Dirty Money

by Ashley Bartlett

  Esau glanced up at me. “With ‘C’ the real challenge is getting the curve right.”

  “I imagine so.” For a moment, I thought Esau was going to ask me to take over. Thankfully, he didn’t.

  When we got to “E” Caruso spat on Esau’s face. Though I’m not sure it was intentional. He was sobbing and yelling and coughing and slobbering everywhere. Calmly, Esau took out an embroidered handkerchief and wiped his face. By “G” Caruso was praying and begging. Loudly.

  At “H” I told Esau, “This isn’t working.”

  He shot me a look that was pure reprimand.

  “I mean, what if the name starts with ‘W’ or something? That could take forever.”

  “Good point.” He was smiling now. “Shall I go to the end and work backward a bit?”

  “No, space it off and we’ll hit the more common letters. ‘M’ or ‘R’ or maybe ‘S’ or something.”

  “Of course. ‘T’ could also be a good one.”

  “Like hangman, but without running out of guesses.” I wanted this shit over and done with.

  Esau laughed. “I’ll need to do ‘Z’ to make sure it is spaced correctly.”

  “Obviously.”

  Esau chose a particularly sensitive spot on the left side of Caruso’s stomach and traced out the last letter.

  “Is ‘Z’ doing anything for you, Ray?” he asked like he had with all the other letters. No response. Or at least not the response Esau was looking for. He added two more letters before Caruso broke down.

  “Stop, please just stop.” He looked down at his chest and cried a little more. It was like a macabre chalkboard. Each letter was perfectly spaced and proportional. Esau really did have lovely writing. The sick fuck.

  “Are you ready to tell us the name?”

  “Daniels.”

  “What was that?” Esau didn’t look happy. And after all that, he really should have been.

  “Russ Daniels.”

  “Are you sure, Ray?” he asked real slow.

  “Yes, I fuckin’ swear.” He sobbed.

  “You’re telling me one of Alex DiGiovanni’s men helped you?” Oh, that’s why he was pissed.

  “I can prove it.”

  “How?”

  “My cell phone.” Caruso paused to sniffle and take a few deep breaths. “I recorded a conversation. Just look at my phone.”

  “Cooper?”

  I picked the shredded jacket up off the floor and dug around until I came up with a phone. Each MP3 was labeled, but with song titles.

  “It’s not in here.”

  “Play the Sinatra.”

  Sure enough, it was a conversation about moving the stolen merchandise. I recognized Caruso’s voice, but not the other. No surprise. Esau, however, stiffened at the first word, and with each successive line became more and more still. By the end, I wasn’t sure if he was breathing. His knuckles were white where they were clenched around the knife. He nodded and went back to his bag.

  “What are you doing?” Caruso was panicked. “I gave you the name.” He tried to twist around in his chair, but couldn’t see Esau behind him. “Let me go, man.”

  From my vantage point beside Caruso, I could see everything Esau was doing. It wasn’t good. He pulled out a slim silver cylinder and screwed it quietly onto a gun. He turned the gun so the butt was toward me and raised it a little. A silent offering. I couldn’t even shake my head as the horror of what he was going to do washed through me. Then he calmly approached Caruso, put the gun to his head, and pulled the trigger.

  I waited for the sound, but the silencer had done its job. I wanted to hear the loud report of the gun. I needed that sound to signal the finality of Esau’s actions. There was none.

  Esau took the silencer off, stashed it in his bag, and pulled out his cell phone.

  “I had a party that got out of hand. Can you have someone come by and clean up?” He waited for a response. “Good.”

  I was still rooted to the same spot refusing to look at what was in front of me. Instead, I looked at my shoes. Bad idea. Half of Caruso’s head was spattered on the floor. Dark, wet spatters covered my shoes. The pool of blood and brains and who the fuck knew what else spread and ended under my toes. Horrified, I took a step back; my loafers slipped on the cement floor, and I nearly fell.

  “What the fuck happened to romance?” I finally managed to look Esau in the eye.

  “I had to make a decision.” A look that bordered on concern crossed Esau’s face. “It needed to be done.”

  “Why?”

  “Do I really need to explain?” He waited.

  There was no need. I understood why he did it. I just didn’t want to be covered in the evidence. I shook my head in response. The slight movement challenged my balance again. The shoes had to go. Blood and loafers don’t mix.

  “Good. So you’ll come with me to finish the job?”

  “Finish it?” The dude was dead. What was there to finish?

  “We need to find Russ Daniels. I don’t trust anyone not to give him a heads up.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Chicago, I imagine. We’ll fly out tonight and be done by tomorrow.” I nodded. Esau dialed another number. “My friend and I are checking out. Can you bring our bags?” He nodded at the invisible person and hung up.

  *

  “So how long are we going to watch this guy for?” We’d been sitting in a sedan outside a townhouse for hours. I was hungry. Again.

  “Until the time is right. Don’t worry.” Esau flashed one of his borderline feral smiles at me. “I’ll buy you a beer later.”

  “Damn right.” I shrugged out of my new wool coat, a necessary purchase once we’d landed in Chicago. Who the fuck would chose to live in such a damn cold city?

  “You’re going to get cold,” Esau said. Who was he? My father?

  “So turn on the heat.” I bunched the jacket up, shoved it between my seat and the door, and leaned back against it. Another smile played over his lips when I propped my feet up on the dash.

  “Why did you ditch the Gucci?”

  “Loafers aren’t my style.”

  “And Converse are?”

  “They’re gray. Isn’t that sedate enough for you?”

  “Very respectable,” he indulged me.

  “Good. Now shut up. I’m going to sleep.” Surprisingly, he did as I asked.

  I was only out for fifteen minutes before Esau nudged me awake. I opened my gritty eyes, but didn’t move another muscle.

  “He’s moving.” Following Esau’s gaze, I saw a big muscley-looking dude exit the building.

  “That’s Daniels?”

  Esau nodded. “You understand the plan?”

  “Yep, I got it.”

  I got out of the car and took off after Daniels. Behind me, Esau started the car and flipped it the other direction. Daniels rounded the corner. By the time I caught up to him, Esau’s headlights were visible at the other end of the block. I took the gun given to me a few hours earlier by Esau’s contact and pressed it to the back of Daniels’ neck.

  “Don’t move.” I kept my voice low.

  He froze. “My wallet is in my coat pocket.” Slowly, he lifted a hand to open the jacket.

  “Hands up. I don’t want your wallet.” Nor did I want him to pull a gun. Which was what he was going for because I could see the outline of his wallet in his jeans. Next to us, Esau’s car stopped. He came around and stood in front of Daniels.

  “Esau,” Daniels said. He tried to take a step back, but I shoved him forward with the gun barrel. “Look, man, I dunno what’s going on, but we don’t need to do this.” The white clouds of his rapid breath filled the air.

  Esau smiled. It looked genuine.

  “Don’t worry, Russ.” He waved a hand at me. “I’m sorry for the thug.” I was the thug? “But something’s going down. I need your help with it.”

  “My help?”

  “Yes.” He locked eyes with me. “For God’s sake, Cooper, put the gun down.” I d
id, but stayed close in case he ran. “We have an internal problem. I need guys I trust.”

  “Why didn’t you just call me?”

  “Too risky.” Esau glanced around and leaned close conspiratorially. “Don’t look around, but we’re being watched. I want them to think I’m pinning it on you. They’ll loosen up and then we’ll make our move.”

  Daniels visibly relaxed as he fell for Esau’s story.

  “What do you need me to do?”

  “I know it’s a lot to ask.” Esau paused for emphasis. “Would you mind making it look like we’re, you know, taking you for a walk?”

  “Uhh, yeah. Sure. Whatever you need.” This guy was so not the brightest Crayola.

  “Okay, Cooper’s going to shove you. To make it look real. Then we’ll put you in the trunk.”

  “The trunk?”

  “Yes. But we won’t go far. I promise.”

  “Boss?” I asked. Esau looked up. “Won’t they think it’s weird if we don’t search him. Like take his gun and shit?”

  “Of course, how stupid of me.” He reached into Daniels’s coat and extracted his weapon.

  “There’s a knife in my pocket too, Esau,” Daniels offered helpfully as he stretched his arms out to the side to allow Esau room to search him.

  “Thanks, Russ.” Esau pocketed the weapons. “Now Cooper is going to take over.”

  “Gotcha, man.” Daniels nodded.

  As discussed, I shoved him toward the car. Hard. He stumbled, but stayed upright. Then I opened the trunk and he climbed in.

  Before I closed it fully he asked again, “Not too long, right?”

  “Totally,” I lied and slammed the trunk closed.

  “That went quite well.” Esau clapped a hand on my shoulder.

  “Did you seriously just convince that guy to climb in the trunk without ever threatening or touching him?” Okay, I was impressed. Only a little though.

  “Romance, Cooper.”

  “Why does your brand of romance always end with a guy getting his head blown off?” Not super sexy by my standards.

  He just grinned at me.

  By the end of the night, my new shoes had spatters of blood on them.

  *

  The town I grew up in was elitist without any reason for feeling superior. New money. No class. Just big houses with big pools and imported palm trees. The coffee shop had weak espresso. The cigar shop didn’t smell like smoke. The chef in the French restaurant was from Bakersfield. All of these amenities were housed on a strip of real estate built to look like old Europe, but constructed in the twenty-first century. It was, in short, a façade. A poor one. I was aware of these shortcomings without ever having experienced what a successful attempt would look like. Until I got to the party.

  It was the trees, I decided. They were big. And old. Something about their age reflected the money behind them. Of course big and old didn’t mean class. Something I became very aware of when a bodyguard roughly the size of said trees was feeling me up.

  The search was unnecessary. I didn’t have any weapons. I was also wearing a suit cut very fashionably, as in slim, way too tight to conceal anything.

  The bodyguard generously decided to let me in. Which was such a surprise considering my pocket contents consisted of cash and a Boy Scout-sized Swiss Army Knife. Clearly threatening.

  “How’s it going?” Vito squeezed the back of my neck as I joined him. He started smiling. “I thought Esau was kidding about the shoes.” We both looked down at my Chucks.

  “I like ’em.”

  “He said you did real good last week.”

  “Whatever.” I shrugged off the praise. Accessory to murder wasn’t something to brag about. And I officially never wanted to witness torture again.

  “Let’s get a drink.”

  “Fine.”

  “Before I introduce you around, there are things I want you to know. Rules.” He still had a death grip on my neck.

  “If you give me mobster etiquette one-oh-one, I swear I will drop you like a bad habit.” My mom taught me plenty of manners. I didn’t need Vito’s version.

  “At least I know you’re not working for the cops.” More grinning. I didn’t know which of us he found funnier, me or him. “Don’t you want to know about the business? This isn’t easy information to get, you know?” Great, now he was taunting me.

  “I crashed four times during The Godfather. It’s the only movie I ever fell asleep in the middle of.” I took the drink he handed me and waited for a response. Vito was at a loss. “I find that shit boring,” I clarified. “I live in your world by chance, not choice. I don’t care about your fuckin’ rules.”

  “Then I’ll give you the abridged edition. Don’t punch anyone. If I give you any instructions, follow them. Don’t ask questions.” Vito did his smiling without that emotion thing.

  “I’ll do my best. I’m already getting bored of our bonding time.”

  I was. This party was lacking. Out back, I could see an older version of Vito surrounded by other Vitos of varying ages. There were very few women. Those present silently clasped the arm of their Vito escort. I was pretty sure this was supposed to be a birthday party. Didn’t know who for. Didn’t care. It probably would have been included in Vito’s rules talk. Silently, I was begging for something to make this mobster meet and greet at the country manor exciting. If I’d known what was coming, I probably would have shut up and smiled pretty at all the Vitos. But I didn’t know.

  We got about a quarter of the way through shaking hands with the party guests. Only three guys thought I was a dude. Only one of the three got angry when he figured out I wasn’t. Success. Two of the five women hit on me. Discretely, of course. Clearly, I’d been ignoring a hidden talent for mobsters’ bored housewives.

  No, I’d already seen that movie. It blew.

  A vaguely familiar mini-Vito approached us and the entourage we’d acquired. He whispered something to Vito. Vito started giving me some non-verbal instructions through his very angry eyes. He wanted me to go back in the house and do…something. Someone had arrived. That was as much as I could figure out. While the instructions weren’t explicit, I decided to follow them.

  I made it to the massive hallway in time to see an absolutely drop-fucking-dead gorgeous chick walk through the door, throw her coat at one of the bodyguards, and storm up the hall toward me. The bodyguard caught the coat and wisely decided not to chase her. Probably safe because I would have sworn there was no gun under that dress. Also, she looked ready to kill. The rapid click of her stilettos echoed off the floor and walls, filling the vast space like bullets.

  “Hi,” I called with more enthusiasm than I felt. “I’m Cooper. Vito asked me to―”

  She didn’t even blink. Just tossed her long dark hair and kept going. So I followed her. She cut down another hallway that led away from the festivities outside. I struggled to keep up. From the hallway she went into a room with big, heavy doors. I made it inside just in time to see her shoulder into a group of guys, grab one by the throat, and slam him into the large bookcase behind him.

  It was one of the sexiest things I’d ever seen.

  “You fucking knew? You knew and you did nothing?” Her voice was low, barely audible. But the words traveled through the room, enveloping its occupants, winding into shadowed corners, settling on the floor like fog.

  Her victim began turning colors and grasping ineffectually at her slender wrists. He could have broken her grip. Full-grown man versus slender woman. She wasn’t gonna win an arm wrestling competition. But he seemed afraid to push her away. Instead of rushing to his aid, the remaining men slowly backed away. Super.

  “Okay, sweetheart.” I sidled up to her. “Let him go.”

  She ignored me.

  “Did you think I wouldn’t find out?” Her voice dropped even lower then, making it husky and smooth. I had to step closer to even hear her.

  The guy’s eyes got wide as he realized it was too late to stop her. His hands slid away from
hers as he began to pass out. Time to step in.

  I dug my fingertips under her hand, pressed my thumb into her wrist for leverage, and peeled her hand away. Then I picked her up and set her down a few feet away from him. She was displeased.

  “Who the hell are you?” She tried to get past me, but I held her back again. The guy behind me was coughing and hacking and gulping air.

  “Cooper.” Then I laid a smile on her that made most girls start drooling. She was unimpressed.

  “Get out of my way.”

  The dude choked on air some more. It was annoying.

  “Do you mind?” I asked him. “We’re trying to talk.”

  He looked pretty pissed, but tried to abort the panting. Instead, it just came in short, involuntary gasps.

  “Actually, I don’t want to talk to you,” the sexy abuser spoke up again.

  “Really?” I asked like I was shocked. “And I’ve been told I’m such a conversationalist.”

  “I don’t like Vito’s little bitches,” she shot back as she tried to push past me again.

  I caught her, but held her close this time. One arm across her stomach, my shoulder propped against hers.

  “And what if I want to be one of your bitches?” I asked soft enough that only she could hear. Her breath caught for a moment.

  She turned her head and stared at me hard. Damn, her eyes were blue.

  “If you were mine then I’d tell you I want his head to pop like a grape.” Her eyes flashed and went nearly black. “Think you could arrange that?”

  This chick was trouble.

  “Sorry, darlin’. I’m into girls. I don’t make boys pop.”

  She pursed her lips, thought about that for a moment, then smiled. My stomach dropped. My clit twitched and I got wet. Holy fuckin’ shit. I was alive. Blood pumping and everything. Didn’t see that coming.

  I dropped my hold on her and stepped back. What the fuck was wrong with me? Two months and a pretty face, well, and a smokin’ body. But, really, that was all it took to forget Reese? Even for a moment?

  “I’m sorry. Feel free to explore his innards.” I held up my sweating hands and backed away.