The Best American Mystery Stories 2002
- Автор: Грейди Джеймс, Камински Стюарт Мелвин
- Год: 2002
- Язык: английский
- Год: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt
- ISBN: 978-0-618-12494-7
- Жанр: Другие детективы
Электронная книга - «The Best American Mystery Stories 2002». Краткое содержание книги:
Lights coming across the bridge. The headlights flashed twice and then the lights dimmed as the car pulled up beside him. He stepped out and kept the hood and engine block between himself and the visitors.
“Richard?” came the familiar voice from the dark car. One Charlie Moore, and once again he wished he could be in a place where he would never hear that voice again.
“The same,” he said, relaxing, bringing his hand to his side from where it had been, at the rear of his shirt.
“Glad to see you,” he said. “Have a visitor here. Do you mind?”
“Do you care if I mind or not?”
A laugh. “Nope, I guess not.”
The footsteps came toward his Lexus, and a voice cautioned, “Watch it, light coming on.” He moved his head away and a small battery-powered lamp was turned on and was then placed on the hood of his car. In the small but bright light he made out the faces of two men, one familiar, the other a stranger. The familiar one said, “Time for introductions. Bob Tuthill, Department of Justice, please meet Richard Dow. Formerly known as Ricky ‘the Rifle’ Dolano.”
Tuthill just nodded. He had on a dark suit, white shirt, and red necktie. His companion was dressed more comfortably, in jeans and a black turtleneck shirt. Richard said, “Charlie, what’s going on?”
Tuthill spoke up. “What’s going on is another trial, set to start in August.”
“Where?”
“California. Two days, maybe three.”
“Who are you guys after?”
“Mel Flemmi,” Charlie said. “Used to be in your neck of the woods, then got into trouble in San Diego. The government needs to prove a pattern of criminal conduct, which is where you come in, testifying about what he did in Jersey. That won’t be a problem, will it?”
“Nope,” Richard said.
Tuthill shook his head. “Sorry, Ricky, that was—”
“Richard,” he interrupted. “The name is Richard Dow. Go on.”
Tuthill looked over at Charlie in exasperation and said, “What I was saying is that you answered too quickly. Saying there wouldn’t be a problem is a given, ’cause you know where we’ve got you. Set up in this little piece of paradise is part of the deal, and so is your testifying when we say so. But I don’t like the way you answered Mr. Moore so quickly. What I need to know is that we’re going to have your full faith and cooperation in testifying against Flemmi. Understood?”
Richard folded his arms, feeling his breathing tighten, just like when he was face to face with that moron George Winn at the high school parking lot. He said, “Look, Mel Flemmi is an animal. I know enough about what he did so you guys could put him away until the next millennium, even without bringing up whatever he did in San Diego. So yeah, I don’t have a problem with testifying against him. Little slug, his own teenage niece started doing drugs, started staying out late in the streets, and he whacked her, personally. So she wouldn’t bring shame to his family. So that’s the kind of guy he is, and so here’s the story. I don’t have a problem testifying against him. That good enough for you, Tuthill?”
A little smile came across the man’s face. “Nice talk from someone accused of committing eleven murders in his career.”
“Accused,” Richard said. “Never convicted.”
This time, Tuthill laughed and turned to Charlie. “What is it with these wise guys? Man, they flip and testify at the drop of a hat. The old-timers in my office, they said there used to be a time when guys like this would rather serve ten, twenty, or thirty years before being accused of being a rat. They getting soft or what?”
Richard tightened his arms against his chest. “I don’t know about any ‘they.’ All I know is that I found out my boss was cooperating with clowns like you. So I cut my own deal, to protect myself and my family. Loyalty’s a two-way street, and I’m not going to Leavenworth for life for some guy who wants to get free on my back.”
Tuthill laughed. “Whatever. Moore, I’m ready to go back. Oh, Richard, one more thing.”
“Yes?”
Tuthill leaned over the hood of the car. “Some of your compatriots over the years, they’ve embarrassed the department over side deals they had going on while they were in the program. Your job, what is it? A children’s book writer?”
“That’s what they gave me,” Richard said.
“And the publicity problem...?” Tuthill asked.
“You should know,” Richard said. “I write under a pseudonym. The books are for two- and three-year-olds. Not much chance of many fan letters. There’s no photo on the book jackets; they say the author lives in California. The locals, they don’t care. This is Vermont. You could sacrifice goats to Lucifer in your spare time, and nobody’d care, as long as you don’t keep your neighbors up with the noise.”
“How charming,” Tuthill said. “Which brings me to my original point. Other guys like you, they’ve gotten bored with their agreement. They’ve decided to get back to their original business, like loan sharking and gambling and breaking arms and legs. Which means sleazy defense lawyers get to jump all over their character, and whether or not their testimony is truthful.”
“How interesting,” Richard said.
“Wait, it gets better. So what I’m telling you is that your friggin’ nose better be clean. No violence, no threat of violence, not even a parking violation. This trial is important, quite important, and I’m not going to let some stoolie killer like you spoil it for me. ’Cause if you do, you and your family will be moving. How’d you like to run a pig farm in the middle of Nebraska?”
Richard said, “I like it here. You won’t have a problem.”
“Good,” he said. “Moore, I’m ready to head back.”
“Sure,” Charlie said. “I’ll be right there.”
When the sound of a car door being slammed reached them both, Charlie sighed. “Sorry. Young guy, new in his job, wants to make his bones. Sorry about all that yapping and such.”
“Not your fault,” Richard said, letting his arms relax.
“Still...”
“Yeah?”
“Listen well to what he said, Richard. Except for one little mark against your record since you moved here, you’ve done okay. Keep it that way, or he will transfer you out to a pig farm. Your wife, your kids, they’ve adjusted over the years here, haven’t they. I don’t think they’d like moving again.”
Richard said, “You let me worry about my family. And that so-called black mark against my record, that was bogus, and you know it. Besides, I had only been out here a month. I was still adjusting.”
Charlie laughed. “You broke the headlights on some guy’s car with a baseball bat and threatened to do the same to his teeth. Doesn’t sound too bogus to me.”
Richard smiled. “He stole a parking space from me at the shopping center. Look, I’ve got the message, loud and clear. I’ll be a good little boy.”
“Okay,” Charlie said. “Here, I’ve got two things for you.” Charlie reached into his pocket and took out a computer disk, which he tossed over to Richard. He caught it with no problem.
“Your next book,” Charlie said. “Lulu the Seasick Sea Lion.”
“Marvelous. What’s the other thing you’ve got for me?”
“This,” Charlie said, handing over a plastic shopping bag, full and bulging. “Some souvenirs from your old haunts. Cheeses and sausages and pepperonis and spices and sauces. A little bit of everything. I figured you still missed some of that old-time food, don’t you.”