“I’m flying out tonight to Vegas,” Dennis says after the waiter leaves. “VanZant’s still there and I’m going to deliver the money.”
“Not using the middle man?”
“He’s good and trustworthy,” Dennis says with a dark laugh, “but there’s no one I trust enough when that amount of cash is involved.”
I don’t ask how it’s being delivered or the details. Dennis has warned Sela and me enough that we don’t need the details of how he operates, and we’re safer not knowing. I have to trust he knows what he’s doing and stop worrying about details I have no control over. And frankly, I just don’t want to know how Dennis managed to “launder” the money I gave him into what is now probably five hundred thousand in nonsequential bills filling a sturdy briefcase.
I nod in understanding, but don’t respond. I’m too keyed up over what’s happened in the last two days, too worried about everything that could still be screwed up. I’m trying to make contingency plans, and it’s like playing a game of chess with an opponent who flies by the seat of his pants.
“VanZant’s an interesting character,” Dennis says, and my eyes dart to his.
“How so?” I ask, not really caring, because let’s face it . . . I’m done with him. But I’ve also learned enough about Dennis to know he always has a point to everything.
“From a small town in Iowa, captain of the wrestling squad. Honors student who dated the homecoming queen. Full scholarship to Purdue. Just a golden boy.”
I break off a piece of bread, pop it into my mouth, and wait for Dennis to make his point.
“Just one of those guys you knew was going to be a success in life,” he says as he leans his forearms on the table. “Got married to his sweetheart after college, produced two cute kids, and found out he had an actual talent for mixed martial arts.”
While I know Dennis is leading me somewhere, I’m antsy with my own worries, so I urge him along. “Sounds like he’s a little slice of Americana, but so what?”
“He didn’t bat an eye at accepting a bribe,” Dennis says. “On paper . . . just looking at him from the outside . . . you’d never think that boy would do something like that. Too much straight and narrow in him. But he took it all the same.”
“Meaning?” I prompt.
“Meaning that everyone has a price and everything can be bought if you know the right people, so with that in mind, I’m going to push you right along and ask you to spill it. What do you want from me?”
Perceptive fuck. But then again, that’s why I paid him big bucks so far, and why I’m getting ready to have a conversation that could damn me to hell.
I like Dennis Flaherty a lot. He’s not only a competent professional who came personally and highly recommended, but he’s proven to me that he can get the job done. On top of that, I just think he’s an upstanding guy. He clearly has shady ties, but you can tell that he’s motivated to do good by others.
Most important, he also understands vengeance and how there can be an unquenchable need for it when someone you care for has been hurt.
Placing the bread on a small plate, I pick up my water, take a sip, and then set it down. Looking him square in the eye, I come right to the point. “I need a backup plan if everything we’re hoping to happen goes to shit. If I can’t get JT out of The Sugar Bowl. If the police don’t believe Sela’s memory is enough to investigate. Sela and I have talked about just walking away from it all, but I don’t think I can fucking do that. I need another plan.”
“A plan to keep The Sugar Bowl or a plan to get justice?” Dennis asks calmly. “Because those are two very different goals.”
“I don’t care about The Sugar Bowl. I’m talking about JT.”
“Everyone has a price and everything can be bought,” Dennis says, repeating his words from just moments ago. “What do you want to buy?”
I figure if I’m man enough to want this to happen, I can be man enough to tell Dennis what I want without hesitation. “JT’s death.”
Dennis doesn’t react. No cough of surprise, no raised eyebrows. He just nods in understanding. “I’ve got the necessary resources to make that happen.”