Rocks Beat Paper

by Mike Knowles

  “It’s my business,” Saul said.

  “He was protecting you,” I said.

  “He was a sweet boy. He was always looking out for me. Calling you sounds just like him. But why are you so interested now. You didn’t believe him when he first called you, but now, all of a sudden, you tell me that he was right. What changed?”

  “We got some new evidence,” I said. “The evidence backed up what David had told us.”

  “What evidence is this?”

  “It came out of the accident reconstruction team.”

  “Accident reconstruction? You mean David’s accident? What does a car accident have to do with this?”

  I counted three Mississippis in my head before I answered. “We don’t believe it was an accident that killed David. We believe he was murdered.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  “What?”

  “The car was run off the road. The death has been ruled a homicide. The detectives found out about the messages left by David, and they think that his knowledge of a plot to rob your store was the motive for the murder.”

  “The messages you did nothing about.”

  “Sir, you have to understand, we get so many —”

  “Calls,” Saul finished. “I understand just fine. David is dead because your answering machine was full.”

  I understood just fine, too. Saul had decided to shoot the messenger.

  I softened my voice and tried again. “Mr. Mendelson —”

  Saul cut me off. “I loved that boy like a son — like a son. To you, he was just some guy on the phone you could ignore, but to me —”

  “We know how much David meant to you and how much he did for your business.”

  “Oh, you know do you?” Saul made a derisive snort. “You don’t know anything.”

  I looked over at Miles and he subtly lifted his palm. He wanted me to let him cut in. I looked over at Saul who was consciously ignoring me and nodded.

  “Mr. Mendelson,” Miles said, “we have no excuse for what happened. None. A good man is dead and we know that we played a part in that. It was a small part, but we hold ourselves responsible. We can’t change what happened — that’s beyond our power. But we can do something for David; we can find the people who did this and we can bring them to justice. That justice belongs to David, and we intend to give it to him. But we can’t do it without you. Please help us do what we should have done from the start. Help us stop this robbery. Help us catch the people responsible for what happened to David.”

  This was it. We had put every domino in place and we needed Saul to knock over the first one. Minutes went by in long stretches of silence broken by the sniffles of a man trying his best to hold it together. The quiet ended with a wet clearing of the throat and the words, “Let’s get the sons of bitches.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “I still don’t understand how you don’t know who is trying to rob me. David called you. He didn’t give you a name?”

  We had stopped at a Dunkin’ Donuts in Hell’s Kitchen and picked up coffees and a plain doughnut for Saul. The free food did nothing to soften Saul. “David had suspicions,” I said. “He knew in his gut that something was going on, but he wasn’t one hundred percent sure. That happens more than you think. People think someone they know is up to something, but they’re hesitant to say anything out of the fear that they’re wrong.”

  “He gave you nothing?”

  I was driving towards the Hudson and nursing the bitter coffee. I put the cup down and looked at Saul in the rear-view. Even though I had been talking to him, he was looking at Miles whenever he said anything. It was clear that he was taking out whatever anger he had about David’s death on me. He blamed me and I was starting to wonder if he always would. Miles read Saul’s anger and took over the conversation as smoothly as a lane change on the highway.

  “He gave us his name, not the store’s name, or yours, just his name. He told us his line of work and that he suspected some of his co-workers were planning to rob the store. He brought up how important it was that this matter stayed confidential. That was really important to him.”

  “But why wouldn’t he tell me?”

  “He was probably looking out for your health.”

  “My health?” Saul said. “What’s wrong with my health?”

  I didn’t turn my head from the bumper in front of me, but from the corner of my eye I caught the look Miles shot me. He knew he had fucked up, but there were no apologies in this line of work and no way to put a genie back in the bottle. I kept my eyes on the car in front of me and took my foot off the gas when the brake lights shone red.

  “I’m sorry,” Miles said. “I know it’s a sensitive subject.”

  “What?” Saul demanded. “What is a sensitive subject?”

  Miles didn’t answer. Instead he took a sip of his coffee and elbowed my arm. “This doesn’t taste like two sugars. Are you sure you don’t have mine?”

  Saul raised his voice, “What is a sensitive subject?”

  Miles put his coffee in the cup holder and took a few seconds to make sure Saul knew he was uncomfortable with the subject. He faced Saul and softened his voice. “David mentioned that you have been forgetting things lately.”

  “Forgetting things?”

  “Yes, sir. Those were his words. At least, that was how it was taken down in the notes. He used the phrase taking advantage of him a couple of times.”

  “It’s not something we should have brought up,” I said.

  “He was just being honest,” Saul snapped. “I appreciate honesty. I respect it.”

  “I should have been more considerate,” Miles said.

  “No, you were doing your job,” Saul said. “I was angry at you before for not doing it; it would be crazy for me to be upset that you are doing it now.”

  Miles turned around in his seat. “How are things with you?”

  Saul made some noise opening the paper bag holding his doughnut. He took a bite and chewed thoughtfully. “I am seventy-four years old. I am an old man. That’s not so bad. Many people don’t get to be old. What’s bad is the knowing. I know I’m old. I also know that there are days when I am not as sharp as I once was. It’s like you said, I forget things — but those days come and go and then I’m back to being myself.”

  “Thank you for being so honest,” Miles said. “Could I ask you another question?”

  “You want to know if I get up to pee during the night? Well, I already told you I’m old, so you can figure that out for yourself.”

  Miles laughed. “This one isn’t personal. I wanted to know if anything has struck you as odd lately. Y’know, people following you or maybe just a feeling that you’re being watched.”

  Saul drank some more coffee and thought about it. Finally, he said, “No, nothing, but I’ve been too busy lately to notice anything. With David’s funeral and running the store, I haven’t been able to find the time to sit down.”

  “Must be tough,” Miles said.

  “David was my right hand. I had forgotten how much work it took to run a business like this. To be honest, I’ve been racked with guilt. I never realized how much David really did for me. I should have retired years ago. And now, without David, I can’t.”

  David had organized the robbery because he thought his time would never come, and it turned out that the only person standing in his way had been him.

  “We know that David suspected someone on the inside and that he wanted to protect you,” I said. “That means you’re the only person that we can trust.”

  Saul reached over the seat and put his hand on Miles’s shoulder. “What do you need me to do?”

  “Right now, we just need you to be our eyes and ears. We’re working the case hard, sir. We’ll have a lead soon.”

  “You said that David never gave you any real information.”
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  “You only have a handful of employees,” I said. “We are looking into all of them. If there is something there, we’ll find it.”

  “Like what?”

  “It could be anything from a record to being a known associate of a criminal.”

  “And if you find them, you can arrest them.”

  “Not quite,” I said.

  Saul shook his head dismissively at me. “Then what?”

  “Having a suspicion isn’t enough,” Miles said. “We need more. That’s where you come in.”

  “At more?”

  “When the time is right, we want you to help us get the kind of evidence no one could refute.”

  “And how do I help you get that?” Saul asked.

  “By helping us catch them in the act,” Miles said.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  We dropped Saul off at his car and told him we would be in touch. We also told him to call us if he noticed anything that might help with our investigation. Saul held up the phony business card we had given him and said that he would.

  When he closed the door, Miles spoke under his breath, “What do you think?”

  I thought about it. “He was more lucid than I expected. A little meaner, too.”

  “Maybe to you,” Miles said. “But I know what you mean. David gave us the impression that the old guy was driving the business into the ground with both hands, but the man we met tonight wasn’t some fuddy-duddy. He was shrewd. You see the way he checked our badge numbers? That was clever. I thought maybe he’d make us repeat them while he looked at the numbers, but that old coot memorized both badge numbers. That’s hard to do if you’ve lost your marbles.”

  “He might not have memorized them,” I said. “He might have just wanted us to think he did, or that he still could. He could have just watched for our reactions. A hesitation could have been as good as a fail.”

  Miles nodded his head. “Maybe, but I got the impression that he had those numbers down cold.”

  “Me too,” I said.

  “So that leaves us with a question.”

  “Two,” I said.

  “Two?”

  “Did Saul have a lucid hour with us, or was David not telling us the whole story?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  The next day, we let Saul see us parked on the street as he walked to work. Saul played it cool and didn’t give us a second glance. Of course, there was a possibility that he didn’t remember us.

  The next night, Monica tailed him home. She followed him and worked hard to be obvious about it. We had no idea if Saul ever looked in his rear-view, but we wanted to be there if it happened. It turned out, Saul was nothing like other people his age. He kept his eyes on his mirrors and his hands at ten and two.

  “I did what you said,” Monica told us when she got back to the motel room. “I came up on him a block from his parking garage and put my bumper up his ass.”

  “Did he notice you?” Miles asked.

  “By the third turn he was on to me.”

  “What’d he do?”

  “Sped up and started driving more aggressively. He cruised through a red light and came this close to getting T-boned.” Monica smiled as she mimicked the distance with her thumb and index finger. “For a second, it felt like déjà vu — derailed by another car wreck — but the old guy squeaked through.”

  “How did you play it?” I asked.

  Monica took a swig of her beer, then said, “I stopped at the light.”

  “Good,” I said. Saul was panicked, and that was where we needed him to be. Seeing Monica following him again the next night would increase the pressure.

  “Follow him again tomorrow, but be a bit subtler about it.”

  “I thought you wanted it to be obvious.”

  “At first, but now he’ll be looking for you. He knows that you know he made you. The natural response would be to avoid letting that happen again, but we need it to happen again.”

  “So you want me to get caught looking like I’m trying not to get caught.”

  “Yes.”

  “I can do that.” Monica got off her chair and put what was left of her beer in the sink. She searched four cupboards and found each one bare. “Don’t you have anything to eat?”

  “I don’t think he eats,” Miles said. “If he does, it would have to be something you can eat while scowling. Maybe spaghetti.”

  Monica shoved her hands into her jeans’ pockets. The faded denim was tight and spotted with dirt and grease stains around the knees. She pulled an equally worn denim jacket off a chair and pulled it on. “Well, I’m going for food.”

  “Can I join you?” Miles asked.

  “Better — you can buy me dinner.”

  “Like a date.”

  “Like a lease on the seat beside me.”

  Miles shrugged. “It’s more room than my apartment.” He grabbed his coat and went for the door. He looked at me before he opened it and said, “Tomorrow?”

  “I got the morning shift but be ready for closing time.”

  “Sounds like a plan.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The next day, we put in appearances on the street for Saul and then drove to Tommy’s Super Fantastic Funporium. It had rained a couple of hours before and the puddles were bouncing the discarded light up into our faces.

  Miles smirked as we walked toward the bar. “They say the secret of good taste is knowing when to stop.”

  “He says all the flash is his cover.”

  “Maybe,” Miles said. “Or maybe Jake just couldn’t take the idea of people not knowing how super-fantastic he is.”

  We stepped out of the artificial light and into a dim womb created by the few feet in between the two sets of doors separating the bar and the street. I put my hand on the door and readied my senses for an assault from all of the fun waiting to strike.

  “How much do you think he’ll want?”

  It was a fair question. Of all the job’s weak points, this was the most tender. The job hinged on a switch. I needed to trade Saul for what he had in his safe, and a trade for millions in diamonds wouldn’t come cheap. I had thought about using replicas, but we needed something of value to put up if we wanted Saul to continue to think we were legit. “Depends.”

  “On what?”

  “On how many people it will take to get us what we want. The more people involved, the more we’ll have to pay.”

  “We’ll just have to hope that Jake really is super-fantastic.”

  We found Jake in his office, reading the newspaper while slurping down Chinese noodles slathered in a dark sauce. I guessed the food was off the bar menu. There was no aged masseuse-in-training rubbing his back this time. If the waitress had been there, she would have likely scolded Jake for hunching his shoulders so much.

  Jake glanced at me and spoke with his mouth full. “You’re early.”

  “He’s always early,” Miles said. “It’s his thing.”

  Jake tilted his head to get a look over my shoulder at Miles. He dropped the newspaper and pointed a finger at Miles. “That is your only fuckin’ warning, mouth. Another word out of you and I’ll have one of the bouncers throw you out on the sidewalk — headfirst like a lawn dart.”

  Before Miles could open his mouth, Jake said, “Don’t think okays don’t count.”

  Miles closed his mouth and mimed locking it with an invisible key.

  “Don’t push it, mouth.”

  Jake was a criminal Rolodex who connected like-minded people with one another. More than helping people find others who were in the same line of work, Jake provided reliability. Jake guaranteed people who could do what they said they could do. But sometimes, making connections wasn’t enough. Occasionally, Jake provided a neutral ground for people to introduce themselves and feel each other out. The Funporium was used
as a place to meet because the light, noise, and sheer improbability of the location made it as safe from the eyes and ears of the law as the surface of the moon. Miles had taken advantage of Jake’s willingness to let people use the Funporium as a means of networking and the free drinks he provided while they did it. Miles had set up jobs just to drink for free at the bar. He also let pretty girls drink for free, too. To be fair, Miles was using the bar to plan a robbery; he was just planning to rob the bar of all the liquor he could ingest.

  “Who are we here to meet?” I asked.

  Jake gave Miles a bit more of his best hard stare before looking back at me. Jake was a go-between, but the scar tissue around his eyes and his crooked nose let anyone who could read the signs know he hadn’t always been a middleman. “I told you when you called me back. I got someone lined up. You need stones and a fence. Well, this guy could potentially help you with both of your problems. Whatever name he wants to give you is his business.”

  “You going to be that secretive about his price?”

  “That’s what I wanted to talk to you about. The thing is —”

  “How much?” I asked.

  “Hear me out will ya?”

  “How much?”

  “Nothing, alright? At least not money anyway.”

  “What does he want?”

  Before Jake could answer, Miles said, “He wants us to do a job. Whenever anyone is coy about price, it’s because they want to bargain. What else do we have to bargain with?”

  “What did I tell you about talking in my place?”

  I held up my hand. “What does he owe you?”

  Jake looked at Miles. “His tab is four grand.”

  I looked at Miles; he shrugged. “There was a bachelorette party. How was I supposed to know softball players could drink more than sailors?”

  “The four comes out of our end.”

  Jake looked at Miles and a smile replaced the scowl. “Well, I guess that means he can talk whenever he wants.”