Stephen Cannell - King Con

"I'm going to get even with Joe and Tommy Rina for killing Carol. But to do that, I need information. I stole your case files because I thought the depositions you took would be in there. I missed. I need to know where these guys keep their pickle jars buried."

"Their what?"

"Money. I need to know what businesses they're in. How their action works, what people they're afraid of, who and where the leverage is."

"I hope they're afraid of me." She glowered.

"No offense, Vicky, but they're not afraid of you. You had your shot, you whiffed it. Now it's my turn. I'm gonna get these two gavones. All I need from you is an hour or two of careful briefing."

"And just how do you figure to get Tommy and Joe Rina?" she said, getting mildly interested.

"I was thinking I'd get Tommy to testify against Joe, get him to turn State's evidence on the Trenton Tower murders."

"You're a moron."

"I am?" He smiled.

"Yeah, you are. Tommy and Joe are brothers. Tommy thinks his younger brother walks on water. He's been protecting Joe since the sixth grade. Tommy's never gonna testify against Joe. Won't ever happen."

"I don't think their relationship has ever been adequately tested."

"And you're gonna test it?" She was sure he was wasting her time. This guy had nothing; she'd be better off taking her chances with an arthritic homicide dick.

"Hey, you know what a good mark and a mob boss have in common?"

"What?"

"Greed. Without greed no con works. I'm gonna throw a few pounds of red meat between those two Rottweilers and see what happens."

"You're Frank Lemay, aren't you?" she said, abruptly changing the subject. "You're the one who got beaten at the Greenborough Country Club."

"Yes," he finally said. "Unfortunately, that was me."

"So, if you had come forward instead of running from the hospital, Carol probably wouldn't be dead."

He looked at her for a long moment. "We could do this together, for Carol." And then he said the first thing that touched her: "I loved her, Victoria. She was my only friend in the world."

His eyes were so sad, in that instant she could see how deep his affection for Carol was.

"I'm gonna get Tommy Rina to testify against Joe," he said, with anger in his voice that made her wonder if he just might be able to do it. "All I need from you is a little information."

"Why would I help you?" she said. "You're a fugitive. If I get caught helping you, I could get disbarred, or put in jail."

"It's the price for getting this back," he said, holding up her case folders.

"Tough break there, pal. I don't need that anymore… I've decided to move on."

"Okay, then we share the guilt for Carol. It was because of me she was there in the first place, but you blew the security arrangements. We both need to set things right for that."

She stood silently, her mind a slate of unanswered questions. Now, not just her thoughts, but her emotions were whirling like the ballerinas on her bedroom wall.

"You've read my sheet… I'm not a fuck-up when it comes to this kinda thing. I'll turn these two sharks against one another, but I need information. I can't put a game together unless I know the layout… I need a clear picture of their personal and financial setup to take them down."

They stood in the bathroom with its pungent smell of urine and disinfectant while they evaluated one another. Roger-the-Dodger finally broke the tension, his sharp bark cracking against their eardrums.

"If I help you, what's in it for me?" she asked.

"Satisfaction; knowing you helped pull these two guys under, for Carol's sake."

She suddenly knew what she wanted. She looked at Beano Bates and then down at the dog, who was still sitting at her feet, wagging his tail as if he wanted to be congratulated for stealing her purse.

"Satisfaction isn't enough," she finally said. "If you're going to run a scam on these guys, I want to be part of it."

Beano was caught off-guard. "It's not your style, Victoria. You've got target fixation. That's an okay trait for a D.A., but it's a horrible one for a grifter. Sometimes, in a scam, you have to do everything backward… you have to hold on by letting go, increase by diminishing, multiply by dividing. You'd never be able to do that."

"I'm not interested in your assessment of me. The fact is, I do know about the Rinas; I know where their businesses are, where their hidden gambling interests are, who they associate with, even where their mistresses live… the whole stinking clove of garlic. You want to know what I know, that's my condition."

"I can't," he said slowly.

"Then you don't get anything," she said. "You can drop those file folders in any convenient trash can."

There was a long moment as they stood in the dimly lit toilet. Then she turned to leave.

"Okay," he finally said, "but if I take you along, you stay back. You're just an information station, a resource."

"Go fuck yourself," she said in anger. "You come to me, spill orange juice all over my best suit, steal my case files, pretend to be half-a-dozen people from Amp Heywood to Martin Cushbury… Christ, you have more personalities than Sybil. No, dammit! Carol was my friend too. You take me because you need me. Weil negotiate the rest as we go."

"It's not a courtroom, Vicky. There are no rules. No legal equations to stick to, no motions or countermotions, no judge to referee."

"Yes or no?" she finally said.

Beano could see the fire in her eyes. She was standing before him, defiant and beautiful. He didn't know which of those traits made up his mind, but in that second, he knew the ground had shifted between them.

"Be at the Motel 6 at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. But the first time I need something and you come up dry, I'm gonna leave you on the side of the road."

"You can try," she said.

He moved past her, out of the toilet.

"Hey," she said, and he turned. "Aren't you going to give me my wallet back?"

Irritated, he threw it to her and dropped her case folders in the metal trash container inside the bathroom. She could dig them out if she wanted. Outside he whistled for Roger-the-Dodger, but the terrier didn't come. He went back inside to find the dog looking up at Victoria Hart as if he'd just found the Virgin Mother.

"Come on, Roger. You can drool on her tomorrow," he said.

Reluctantly, the dog followed him out of the restroom.

"What an asshole," Victoria said, then she left the bathroom without even looking at the folders that contained her most humiliating legal defeat.

*

"Hold on by letting go; increase by diminishing;multiply by dividing."

– BILLIE SOL ESTES

THEY WERE STANDING IN THE MORNING SUNSHINE OUT-side Beano's Motel 6 near Trenton. Rusting Pontiacs and primered pickups dripped oil and morning dew.

"We'll take your car," he said, looking at the spotless new white Nissan parked behind her.

"Who's paying for all this?" she asked, as they moved to the car and she got behind the wheel.

Beano put his suitcases and canvas bag in the back seat. He opened the passenger door for Roger. "Atlantic City," he said, without answering her question.

"Why?" she said stoically.

"That's where 'Paper Collar' John is meeting me," he replied, leaving her in just as much confusion.

She snorted her anger, got the car going, and left the seedy motel behind. Roger-the-Dodger found a place right next to Victoria's thigh and curled up there, chin on his paw. He shot Beano a satisfied look.

"I want to know how we're going to fund this operation and why we are going to Atlantic City. I'd like an answer," she said as calmly as she could.