Ed Mcbain - Money, Money, Money

He wondered suddenly if this was all bullshit Wiggy was giving him here. Did Wiggy maybeknow he was wired? Was he maybe making up a good story so the fuzz would get off the scent? It sure was a peculiar story he was telling here. Almost made Tigo forget why he was here. Almost made Tigo sorry he had finally found the man.

“You really think all this is true, huh?” he asked. “Cause to me …”

“Man, I was lookin straight into they computer! I seed all this stuff with my own eyes!”

“It just sounds, you know, like science-fiction, you know?” Tigo said. “This file named Mothah you can’t open cause you need a password, an all this money floatin aroun, and these dope deals here an there, and these people causin trouble all over the world, an tryin’a fuck us right here in Diamon’back, I mean, man, it sounds like suppin you’d see in amovie, you know what I’m sayin, man?”

“It’d make agood movie, that’s for damn sure,” Wiggy said, “but it’strue, man! I got it from theycomputer!”

“That don’t mean it couldn’t of been garbage in there,” Tigo said, and shrugged.

“The point is, whut we gonna do about it, Tigo? I mean, these guys are messin with ourpeople!”

Tigo had never particularly felt that any of these people they sold dope to were necessarilyrelated to him in any way. MaybeWiggy thought of they customers as his “people” but Tigo didn’t share the sentiment. To tell the truth, if they was money to be made recycling dope here in the hood, Tigo didn’t carewho sold them the dope to begin with or where the proceeds of the sale were going. In fact, the only thing he wanted to do right this minute was talk about what he’d come here to talk about so he could go back to the police and collect his reward. He planned to retire from the dope business—

He didn’t yet realize how close his retirement was.

—soon as he got his hands on however much money the commissioner gave him for this valuable stuff he was about to tape. So he didn’t need to know about anyconspiracy Wiggy had tapped into through somebody’s computer. Nor did he want todo anything about any such conspiracy, even if it did exist, which he strongly doubted because Wiggy’s story sounded like so much jive to him. So—subtly and not wishing to appear too aggressive or inquisitive—he asked, “How’d it feel killing that dude on Christmas Eve?”

“I think we should go to the police,” Wiggy said, “tellthem the story.”

And suddenly, he shoved himself out of his chair and went marching straight for the telephone.

CARELLA WAS on his way home when the cell phone in his car rang. Ollie Weeks was on the other end.

“Guess what?” he said.

“Surprise me,” Carella said.

“I just got a call from Walter Wiggins.”

“What?”

“Ah yes.”

“The man Gomez is supposed to be taping?”

“The very same.”

“The man who maybe shot and killed Jerry Hoskins?”

“That’s the one.”

“Is he confessing?”

“I don’t think so. But he wants to talk to us.”

“What about?”

“Some kind of big conspiracy.”

“Uh-huh,” Carella said.

“I’m on my way to 1280 Decatur. You want to meet me?”

Carella looked at the dashboard clock.

“Give me half an hour,” he said.

ANTONIA BELANDRES was very impressed that Will had managed to find his way here in all this snow. He jokingly told her he used to drive a dog sled team in Alaska, which somehow she took to be the truth, and was even more impressed. He now had two lies to account for. He hoped he did not lose her when he told her he was not a police lieutenant, and had never been to Alaska in his life.

There wasn’t a single cab in sight when they came downstairs from her apartment. He had deliberately picked an Italian restaurant not too distant from where she lived on South Shelby, but it was really coming down and he apologized for asking her to walk the six blocks, but he was afraid they might lose their reservation.

“Don’t be silly, Lieutenant,” she said. “Ilove walking.”

Lieutenant, he thought. Boy.

As it was, he needn’t have worried about the reservation. The restaurant was almost empty. In fact, the owner fawned over them as if they were the Mayor and his wife who’d braved the storm to come here. He offered them a bottle of wine on the house, and then reeled off the specials for the night, all of which sounded delicious. Antonia ordered theosso buco. Will ordered the veal Milanese, which turned out to be breaded veal cutlets, oh well.

“By the way,” he said, when they had each drunk a glass of wine and Will was pouring again, “I’m not a police lieutenant. In fact, I’m not even a cop.”

“Oh?” she said.

“That’s right,” he said. “Here’s to golden days and purple nights,” and clinked his glass against hers.

“Where’d you learn that toast?” she asked. “Golden days and purple nights.”

“Singapore.”

“Me, too.”

“So here’sto them,” he said.

“Here’sto them,” she said. “Golden days and purple nights.”

They drank.

“Then what were you doing with all those detectives?” she asked. “If you’re not a cop.”

“I was sort of with them,” Will said.

“If you’re not a cop, what are you?”

“Actually, a burglar,” he said.

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he said, and shrugged.

“Did they arrest you for burglary? Was that it?”

“Not exactly.”

“Then what?”

“They thought I passed a phony hundred-dollar bill.”

“Was that the super-bill they asked me to examine?”

“I guess so. It sure looked real to me. I think that’s why they let me go.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I think it fooledthem, too. I mean, ifthey couldn’t tell it was fake, how was I supposed to know?”

“Well, you did work in a bank once.”

“Yeah, but I never saw a super-bill in my life. They told me they could’ve charged me with a class-A mis, but this was Christmas, what the hell. They let me go.”

“So as I understand this …”

“That’s right …”

“… you’re a common thief.”

“Well, I’m a burglar. That’s not so common.”

Antonia laughed. Will figured this was a good sign.

“Also, I have some plans that ain’t so common neither,” he said.

“Oh? What plans?”

“I’ll tell you later,” he said.

Antonia was thinking the plans he was talking about had to do with sex. He was referring to possibly taking her to bed later on tonight. After dinner. While the storm raged outside. Which wasn’t a bad idea at all. Except that he was a common thief. Well, a burglar.

“What makes a burglar so special?” she asked.

“Well, first of all, we’re like doctors.”

“I see. Doctors.”

“Yes. Our motto is ‘Do no harm.’ In fact, we go out of our way to keep from harming people. We see a light burning in an apartment, we think there’s somebody in there, we’ll avoid it like the plague.”

“Why is that?”

“I just told you. We don’t want some old lady screaming so we’ll have to hurt her. Do no harm. Also, the rap is bigger. If you hurt somebody while you’re inside a dwelling, or even if you’re just carrying a gun. It goes up from Burg Two to Burg One. That’s a difference of ten years, when it comes to sentencing.”

“You sound very familiar with all this,” Antonia said.

“Oh sure,” he said. “Well, I’ve been doing it for a long time now.”

She was wondering why she was still sitting here. The man had just told her he was a burglar, athief.

“I thought you said you worked in a bank,” she said.

“Long time ago,” he said. “I was just a kid when I went out on the Rim.”