I PARKED Morehouse's car behind the restaurant, let myself in through the kitchen. Stashed Pansy in the basement. Grabbed the pay phone. Rang Wesley's number. Three times. Hung up.
I was on my second helping of soup when the phone rang. "What?"
"Time to meet."
"You got it?"
"Yeah."
"Tonight. Same deal."
"Right."
"Bring the Chinaman."
When Max came in, I was working on a plate of fried rice with Mongolian ginger-beef I told him we had a meeting that night. He had his own sign for Wesley: an X drawn in salt spilled on the table.
Mama gave me a gallon container of steaming meat and vegetables to take down to Pansy.
Max showed me a copy of the racing form. I shook my head. No. Not yet. But when he dug out a deck of cards, it was okay. We played gin until it got dark. Immaculata came in with Flower. Max took the child from her, parading into the kitchen to show the assorted criminals working back there his prize.
"Hi, Mac."
She leaned over. Kissed me. "Max is back, Burke. I don't know what you…"
I held up my hand. "It's not over yet."
"It doesn't matter. Whatever happens." She bowed. As if to fate.
I took Pansy back to the office. Showered. Changed my clothes. Lit a smoke and watched the darkness outside my window.