I WENT LOOKING for the Prof. Slipped a roll of quarters in my pocket. Tolls for the turnpike. I found him on Vanderbilt, just before it dead-ends on Forty-second Street. A big shoeshine box in front of him. No customers.
"Let's take a ride," I said.
"I wish I could, but I'm holding some goods."
I glanced at the shoeshine box. He nodded.
"How long?"
"Quarter to a half."
I propped a boot on the metal last, lit a cigarette while the Prof went to work. He knew how to do it. Taking his time, running a toothbrush around the welt, taking the polish directly on his fingertips, working it in, popping the rag. Misted the leather with a little spray can, flicked it off with a buffing cloth. He was finishing up the second boot when two heavyset black guys rolled up. They leaned against the building wall, watching. Chilly young men. Pups from the same litter.
The Prof finished up with a flourish. Tugged at my pants cuff to let me know.
"There's your shine, and it's damn fine."
"How much?"
"Put down a pound."
"Five bucks?"
"The ride is five. You want the honey, you come to the hive."
The two pups pushed themselves off the wall in case I was going to argue. I handed the Prof his cash, moved off. Didn't look back.
The Prof caught up to me around the corner. His hands were empty. He got into the Plymouth and we headed over to the West Side Highway. Pulled over at the Ninety-sixth Street exit, hooked the underpass, and found a parking spot on the river. I popped the hood, hauled a toolbox out of the trunk. We kept our heads under the hood, playing with the tools as we talked.
"I saw him again."
"Keep it up, you'll be draped in crepe."
"I'm in it. He did that job- the one on Sutton Place. Spit in Torenelli's face. Julio met with me too. They want Wesley. Alive."
"And the heat still wants you?"
"That was Julio. The fucking weasel dimed me to turn up the flame. So I got no room to move."
"When the man's got a gun, it's time to run."
"That's what I should've done. If I'd known Wesley was tracking Mortay…"
"You know tomorrow's number, we're all rich."
"I know. This is different. I'm in the middle."
"That ain't the place, ace."
"Tell me something I don't know."
"There's no time for that, brother. They're both on the set, so place your bet."
"Wesley."
The little man turned, leaned back against the Plymouth's grille, looking out at the Hudson River. Lit a smoke, taking his time. "It always was him, wasn't it?"
"What're you talking about?"
"In the joint. When you was just a young fool with gunfighter dreams. That's who you wanted to be like, right? Wesley? The ice man."
"He's got nobody, Prof."
"Nobody dragging him down, you mean. Nobody to cry over when they're gone. Traveling light don't make it right."
"He's not a rat."
"This is true. He wanted your head, you'd be dead."
"Wesley wants his money. You know how he is. The Italians made a mistake. Torenelli's hiding. Wesley wants to know where. Settle up."
"It's over, then?"
"That's what he says."
"What do they say?"
"Who? Who should I ask? What they got, it's a big pile of cheese. They don't care which rat gets to eat. Torenelli don't make the count one morning, somebody else'll step in."
He nodded, dragging deep on his smoke. "Somebody knows where he is."
"Yeah, but who?"
"Torenelli. I remember him. A pussy in his heart. He ain't got the stones to go it alone. He was gonna kill himself, he'd use pills."
"That's the way I figure it too."
"Wesley ain't no private eye. Who's looking?"
"Morehouse."
"The reporter? That West Indian is my man! You dig his piece on that dude in Louisiana doing life in the box for a lousy stickup? Where the head of the Parole Board ended up doing time?"
"Yeah. I dealt with him before. I gave him some of the inside stuff from the Sutton Place thing. Hard stuff, right from the scene. From the horse's mouth. Got his nose wide open. He knows brass at NYPD."
"He know why you want the info?"
"He don't want to know."
The Prof dropped his cigarette, ground it out under his heel. "What's my end, friend?"
"They think I got no slack, but there's a knot in the rope. I can unravel it, I got room to breathe. There's a little girl. I need to take her to Lily, take her back when it's all done."
"That's it?"
"There's questions only Lily can get the answers to."
"You got the plan, I'm your man."
I lit my own smoke. "I thought I'd feel better after that motherfucker was gone." Belle's father.
"I know."