WESLEY said Julio was on the house. A trade for the don. But the don had been Wesley's killing. All his. Danielle's father had turned me into a dog. A hunting dog that fetched his raw meat back. He had to pay. Wesley said he'd do that freak. In his soundproof basement. Train was a trade. Not all mine, but enough.
I couldn't let Wesley within shooting range of Strega- the monster might feel the heat. And strike. Strega. The witch-bitch. She'd set it up this way. "You wouldn't let anything happen to me." Wesley was out.
At eight-thirty, I swung into the gas station. Told the guy to fill it up. Max got out to go to the men's room. The pump jockey filled the tank, took my money. I drove off alone.
A couple of minutes after eleven, I backed into the lot. Strega's BMW on my left, Julio's Caddy on the right. I swung the Plymouth between them. Got out, opened my trunk, left it open. Walked to Julio's car. His window snicked down. I put my head inside, checked the back seat. Empty.
"Get out, Julio."
He showed me a thick envelope. "I thought you were supposed to get the letter first."
"I am. I want you to open the trunk. Make sure you came alone. Mine's already open, you want to look."
He got out, a sneer on his face. Unlocked the trunk. Empty.
"I'll be right back," I told him.
"Burke, wait a minute." His gloved hand on my arm. "I got no more troubles, you understand? Except her. Crazy people, they're always trouble. They stay trouble."
"Why tell me?"
"I know you can get to Wesley. I'm going to make some arrangements. I want to pay him for the last job. The old don, he was a fuckin' idiot. No trap, no games. I give you the cash, you deliver it to Wesley. I don't gotta be around. I just want him to know…no hard feelings…it's a new regime, like they say. You could do this?"
"Maybe."
"Yeah, you always say 'maybe.' I ask you if you get up tomorrow morning, you say 'maybe.' You can do it. When you see Wesley, you tell him he's all right with me. Aces. I even got a nice easy job for him. Cash up front, how's that?"
"I'll see."
I left him standing there. Walked over to Strega's car, feeling his eyes on my back. She stepped out of the little sedan, wearing a black coat, black scarf over her red hair. She handed me a thin envelope.
"I was right," she said.
"Yeah, you were," I said. "Now get out of here."
"I want to see it." Witchy eyes, even in the sunlight. "I was right…about everything."
I walked back toward Julio. The old man came forward, one hand reaching into his pocket. Highway traffic hummed to my right, planes thundered to my left. I held out Strega's envelope to Julio. With his confession inside: how he made a little girl-child dance for him. The child he just sentenced to dance again under Wesley's bullets. He took his hand out of his inside pocket, slipped what I handed him into his coat. Reached back inside. A fat envelope. I took it. Closed my hand over his. He pulled back. "What…?" Max launched off the railing in a dark blur. Julio twisted his neck sharply just as I heard the snap. He fell into me. I slipped his dead arm over my neck, walked him to the railing. Propped him on the bench, emptied his pockets. An old man, sleeping in the sun. Until you got close enough to catch the smell.
I walked back to my car. Closed the trunk on the dark bundle of blankets back there. Followed the BMW out of the parking lot.
The Plymouth shot past Strega, heading for the Triboro Bridge. I thought I saw her wave something at me but the windows of her car were very dark. I couldn't be sure.