Jeff Abbott - Cut and Run

‘When I was famous, we lived on breakfast food. You’re tired, you want comfort, but you can’t get full up. You never want to be stuffed when you’re onstage for a living. Did you know I was famous once?’ Frank said to the waitress, who was a cute college girl with a little silver ring piercing her pert nose.

‘I didn’t,’ she said.

‘I used to be a singer,’ Frank said. The waitress gave an indulgent, polite-but-I-don’t-care smile and took their menus.

Frank waited till she was out of earshot. ‘And tell the police what, Whit? That Jose has her? We don’t know he does, we don’t know where he is. Some cop named Gomez already stopped by to see me about her. I told them she took off, I don’t know where, gave him her cell phone number. The cops are going to think she’s running.’

‘But the police could look for her and Jose.’

‘And when they find her, they’ll stick her in prison and you’ll never see her again.’

‘I don’t believe-’ and Whit’s cell phone rang. He clicked it on.

‘Whitman Mosley.’ It wasn’t a voice he knew, a baritone, strong and steady. ‘Your mother’s alive. Thought you’d want to know.’

‘Who is this? Jose Peron?’

‘We’re going to keep her for a little while, then we’ll give her back to you. Alive and well. Unless you call the cops. Then we have to be mean, and we don’t want to be. Mean is not what we’re about.’

We. Jose was not acting alone. ‘I want her back, right now.’

‘Sit tight. Be patient. We’ll take good care of her, then we’ll give her back. We’ll arrange a meeting between us.’

‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Believe or not,’ the voice said. ‘We could have killed her with Kiko. We didn’t. Take that as serious reassurance.’

‘Let me talk to her.’

‘What will you discuss? Her money-laundering skills? Her killing the guy in Montana all those years ago?’

Whit’s mouth went dry. ‘How did…’

‘Behave, she lives. Don’t, she dies. We’ll be in touch very soon.’ And the caller hung up.

Whit told Frank the gist of the conversation.

‘What the hell does that mean?’ Frank said. He wiped at his puffy eyes with the back of his hand. ‘Why would they want to keep her?’

‘Jose… if it’s him, he must want info on the Bellini operations. But he won’t let her go. He’ll kill her.’ Montana. Jose knows about Mom shooting James Powell in Montana. And that I’m her son. Because he took Harry’s notes off Harry’s body. He killed Harry.

The weight of the knowledge made him very still. He didn’t look at Frank, didn’t look at his plate.

‘So you’re going to the cops?’ Frank asked.

‘He says he’ll kill her if I do that.’

‘Then we have to listen to him. Not endanger her.’

‘Frank. I can’t.’

‘Yes, you can and you will,’ Frank said. ‘We play by their rules, we get her back.’

‘I need to know where Jose is, Frank. Where he has her.’

‘I can’t work wonders. Finding the condo they hid out in was tough enough. But I’ll put out word again. Money for information.’

‘Let’s say Jose’s the power behind all this. He kills Kiko. He kills or has Paul killed. He tries to kill Bucks. Why? So no one else is chasing after the money? That only works if he has the money, Frank, if he doesn’t want to be chased himself. I’m thinking he killed Harry and Doyle and stole the money.’

Frank shook his head. ‘How would Jose know where the exchange was?’

‘He followed Eve. Or, worse, Bucks told him. The police should compare the bullets in Kiko to the bullets in Harry Chyme and Richard Doyle.’ Whit finished his coffee. ‘Jose stuck that money into Kiko’s mouth. If he was stealing the money, why bother with gestures and symbols? He’s got his own agenda.’ The waitress brought their omelettes, hash browns, grits with a warm little puddle of garlic and cheese on top. They began to eat. Suddenly Whit laughed.

‘What?’ Frank asked, buttering a biscuit.

‘This is so freaking normal and domestic,’ Whit said. ‘Like if Eve had taken me with her when she took off, I probably would have had a lot of breakfasts with you by now.’

‘I would have been a crappy stepdad,’ Frank said. ‘Be glad she left you behind.’

‘Because abandonment is so awesome.’

‘Get over it,’ Frank said. ‘Actually, you seem pretty well-adjusted. Except for hunting down your mom. You got a problem letting go?’

‘No.’

‘You need your mom for what? To complete you as a person?’ Frank said. ‘You and Bucks are more alike than you know.’

‘Excuse me?’

‘Him and his self-help tapes. It’s all to reassure himself that if he screws up it’s not entirely his fault, he can make it better with a quick fix. You finding Eve, it’s all about fixing you, Whit, not her.’

‘At the beginning. But not now.’

‘I know she wasn’t around,’ Frank said. ‘But I’m sure she loves you.’

‘She’s a thief and a crook.’

‘So? She’s not a nutcase like Bucks or Jose. Put a premium on sanity.’

Whit thought of Eve tending his wounds, of remembering he liked pepperoni pizza, of warning him to save himself.

‘Do you love her?’ Frank asked. ‘I’d like to know.’

Whit put his fork down. ‘I don’t want to talk about it. But I want you to get Bucks where I can talk to him alone.’

‘Bucks?’

‘Bucks is the key.’

‘He won’t meet with you,’ Frank said. ‘Plus, the cops have got to be watching him. You want the cops knowing you’re in deeper than you are, seeing you with him? Whit, they’ll haul you in as a material witness. Offer a deal with you to testify against me, your mother, Bucks, whoever.’

‘I’m going to give the police the movie of Bucks carrying those bodies, anonymously, but as soon as I do, Bucks is behind bars and I can’t ever get to him.’

‘Arresting him, you could have more pressure put on him.’

Whit leaned forward. ‘Call him. Tell him I have the movie.’

Frank’s eyes went wide. ‘You crazy?’

‘I’m dead serious. Tell him. Bucks knows where Jose would hide. Maybe that’s why Jose tried to kill him.’

‘Your mother wouldn’t want this,’ Frank said. ‘She’d be wanting you to head your ass back home.’

‘Bucks and I have a common enemy now in Jose,’ Whit said.

‘It’s a deal with the devil. I won’t do it.’ Frank pulled a twenty out of his wallet, tossed it on the table. ‘My treat. Think about my suggestion about getting Bucks arrested. There’s your game plan, son.’

‘Think about what I said, Frank. We need Bucks.’

‘Jesus and Mary,’ Frank said. ‘You didn’t answer me. You love her?’

‘I don’t know her in the conventional sense you know your family. But still, I do know her. Or I want to believe I know her. Maybe I’m fooling myself.’ Whit shook his head. ‘Love her? I must.’

Frank Polo left the diner, watching Whit drive off in Charlie Fulgham’s borrowed Lexus. Whit was so like Eve in certain ways. Resolve. Smarts. Single-mindedness. Frank drove around an extra twenty minutes before heading home, stopping at lights, watching his back. He wasn’t quite sure who he was looking for in his rearview mirror. He imagined cops, lantern-jawed guys who’d give him the tough eye or a woman cop with a lesbian-short haircut who’d take him downtown, call him Mr Polo, be excruciatingly polite while panic tore his guts and ribs in half. See what he was made of, sitting there in their interrogation room, the cops lobbing a suggestion or two about his involvement with Paul Bellini beyond being the Topaz’s manager, about his knowledge of any criminal activities about the family. Asking where Eve Michaels was. Probably good he’d had to move the money he’d taken from the club back into the club’s accounts. It made him clean. Christ, Paul had done him a favor.