious sometimes. But not always. I preferred the latter.
“I repeat,” he said. “Anything you say can and will be held against you in a court of law, even if you say it in Fangs. Yups and nopes included.”
“Yup.”
He drank some wine, jotted something down in his notebook.
“Next question,” he said. “How’s the Moo Goo Gai Pan here?”
“Exquisite,” Bridgette said.
“The best in Dannemora,” I said.
“I love it,” Betty said.
“Let’s get drunk,” Blood said.
We proceeded to do exactly that.
The End
If you enjoyed this Jack Marconi PI novel, you will also enjoy The Sins of the Sons and the entire Jack Marconi PI series.
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