Elmore Leonard - Out of Sight

But the big guy cut him off saying, "You call him that again I'll put your head through the wall."

Buddy said, "What? You mean Snoop?"

Foley watched the Snoop raise his hand to the guy as if to hold him off.

"Nobody calls me Snoop no more or Snoopy, is what White Boy's trying to say. He's a little crude, you understand. No, I left that Snoopy shit behind me."

Buddy said, "What do they call you now?"

"My name, Maurice. Nothing fancy."

Buddy said, "And you call this bozo White Boy?"

"White Boy Bob," Glenn said, putting his two cents in, and it sounded innocent enough, though not to Foley. Glenn telling them now, "White Boy used to be a fighter." Giving Buddy the bait.

Buddy said, "What's he do now outside of shoot his mouth off?"

Foley said to Maurice, "Like being back in the yard, huh?"

Maurice grinned at him.

"Just like it. Nobody backing down.

You back down you pussy. Tell me what you and Buddy doing up here in the cold."

"They think they're getting in on our gig," Glenn said, "but no one told me they were coming. I told you I had two guys and then told you I didn't? These are the two."

Maurice said, "Let's go outside to talk."

"What's the matter with right here?" Foley said.

"It's nice and warm."

"Warm? Man, it's ninety-five degrees in here, sometime a hundred-the way Emanuel always kep' it so his boys'd sweat, get lean and mean like Tommy Hearns. No, I ain't talking any business in here. To me this is like holy ground, man. You understand? I got to be someplace anyway. Y'all want to talk, come to the fights Wednesday night, we'll sit down and look at it good."

Foley turned to Buddy. Buddy shrugged and Foley said, "Where?"

Outside, walking to the car, Foley said, "You notice, it's supposed to be Glenn's deal, but now it looks like he's working for the Snoop."

"Call him that again," Buddy said, "you heard that musclebound asshole, what he'll do to you."

"He was telling us who he is, that's all, making himself known."

"Yeah? Who is he?"

"A musclebound asshole. You know the thing that bothers me?"

"If the Snoop's been reading about you," Buddy said, "he knows you're worth ten gees."

"You recall did it say dead or alive?"

"I think it's for information leading to your being apprehended. They might pay off on your being dead, but I don't see how the Snoop'd work it. You know what I mean? It wouldn't be the same kind of deal as that bum giving up the Cuban."

"Lulu," Foley said.

"I wonder if they got Chino."

"They might have. We been out of touch."

Crossing the street now, approaching the car, Foley said, "I kind of like that do-rag the Snoop had on. You know it? It looked cool on him."

"I ever catch you wearing one," Buddy said, "I'll turn you in for the ten gees."

Glenn was trying to get some answers while Maurice watched the two guys sparring, poking at each other, and it was like talking to the wall.

"You said you could get a couple of guys for a hundred bucks each.

Right?"

Maurice would yell at the one with RICARDO OWEN on the tank top he wore over his yellow T-shirt, telling him to jab, jab, telling him it was what he had the gloves on for. Keep 'em up and jab.

"If you can get the two guys, what do we need Foley and Buddy for?"

"My guys ain't here no more."

"Where are they? Did you find out?"

Maurice said, "Ricky, stick and move, man. Stick and move."

And to Glenn, "They ain't allowed in here no more."

"What do you mean, they aren't allowed in here?"

"Stay tight on him, Ricky. Don't give him room. They fucked up their privilege, trainer caught 'em selling weed outside the front door.

Ricky, you got to crowd him he does that."

The bell rang and the fighters moved away from each other to walk around on the canvas, their arms hanging.

Maurice said, "Come on," and brought Glenn away from the ring, away from the trainers looking over, to sit down on the bench nearest the door. White Boy went over and began hitting the heavy bag.

"You tell me you bringing these people," Maurice said, "then you ain't bringing the people, but the people show up anyway."

"I told you I didn't know they were coming."

"But they here, they know about the deal and want to discuss it. Fine.

Meantime the two I thought of getting I don't want now, they dirty. You understand? So what's wrong with using the bank robbers? We know they cool-go in as many banks as those two have?"

"You know," Glenn said, "you'll have to offer them a split, not any hundred bucks."

"Was that your deal with them?"

"We never got that far."

"Well, what we offer and what they get," Maurice said, "could be two entirely different things."

Karen's phone rang at half-past eight. As soon as she heard "Karen, it's Marcie Nolan" she knew how her picture got in the paper, on the back page of the food section under "Names & Faces."

In the two-column photo Karen, in a tailored black suit, straight skirt, black bag hanging from her left shoulder, is holding a Remington pump-action shotgun, the butt of the stock resting on her cocked hip, the barrel extending above her on an angle, her right hand gripping the gun just above the trigger guard. Karen wears dark glasses and is looking past the camera, her lips slightly parted. The cut line reads:

LA FEMME KAREN

U.S. Marshal Karen Sisco guards the entrance to the federal courthouse in Miami during recent drug trials of Colombian nationals. Other assignments involve transporting offenders to prison and defendants to court for trial. Investigative work means tracking criminal offenders.

Assigned to the Miami office of the Marshals Service, Karen was in town yesterday to meet with Detroit Police personnel on a special assignment.

"It was a mistake," Marcie said.

"I mean they jumped the gun, they were supposed to wait till I interviewed you, see if there was a story."

"How'd you know I was here?"

"I saw you going into 1300 yesterday. I didn't know who you were seeing, but I thought I'd catch up with you sooner or later, so to save time…"

"That picture," Karen said, "was in the Herald."

"Yeah, I asked my editor to get it. Both papers are Knight Ridder-tell them what you need and a few minutes later it's on your computer. I mentioned to my editor, if there isn't a story it might work in "Names & Faces' and he put a note on it to that effect. But then when I couldn't find you, I got on another story and didn't get back to my editor. What happened then, the "Names & Faces' guy saw the note, revised the caption in kind of a generic way and ran with it. Karen, I'm awfully sorry I wasn't able to talk to you first."

"It's okay. Don't worry about it."

"I was afraid you might be furious."

"I get pissed off sometimes," Karen said, "but I'm rarely furious. The FBI office and the marshal's might wonder what I'm doing here."

Marcie said, "They don't know?"

"I mean they might think I'm a publicity nut, that I called you. But I can't see them making an issue out of it."

"You didn't want them to know you're here," Marcie said, "and I blew your cover. I'm sorry, Karen, really." She paused.

"Can you tell me what you're on?"

"

"Meeting with Detroit Police personnel on a special assignment." What's wrong with that?"

"It doesn't say anything, though, really."

"I think more than enough," Karen said, wanting to get off the phone, but had to ask, "How did you know I'm at the Westin?"

"Inspector Cruz. I asked around till I found out he's the one you saw.

Can't you tell me anyhing? Even off the record?"

"Let's see what happens," Karen said.

"How do you like Detroit?"

"Compared to what, the North Pole?"