by Jason Winn
“Sure.”
Madison set the bags down and rapped on the front door. It was 8:56. Dusk was transitioning into night and fireflies had taken to the air. The street bustled with Saturday evening traffic. A dog walker crossed the street and slowed as they neared Madison. The light of a streetlamp revealed Molly in yoga pants and a white cotton top. The corners of her mouth turned down at the site of Wrench standing by the car.
“Oh, Molly. Sorry I’m a few minutes early.”
“Is that your friend?”
“Oh, yes, don’t mind him.”
Wrench smiled and waved. Molly’s dog, an Irish Setter, walked over to Wrench as he knelt and stuck out his hand. Molly gently pulled the dog away and reached for her keys and unlocked the door.
“Just bring those in,” she said to Madison, not bothering to look at her.
Madison entered Molly’s home and immediately placed the bags in the foyer. The living room was off to her right and a long hallway extended past stairs, toward the back of the house. It looked like every other colonial-era house she’d ever been in. She wasn’t about to set foot any further, just so that Wrench could keep an eye on her through the big windows that looked out on to the street.
“I’ve got your money in here,” said Molly as she unleashed the, furry brown dog. He took off toward the kitchen, probably to get a drink. Madison didn’t follow her. “Yes, it’s right here,” Molly called out from a room down the hallway.
“Good,” Madison shot back in a kind but firm voice.
“You can count it if you like,” Molly said back, almost shouting this time.
Madison stayed silent. There was a long pause, and finally Molly got the message that Madison wasn’t going any further into her web. “I’m sorry about the delivery mix-up,” was all Madison would allow her.
Finally, Molly came back into the hallway, much slower than she had moved into the office. “Yes. Well, we all make mistakes sometimes.” Her eyes darted out to the street, through the big windows in the living room. Madison turned to see Wrench standing by the car, hands in his pockets.
Molly sauntered toward Madison. “I’m sorry about the other day. I just get worried sometimes about silly things and I up and lose my temper. You know how that is.”
God damn right, Madison thought. She wanted to punch her for that little show in the liquor store. She’d threatened her life, and that was inexcusable in Madison’s eyes. But, at the end of the day, she needed every customer she could get. Losing Molly, in spite of her insanity when she didn’t get her way, only meant that she might look somewhere else to spend her huge Moonmilk budget.
“No worries,” said Madison.
Molly handed Madison a thick envelope, the kind you can put whole pieces of paper in, without folding them. She peeked inside. Fifty thousand dollars, rightly wrapped in paper labels, stared back at her.
“Thanks,” said Molly. She stuck out her hands for an “everything’s cool” shake. “Same time next month?”
Madison hesitated and took Molly’s hand. Molly squeezed Madison’s hand, hard, and she could feel heat in her palm and on the back of her hand, as hot as skillet off the burner. Madison’s heart jumped and she tried to pull away. The thought of her hand burning off frightened her and she wanted to scream.
Molly spoke through clinched teeth, masked by a phony smile. “Don’t ever bring muscle to a deal again. Got that?”
In a rush of anger, Madison squeezed back, “Same goes for you.”
Molly’s eyes went wide at Madison’s defiance, but she let go and Madison looked at her hand. It was bright red, but it would be all right. She wanted to level Molly for that little trick, but that would probably incite her to grab Madison by the throat again, and this time she’d drag her back into that room where she’d tried to lure her a minute ago.
“Good-bye, dear,” said Molly. This time her smile went all the way up to her eyes.
Madison shoved her hot hand into her jeans pocket and walked back to the street as calmly as she could. Tears tried to shoot out of her eyes, but somehow, she willed them back.
“Everything good?” asked Wrench.
“Yeah,” Madison said in a voice a little too shaky. “Let’s roll.” She threw the envelope into the back of the car and started it up.
Wrench whipped his seat belt on and turned to look back at Molly’s house. “Your friend’s staring at you. She looks pissed.”
“Good,” mumbled Madison.
Chapter 67
Madison found the round of pub grub and movie a welcome distraction from the recent insanity. The high point had been when she held Wrench’s hand when the hero had found his girlfriend dead in the rose garden and broke down weeping. His tears fell along with the rose petals drifting down onto her serene face.
She wished for Wrench to lean over and kiss her then, but he was probably too engrossed in the killing spree that immediately followed the rose garden scene.
Madison fought to not think about all her problems, but concerns for Sarah, Shelby, Dana, Jane and Sean kept creeping in like water from a leaky roof. Wrench seemed compelled to ask her more than a few times if she was okay. Each time she would pat his hand and force a smile, hoping this was enough to convince him not to worry about her.
As they exited the theater, a beat-up minivan pulled up to the curb and dumped out a bunch of adolescent boys. A punked-out girl sat behind the wheel, shouting at someone on her phone. Big sis, no doubt being forced to play chauffeur to her younger brothers before being allowed to use the family grocery getter, Madison thought. She’d been that girl once, driving Dana around with her friends in exchange for a night alone drinking in the parked car, away from her mother.
“Beware the mousetrap,” said Wrench absently.
“Huh?” asked Madison.
Wrench chuckled. “Oh, sorry. Every time I see a minivan like that, I think of my buddy, Kevin, when he was over in Iraq.” He paused.
“Were you there, too?” Madison hadn’t considered if Wrench had been in the military. She hoped it wasn’t impolite to ask.
“I was actually, but just as a contractor for an engineering company. But, don’t go asking me for war stories. Almost all the fighting was over, by the time I went over. I was just a mechanic in the Green Zone. I never saw anything other than the garage, my room and the cafeteria. Besides, it’s so hot over there, you never want to leave the shade if you can help it.”
“Did Kevin see any action?” Madison felt she might regret asking that, but it was too late, now.
“Yeah, a little bit. He was in the Army for a few years as a mechanic. Used to work in the bay next to me at the shop where I’m at now. He told me about this time when a couple of ISIS guys attacked a police station. They got close with this minivan they’d stolen from an exterminator.”
“What? No way.” Madison reached out to hold his hand as they strolled along the sidewalk.
“Yeah, it had a huge picture of a mouse in a trap on the side, with the words “mousetrap” in Arabic under it. He’s got a picture. I’ll ask him to send it to me.”
“How is there an exterminator in the middle of Iraq?”
“Well, they have hotels and offices for foreigners all over the place. Those folks don’t want a place full of rats.”
“Makes sense. So, what happened?”
“The ISIS dudes had a .50 caliber machine gun hidden inside the minivan, mounted behind the front seats. The windows are all tinted because it’s fucking hot over there, so you couldn’t see the gun. And it was on a swivel mount, so the gunner can swivel it back and forth to spray everyone, you follow?”
“Gotcha. I’m guessing they were going to shoot through the windshield?”
“Yeah, these guys don’t care. They’re on a hit and run mission. So, who cares what happens to the mouse trap’s windshield? The problem is, as they’re driving up to a crowd of cops, like in a morning formation, the gunner gets so excited he opens fire too soon, spraying bullets everywhere. He blows the
driver’s head off, like, in the first few shots.”
“Oops.”
“Right? The minivan goes swerving all over the place. And the driver must have been the gunner’s buddy so he freaks out and jumps from the back of the thing, while it’s still moving, gets up, and starts hobbling away. The cops just open fire and kill him in the middle of the street.”
“Did any of the cops get killed?”
“Not a one.”
“Wow. Where was your buddy?”
“He was helping the police station with getting their Humvees going and heard the whole thing from the motor pool. He ran over to see what all the commotion was and saw the ISIS guy get shot.” He paused and grinned. “So, beware of the mousetrap.”
“That’s crazy. He got any other stories like that?”
“Naw, that’s his best one. I probably shouldn’t lead with it. The rest are just him getting drunk and doing stupid things.”
I know what that’s like, Madison thought.
They came up on Madison’s car. She did a quick self-sobriety check, decided the two drinks from dinner had worn off and unlocked the car with the fob. Wrench made a wistful sigh as the car blinked alive and Madison felt a pang of guilt again, owning something he clearly prized. Should she buy him one?
Don’t be stupid, you barely know him. And, genius, you’ll have to explain how you got the money. Maybe I should just tell him I got an inheritance. That would work, right? Ugh!!!
“So where to?” asked Madison, as they got in. It was only midnight and she wanted to keep the night going. She certainly didn’t want to end things before she got her kiss.
“I know a piano bar in Georgetown that’s pretty chill,” he said.
Perfect, she thought. “Works for me.”
***
Two blocks away from the piano bar, Madison pulled onto a side street to look for parking. The main roads were choked with traffic and pedestrians. She parallel parked and froze in her seat, gripping the steering wheel, eyes scanning the street. There was no one around and all the stores were closed up for the night.
“Hey,” she said.
Wrench turned to look at her, and before he could ask “what,” Madison leaned over and kissed him. He didn’t pull away. Instead, he put his hand on the back of her neck and pulled her a little closer. Their tongues touched and Madison’s heart raced. She could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin, and she wanted to sit and make out with him until the sun came up.
It had been so long since she’d been with anyone. Reese’s death had scared her for relationships, but Wrench felt like he could be a part of her life, as a boyfriend for now. Maybe, something more in the future. His hands felt strong and she resisted the urge to run her fingers through his chestnut hair.
After a moment, Madison pulled away. Wrench was grinning. She met his green eyes and got lost in them. In that moment she wanted to forget who she was and be a normal person, free to go off and do stupid, irresponsible things with him.
She spoke before he could say something stupid to ruin the moment, not that there was a real possibility of that, but she didn’t want to chance it. “Now that we have that out of the way, let’s go get a drink.”
“Sounds good.” His eyes traced up and down her body, and it made her warm inside.
As they were about to step out of the car, red and blue lights filled the street. A bright light blasted the two of them through the back window.
Chapter 68
“Aw, shit, was that a fucking drug deal back there?” asked Wrench. He was visibly pissed. “Fuck. What the hell?” He paused, shaking his head, looking away from Madison.
Her heart sank hearing that. He’d gone from prospect to prosecutor in a nanosecond.
“No.”
“I knew there had to be something wrong here. You’re great, but you’ve got all this money. Do you even own this car?”
That wasn’t fair. This had to be some misunderstanding. Even if the cops were going to arrest her, for god knows what, the Outfit would sort it out. But, how would she sort it out with Wrench?
“Yes,” she shouted back, “this is mine.” This time the tears were rolling down her cheeks. And what the fuck did the cops want? She wasn’t drinking. She wasn’t even moving, for fuck’s sake.
“Don’t move,” said a voice through the car’s loudspeaker.
The cops let them stew for a few minutes, probably just making Madison sweat for a bit, letting stress tenderize her resolve. They finally got out and strolled up. One taking Wrench’s side of the car, the other coming up to Madison’s.
Madison rolled down her window. The cop stared for a moment. He had a chubby face and beady eyes which rolled over Madison and Wrench before he spoke. “License and registration, please.”
“What’s this all about, sir?” asked Madison. She could feel annoyance turn to rage, and a part of her wished she knew a spell or two for situations like this. A little “I’m not the girl you’re looking for” would come in handy.
“License and registration, please.” The cop’s face was a stone mask.
Wanting to get this over with and get the hell out of there, Madison complied. As she reached for her glove box, the other cop’s flashlight beam hit her hand. Wrench sat with his hands on his thighs and stared straight ahead. He looked pissed.
Madison handed her information to the officer. He took it and scanned each, flipping them over.
“Turn the car off and step out please, ma’am,” said the cop as he opened her door. “You too, sir.”
“I think I have a right to know what this is all about,” said Madison, trying to keep her cool.
“We have a report that a car fitting this description was stolen earlier this evening.”
“Well, you have my registration.”
“Do you have any contraband in the vehicle?”
“No.”
“Do we have your permission to search the car?”
“No.” Madison got a sense of doom. This wasn’t normal. Cops didn’t just roll up on you while you were parked and pull you out of the car. Her eyes darted around the neighborhood. There was no one on the street. And the cops weren’t wearing anything like body cameras. She wondered if the dashcam was working, but it was probably “malfunctioning.”
A darker thought swept into her head: this was a setup job from another cartel, and she and Wrench were in real danger. Was this how the other couriers had been killed? If she waited to be sure, she’d be in handcuffs with a pistol to her head.
The other cop who was skinny with a thick mustache just kept an eye on Wrench.
“Step over here, please.” The chubby-faced cop motioned to the front of his car.
Madison complied, and started to plan which way she’d run. But could she do that and leave Wrench to the wolves? What if they shot him?
Jesus, this is bad. You can see the car isn’t stolen.
Her legs began to shake and her stomach churned.
“Turn around, ma’am. Hands behind your back. You are not under arrest. I am just detaining you for my safety.” A thick hand took her by the shoulder and turned her.
Madison shouted, “Get out of here, Wrench!”
Wrench flashed a sour look of confusion. He looked at the mustached cop and his body tensed up, about to run away. But it was too late. The cop tackled him and took him to the ground with a thud. Madison caught the glint of handcuffs in the streetlights.
“What the fuck?” she shouted, as she was slammed her into the hood of the squad car.
“You remember a good cop by the name of Ron Crate?” he hissed into her ear. “He’s on the street because of your lawyers. Now, we’re searching this car, because I’m pretty sure I smelled marijuana in your car. Lots of it.”
The Bulldogs.
Sean’s words “they’re a hit squad” rang in Madison’s head.
“Hey, Dudley,” said the cop that took down Wrench. His voice dripped with sarcasm. “Guy’s got a switchblade on him.”
> “Concealed weapon. That’s bad too,” replied Dudley.
Warm metal clapped around Madison’s wrists for the second time in as many weeks. How much was the Outfit going to charge her for this one? she wondered. A bigger problem crept into her head: this was her second offense. She could be looking at jail time.
She heard the sound of her trunk being opened and her stomach did a somersault.
One of the cops made a wolf whistle. “What have we here?”
“Whoa, that’s a lot of money.”
“Looks like about fifty large.” His tone was smug.
“Folger doesn’t need to know about this.”
“No, I don’t think he does.”
“Oh my god,” Wrench said from his seat on the curb. “I’m not with her. She was just giving me a ride.”
“Zip it, switchblade boy,” said the mustached cop who tackled him.
They lowered their voices. “Be a shame if they got out of their cuffs.”
“Sure would. You still got that throwaway in the trunk?”
“Yeah. Plus, he’s got a knife. His prints are probably all over it. He comes at me, she’s got the gun. Boom. Boom.”
“What did Folger say the other day? Lawyers don’t defend corpses?”
The two shared a laugh, low and guttural.
“We can just take them over to the warehouse. Do them both there.”
“Sounds good. Leave the car, come back and impound it later.”
Madison felt like she was going to piss herself. “You have no idea how good my lawyers are,” she said through tears and clinched teeth. “You’ll both be sucking dick for honeybuns in a week if anything happens to me.”
Dudley leaned down, close enough that Madison could feel stubble against her ear. “The Outfit? We just paid them a visit. You’ll be lying in the pit next to them in about thirty minutes. Contessa Morano sends her regards.”
Madison’s vision narrowed to a pinhole. The rage inside her roiled.
