Powder Burn - Carl Hiaasen [78]
“You haven’t seen me.”
After Patti left the room, Manny leaned forward and motioned for Meadows to come closer. “What are you doing tonight?” he whispered.
“Nothing.”
“You want to make some money?”
“Yeah. How?”
“Me and Moe got a big errand to run. We got to pick up some goodies, and we need a helper. Guy we were counting on bugged out. Patti says you’re OK, you’re OK”
“How much?”
“Five thousand.”
“Are you kidding?” Meadows’s incredulity was genuine.
“It’s toilet paper to the people I work for,” Manny boasted. “My boss appreciates risk. We’re taking a small risk tonight. So you’re interested, huh?”
“Well, sure.”
“Don’t bring a gun, that’s one rule. And don’t get loaded before you come, that’s another. The third rule is the Joey Dent Rule. You know that one already.” Manny held Meadows’s gaze for a moment, then rose. “We’ll pick you up here at midnight.”
Patti walked back into the room. “You two getting along?”
“Sure,” Manny said. “Was that Susie?”
“Yeah, and I told her you were on your way home.”
Manny raised his hands and looked despairingly at Meadows. “You can’t trust ’em, Christopher. They stick together like nuns. See you tonight.” Manny swaggered out of the house, and Meadows heard the Magnum growl to life. When he looked out the window, all he saw was a frothy crease in the tea-colored water. The speedboat was already around the bend.
Meadows felt Patti’s arm around his waist. “He left out one,” she said softly.
“What?”
“Rule number four. Named after my husband. The Larry Atchison Rule.”
“What’s that?”
“Don’t get greedy.”
Chapter 20
THE HOUSE IN Coconut Grove disturbed Octavio Nelson the most.
The deliberate savagery with which Meadows’s pursuers had destroyed the place was sobering. Nelson felt himself sicken as he and Pincus walked through the wreckage, touching nothing, marveling in breathless expletives at the thorough job.
“They must have got him, Captain,” Pincus said. “I’ll bet he’s dead.”
Nelson sat down in a slashed patio chair by the now-rancid pool, thinking back to the night of the lizard. “No,” he said to Pincus. “Meadows wasn’t here when they paid their visit. That is why they did all this.”
“For sport?” Pincus prodded a mangled stereo speaker with one of his shoes.
“A message, Wilbur. The sort you don’t forget. I think our friend Meadows knows what happened here. He won’t be back.”
“You sound awfully certain.”
Nelson’s eyes narrowed. Again the challenge, the edge of righteous doubt in the voice. It had been like this with Pincus for months, now, ever since the Cruz thing. Nelson was annoyed with it.
“What are we looking for?” Pincus asked.
“Drawings. Rough sketches.”
“Of buildings? Let’s check his studio—”
“No, not buildings,” Nelson said. “Men. Meadows once told me he was going to draw sketches of Mono’s bodyguards.”
“Yeah? When did he tell you that?”
“One day when you weren’t around,” Nelson said, peeling a stack of soggy papers off the carpet.
“Before the airport murder?”
“I guess so, yeah. Shit, look at this. These are letters from his girlfriend. Those dirtbags probably went through the whole stack before they trashed the place.”
Pincus peered over Nelson’s shoulder. “The ink’s all smeared now,” he remarked. “Can’t make out hardly anything.”
The detectives had been on their ghastly tour of the house for ten minutes when Arthur Prim stalked through the front door.
“Finally putting in an appearance, I see,” the black man growled.
“Hello, Prim,” Nelson said. “Where’s Meadows?”
“Don’t know.” Arthur kicked off his thongs. “I got a couple extra mops if you guys want to help clean up this shit. I been at it three days.”
Pincus said, “When was the last time you talked to Mr. Meadows?”
Arthur chuckled, trading glances with Octavio Nelson. “Hey, I’m just the maid. I don’t know jackshit.” He bent over and began tossing chunks of rotting food and fragments of glass into a plastic garbage sack.
“It’s OK,” Nelson said. “We’re not looking to bust your friend. We couldn’t.”