Don Bruns - Stuff to spy for

“Sandler?” She laughed, a harsh, nasty, sarcastic type of laugh. “Please, Mr. Moore. I could give a rat’s ass about my husband.” Pretty harsh words from such a petite young woman.

“Then who do you think might be the next victim?”

She looked down the street again, biting her bottom lip. “Me, Mr. Moore. I believe I’m next in line to be killed.”

I parked my dirty tan 2000 Chevy Cavalier in the parking lot outside Sarah’s condo building. When I’d left Carol Conroy at the Red Derby I’d made sure she saw me get into the little car, so if she did drive by Sarah’s condo, checking on her husband, she’d notice my crappy little piece of junk. I thought about going up and telling Sarah that I was fulfilling my obligation, but I wasn’t sure what I’d find. Maybe Sandler Conroy himself. The deal was to park the car overnight, and that’s what I did.

James had followed me to the complex. I got in the truck and he sat there, staring at the building.

“Opera.”

“What?”

“Name of the building. High-end condo for Sarah the hooker. She must have made some serious jack hooking.”

“James, every time I see her I think about that. But she got me the job. That’s a good thing.”

“Yeah. And she’s also put you in a position.”

“There’s that, too.”

“Seems to me, amigo, that you should get hazard pay.”

I didn’t say anything for a while. Hazard pay. I was getting it. James didn’t know I was getting it.

Finally, James pulled out of the lot. “We’re not getting any younger, Skip. If we’re going to make a mark, it’s about time we do that.”

“James-”

“And we’re never going to make our mark working for someone else.”

“James.” It was his obsession. Make a million by the time we were thirty. Or before.

He reached down beside the driver’s seat into a small bucket on the floor and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. Putting one in his mouth, he lit it with a match, bending the match with one hand and one finger, striking it with his thumb. “Tell me I’m wrong, Skip.”

“About the hazard pay.”

“Hazard pay?”

“You mentioned hazard pay.”

James took a long drag on his cigarette, letting the smoke drift from his mouth out the window into the warm Miami evening. “I don’t mean to be the materialistic weasel of this group, but do you think we’ll get hazard pay out of this?” He turned to me and smiled.

It took me a moment. “Armageddon?”

“Ah, the man knows his movies.”

“Good quote.”

“Good movie.” He slouched back in his seat and stepped on the gas. The truck moved a little faster. Not much.

“James, she offered me hazard pay.”

“Oh?” He looked at me with a frown on his face.

“Yeah. I’m being paid for the job.”

“Gigolo.”

“Ten grand.”

He was silent for a moment. “A well-paid gigolo. Why didn’t you tell me this?”

“I’m telling you now.”

“And I get the feeling there may be more to this.”

“Hey, ten grand, James. That’s damned good hazard pay.”

“You weren’t going to tell me.”

I could tell his feelings were hurt. “Listen. I’m getting paid. And there is more to this.”

He was holding the cigarette with one hand, steering and tapping his fingers on the steering wheel with his other. “So spill.”

“I may have bitten off more than I can chew.”

“We’re reversing roles here?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I tend to be the one who goes out on a limb. Our relationship-” he took another mouth full of smoke, “it depends on me being the adventurous one. You are the voice of reason, amigo.”

“Usually.”

“So we’re reversing roles.”

I shrugged my shoulders. A Cadillac Escalade entered the highway, and James slowed down to let it ease into traffic. Before he died, James’s father dreamed of driving a Cadillac, and James always showed a lot of respect for any of their vehicles. He swore he’d own a Cadillac or two or three before he was thirty.

“What sparked this moment of adventure?”

I had the answer ready for him. “Greed.”

My partner was quiet for a minute, maybe two. He never took his eyes off the road as we hit highway 95 and cruised along, past the concrete and stucco buildings, the myriad entrances and exits, the cement walls that rose on the side of the highway, sheltering the residential communities from the noise of traffic.

Finally I had to speak. “I’m not going to tell you I’m sorry. I mean, we’re not married, man. And even married couples don’t share everything.”

He didn’t say a word.

“All right. Here’s the rest of the story.”

James glanced at me, his eyes wide and bright. My buddy from fourth grade. My best friend. Ready for another quest. I needed him. Right now. “I had a meeting with Carol Conroy this afternoon.”

“What?”

“Sandler Conroy’s wife.”

“Oh, man, you didn’t tell her about-”

“Never came up.”

“Then pray tell, what was this meeting about?”

“She wants to hire me.”

“Skip, you’re already hired. You’ve got two jobs at Synco Systems. Setting up the security system and pretending to be Sarah’s boyfriend. I mean, what the hell else is there?”

“I accepted a third position.”

“Pard! What are you doing?”

And I told him. I told him how Carol Conroy thought that Walters’s death may not have been suicide. I told him about Tony Quatman and his secretary. I told him that she didn’t feel close to her father, and she didn’t seem to care about her husband. Actually said that she didn’t give a rat’s ass about Sandler Conroy. And finally I told him that Mrs. Conroy thought she might be in line to be murdered.

We swung off the highway by the Miami Dolphin stadium and headed to our apartment complex.

“You still haven’t told me how much.”

“After all that, and you want to know how much? Aren’t you worried about a woman who thinks she’s going to be murdered?”

James tossed his cigarette out the window, the sparks scattering brightly in the air. “Maybe I should be more worried that she trusts you to prevent the murder. I’m not sure I’d even trust you when it comes to that.”

“I told you. I may have gone too far.”

“How much?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

“Have you noticed that I have no idea what I’m looking for? She didn’t give me a clue what I should expect.”

He was quiet again.

“Okay. She didn’t give me a clue as to what we should expect.”

James gave me a wry smile. “Whatever the lady wants us to look for, that’s what we’ll look for. It sounds like she’s going to make it up as she goes.”

“I had my first assignment today.”

“You’re just gung-ho about making all this money, compadre. I’m proud of you.”

“James, someone was messing around with her Lexus.”

“Lexus?” His eyes were bright. The fact that someone was messing around wasn’t important. The fact that the lady owned an expensive luxury car-well “Lexus. It looked like maybe he was doing something to the tires.”

“And?”

“I tried to chase him down, but somebody picked him up in a Honda Civic.”

“What did he look like?”

“Short, Asian, maybe in his thirties, but I didn’t get that close.”

“Skip?”

“What?”

“How much?”

“James, I’m not sure this is a good idea. Something else I didn’t mention.”

My partner shook his head. “How much have you kept from me, amigo? If you don’t want me involved, just say so.”

“Quit feeling sorry for yourself. I’m telling you now, aren’t I?”