John Goldbach - The Devil and the Detective

‘Man … ’

‘Yeah?’

‘Be safe.’

‘I’ve got a gun. I’ll be fine.’

‘I’ve been expecting you, Mr. James,’ Bouvert said to me as I approached his table. It had a cream-coloured tablecloth and candles and was at the back of the long dark restaurant. ‘Please, join me,’ he said, and I sat down across from him, Bouvert with his back to a wall and me with mine to the rest of the restaurant, which was empty save for the bartender behind me at the bar and the rest of the small staff, who were in and out of the dining room, and me and Bouvert, who leaned back in his chair, a large glass of red wine in front of him, a half-emptied bottle on the table, and bread and olive oil and a plate of calamari. ‘Would you like something to eat?’ he said and I shook my head no. ‘Some wine,’ he insisted, and he picked up the bottle and poured into the glass in front of me before I could answer. ‘I like the gloves. You can take them off. You won’t be needing them.’

I did. And stuffed them in my coat pocket, with the gun.

‘Well,’ he said, forking a piece of squid into his mouth, ‘say your piece.’

‘I saw everything.’

‘And … ’

‘I know you’re behind everything,’ I said.

He laughed. ‘Believe it or not, I’m not the Evil One, Mr. James.’

‘Bob’s fine and you’re plenty evil. I have the murder weapon in my pocket and the money stashed with an associate.’

‘Okay,’ he said.

‘And I have photos of you paying off O’Meara, before you had him whacked.’

‘ Whacked …?’

‘I saw him shot dead in cold blood.’

‘ O’Meara …?’

‘Don’t be cute.’

‘Mr. James.’ Bouvert pursed his lips, staring at me. ‘If you leave the weapon with me and walk out that door right now, you can leave with the money and your life, if you disappear for good.’

‘What happened with Elaine Andrews?’

‘Still hung up on Mrs. Andrews?’

‘How was she involved?’

‘Mr. James, no questions. Leave me the weapon and then walk out of this restaurant.’

‘Or …?’

‘Or you die.’

‘You’ll kill me right here?’

‘If that’s what needs to be done.’

‘With these witnesses?’

He smiled. ‘Yes.’

‘For a man with such bad teeth you smile a lot, you know.’

‘Also,’ Bouvert said, still smiling, ‘we’ll kill your friend.’

‘What friend?’

‘The kid. Your associate . The delivery driver.’ He took a sip of wine, swirling it around in his glass. ‘The kid outside the restaurant. We’ll kill him.’

I stuffed my hand in my pocket and, gloveless, grabbed the pistol and said to Bouvert, ‘If you mention the kid again, I’ll shoot you dead right now.’ I pointed the gun toward him, still stuffed into my pocket, underneath the cream tablecloth.

‘No need to get dramatic, Mr. James. I’m giving you a chance to get away, without any consequences. I’ll forget about the kid completely,’ he said. ‘He means nothing to us. And neither do you if you disappear. Take my offer. It’s the best you’ll get.’

‘Thank you, solicitor, but I’m interested in getting to the bottom of this case.’

‘Well, you have a long way to go.’

‘Then I’ll keep going,’ I said. ‘I’ll get to the truth.’

‘The truth is that if you don’t put that gun on the table right now and leave, then I’ll send someone out to see your friend, with a large kitchen knife, and he can carve the boy up. Cut him up piece by piece. I’ll get him to bring me his eyes.’

‘I told you not to mention the kid,’ I said, and stood up and flipped over the table. I pulled the Hi-Power out of my pocket and pointed it at Bouvert, who stood with his back up against the wall, covered in dark red wine and calamari.

The bartender behind me bent down behind the bar and popped back up with a pump-action shotgun, which he cycled as he stood. ‘Drop the gun,’ he said.

I could feel him pointing the gun at my back. I could feel the hole the shotgun would blast through me.

‘I’ll kill him,’ I said. ‘You drop that shotgun, barkeep.’ I kept my gun levelled on Bouvert, looking straight into his truculent eyes. I think I saw beads of sweat form on his forehead.

‘Protect the kid, Mr. James. Don’t be an imbecile. Look at all the bodies that are piling up. I know you don’t give a shit about your own life, but think of the delivery driver. You can shoot me and then you get shot and then my friend here,’ he said, motioning toward the bar, ‘will go outside and kill the delivery driver.’

‘Who killed Gerald Andrews?’

‘Does it really matter to you?’

‘Yes. Who killed Gerald Andrews?’

‘For argument’s sake, let’s say it’s your friend Elaine. But in reality there were several forces that wanted Gerald Andrews dead. Is that a satisfactory answer?’

‘Not at all. Why did you kill O’Meara?’

‘I did no such thing,’ said Bouvert.

‘Let me shoot this fucking guy,’ said the barkeep.

‘Let’s not be too hasty,’ said Bouvert. ‘I’m confident Mr. James will come to his senses.’

‘You made a deal with the Devil, Bouvert, and one thing about the Devil — ’

‘Mr. James. Ich sagte ja, dass die ganze Geschichte zum Teufel gehen wird .’

‘What does that mean?’

‘I know what you’re about to say, He always comes to collect …

‘Right. You’ve heard that before.’

‘At some point, we all make our deals. Now we find ourselves vis à vis . This is your turn, Mr. James. Save yourself and the boy and move on. All the people who were hurt were hurting others, et cetera, et cetera, ad nauseam. I don’t think innocent people should be hurt. Save the boy. Besides, you’ll walk away with twenty-five thousand dollars.’

‘You’ll leave the kid alone … ’

‘We’ll forget he exists.’

‘How can I trust you?’

‘Do you have a choice?’ Bouvert motioned for me with his hands to lower the gun. His face was now shiny with sweat. ‘You have photos of me paying O’Meara. Keep them. An insurance policy, so to speak. I know I could explain them away, easily, though nevertheless they’d put you in a position where you’d be slightly more difficult to get rid of. So keep them. I’ll let you be. Just disappear.’

‘You’ll forget about the kid.’

‘What kid?’ He smiled.

I lowered the gun.

‘There. Good decision. Now put it on the table and be on your way,’ said Bouvert.

‘I’m taking the gun with me. I’ll leave it outside the restaurant. I’m not walking out of here naked.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘And get your friend to stop pointing that shotgun at my back.’

‘Put down the gun, Giancarlo.’

I walked toward the door.

‘Mr. James … ’

I turned around.

‘You were used, but you are leaving with your life.’

‘Right.’

‘It’s a lot more than a lot of people involved in this imbroglio can say,’ said Bouvert.

Before returning to Chez Marine, Darren stopped at a store and picked up a six-pack. We cleaned out the glass from the car. We sat in the parking lot and drank one beer each on the hood of the car.

‘What next?’ said Darren.

‘I’m not sure yet. But I’ll leave town. Go somewhere no one knows me for a little while. But I’m leaving half the money with you.’

‘Do you think it’s okay, that we’re taking the money?’

‘I don’t know what else to do with it. And I’ll need something to live off while in exile. I can’t go back to my place.’

‘Well, you should keep all of it.’