Jeff Abbott - Cut and Run

Frank Polo came back into the kitchen, holding a small photo. She stepped back into the kitchen to meet him and he handed her the picture. ‘Took that last year on a trip to Cozumel. It’s a good likeness of Eve.’

Claudia took the photo. The same woman, wearing Capri pants and a white blouse, turquoise jewelry at her throat, smiling in bright sunlight. ‘You know, her name isn’t Eve. It’s Ellen.’ The woman named Ellen should have had a life with her sons. As she looked at the picture, an acid dislike for Ellen Mosley settled in her mouth.

‘Ellen. It doesn’t fit her. Too Sunday-school teacher.’

‘Where is she, Mr Polo?’

‘I told you I don’t know.’

‘I find it hard to believe that if she left because of Whit, she didn’t tell you where she was going.’ But her voice stayed friendly.

‘She didn’t want Whit strong-arming it out of me,’ Frank said.

‘I know you know,’ Claudia said.

‘Trust me,’ he said. ‘I don’t. Having your unwanted kid show up is enough to make a woman like Eve run for cover. There’s nothing else to it.’

‘All right,’ she said. ‘Does that mean you’re not going to give me her number?’

He went to an address book, wrote down numbers and an address, handed them to her.

‘Tasha Strong’s phone number and address. Eve’s number. Good luck.’ Tasha Strong’s address was on Telephone Road, a major thoroughfare near Hobby Airport.

‘Greg Buckman,’ she said. ‘You know him, too.’

He let three beats pass. ‘Yes. Worked at Energis, the jerk. Bad freaking influence on Paul.’

‘A bad influence on a mobster.’

‘Paul’s not a mobster. No matter what you think. But Bucks, he’s a greedy, mean bastard.’

‘Yet, when Bucks nearly gets killed the other night, he comes running to you. To this house,’ Claudia said. ‘It’s odd.’

‘He probably thought Paul would be here.’

‘But Paul was dead by then. See, if Bucks killed Paul, he sure wouldn’t have come to your house afterwards and sat waiting for you. He’d leave Houston.’

‘People are idiots,’ Frank said. ‘Haven’t you noticed? I haven’t really talked to Bucks since Paul died.’

‘Because the police are watching you all.’

‘Are they? No one’s at my door or window,’ Frank said. ‘And like I said, it’s been nice talking to you.’

‘Bucks could turn, cut a deal. Say you and Eve are more to the Bellinis than family friends. With Paul dead, the structure may crumble and crush you underneath it.’

‘Sweetheart,’ he said. ‘I’m not doing a half-assed plea deal. Because I didn’t do anything wrong. I’m going on with my life. I got to get my throat into shape, practice my arpeggios and finger snaps and hip swivels.’

‘I’m glad you have your priorities.’

‘You want to help your friend. You know, I like Whit. I know it’s tough. Losing his mom. I loved my mom. She was the best person, next to Eve, I’ve known. Don’t look surprised. Eve is a wonderful person. You don’t know her.’

‘Thanks for the coffee,’ Claudia said.

‘If Eve calls,’ Frank said, ‘I’ll leave it up to her whether or not she wants to talk to you. Since you’re Whit’s friend. You got a number where I can reach you?’

‘Yeah.’ She set down the purse on the counter, dug inside for paper and pen, pulled them out. Wrote down her cell phone number. Handed it back to him.

‘You seem like a nice young lady,’ Frank said. ‘I know Whit’s your friend and you want to help him. Can I give you friendly advice?’

‘Sure,’ Claudia said, not wanting to burn this bridge quite yet.

‘Stay out of this. It’s between a mother and son. Or two people wondering if they can be a mother and son. Let them sort it out.’ He gave her his best smile. ‘You still want an autograph? For your sister?’

‘Sign it to me. I’ll make her jealous. I don’t suppose… well, you’re famous. Would you have a photo of yourself on hand?’

‘I always do,’ Frank said.

Claudia drove away from the house, sure his eyes were watching her from the window.

From her car seat, a thirty-years-younger, open-shirted Frank Polo smiled at her, the words TO CLAUDIA, YOU’RE MY GROOVE! YOUR FRIEND, FRANK POLO scrawled beneath his then-perfect chin.

Frank watched her leave. Nice young woman but clearly not the kind who would give up. He closed his eyes, rested his forehead against the cool of the glass.

He wanted Eve back so bad. Whit was right. The best answer was to deal with one more devil.

‘Jose Peron has Eve,’ Frank said. ‘He therefore has the money.’

Bucks sat across from him at the dining-room table Monday night, hands steepled in front of his mouth. ‘I knew it.’

‘Greg,’ Frank said, and Bucks looked up, a little surprised at the use of his first name. No one but his parents and Robin, who wasn’t even talking to him now, ever called him by his given name. ‘You’re the dirty guy here. The police know that you’re dirty because Jose tried to hit you. They’ll keep digging until they find evidence to truly connect you with Jose, Kiko, or Paul. It’s over. Your only hope is that money. You can do anything, go anywhere with it. Brazil. Ecuador. Thailand. Places where cash shuts folks up and they never ask questions.’

‘You want me to have the money?’

‘I just want Eve back if she’s still alive,’ Frank said. ‘That’s all.’

‘Because you care,’ Bucks said.

‘Because I love her,’ Frank said. ‘You don’t have much time. Robin’s not gonna keep her mouth shut for long once the police start leaning on her.’

‘Robin doesn’t know shit.’

‘Son, women always know more than you think they do. Look at Tasha. I heard she’s taken off. Because she knows too much about Paul and she don’t want the police bugging her. Or us whacking her to keep her quiet.’

‘I’m not whacking Robin.’ Bucks found, to his surprise, he was really missing her. She wouldn’t talk to him. He had never felt so alone in his life, even with Chad Channing’s reassuring words playing in his head for company.

‘You act like you still have choices.’ Frank shook his head. ‘The police can haul you in at any minute, lean on you hard if you’re not cooperating with them about why Jose tried to kill you. Paul’s dead. And you’re the one doing the dirty work for him and for Kiko both. Trying to play them against each other has left you on the bottom, son.’

‘I didn’t…’

‘Save it,’ Frank said. ‘I can guess what went down. How long do you live if Paul’s guys knew you’d helped Kiko?’

Bucks swallowed. ‘I didn’t have a choice, Frank, I…’

‘It seems to me, though,’ Frank said, like he didn’t care about excuses, ‘you and I are the ones that truly suffered.’

‘What?’

‘I’ve lost the woman I love. You’ve been through hell.’

Bucks looked like he hadn’t slept in two days. He’d shaved, but missed spots, and one scraggly bit of stubble lay along the edge of his cheek. The immaculate grooming was slipping. ‘So why are you even talking to me, Frank? If I screwed Paul so bad, why do you want me to have the money?’

‘You in jail is a bad thing. Not just for you. For everyone. The pressure on you to talk will be huge. And any friends of Kiko, they believe you killed him and that’s why Jose tried to kill you, well, they’ll whack you in jail. Simple as a phone call.’

Bucks raised an eyebrow. ‘But that would take care of the problem of me.’

Frank cleared his throat, tented his hands under his chin. ‘How about a private little deal between you and me? You take care of Jose, you get Eve and the money back. You give half the money to me and Eve, you keep the other half for yourself, and nobody ever knows you screwed over Paul. I’ll keep my mouth shut.’