William Lashner - Marked Man

“And you left your ace in the hole with Charlie?”

“Yeah, that’s right. With Charlie.”

“Why with him?”

“Had to be somebody. Look, I didn’t have much choice. After Ralph melted down the gold and I had a fence look over everything, we were picking up only about seventy thou. Enough for me to make my start, but not enough for an even split. So I took it all and ran. The others would have pissed it away in any event, I knew that. Ralph on girls, Joey on cars, Charlie in a futile attempt to run from his mother. They were trapped. I still had a chance. So I took it all and bought my opportunity.”

“Tony in Love.”

“It was a big hit, kid. It put me on the map. I didn’t just sell the property, though they wanted to buy me out. Instead I bargained my way into a three-picture deal, my own production company, an office on the studio lot, my place at the table. I been eating there ever since.”

I pushed my quail away, the meat stripped from the fragile array of bones. “Eating on the carcass of your old friendships.”

“Eating on the carcass of my old life. Teddy Pravitz didn’t have it in him to screw his pals like that. But Teddy Pravitz was nothing but a bartender in some cheap Del Rey dive. I ate his corpse and grew into someone new. I had my name legally changed, just in case the old crowd started looking for me, and I became what I dreamed. That’s what it takes in this world, kid. You put everything on the line and see where it ends up.”

“And that’s why you got scared it was all going up in smoke when word reached you that Charlie wanted to barter the painting for a get out-of-jail card.”

“Scared is not the word.”

“Terrified?”

“No, you don’t get it. I saw an opportunity to help out my old pals. I had already put Hugo through law school, helped him change his name, set him up at that big firm of his. I figured buying the painting and letting the others split the proceeds was an easy way to give the three of them the payoff they had been waiting for without tipping my hand. Let them all retire in high style.”

“So you sent in Lavender Hill to make a deal.”

“That’s right.”

“And you were going to buy the painting.”

“You got it.”

“With what? I look around here and I see rooms empty of furniture, I see a pool without a pool boy, a yard gone wild, I see a man on the edge of financial ruin.”

“It’s an up-and-down business, kid. I’m down right now, sure, but I’ve had more comebacks than Lazarus. And I got a new film coming out that’s going to make a bundle.”

“But if you’re down now, how were you going to pay the money you were promising Charlie?”

“I worked it out. There’s a Swiss banker who dabbles in the movies and the arts. He’ll be putting the painting above his fireplace.”

“And you’ll get your cut.”

“God bless America.”

“What about the murders?”

“Yeah, what about them? Who’s doing the killing?”

“You.”

He shook his head. “Not my doing, kid. They were once my friends, all of them. I only wanted to help. Best I can figure it, the killings are all about Charlie. He fell into some bad company after our little deal. His old gang doesn’t want him to come home and talk, that’s the story. It’s why I want him to take Lavender’s offer and stay away. That’s why I let you into my house, to convince you to convince him to take the offer and save his life.”

“That’s what you want?”

“You got it. Make the deal, send him to some far-off place. Belize, maybe. You ever been to Belize?”

“Yes, actually.”

“Nice place to retire, I hear.”

“Not really,” I said. “And why do I have the feeling, Theodore, that as soon as you find my client, he’s going to end up as limber as Ralph and Hugo?”

“Don’t be a fool. They were my friends. Why on earth would I want to kill my friends?”

“Because of Chantal.”

He sat back, stared at me for a moment with those big blue eyes framed by his oversized glasses. “It’s a little insane to tattoo on your chest the name of a girl you never met, don’t you think?”

“Absolutely.”

“I admire the hell out of that. You might have the makings of a producer after all. But tell me, kid, what’s the point?”

“I guess it’s so I don’t forget.” I lifted my wineglass and waved it about. “So I don’t get swayed by luxury and recreation.”

“You’re her avenging angel, is that it?”

“That’s why I’m here.”

He laughed. “It’s almost romantic, kid, except you got the wrong idea about everything.”

“You said Chantal was the best part of your story,” said Monica. “What did you mean by that?”

“Just what I said. You think I created my new life only on a crime, but you’re wrong. There was something heroic, too. I didn’t hurt your sister, I saved her. Gave her the life she always dreamed of.”

“We’re supposed to believe that?” I said.

“Lou,” he called out, “let’s get on with dessert. I got a date tonight. She’s twenty-four. The jaw of a wrestler, but twenty-four. And she wants to be in the movies. Imagine that.”

“You don’t really think you can just brush us off with your bland assurances, do you?” I said.

“If I thought that, you wouldn’t be here, kid.”

“Then tell us what happened to Chantal.”

“Why ask me? Why don’t you ask her?”

“Chantal?” said Monica.

“Sure, kid. How about tomorrow? Afternoon good? I’ll set it up. About time you met your sister, don’t you think?”

“I think I’m going tothrow up,” said Monica Adair.

“That’s my line,” I said.

“No, really. Stop the car. I need to get out. Please.”

“We’re on an L.A. freeway, Monica. If we stop the car in the middle of the highway, someone will shoot us.”

“Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.”

“Calm down.”

“I can’t calm down. I’m having a heart attack right here in this crappy rent-a-car.”

“But I got the premium model. It set me back an extra seventy-five bucks a day.”

“My arm. I’m seeing lights.”

“That’s the sun glinting off all the bumpers. You’re having a panic attack, Monica. You’re going to be fine.”

“How are you so certain? Are you a doctor?”

“If I were a doctor, I’d be better at golf. I like golf. Not so much the game, which is actually a little silly, but the outfits. Sweater vests, white gloves, plaid pants.”

“Shut up, Victor.”

“You don’t approve of plaid pants?”

“There should be a law against plaid pants.”

“It’s the state pant of Connecticut, did you know that?”

“Why are we talking about plaid pants?”

“Because you’re having a panic attack, and nothing cures a panic attack as quickly as garish men’s attire.”

“Is that why you wear that tie?”

“Keeps my anxiety level low.”

“Well, if I am having a panic attack, can you blame me?”

“No, not really,” I said. “Panic away.”

“It just, I think this might be the most important moment in my life.”

“Or not.”

“I’m meeting Chantal. Finally, after all these years. I’m meeting my sister.”

“Or not.”

“I am,” she said. “It’s her. I can feel it. All this time she’s been silently communicating with me. And through the tattoo and the missing painting and all the mess in Philadelphia, she’s been drawing me to her.”

“Wouldn’t it have been simpler if she called?”

“Don’t be silly, Victor. That’s not the way saints work. They don’t just pick up the telephone or send e-mail. They give mysterious messages, they place barriers in your way, they require you to move toward them on faith and faith alone.”