by David Levien
“What did you know?”
“Nothing,” Teague said again, but when he saw Behr rear his fist back once more, quickly continued, “nothing clear. Nothing for sure.”
Teague sucked in a breath and went on. “Most of this shit’s way above my pay grade, man, but suffice it to say not everyone loves Bernie Cool.”
Behr drilled a punch into Teague’s mouth. “Start getting specific or I’m gonna start getting ugly.”
Teague gave a sickly smile. Blood ran over his teeth and he spit it on the floor. “What do you call this?”
“The warm-up lap,” Behr said, and kicked Teague in the floating rib with the point of his shoe. He put some leg into it, enough for a thirty-yard field goal. Teague groaned and doubled over into the dirt from the fallen plant. When he finally caught some air, he pushed himself up, leaning on one hand.
“Okay. Okay. Shit, your stand-up game is tight … SB-5373X.”
“SB, what’s that?”
“Senate bill. Proposing a tax break on the racinos.”
Behr had read about it when he was researching Indy Flats. It was the massive relief bill that would allow the Indiana racinos to survive and compete with those in Ohio, Michigan, and Illinois.
“What does it have to do with Kolodnik?” Behr asked. “He’s out of his piece of the casino interest, and that’s a state senate vote anyway,” he said.
“Everyone knows the senators out of Washington tell the state legislature which hand to wipe with,” Teague said, rubbing his side.
“Kolodnik wasn’t going to be senator until five minutes ago,” Behr said.
“Well, best as I can tell it’s a story of eighteen months. That’s when Kolodnik’s ex-partner-”
“Gantcher,” Behr said.
“Yeah, Gantcher. That’s when he broke ground on the hotel. Then the business went into the dumper. They’re losing six figures a day, man. It’s a bloodbath.”
“What’s it connect to?” Behr was writing now, his swollen knuckles clenched around his pen.
“About a year back Gantcher and some others in the state gambling business request a special assembly so they can propose SB-5373X.”
“I read about it. The legislature told them kiss off,” Behr said.
“That’s right. But with that kind of money on the line, they’re not just going to walk away. So about seven months ago Gantcher goes to Kolodnik, even though he’s out of it, to get him to use his juice to get a special assembly, you know, to safeguard the economic engine that is the racino business. Bernie Cool’s a stand-up guy, so he asks. But they reject the request.”
Teague pulled himself heavily into a more upright seated position. He wasn’t going anywhere, though. He was talking now.
“This worries Gantcher, big-time. Same with his competitors-the other racino and casino owners in the state-who are now quickly becoming his asshole buddies. They all get together and have a meeting with Kolodnik where they fucking tell him to go to the governor and demand an assembly. They figured he and the gov are so tight he can do it.”
“What happened?” Behr asked. He fought to keep writing and to resist the urge to just let the information wash over him.
“I don’t know. I suppose the meeting didn’t go well. Kolodnik didn’t go along. He’s not the kind of guy to be pushed, and I guess that’s when he decided he needed security.”
“This is what, six months ago, when he hired Caro?”
Teague nodded.
“How’d he decide on Caro?”
“How’d he decide?” Teague laughed. “He didn’t. It was decided for him. See, there was this thing I was working for Potempa on the quiet-”
“The daughter,” Behr said.
“Yeah, that fucking wild-child daughter of his-”
“I know about her. I’ve seen the video,” Behr said.
“Fuck me! You’ve seen the video? I never got that far on it. Man, I wouldn’t mind getting a look-”
“Shut up,” Behr said. “Where’d it lead?”
What couldn’t I get out of Potempa? Behr wondered.
“So he asked me to sort this thing for him, since we go back the furthest, and I’m on it, talking to this jackwad Barnes trying to work it out-”
“Lenny Barnes, daughter’s boyfriend,” Behr said.
“Yeah. He and the daughter want to leave town. They want to move to Hawaii or something and open a business. The guy’s looking for fifty grand from Potempa …”
An agonized look crossed Teague’s face, probably from a cracked rib. That pain comes on slow and builds.
“Look, I’ve known Karl Potempa a long fucking time. I can read when a man’s in the shit. And that’s where he was. He don’t have leaks-like gambling or liquor-but on this, I saw he was weak … he was wide-open. So I’m in there, working out leverage on how I’m going to squeeze Barnes, make him walk away or take him down on pandering-I’m just trying to keep the video squelched, you know, for Karl-”
“Yeah, yeah. Father to father,” Behr said.
“Right. And I get called to this apartment to meet, and Barnes has got this girl he runs there with him, and this douche bag of a john is there too, drooling all over her, with an idea on how we can all make a lot of money.”
“The john was Shugie Saunders,” Behr stated.
“Yeah. Damn, you’ve gotten a lot.” Teague’s hand found his bleeding ear, as if just discovering it wasn’t working right, but he went on. “And Saunders says he has a prominent client for us, a guy he advises that needs some special services, yada yada-”
“What the fuck is ‘yada yada’?” Behr said.
“Nothing. ‘Special services.’ That’s all he said then. We go out and have dinner and talk about the services and coverage we provide. He calls Potempa the next day and hires Caro. I’m an experienced E.P. guy, so it isn’t long before I catch a Kolodnik detail, and after the first one, they start requesting me.”
Behr took it in.
“Round this time people start talking about Kolodnik getting the Senate seat. Thinking was: business as usual, the casino owners grease through their tax measure, no problem. But now it looks like Bernie Cool’s ready to be the law-and-order senator. Instead of helping, he’s gonna stick it in their eye to make a point, so they needed to make sure he never got there.”
Behr understood what happened from there. Still, he wanted to hear it.
“Gantcher and the other casino owners paid you to kill Kolodnik,” Behr said.
“Not to kill him. They did pay me. Paid the note on this place clean,” Teague said, glancing around his house. “But they just asked for a tip on where he would be at a given time. There was going to be a team of shooters. Said it would come when I was on shift. I knew it would be bad press for the company, for me, but I figured Caro could survive it …”
“Why didn’t it go down that way?”
Teague straightened and gathered himself a bit.
“The thing was, after riding with Bernie Cool a few times, I just couldn’t … be there for it. You know what I mean? I just couldn’t. The man is a prince.”
Behr did know what he meant. In a charm derby Kolodnik had most everyone beat.
“So you started subbing me in,” Behr said, “and it was ‘fuck the new guy.’ ”
“Not exactly …”
“No?”
“The body man-me-was never supposed to be hit. It was supposed to be a clean deal, I swear to you on that-”
“Whatever it was, you didn’t want to be there that night.”
There was a period of silence. “No.”
“Who were the shooters?”
“No idea.”
“Who did the hiring?”
“Again, I don’t have a clue. Not a damn clue.”
Behr eyed Teague. “So you went ahead and served me up.”
“I hardly knew you. We weren’t in the Bureau together-”
“Sure.”
“I didn’t know what else to do. Shit, looking back, of co
urse it was a setup and the bodyguard was going down too. I just didn’t see it at the time. You did damn good though. Better than I would have. Behr, it wasn’t personal.”
“To me it was.”
Another period of silence elapsed, this one prolonged.
“That’s it, then? All you did was give the location.”
Teague shrugged pathetically.
“Are they going to try again?” Behr demanded.
“Kolodnik’s in D.C. Confirmation is any day. He’s made now. I’m pretty sure that ship has sailed.”
“And how much does Potempa know?”
“He doesn’t know shit about this, just that we had a fat new client and after my first time out with him, I was requested. Anything he thinks, it’s meaningless. The man’s a fucking puddle since watching that video.” As Behr had suspected, Potempa couldn’t stop himself from looking at the thing.
“Potempa’s just screwed up-he’s not dirty,” Teague said with a near laugh.
“Unlike you. You’re screwed up and dirty, aren’t you?” Behr said, extinguishing the humor.
Behr looked down at Teague, the man’s head sagging forward. He didn’t know if he’d gotten 10 percent of the details or 90, and had no idea how much of it was the truth. He also didn’t know what to do with him now. Taking him to the cops would stop his own investigation cold, and Teague would be out on bail in three hours. A trial would happen two years down the road, and everyone else responsible would be long gone. On the other hand, Behr couldn’t torture him. He couldn’t sit on him. He couldn’t kill him. He had no other way to shut him up besides the old-fashioned. Behr used his foot again, this time planting it in Teague’s chest, and knocking him onto his back. Then he put the edge of it across Teague’s throat, stepping down with some weight on the trachea.
“You’re not going to show up for work. For a while. And you’re not going to be reachable either,” Behr said, “except by me when I need bits and pieces filled in.”
Teague nodded, his eyes bugging from fear and the pressure and lack of air. Fragments of mirror glass ground into the floor and Teague’s shoulder with a grating sound.
“You’re not going to say anything about this to Potempa or anyone else at Caro.” Even as he spoke, Behr knew he was wasting his breath. Teague was going to tell whomever he was going to tell and do whatever he wanted to do. Teague’s gurgle had heightened to a high-pitched wheeze. Behr took his foot off Teague’s windpipe and walked out the door.
58
Behr sat at his kitchen table in jeans and trail shoes, having finally retired the suit. He had a couple of gel packs from the freezer and had started in icing his left eye, where Teague had clipped him with a right, then moved on to his leg, and was concentrating on his right knuckles and wrist, which had incurred some damage as he was dishing it out, when he heard the front door open.
“Frank, are you home?” he heard Susan ask.
“In the kitchen,” he called out.
“What’s going on?” she asked, still out in the living room.
“Nothing much,” he said. He heard the rustle of plastic shopping bags.
“I just got a call from the manager over at Glen Arbor. Why is your jacket and tie on the floor? We need to make our move on that unit if we’re going to-” She appeared in the doorway and stopped talking as she took in his condition.
“You’ve been fighting.”
“Yep.”
“What happened?”
“Bit of a story.”
“Start anywhere.”
“We’d better pass on that apartment,” he said.
“Why?”
“I got fired today.” Silence fell between them, along with a palpable patina of worry.
“Oh my god, oh my god … oh my god,” she said, sitting down heavily across from him.
“It’ll be okay.”
“Oh my god.” She actually grew pale.
“Breathe,” he instructed.
“I don’t want to be this person, Frank … but I’m not working and the baby’s almost here.”
“It’ll be okay,” he said again.
“How?” she asked.
“The shingle goes back out.” He shrugged. “I’ve always gotten by.”
“Starting from scratch clientwise this time, though.”
“Yep. Something will come along …”
“Something will come along.” He saw her face set in anger. “I can’t believe this. We’ve got to let the apartment go …”
“Like I said, it’s not a good time to-”
“You were hedging before you lost your job.”
“Maybe I was,” he allowed.
“And you’re out careening around on this thing-”
“I was minding my damn business and got shot at-”
“You wear a gun to work,” she said. “Are you really minding your business?”
There it was, a topic they’d never broached before. She hadn’t mentioned a problem with what he did until now. Had she been holding back, or had things changed? It didn’t matter. Here they were.
“You know what I’ve realized, maybe since the baby started getting close?” she asked. “That I spend my nights alone. Whether you’re out working, or even when you’re home. You’re not focused on this baby, and you’re just … unreachable.”
It lay there, half lament, half accusation, all true. Behr cast about for a response.
“Look, it’s been a tough time. That’s my fault. But I’m trying … to focus on the baby. And I do love you, Suze. Isn’t that enough?” he offered.
“Not if you won’t let me do the same back to you,” she said, and then searched for words. “People think unrequited love is the worst fate imaginable, but the truth is: being without either half of the equation is awful. Because it just makes you feel empty.”
He felt like a child trying to process a chemistry equation. He knew what she was saying was important, but he was not capable of addressing it in a meaningful way.
“I’m not trying to shut you out. I’m just trying to put this thing down, and then …” Behr said, tapering off like a first-year French student, not sure what else to add.
“Then what? The next one? And one of them goes the wrong way and that’s it … I’m afraid, Frank. Afraid that one day the lousy Snoogler is all I’m gonna have,” she said, referencing that body pillow of hers with the silly name.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said. But it wasn’t a satisfactory answer to her. The conversation became stuck in an eddy after that, and he tried to convince her to go into the bedroom and rest. But she was set on going out, to her office to talk to her boss Ed Lindsay about whether she could come back to work immediately, before the baby was born, and if not, how quickly she could come back afterward. She grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
“Susan,” he called feebly, but the closing door was her final response. Behr didn’t go after her. He knew she was right about all she’d said, because within a minute he felt his mind pull back to the Kolodnik case, and he let it.
The numbers associated with the tax breaks in the proposed Senate bill were huge-tens of millions, maybe hundreds. On the streets he’d seen people killed over five bucks, so what would that kind of money cause men to do? Once the fever was unleashed, values-monetary, moral, or that of human life-had a way of becoming arbitrary in a hurry.
If he looked at the thing from five miles up, it was clear enough: everyone was acting in his own self-interest. It was as simple as that and something he shouldn’t have forgotten. Forces wanted Kolodnik gone. Caro wanted Behr out of the way so things were smooth with the cops. The police wanted to be the only player on the field, as they always did. Not for any grand conspiracy for the most part but for a much cleaner reason: expediency. Behr wanted to find who’d shot at him. Mothers looked out for their babies because that’s what mattered to them. All these things only became a problem when agendas conflicted. But then it was indeed a problem.
Behr opened his not
ebook and pored over what he had and what he still didn’t. Then he realized there was someone he hadn’t gotten to yet, and it was time to do so. It was time to get a hold of Lowell Gantcher.
59
A Westerner’s first impulse when planning a crime is: How am I going to get away when it’s done? But Dwyer had learned an important mind-set in his days in the field in the Middle East. The first impulse in the extremist-Muslim or otherwise-is: How can I succeed? The getaway be damned. This was Dwyer’s current attitude. He needed to get it done. Then he could return home to his mountaintop and his Sandy. But a nasty secret had reared up in him as of late. The truth was, he finally had the taste for action back in his mouth after a bit of an absence. He could keep telling himself this was about walk-away money or protecting his reputation, but he knew what it was really about: the juice. And the irony that he was using the extremist approach in order to get away with the original crime was not lost upon him. He felt himself starting to stumble and shake a little like a dry drunk.
Dwyer was in the living room of Pat Teague’s house, off a small-town crossroads in the middle of the American flatlands. He surveyed the damaged hutch, the cracked mirror, and spilled dirt around the potted plant, and put it together with what he knew. Something had upset Pat Teague big-time. He had used his landline telephone to call a man with a warning, and Dwyer and Rickie had just gotten there and were sitting down the street listening.
“Hey, it’s Teague,” he’d said.
“Shit, Patty,” the voice said, “is it safe to call me?”
“It’s not safe anyway,” Teague said.
“Oh no …” the voice lamented.
“You know who he’s talking to?” Rickie asked.
“Nah,” Dwyer said, “wish we had caller capture.” On the more sophisticated version of the line tap, they’d be able to know the number he was calling, not just listen.
“The wheels are coming off this fucking thing,” Teague said. “Are you still around?”
“Yeah, the son of a bitch left me,” the voice said.
“Then we should meet and talk about what the hell we can do.”
