Charlie Hustmyre - House of the Rising Sun

“And you’re going to take care of my problem with Shane?” LaGrange asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Tony said. “I’m gonna take care of everything, but don’t bother Mr. Messina with that mundane crap.”

LaGrange scanned the restaurant. He looked nervous. Tony ran his hand up and down the detective’s back, feeling for a wire. He didn’t find one. He asked LaGrange, “What’s wrong?”

“I told you, I don’t like meeting in public,” LaGrange said. He pushed Tony’s arm away. “And I don’t like being felt up by a fucking queer. You want to know if I’m wearing a wire, ask me.”

Tony stopped and grabbed the cop’s tie, pulling them face-to-face. “You want to remember where you are, and who you’re talking to. If you got a problem”-he pointed to the door-“you can carry your sorry ass back outside.”

LaGrange took a deep breath. “I don’t have a problem.”

They walked on.

Vinnie Messina, dressed in a dark suit and tie, sat at a table in the back of Fausto’s. A couple of trifold rattan screens separated his table from the rest of the diners and provided an air of privacy. Rocco and a thug named Joey sat on either side of him.

Tony pointed to an empty chair opposite Vinnie and gave LaGrange a nudge. “Have a seat.” The detective sat down and Tony slid into the chair next to him. Baskets of garlic bread and two bottles of wine were already on the table. Tony poured himself a glass. He hoped the cop was smarter than he looked, hoped he would phrase everything just right. After a sip of wine, Tony looked at Vinnie. “Mr. Messina, I’d like to introduce you to somebody.” He nodded to the detective. “This is Detective Jimmy LaGrange.”

Vinnie stared at LaGrange. Then he glanced at Tony. “Is he clean?”

Tony nodded.

Vinnie gnawed a hunk of bread. He took his time, washing the bread down with a gulp of wine. Then he wiped his mouth with a cloth napkin. When he finished, he tossed the napkin on the table. A waiter hovering nearby jumped in to pick it up and replaced it with a fresh folded one. As soon as the waiter had stepped out of the way, Vinnie said to LaGrange, “I hear you got something to tell me.”

The cop was sweating. “I have information about Ray Shane.”

“How do you know Shane?”

“We worked the Vieux Carre District together. Then later we were partners in Vice.”

“And you want to sell this information to me?”

LaGrange nodded.

“Why?” Vinnie asked.

The detective looked uncomfortable as he shot a glance at Tony. “I got bills to pay.”

Vinnie nodded. Then he bit off another hunk of bread. He chewed on it for a while, but there was still a tiny piece crawling around inside his mouth when he said, “You and Shane were partners, right?”

LaGrange nodded again.

“And now you’re willing to sell him out,” Vinnie said.

Tony saw beads of sweat shinning like sequins on the detective’s upper lip. For several seconds, no one at the table said a word. Tony could hear everything going on around him: the clink of rings on crystal glasses, forks scraping china, the thrum of indistinct conversation, a woman’s high-pitched drunken laughter.

Then LaGrange said, “Ray Shane isn’t my partner anymore. He’s not even a cop. I don’t owe him anything.”

Vinnie held up his hand, commanding silence. “No need to explain. I just wanted to find out where we stood with each other.” He reached into his jacket, pulled out a white envelope, and threw it on the table. “Say what you got to say and get the fuck out of here. They’re about to bring my dinner.”

LaGrange glanced at Tony, who gave him a nod. Then the detective looked back at Vinnie. “Shane was desperate when he came to me. He had the names of two guys who he needed to put his hands on, so I agreed-”

Vinnie snatched his envelope off the table. He glared across the table at Tony. “This is something you could’ve told me. I don’t need to hear this from him.”

Tony raised both hands, pleading for patience. “Just wait.” Then to the cop, “Tell him the rest.”

LaGrange nodded, then gulped down a couple swallows of air. “As I’m looking up the information Shane asked for, I see something strange.”

Vinnie laid the envelope on the table again and reached for his wineglass.

As the detective’s eyes tracked the white envelope, he continued, “Both these mutts I’m looking up are guys Shane already knows, guys he has a history with.”

The glass was halfway to Vinnie’s mouth. He brought it back to the table without taking a sip. “What do you mean, a history?”

“Shane arrested both of them a while back. Then later, when the feds arrested Shane, the two guys were in the parish prison at the same time Shane was. All three of them were in there together.”

Tony Zello couldn’t help but grin. Although the detective had gotten off to a shaky start, he was hitting on all cylinders now.

Vinnie asked Tony, “You check this out?”

Tony nodded. “There’s more.”

“What?” Vinnie asked.

LaGrange cleared his throat. “One of the guys Shane was looking for is now dead.”

Vinnie stared at Tony. “Is he saying Shane killed the guy?”

Tony shrugged. “If not, it’s a hell of a coincidence, don’t you think?”

Vinnie shook his head. “But it doesn’t make sense. If Shane set this up, why did he need help from a cop to find these guys? He would already know how to get in touch with them.”

Tony knew from long experience, you had to let Vinnie believe he was on the cutting edge, or at least close to the cutting edge, even if he were miles away. So Tony took his time before he answered. When he did answer, he made sure to sound as if he were just getting a grip on the idea himself. “That’s what I couldn’t figure out. Then I got to thinking about it. Shane’s a dumb fuck anyway. Say he gets these two guys…” Tony circled a finger at the cop, wanting him to supply the names.

LaGrange, taking the cue, said, “Michael Salazaar and Dylan Sylvester.”

“Salazaar and Sylvester,” Tony repeated. “Sounds like a law firm.” He took a sip of wine. “Okay, so Shane works out a plan with these two, then they either bring in two more guys, or Shane brings in two he already knows. Either way, Shane ends up with four shooters. Then he gets Hector out of the way, pays him, threatens him, maybe Hector doesn’t even know what-”

Vinnie’s eyes slashed at Tony. “Too bad we can’t ask Hector about it.”

Tony shot a glance at the detective sitting next to him. Crooked or not, he was still a cop and Tony wasn’t about to admit to a homicide in front of him. He also wasn’t going to let the conversation get sidetracked. “Maybe after the robbery, these guys get greedy, or Shane gets greedy, or they get pissed at each other. Whatever happens, they have some kind of beef and all of a sudden Shane can’t find them. Either that or he’s just trying to play us. Acting stupid, like he can’t do anything, and hoping his incompetence gets back to us.” Tony pointed at Vinnie. “Remember how he was when you told him you wanted him to find these guys?”

Vinnie nodded, then tilted his head back until he was staring at the ceiling. He stayed that way for almost a minute. Then he said to Tony, “Are you telling me Ray Shane is responsible for killing my son?”

Tony nodded, then realized Vinnie wasn’t looking at him. “I think so.”

“I hired him,” Vinnie said, looking down, his voice thickening. “I brought him into the House. It was me who introduced him to Pete.”

“There’s something else we need to discuss in private.” Tony nodded toward LaGrange.

Vinnie slid the envelope across the table to the detective. Tony saw that at least the cop had the class not to count it. Silently, LaGrange slipped it into the inside pocket of his cheap, dime-store sport coat. Then he stood up and left without a word.