The king was dead.
Cava gazed up at the ceiling in the garage and watched Vinny Bing’s knuckle dragging corpse sway from a rope as the heat switched on and the vents in the rafters blew out hot air. Remarkably, it looked like the king was still wearing that TV smile beneath his crown. His mouth was thrust open and he could see his yellow teeth.
Cava had been freezing his ass off outside the dealership for more than hour. Following the king’s movements through the plate glass windows as he closed up for the night. It turned out that Vinny had a thing for Frank Sinatra CDs, microwaved popcorn, and glasses of bourbon. That he liked to prance around the showroom in his costume, listening to music and peeking in his employee’s desks when no one was around.
Cava had caught up with him as he walked out the front door. Although the king acted surprised and things got dramatic for five or ten minutes, although the king had repeatedly bitten him like a rabid dog during the struggle, it was over now. The king and his cable TV show would wind up buried in the metro section of the paper and fade into oblivion as a rerun.
Cava looked at the cell he had removed from the man’s pocket. It was encrusted with diamonds in the shape of a crown. Below the crown was his first name, Vinny. When he flipped the phone open, it played a jingle. Cava recognized the tune, but couldn’t place it. Once he finally did, he almost wished that he hadn’t killed the slob. It was from the Miss America beauty pageant that used to be on TV. The jingle they played at the end of the show when the winner received her crown and started to cry.
Cava shrugged it off and entered a phone number from memory. After three rings he heard her voice. Heard her say hello.
“Lena?” he asked.
She didn’t say anything right away. He could see her face in his mind’s eye. He could feel the shock through the radio waves in the air.
“Where are you?” she said.
“Free and clear and heading for paradise in a magic pair of cheap shoes. I told you that I’d walk.”
“You’re a cop killer, Cava.”
“Does that mean our deal’s off?”
She paused again. And he could see her face again. He liked having the image in his head and hoped that it wouldn’t wear off over time.
“How’d you get this number?” she said finally.
“I saw it on the screen when you opened your cell and turned it off.”
“You need to turn yourself in, Cava. Believe me. It’s your best chance at surviving this.”
“Stop talking and listen,” he said. “I called for a reason.”
“What reason?”
“My end of our deal and a rare moment of clarity. Tremell’s kid didn’t know anything about the murder. The old man used him as bait to get the girl out to that whorehouse. All the kid knew was that his father wanted to dirty her up and make her look like a whore.”
Another run of silence. Cava thought he could hear traffic in the background. She was in her car.
“He’s covering for his father,” she said.
“Most sons would. But he didn’t know about the murder.”
“What else?”
The king’s shadow drifted over the key rack on the wall. Cava noticed it and glanced at the tags. He could have any car on the lot he wanted. It was free car night.
“The reason I called,” he said. “You’ve missed something.”
“Missed what?”
“A piece of the puzzle. You’ve missed it. And it’s a big piece.”
“What is it?”
He paused a moment, thinking it over. “I’ll leave that to you,” he said. “I’ve got your number. I’ll check in when I get to paradise.”
He shut down the phone and slipped it into his pocket. Then he skimmed through the key tags and picked out another SRX Crossover. Walking to the door, he turned back for one last look at Vinny Bing the Cadillac King and caught the man’s horrific smile from above.
“Hang in there,” he said.