Adrian McKinty - Dead I Well May Be

The way into Sunshine’s would have to be the back door. There was no way I could dick around the front in the broad day with people walking by on the sidewalk.

I opened the fence gate and walked around the back. There was a bit of pathetic grass and a paddling pool clogged with leaves and rainwater. A paddling pool. Did Sunshine have kids? No. Maybe he was an uncle? A good uncle, no doubt, smart, generous, creative.

No screen on the back and the door was locked. I’m no lock guy, so the only thing for it would be to break open a window. Sunshine would hear, of course, so I’d have to be ready for him if he was inside. I selected the rear kitchen window, punched a hole through with my elbow, turned the handle, climbed in, pulled out the Glock, and waited for him to show up with his gun. He didn’t, and after a quick search of the house, I saw he wasn’t home. I’d wait.

I searched the place out of boredom and curiosity, but found little of interest. In a bedroom with lilac bedsheets and matching drapes I discovered a wall safe, but I don’t do combinations, either, so who knows what was inside.

There were no books, but I did find an extensive collection of videos. Over a thousand, maybe. It seemed that Sunshine had seen every bloody commercial film that had come out over the last ten years. There was no porn, and most of the films were complete crap. I tried five in a row before getting one that was ok. I put the sound on low and sat close to the box. The flick was about androids, who really are the good guys, and a cop chasing them, who really is the bad guy, in the future Los Angeles. In Los Angeles, it was raining all the time and it reminded me a bit of Belfast in the seventies.

After the movie I just sat. The house gave me the creeps. There were no pictures up and no personal details at all. It occurred to me that this was only his city house and he might have a real place up in Westchester or New Jersey or Long Island. Maybe he never came here at all. Maybe he rented this place out. Maybe he’d bloody sold it. Maybe this was his girl’s place. I put in another film. This one was about Vietnam, where it also rained a lot.

I was only about halfway through that when I heard the front gate. I switched off the telly and sat composed in the big leather living-room chair, ready with Boris’s nifty wee Glock.

Sunshine came in with a brown bag full of shopping. He was heading for the kitchen, but he saw me from the hall and dropped the bag. I motioned for him to come in. He thought for a moment about making a run for it, but the door behind him was closed and I was pointing the gun straight at him. He was wearing a leather jacket and blue jeans, something I’d never seen him wear before (previously he was always a suit-and-tie man). He was more or less the same, greasy comb-over longer, maybe, but he looked well, tanned, content. Scared shitless at the sight of me, though. He came towards me and started to speak, but I put my finger to my lips. I held the gun against his head while I frisked him. He was clean, and I told him to sit on the floor with his hands on his neck. He began to blubber and explain, but I told him not to speak.

I ripped a page from the notebook beside the phone and gave it to him with a pen.

Write down Darkey’s address there for me, I said.

Listen, Michael, please, you don’t understand.

One more word, Sunshine, and I’ll blow the top of your fucking head off, get me?

He nodded and picked up the paper and pen. He wrote an address. I picked up the paper and looked at it. It was in Peekskill, New York.

I take the commuter rail up there, right? I asked conversationally.

Yeah, Sunshine said, still dry-heaving, though he’d calmed down a bit now.

Look, Sunshine, I’m not going to draw this out longer than necessary. Just tell me, you had a couple of guys on me and-

No, no, I don’t know what you’re talk-

Sunshine, don’t start. Now, how many are there looking for me?

He swallowed and tried to compose himself. He knew I’d seen them. There was no point debating it.

Four.

Do they know where I live?

Roughly.

What do you mean?

We found you, Michael. I found you. Somewhere in the 190s. Jesus, we would have had you tonight or tomorrow or the next day. Soon. A couple of days, that’s all we needed. We wouldn’t have killed you, though, don’t think that. You gotta know I would have had them bring you to me. I like you, Michael. I’m glad you got out. I would have given you money to leave town. That was the plan. Pick you up. Bring you over. Darkey’s not here, he would never have to know. I bring you to me and give you cash to leave forever. I like you, I owe you, Michael, I’d never hurt you.

What make were their cars?

What?

Was one of them a black Lincoln?

Er, no, no one I know has a black Lincoln.

What were their cars?

A Ford and a Chevy.

How did you find me, Sunshine?

I’d been hearing rumors, for about a week now.

How, what exactly?

When you killed Big Bob, you woke up a couple of local people. Some old geezer saw a Cadillac pull away. He knows everyone on the street, doesn’t know anyone that has a Cadillac. Cream-colored Cadillac. Young guy with a beard. Pretty distinctive.

What else?

Uh, well, you know, if you take the time to go through the police reports, you’ll find that a cream-colored Cadillac was stolen not too far from the Four Provinces the night Bob was hit. Someone had followed him from the Four P. See? And that it turned up again in the 190s. Who’d want to hit Big Bob? Like I say, I was hearing rumors. I showed the old geezer your picture. It might be you. Christ, I was so pleased. I figured you were alive. Come back. Hooked up with somebody to get us. Russians, maybe. I don’t know. But you were alive. Not hurt, clear from Mexico.

Did you tell Darkey?

I didn’t tell him anything. Michael, I wouldn’t, and besides, Darkey left with Bridget. They’re going to the Bahamas for a few weeks. I’m running the show.

When does he come back?

December, December early, I think. I can check. Jesus. We could clean him out while he’s away. Clean him out, Michael. You and me, Sunshine said, licking his lips from nerves, not anticipation.

How exactly did you find me, Sunshine? Who else knows?

It’s like I’ve said, Michael, I’m not lying. Cadillac. Around the 190s. You could have taken the subway from there, but I didn’t think so. Who thinks to dump their car and take the subway? You don’t, do you? Not after killing someone. You just want to toss your gun and wash your hands.

Should have had you advising me, Sunshine.

You should have, he said, looking at me, smiling, sweating.

He was keen to talk, talking was his whole life; his quick brains and quicker mouth would save him now.

What was the next move? I asked.

You were around there, but where? Where exactly? If you dump your car, you’ll walk at most twenty blocks. I reckoned between the 170s and 200th. I put four men on it from downtown. I was arranging it. Two teams of two. I take it you saw them. Fucking amateurs. Jesus. I was bloody arranging it. You’re a goddamn jinx. A bad fucking penny. I mean, Christ, couldn’t you just have fucking been cool. I mean, just this once. I mean, Jesus, Michael, please. I would have picked you up, all would have been well. Would have given you cash to go away, no guns.

So it’s just two other guys, Darkey doesn’t know.

No. Jesus, if you just had waited. I would have had them bring you to me. No guns. It would have worked out for the best.

I guess I’m unlucky.

Luck, nothing to do with it, he said, blinking, wiping the sweat off his lip.

And I had to admit it was nice to talk to Sunshine after all this time. I liked his take on things. He was clever. It relaxed me.