The Fury - Jason Pinter [49]
rest of the day. I took out my cell, and sent Amanda a
text message.
Got a lead. Will call when I can.
Don't wait up.
If I were a girlfriend and my boyfriend sent me that
kind of text, I'd probably scour the city looking for
him, half expecting to find him in the arms of some
illicit lover. But I trusted Amanda. And after everything
we'd been through, I believed she trusted me back.
My phone vibrated. I took it out, checked the
message.
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145
Go get em, Tiger.
God, I loved this woman.
The man with the briefcase made four more stops the
rest of the day: 124th and Broadway, Ninety-eighth and
Broadway, and then back downtown to Fourteenth
between Fifth and Sixth. Each time I noticed the bag on
his shoulder became a little easier to carry. It swung at
greater arcs as he carried it. As his stash grew lighter,
the bag weighed him down less.
During his journey, I decided that I would follow him
home. I had no idea what to expect, or what I would say
to this man. But I needed to know where someone like
him lived. And I needed to know where I could find him
again.
It was nearing eleven o'clock. My legs were getting
heavy. Vinnie had just downed his third bottle of water
of the day. So when I followed him to the N train, the
night having fully descended over the city, I hoped this
would be our final ride of the day.
Vinnie rode the N train to the Canal/Broadway stop.
He looked weary, his eyes fluttering open and closed as
his breathing grew deeper. I knew how he felt. My
muscles felt sluggish. Private detective work was cer
tainly not a calling I was prepared for. Spenser I was
not.
Where he sat, Vinnie opened his bag and dug through
it. He pulled out an MP3 player, then scrounged around
some more. He seemed unable to find something. Then
he turned the bag upside down and shook it. A thin
white wire fell out. He picked it up, plugged one end
into the MP3 player and took the two earbuds and fit
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Jason Pinter
them into his ears. Then he pressed a button on the
player and relaxed.
No doubt this was the last stop. When he turned the
bag upside down, not a thing fell out. No bags, no foil,
no vials.
Vinnie was heading home.
I followed him out of the station. At this point I
probably could have walked right next to him and he
wouldn't have noticed or recognized me. He walked
two blocks west and one block south before approach
ing a row of town houses. He was walking slowly, but
then all of a sudden his head perked up.
Another young man was walking down the street in
the other direction. He looked to be the same age as the
guy I was following, maybe a year or two younger. He
was wearing loose jeans, sneakers, a Mets cap with the
brim turned sideways. The other guy's head snapped up,
too, in a familiar greeting.
These two men knew each other. They slowed down
as they approached. I slipped behind a wall, out of
sight, but easily able to hear every word they said.
"S'up, Scotty?" the other man yelled as they got
closer.
"SSDD," my guy, apparently Scotty, yelled back.
Same shit, different day.
As they got closer, their voices lowering, I heard
Scotty say, "What'd you pull in today?"
"Four-fiddy. Would've been more but these trustfund princesses thought they could get a taste for free
if they shoved their tits in my face. Don't need to tell
them I can get that on my own. How 'bout you?"
"Five-twenty," Scotty said, a note of pride in his
voice. "And that's after the man takes his cut."
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147
"Better than serving lattes," the other guy said. "I'm
cleaned out for the night. Gotta re-up in the morning."
"Same here," Scotty said. "How's your moms
doing?"
The other guy shrugged. "Her hair hasn't started
falling out yet, but the docs say it's a matter of time."
He scratched his nose. "She's strong as a bull. Wouldn't
mind moving out on my own like you, but not while
she's like this."
"Give her my best, bro'."
"Will do. Hey, meet on the corner tomorrow morning
at seven? Go over together?"
Scotty nodded.