The Man Who Came Uptown
- Автор: Пелеканос Джордж
- Год: 2018
- Язык: английский
- Год: Mulholland Books / Little, Brown and Company
- ISBN: 978-0-316-47982-0
- Жанр: Криминальные детективы
Электронная книга - «The Man Who Came Uptown». Краткое содержание книги:
“It attracts attention,” said Berhanu.
“So do the pipes.”
“If you want unflavored water but still fast, go with the Lexus. Three hundred and eighty horses.”
“You can keep your rice burner. I need space on this one. My driver goes around six four.”
“It’s a living room inside. Wilt Chamberlain’s Afro wouldn’t touch the headliner.”
“Good shape?”
“Donnie’s done a nice job with it. Heavy-duty suspension and brakes. New de Carbon shocks. It’s not a screamer off the line but it gets up to sixty very quickly.” Berhanu shrugged. “Basically, it’s a four-door Vette.”
“My jeans are getting tight.”
“You and your penis.”
“It’s a way of life.”
“So, we are good?”
Ornazian nodded. “Plates?”
“I’ll provide.”
Berhanu got his license plates from the long-term parking lots of the three local airports. He also had an extensive network of garage attendants in the area who helped him from time to time. Many attended his church on Illinois Avenue in Northwest.
Ornazian and Berhanu negotiated a price.
“Ciao,” said Ornazian to Berhanu before leaving.
“Ciao, Phil.”
Ornazian went to his car, where Donnie stood, his smartphone in his hand. As Ornazian approached, Donnie slipped the phone in his coverall pocket and walked away. Ornazian said nothing to Donnie. He didn’t trust drunks.
Ornazian’s plan for the day was to go out to Glen Echo Heights and surveil the Kelly residence. With luck, Terry Kelly would return home for one of his periodic visits. Ornazian would have dinner with his family and then do a night surveillance on Gustav and his men. This time he would follow the fat man out to his home in Hyattsville in an effort to ascertain a pattern. So far, Gustav had consistently gone from the brothel straight to his home, driven by Cesar in the Range Rover. The thin man took the Mustang, their follow car.
But now, sitting in his Ford in the alley, Ornazian would call Michael Hudson, give him the address of the woman he was looking for, and tell Michael that he had found a car.
After his day shift at the restaurant, Michael went to his mother’s house, read his latest book out on the porch, and walked Brandy. Then he showered and dressed in a nice shirt and jeans. He brushed out his Timbs till they looked fresh, grabbed his watch cap, and left the house. Shadows had lengthened on the street.
Michael walked up to Warder Place in Park View and went up the steps to a tan-brick row house with bars on the first-floor windows. He stood on a small porch that could only hold one chair and knocked on the front door. Soon the door opened and Anna Byrne stood in the open frame.
“Michael,” said Anna. She was obviously taken by surprise but her eyes and body language said that he was fine.
“It’s me,” said Michael. “I got your phone.”
Michael pulled her iPhone from his back pocket and handed it to her across the threshold.
“God,” she said. “How did you get this?”
“Listened to the street telegraph. Wasn’t all that difficult.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much.”
“I put it on my mother’s charger. So you should be able to use it now.”
Anna powered up her phone and entered her password. Multiple messages and texts loaded. She had not yet notified the carrier of the theft, as Rick had told her to do. Rick would have said that she was foolish. She preferred to think of herself as an optimist.
“Thank you,” she said again, and then they stood there, him on the porch, she inside her home.
It was obvious to Michael that she was not going to ask him in, and why should she? She had known him only as an offender, not as a free man.
“Your husband home?” he said.
“Not yet,” she said. “Hey, you want to go for a walk? Let me buy you a beer or something. It’s the least I can do.”
“I don’t drink,” said Michael. “But I’ll sit with you.”
“Give me five minutes,” she said.
“I’ll wait for you here,” said Michael. He was sparing her the discomfort of asking him to wait outside.
They walked down to Georgia Avenue. Anna had her hair down and she had changed into jeans and a sweater over a black button-down shirt. Not provocative in any way, but cleaned up. Michael thought she looked nice.
Anna suggested a place called the Midlands, a beer garden with outdoor seating and open doors that led to an indoor bar area with a pool table. They sat at a picnic table because it was warm enough. Lights were hung on strings on wood beams in an arbor-type atmosphere. Longtime neighborhood residents were mixed with new ones. A smoker had been set up and someone was cooking some kind of meat that smelled good. People brought their dogs here, and water and treats were provided. There were many young men with beards.
Anna sipped a lager and Michael had a ginger ale. She asked him how he’d found her home. It wasn’t an accusation. She was curious.
“Dude I know who’s in the business of locating people. He helped me out.” He meant Phil Ornazian. “I didn’t mean to, like, invade your privacy.”
“You didn’t.”
“Since I’m being truthful, I looked at your credit card receipt from that first night I saw you at the DL. Said your husband’s name was Byrne. It confused me, ’cause, you know, you go by Anna Kaplan at the jail.”
“A lot of women don’t take their husband’s last names when they get married.”
“For real?”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, if you happen to run into anyone we both know, I hope you’ll keep my secret.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t give you up.”
“I didn’t think you would.”
Michael relaxed. He was grateful she hadn’t asked for details on how he’d retrieved her phone. “What kind of name is Kaplan?”
“I’m Jewish. And my full name is Annalisa. It means ‘grace’ or ‘devoted to God.’ My parents are full-on American, but they met on a kibbutz when they were backpacking through Europe after college. They were very into the Israeli-name thing.”
“My mother named me Michael. It was 1989, and she was very into that Michael Jordan thing.”
Anna smiled and sipped her beer. One of the owners’ dogs, a big friendly beast, bounded over to their table and sniffed Michael’s outstretched hand. Michael liked this place. He felt comfortable here, though he recognized no one and most of the customers were not the kind of people he’d come up with. He looked through the fence to the right of the Midlands and saw a storefront sign for a place called Wall of Books.
“Dag, they got a bookstore here?”
“Yes,” said Anna. “They buy and sell used books there.”
“Must’ve opened that while I was away. I can’t believe all the changes. This was kinda rough around here, before your time. What with the Park Morton homes right down the street. I used to see all kinds of go-go shows at the Capitol City Ball Room, right there.” Michael motioned with his head toward a big boxy building on Georgia.
“People called it the Black Hole, right?” said Anna.
“You know about that?”
“I’ve heard about it from my neighbors. What do you think of all the changes around here? Is it bad?”
“Not all. What do you call that, when you’re looking back, and it seems better than it really was?”
“Nostalgia.”
“Right. Sometimes I feel like a stranger in my own neighborhood, but long as too many people don’t get pushed out their homes, I guess the changes are good. All these new businesses, bars, and things... the Safeway up the street? Those are jobs that weren’t there before.”