Grant McCrea - Dead Money

He still said nothing.

Anyway, I said, you got two choices, right? You sit here. You say nothing. The cops come back. They grill the shit out of you. You don’t say nothing. I know you won’t. You’re a tough guy. But then what happens?

He didn’t respond.

I’ll tell you what happens. They’re pissed. You don’t say nothing, they draw one conclusion: guilty as charged. So they charge you. They shake down everybody and his dog. They turn over every rock. Because they don’t like you. They don’t like you at all. They get very, very serious when somebody doesn’t help them out. They’re vindictive bastards.

I thought I saw a glint of understanding in his eyes.

You know what happens then, don’t you Ramon?

Silence.

Don’t you?

Silence.

I’ll tell you, then. I go to Raul. You don’t take my offer? Raul does. And you’re high and dry, man. You think Raul’s going to protect you? When he knows he can pin it on a dead guy and you? You know Raul. He’s a slick motherfucker. He could talk his way into Fort Knox.

Silence. A slow shaking of the head. Hard to interpret.

Think about it, Ramon. When you were there, after Mr. FitzGibbon went over the balcony. You guys saw the e-mail. It pointed to Veronica. What’s the first question they’d ask? Where the hell’s this Veronica? Why didn’t you just get rid of it? Why didn’t you throw it away, delete it from the computer?

He gave me a stony look.

Because Raul told you not to. If it’d been sent somewhere, they’d get it eventually. And they have ways to figure out what’s been deleted. That if you deleted it, they’d know. You’d look bad. Raise suspicion. Right?

He said nothing.

Anyway, what the note said wasn’t so bad for you. Suicide. Better than murder. Maybe you’d get away with the Veronica thing, Larry Silver. Pin it all on Jules.

Silence.

That’s what he told you. Am I right? Or am I right? Is he a smart sonofabitch, or is he?

Slowly, painfully, Ramon got it.

Yeah, you’re right, he sighed.

He’d finally figured it out. He was fucked, either way. He had to trust me. It was his only chance.

I don’t know that much, he said.

What do you mean?

It was Raul. It was Raul and Jules. They cooked the whole thing up.

Tell me about it, I said.

He talked.

We got together in a big, anonymous room. Bright fluorescent lights. Hard wooden chairs. Linoleum. I insisted that Dorita be there. The ADA asked Butch to stay. They were probably taping the meeting. I didn’t care. Maybe I’d ask for a copy afterwards. For the movie. The one about my stunning legal career.

Well? Russell Graham, ADA, asked with a skeptical air. Did you get anything?

You weren’t watching? I asked, surprised.

Something came up. Lee was there, he said, nodding to the beady-eyed detective.

The Nose had a name.

Couldn’t hear a thing, he said.

Okay, I said. Here it is. As best I can figure it.

As I started putting it all on the table, Russell Graham gradually lost his stiff and wary air. Moved on to surprised. Impressed, even. Sidled up to warm and cuddly. He even started contributing to the discussion.

Collectively, we put it all together.

Jules, it was obvious, was a hell of a lot more sophisticated than he let on. He knew Raul for what he was. Somebody for whom other people’s feelings and values didn’t exist.

Well, Dorita interjected, takes one to know one.

You’re talking about Jules, I presume? I replied.

As opposed to?

Me, for instance.

Sure, she said. Whatever gets you through the night.

We got blank looks from the rest of the crowd. They didn’t seem to be entirely tuned in to the Rick and Dorita show.

Like your average rich psychopath, I surmised, Raul hadn’t had the need or opportunity to break the law. To go over the line. The club stuff kept him busy. Decorating the Park Avenue pad. He’d got his ego stroked enough that he hadn’t needed to go anywhere else for it.

But when Jules came to Raul with his scheme, Raul couldn’t resist the idea of all that easy money. As he saw it, Jules was taking all the risk. He and Ramon could maintain plausible deniability all the way.

They’d snatch Veronica, Jules proposed. Raul could find out her itinerary easily enough. Jules would arrange the grab. They’d tell FitzGibbon that Veronica had been kidnapped – that much, of course, would be true. The kidnappers wanted ransom, but were crazy, fanatical religionists, and couldn’t be trusted. They might even come after FitzGibbon himself. They had to be dealt with very carefully. Ramon, Mr. Security, would deliver the ransom, which quite naturally would then disappear, along with the kidnappers. But FitzGibbon would get Veronica back. He’d be happy. To him, it would have been worth the price.

Raul bought it. Putting one over on the old man. The prick who had the gall to make him work for a living. He couldn’t resist. And with Raul came Ramon. As always.

And when FitzGibbon fell for the scam too, he fell for it like Hepburn for Tracy. They’d read him well. Veronica was his one true love. That much of what he’d said was true. He’d been heartbroken when she’d left. It had eaten him up. He wanted her back in a desperate way. And then, by happenstance – or maybe by design – I wasn’t sure how much credit to give the three little shits – he had an enemy to blame for her absence, instead of himself, in the guise of the dastardly terrorist kidnappers.

FitzGibbon having a paranoid streak to begin with, they hadn’t even needed to prompt him to circle the wagons. It was only natural to rely on family in a crisis. By means of which Ramon could make sure that FitzGibbon never had any second thoughts, or if he did he didn’t act on them. No surreptitious phone calls to the cops. No midnight doubts about the whole outrageous scheme. Because Ramon was always there.

Ramon himself, of course, couldn’t be trusted to decide anything. Too damn stupid. So Raul kept him on a very short leash. On the other hand, Raul was sure, he could count on Ramon not to betray the plan. He knew that from a lifetime’s experience with his brother. Raul had always been the smart one. The charming one. The one who could get them what they wanted. Ramon followed Raul like a well-trained hound. And Raul, in his hubris, his absolute self-regard, had no doubt at all about his ability to control everyone: Ramon, FitzGibbon, Jules and, when it came down to it, me as well.

The Larry Silver thing had thrown a big wrench into the plans. When Ramon called Raul to report on his successful mission, Raul told him to leave the body there, where it could be easily found, three blocks from Jules’s place. Then they’d have something to hang over Jules, if they needed it later. But that, it turned out, was a big miscalculation. Raul didn’t know the neighbors had called the cops about the noise. That the cops would make the connection.

Once the cops were all over Jules, Raul figured he’d be sorely tempted to cop a plea by implicating the twins. So Raul, pulling the double switch, convinced Jules that he had a plan to make sure Jules wouldn’t get pegged for the murder. Said he had some homeless sucker he’d frame for it. That way, Raul controlled the situation from every angle.

Hence Jules’s sudden calm and arrogance, I said. If he believed Raul, he figured he was bulletproof on the Larry Silver thing.

I wonder about that, though, said Butch. I can’t see Jules buying that story.

Yeah, I said. He was a wily little fucker. Much more probable that Raul told Jules he was going to pin it on Ramon. Told Ramon the homeless guy story.

His own twin brother? said the ADA.

I wouldn’t put it past him, Butch said.